"Lucky they found the lost world, though."

"Did you know how that happened?"

"No, but the King said that Kib was the first traveller from it and he met Kib because of course he did, and they were so confused at each other for a while because humans are different than Elves so many ways, and then Valinor helped the lost world and now Kib was helping the Elves."

...secret thing is secret. "That's true, but the way he traveled is bizarre. There was a snake monster, in the lost world, with a portal for a face, and it... ate some people with its portal... but Kib's the only one who found a way back so he doesn't know where the others went."

"A snake monster?"

"That's what he said. I don't think he was making it up either."

"Weird."

"Yeah. ...So I guess if you see a snake monster don't go in its face."

"Noted!"

Aydanci giggles.

Aydanci starts hanging out with Kib, more, but it's not effortless - Aydanci barely remembers anything that isn't Kib being an aloof Important Grownup, Kib doesn't want to make uninvited overtures and "telling excess stories about being happily married" seems like it might qualify, they mostly wind up talking shop and making meaningful eye contact that doesn't turn into meaningful anything else.

Sometimes Aydanci has a dream about the eighteen years of thinking Aly was dead. Making golems, thinking Aly dead. Picking at his dinner, thinking Aly dead. Writing strongly worded letters to politicians about vaccination programs out of coldest deadliest need for revenge, thinking Aly dead. Staring at the ceiling unable to fall asleep because his Aly is dead. When he gets those he goes and sits with Kib, sits a little closer, leans on him - once says, "I'm so glad you're all right" - hugs him -

- but it's not really trivial to bridge the gap from being very glad that Kib is all right to knowing how to express this with kissing or anything. (Aydanci suspects that his kissing impulses are wired funny, at least compared to Elves, he doesn't know how humans normally work, maybe having all of his fluttery feelings about he invented storks and not about his pretty brown eyes is human-normal. And how do you kiss somebody about their having invented storks? He must have figured it out before but he doesn't remember -)

- he's seventeen and the dreams are a nearly nightly event before he gets any of the expected sex dreams. It's set in Valinor, in their house, a few weeks after they moved into it, and they've had time to relearn each other (it's familiar, in the dream, he remembers remembering where to put his hands and press his lips and remembers knowing what to expect -) but not enough time to have fallen into a pattern, not enough time for the shine of Aly-miraculously-okay, Kib-miraculously-alive, to have worn off.

He wakes up groggy, but the memories slot into place without him needing to be fully conscious to help them along. When he wakes up he still remembers remembering even where there are gaps in what he actually remembers.

He has breakfast and an extra cup of tea and goes to see Kib and kisses him. They don't get any work done that morning.

The ring of fortresses around Angband is completed, with shine communication in place between all sites. Lári pauses her aging at 18 (or as close to it as can be figured, given how long she spent as a delayed infant in Valinor); Aydanci waits a couple years past that. He doesn't dream the wedding but he dreams a snippet of anticipating it, of being so delighted that Aly! wanted to marry! him!, and from there they wind up planning a vow-renewal of sorts. Tasteful. Autumn.

I can, and am very tempted to, ensure that people don't give you trouble over it.

Trouble over it? Like what? There were idiot remarks in Valinor, we can cope with those...

I mean that they owe you their safety and should bring you both presents.

People neglecting to bring us presents is not something I would naturally class as 'trouble'.

I expect there'll be comments. Probably not more than that.

You may exercise your kingly discretion, of course, but it is not going to ruin our day if we are able to find places to put all our gifts without having to assemble new organizational furniture.

Well, I'll be sending one. Congratulations.

Thanks.

It is a lovely vow renewal. He sends a lovely present. There are comments, but not many of them.

They ignore (or in a couple irresistible cases sass) the commenters. They delegate thank-you notes to a Charp, after. They're busy.

And Fëanáro develops something he expects to be able to dent Thauron. (Whether the dent will be embarrassingly shaped has yet to be empirically tested.)

They mass manufacture it nonetheless. They're in a bit of a rush - Thauron appears to be setting up his humans to go to war with a neighboring Dwarf kingdom - but it's only worth extending their forces so far afield for a decisive victory, and they're going to need a way to get the weapons within poking distance in the first place. Fëanáro is toying with gunpowder.

The servantmakers servantmake. The war golems are adaptable enough to be handed new weapons and taught to use them, but the new strategic concerns do need to be delivered by someone with root permissions once per make of golem.

They verify a hundred different ways that the impeding war is no illusion.

And they head out. Ten thousand people and four hundred thousand golems. They should be able to injure Thauron from a distance of half a mile with projectile weapons, and if that doesn't work they can at least leave him no chance at retreating. And then hit him a lot with things designed to strike at the things Valar and Maiar are made of. (If it goes cleanly enough, it might be time to move on Angband. But. One thing at a time.)

Kib's parked in the shine comm room. It's just a little faster to have the shines puppeted before they're programmed on their way than to have to step them around by prodding them with inscribed objects, but it is that little bit faster.