He shrugs. "The Teleri mostly don't read. Writing is a new invention, and Fëanor's invention, so they can't be bothered. I'm more thinking that no one could possibly parent at twenty. That's one of the most demanding tasks out there, and you hurt other people so badly if you try it and aren't up for it."

"Well. My mother was not twenty when she had her children, and yet I have seen Midgardian parents I might have preferred. They vary."

"Your mother sounds dreadful," he agrees readily. "And Fëanor had seven children, sp - speaking of which, did any of them happen to be around when you dropped in?"

"Only one of the people who was in the room introduced himself. Curufinwë. Or I could conjure an illusion of the faces."

"If you wouldn't mind."

So, less Fëanor, she produces images of who she met.

"Macalaurë. Curufinwë. Carnistir. Pityafinwë. They look unhappy," he says with some satisfaction. "Thank you."

"I cannot take the blame for their mood."

"No, I assume it originates in our arrival. Having someone you wanted dead show up alive is probably mildly stressful. Perhaps it'll make them reconsider trying to kill people who inconvenience them. Though I suppose it could just make them be more thorough when they do."

"I do not think that is why, either."

He looks at her expectantly.

"I think Fëanor is dying. He is not doing it quickly enough that I had to make a snap decision before coming back to mention it."

He shakes his head. "No way."

She makes an illusion.

He stares at it silently for a while."Well. That's why he gave you an oath not to hurt us, then. Less that can go wrong with a promise not to kill people when you can no longer stand or draw a bow."

"He made it on behalf of his people as well. Although perhaps he expects it to expire on his death."

"They won't be his people if he dies, they'll be Maitimo's. Who probably won't go around killing people but certainly won't swear not to."

"Miriel."

"What about her?"

"Well," says Loki. "I can go back, ingratiate myself to his people with other, lesser injuries, and see if he will accept my help, keeping you under the protection of his oath. I can not do that. I could, I suppose, go and look for some Men and live among them instead and be assured that their generations will pass quickly enough that if I delay a succession or prolong a political mess at least it will be history in a century. And that no one I meet is operating under some sort of inexorable fate imposed by a sadistic creator which I may or may not be able to ameliorate however I try."

"Why would you fix him? He deserves to die. And if your concern is how to accomplish the most, that's obviously by defeating the Enemy; our family politics are engrossing but don't really matter in the grand scheme of things. And Melkor's defeat is fated, and not supposed to come by our hands, so even if lots of things are fixed that may be up to you."

"Yes, I suppose I could also go and flood his fortress with illusory light and see if I can kill him before he kills me. Refreshingly unambiguous and exactly the sort of problem I was always brought up to solve."

"Or you could teach us to fight, and then do that with an army at your back. We're not useless, you know, even if we're inexperienced at murdering things."