"Our" souls? "command our bodies, and if they're not well we suffer physically and mentally - there are traumas and griefs that kill us without damaging us, and Elves will die in captivity  - unless the Enemy magically prevents that - and if things aren't pretty we do not function."

"Souls. That's... interesting."

"Luckily we are very pretty and nature is very pretty so we often cope even without building pretty cities."

"Convenient."

"And we build very pretty cities! And the SIlmarils are unspeakably pretty. We're going to be just fine."

"Is the trip across the ice going to be long and unpretty enough that it would make sense for me to take occasional breaks from paving to do lightshows?"

"Is that a thing you can do? Yes, probably."

"I can do fire and I can make it go where I want, although I don't know what you'll think of my artistry."

"I imagine everyone will be impressed by your capabilities, regardless of how pretty the results. And we do have Macalaure along for morale."

"All right, let me know when would be good."

"Perhaps in a week's time when everyone tires of marvelling at the roads you're making. If that works for you. Do you require diversions for wellbeing?"

"I won't be able to read any of your books," she shrugs. "I'm not going to disintegrate for the lack of them, though."

"I can translate some if you teach me your alphabet."

"Sure." She's been using letters of fire to do processing in her cipher, but here's the actual Welchin alphabet, behold.

He asks questions about it for about ten minutes and then asks if he can work with her brother for vocabulary as he translates.

"Sure, why not. I'm probably like sort of okay at the thoughts thing now, even."

"Probably, but I'd prefer to talk aloud so I can practice your language."

"Yeah but if I have to say a word you don't know you have to do the mindready thing."

"You can use other words to describe it, and I can send you candidates?"

"I guess that works."

So they start translating a book from Quenya. He works very quickly and has astonishing handwriting.

"Dang," says Aleko. "I bet Kiri would have really complimentary things to say about your brain if she got a look at it, you kinda go a mile a minute."

"She can look at it once I've established the precedent that it's unremarkable if someone declines," he says distractedly. Translate: symphony? articulation? enraptured?

"Symphony, articulation, enraptured. She expects people to decline, I go around with her in crowded places so if she trips she doesn't trip into range of anybody but me..."

"My people'd do anything I asked of them and most things I merely passively expect of them. Especially if it looks like a way of proving loyalty."