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The grownups are all very busy, but the children are all bored.
Bored or having nightmares. But Tasárinon was not on a ship and did not see the people dying and has only heard it thirdhand and can't exactly have nightmares about the look in his mother's eyes - well, he probably could, but he hasn't - so he's bored, and he is drawing on the floor. It is an absurdly intricate drawing. He has been embellishing it for three days.
That one works. Fëanáro looks up from trying to teach Cam's computer the language spoken in Doriath. "Same language?"
"Yep," he says with satisfaction a second later. And then, scrolling through, "okay. The fighting started about eight months ago. The northern kingdom is - all orcs, and they attacked unprovoked and at the same time enough powerful weapons detonated on the south continent that it was sunless for most of the summer - they're pressed for food, you can at least do something about that while deciding on weaponry - orcs haven't offered terms. Some cities surrendered, everyone was taken prisoner and taken back to Angband..."
"...to administer the refugee planet?" Cam says. "I mean, I guess they could do without me visiting more than occasionally if I stock them up enough especially if we manage ansibles..."
"I can work on that or I can work on how I can best help a mid-industrial kingdom of sixty million that's fighting with machine guns, and you make the second one easier but I take it haven't got much idea of where to start on the first."
"...how about I make you a bunch of bulletproof armor and then I go pay the starving place a visit. Refugee planet won't panic at my absence for weeks."
"Thanks."
Cam makes them a bunch of Elf-sized bulletproof armor and then he goes up and makes himself a little shuttle and goes where there are starving people.
Shoreline kingdom. It has skyscrapers by the water. It's exceptionally pretty and carefully designed and large segments are rubble. Newspapers suggest that the capital is Brithombar, fifty miles inland on the river.
So Cam lands near that but not close enough to seem particularly threatening and then gets out and flies the rest of the way sans shuttle.
People are staring. People are kind of panicking, actually.
Please declare yourself.
Please explain who you are.
We are happy to have guests but please explain who you are.
Cam does not have telepathy and won't hear them.
Well, that calms them down slightly. "Hello?" someone tries aloud when osanwe clearly isn't going to do it.
Cam calls up the most up to date version of the machine translation and plugs that in. "Hello!" his computer replies presently. "I mean you no harm."
"No, help arrived in spite of them. I hear you're starving?" Cam makes an apple. "Want help with that?"
"We're rationing gas, and it's a long walk. You could also just fly into the city, though you'll scare people less if you answer when they call out to you..."
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