"If that were the case I would have appreciated if he had left me my companion and done me the courtesy of asking or at least warning me, but yes, theoretically that could be."

"I am sorry that your companion did not arrive with you. I hope she is well, and will pass on to you anything I learn of her."

"Him. His name is Sigyn. It's just barely possible that he landed elsewhere in the same realm; I can show you a slightly color-impoverished illusion if you think it likely you might hear news of him."

They look at each other hesitantly. "Please do," Melian says.

So Loki makes an image of Sigyn, smiling, wearing the clothes he was when they prepared to leave for Midgard.

"I understand now what you mean by color-impoverished," Melian says, looking at it. "Still, a remarkable ability. We have heard no news of him; if we do, we will convey it to you."

"Thank you." Loki dismisses the illusion.

"This is a great deal of troubling news to cloud the beginning of our acquaintance, but I am nonetheless eager to begin at the purpose for which you sought me out. Where did you learn your magic, and how much do you know about the magical arts of this realm?"

"I know little about local magic. My own is as far as I know unique in method, if not in principle; I was taught the underlying pieces by ill-advised contact with a dangerous artifact as a child and built up the rest from there, while other sorcerers begin and work with larger pieces."

"The magic of this world is worked through contact with the great symphony by which Eru created it. I'm not sure what resemblance that bears to the pieces you are speaking of, but it seems likely that they are both inadequate metaphors for the true fabric of creation. I use them mostly to order my realm according to my will, which involves pulling on the threads very slowly and carefully. It sounds like your abilities are more immediate."

"Well, inventing a spell takes many years, but I design them in such a way that the casting is instant at will, and they take no limited resource other than the moment of attention."

"And yet your magic, when you channel it towards an end I can sense, feels no different than the magic of any of my sisters and brothers. It invites speculation that however different our methods, we are somehow operating on the same fundamental forces, and were granted our abilities by the same divine grace."

"I have no such magical sense and can offer no direct evidence either way on this hypothesis."

"I expect you could develop it over time; your approach sounds very flexible. I would be delighted to compare systems and processes further at some later date, in fact. Shall we set aside a guest room for you?"

"I will need to come and go - I have a regular appointment with Fëanor's people and should speak to the Nolofinwëans about orcs soon - but if you would care to host me at other times and study magic I would be delighted to accept."

"Nolofinwëans?" the King interrupts. "These are Finwë's children? Is Finwë among them?"

"Finwë was a casualty of Moringotto, back in Valinor. I have mostly been interacting with two of his grandchildren, Findekáno and Irissë."

He looks genuinely devastated. "Finwë was an ancient friend of mine. Offer my greetings and respects to his children."

"I will." Either before or after mentioning that they are not to approach the forest, but she doesn't want to prod that wound while the king is in grief.

...maybe it's an osanwë thing. They've definitely been way too polite to have been reading her mind so full of provocation to impoliteness. Loki smiles and enjoys the song.

After a few hours, she starts to enjoy the song a bit less. It's still a beautiful song, it's just that this is an awful lot of it.

And she had to travel a while to get here and it's kind of late now and she's tired. Well. This is still a pleasanter way to stay up late than trying to avoid getting drunk during an interminable feast during which she must pretend to listen to stories she has heard forty times before.

The song is making it sound almost like Elu and Finwë were lovers; it's telling the story of a midnight rendezvous of theirs while they were escorting their respective hosts to Valinor. Melian is singing at full volume, though, so perhaps Elves are more liberal then they've so far indicated.

Or they just have reaaaaally close friendships. Loki isn't sure and can't think of any natives she'd go so far as to ask.