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It's a long moment.

"Are they mounting a rescue effort?" he says. "We could coordinate on that, attack at the same time from the other side for a distraction if we don't think it's wise to have our people fighting side-by-side..."
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"They've tried to pull off rescues in the past and at this point consider it worse than futile. I'm planning to discreetly investigate the fortress, see if it looks as difficult as all that to me, but if it does..."

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"I'd go today," he says, "but I owe it to my people to do what's best for them, and there's no way that's the answer. Maybe once we're safe and settled, if it turns out that lack of someone competent on the Feanorian side is a major barrier to the war effort, it would be defensible for me to try it.

This is my fault."
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"How is it your fault?"

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"Ever since Elenwë died I've been hating them, wishing they would suffer some fraction of what they did to us, and they were. Every night I've spent imagining making Maitimo walk the whole Ice, just so he knew, he was being tortured."

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"You will have to clarify for me if Elves actually have the power to influence events with their thoughts or not."

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"Of course not. But still, I wanted this, and it happened."

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"Well. Want better things, next time. This time - if there is no particular looming disaster associated with healing Fëanor given the conditions extant, I think I will do that, and then cruise around Angband, see if I find the entire setup laughable or at least navigable - see if I can spot Maitimo."

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"Thank you."

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"You're welcome. Anything else before I fly away?"

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He's clearly not really processing the conversation. "Mmm."

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"Findekáno?"

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"Sorry, what?"

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"Is there anything else I should know or that you want to ask, before I fly away?"

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He blinks. "Uh. You're going to Angband?"

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"After I heal Fëanor, unless something else comes up, yes. I am going to go as an invisible bird and not engage unless it looks like I can definitively handle it."

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"Okay. Be careful. If you don't come back I'll make sure that there aren't any pointless wars."

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"Thank you." Pause. "Do you need a hug?"

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"I'm not sure it'd help. But I suppose it can't hurt."

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So Loki gives him a hug - avoiding his hair - and then she flies away. And lands politely outside the walls of Fëanor's town-fortress-thing.

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The guards are still playing a game with gemstones.

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"Hello. May I come in?"

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They're mildly startled that they didn't see or hear her, and scramble to attention. "Yes of course. I can walk you to wherever you're going."

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"I'm going to visit Fëanor if he's awake and wait for him if he isn't."

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