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.
"Okay."
The shielding holds. The ships wobble and it's loud, though.
The Elves are reasonably calm about this. They land on the water. Submarines?
And there is a remarkably orderly settling of their underground city. Cam will mostly not recognize the people heading through the halls, though he'll notice there are three variants on the uniforms. And at one point Findekano will cross paths with them.
Cam nods politely but doesn't exactly have a conversation topic. Let's see what else will this place need. Hydroponics, it probably wants hydroponics, they can't really farm under the ocean and Cam's going to be on his planet - is anybody else coming to his planet, by the way, not all the civilians but any?
There are a couple thousand people who will come to the planet.
Okay cool. He will hang out for a while making sure that everything this bunker needs is provided, first - it's probably not a security problem for them to have the complete works of Valinor even if the Hell Library would be pushing it? If they don't already have the whole thing, maybe they do - sea-to-air vehicles - instructions on how to drive those -
And weapons, or does that have to wait for Cam to talk to the other side of the fighting? Fëanáro has the local language down and is ready to drop notes on everyone.
Maybe Fëanáro can teach Cam's computer enough of the local language that Cam can machine-translate stuff and get an idea that way without having to go say hi and possibly be shot at? He doesn't really like being shot at.
Fëanáro will give this a shot. "Do they have an internet? Does anything come up when you go 'contents of the planet's internet?"
No internet.
"Newspapers for coastal city, the one with soldiers dug in for a few hundred miles, from the last year?"
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..."
"You're not doomed anymore, why're you leaving?"
"...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."
"Thank you. I'll keep teaching your computer the local language."
"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.
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