"...I may also wish to discuss the dispositions of orcs, while I am here," she says, but she sits. "Will it alarm anyone if I amuse myself with harmless illusions while I wait?"

"Go ahead," he says warily, "if they are harmless and do not affect land within our borders." And then he turns and leaves.

So Loki starts outlining an infinite-range teleportation spell while she sits, manipulating letters of light in the air patiently.

Around an hour later, a different Elf leaps down from the trees. "Our queen Melian, ruler of Eglador and Nargothrond and all of Beleriand, agrees to see you if you'll give your word not to use any of your magic to affect any living being in her realm during your visit, nor raise arms against them."

"Does this include healing magic on consenting subjects, and self defense, respectively?"

"We have no subjects in need of healing; Melian can do that. The oath as I have conveyed it to you clearly proscribes violence even in self-defense."

"Do I have your word that I will not find myself in need of self-defense? If I can't turn into a bird either my options if someone attacks me are limited."

"No one comes to harm in this kingdom save if they are trespassing unwelcome."

"Then you may be every bit as sure that I will perform no magic on any living thing nor raise arms against any while I am a visitor, as you are of that."

He hesitates. "That's not an oath."

"I feel it would be misleading to offer something that would sound to you like an oath. I'm one of those creatures with free will."

"Then you're not welcome here," he says instantly. "We have a policy about that."

"Oh. I wish you'd mentioned earlier. I don't suppose I can have the conversation I came here to have while I sit here and my interlocutor over there?"

"You may convey your questions, and if our queen Melian desires she can convey her answers."

"Very well. I am from another realm - in most realms, incidentally, everyone you might meet has free will - far from here, stranded in this world in what was most likely an accident on everyone's part and certainly was on mine. I have a variety of magical powers, including healing magic, the bird thing, and the illusions. I can convert orcs to harmlessness given long enough to talk to them and I am significantly stronger and a little tougher than an Elf, but I have worse vision and hearing and some impairments of osanwë. And I can't walk on snow. I can invent more spells. I have considered silencing Angband by illusion to prevent new orcs from being forced to take their oaths, at least until such time as they have a sign language; but this would be conspicuous, and I do not know how well I can afford a confrontation with the Enemy or a balrog. I would appreciate your Queen's guess."

He stands very still, presumably osanwë-communicating this as it is spoken. Then he jumps into the trees again, leaving the grass shaking slightly on the ground where he'd stood.

Loki resumes her spellcraft.

Back a few minutes later. "My queen conveys the following: No other realms are known to the Powers of this one; if Ilúvatar had a hand in their creation he did not speak of them to us, and it might be best that their existence not become known to our shared Enemy. Your compassion for orcs speaks of a virtuous heart; you will be relieved to know that when they die they go to the Halls of Mandos, who judges them justly and rehabilitates them for a new life if this is possible. You should have a sense of how your magic behaves when you attempt to use it to counter my own; the Enemy is a power far stronger than I, but I can sometimes defeat him in specific and narrow contexts when I do not have the whole force of his attention."

"The only direct contest of magics I have attempted was relieving the headache caused by looking at the woods," Loki says, "which works, but requires frequent renewal. Are there other safe tests to make?"

The Elf conveys this. Then, a few minutes later, nervously: "She says you may try making her woods dark. A space of no more than a few hundred yards, preferably, if somehow you do not encounter resistance in attempting this."

"Thank you." Loki starts with a cubic foot...

And feels pushback. The air flickers, black to silvery-light and back again.

That's odd. She usually barely has to concentrate. Does it help if she concentrates, trying again...?

It does; now the darkness spreads much faster, and goes much farther into the woods, before she feels the pushback and the illusion starts flickering.

"That's very interesting," she remarks.