It is a coherent political unit, called Doriath. Fëanáro takes about thirty seconds to declare that the language does have common roots with Quenya and he'll have it figured out and a letter composed for return in a day or so, assuming he's not lucky enough to have anything here that's written in both languages, Maitimo has the command. 

Maitimo's watching a few of the other drone video feeds. 

Cam returns his attention to the drones. Spy little drones spy.

Population: a billion, maybe two billion. Most of that concentrated in the north. There's active fighting along three fronts: the one near the shore they noticed to start with, an area inland and a thousand miles north of that, and in the scorched center of another continent. When the drones get too low ground-based defenses will start shooting at them. 

Oh? What with?

Rockets, missiles. Some of which seem to have some targeting, but not much of it, Earth by 2159 was dramatically more sophisticated. 

"Okay, I've got them beat hands down on weapons tech, that's probably good."

"That seems definitely good," Maitimo says. "You good enough to stop one of those active fights in a way that doesn't entail taking a side in it?"

"If I were there, maybe, I could just wreck all the weapons. It's a lot harder to target through a drone especially for purposes other than indiscriminate destruction."

"So step two: head in? If you're confident you can keep the ships safe on entry?"

"I can get you shields that should hold up against even a fairly concentrated barrage of this stuff but it'll be a bumpy ride," Cam says.

"We came here for this fight. And not expecting to have the capabilities to win it - we thought we'd just have to find someone friendly, land on them, offer to be reinforcements."

"Yeah, I just mean, warn the pilots. I can at least splice in the control mechanisms they're used to on the landers."

"Done."

"Okay then."

The landers just need to move people, everything else can wait or be replicated on the ground. They're pretty uncomplicated: shields, seats with seatbelts, more shields, engines, place for the pilots to go. He runs the design by the Elves and asks if they want them appeared docked to the existing ships?

The Elves are giving the orders to move everyone onboard. "Yes, that's perfect. Are these safe enough to take civilians down with or should we leave them in orbit?"

"I do not expect people on these ships to die in descent but do you really want your civilians down there? I can take them to my planet."

"If I can't separate children from their parents - and I can't, cultural thing - and I send everyone with underage children to your planet I lose half my forces. If we can build them something safe on Endore that's better. If things go badly we're going to need to pull... looks like nearly a billion people off the planet, an additional three hundred thousand doesn't complicate that nightmare much. But you've fought wars, or at least heard of them, and you know more about your capabilities. If you think I should send half these people off I can do that."

"Heard of," Cam says. "I think what I wanna do here is an undersea bunker, I can displace water much more easily than soil and being under stuff is good for all kindsa defensive purposes, does that work for you?"

"Perfectly."

"All right then."

And Cam gets to designing an undersea bunker. Elves are welcome to contribute input.

They have lots, at least about the aesthetics. Maitimo's eyes are closed as he coordinates people to load onto landing ships.

Cam can aestheticize the heck out of this bunker. It will be so pretty. But not lit with basement Silmarils.

When it's designed, he puts surveyor robots underwater to find a good defensible bit of seafloor, and then puts in the foundation, nice and slow - doesn't want to create a tidal wave - then the bunker, section by bulkheaded section.

And now when everybody's ready they can go land - well, sea - these landers should float just fine, and then transfer into submarines and move in!

The Elves are pretty fiercely delighted by this turn of events. A beautiful safe undersea bunker. Everyone's ready. 

They encounter only a handful of rockets on the way down. 

"You want me to disintegrate those or not give me away so obviously?"

"If they're not going to hurt us let's let them hit us."