"The walled city in which his people endured the siege of the Enemy is called Brithombar, and is three hundred miles due west of our southern border."

"Thank you. Have you any advice on how to best approach him?"

"He is a generous-spirited and wise man, and blessed by the Maiar of the oceans, but he and his people have suffered grievously at the hands of orcs."

Loki nods solemnly. That's not exactly advice, but she can convert it into advice. "Thank you. And my third item is that I wished to know if the safety of Doriath is available to the newcomers' children, who would have lifted no weapons during the unpleasantness, if some emergency should put them in particular danger."

"The enemy can take the guise of children as easily as any other, and perhaps the knowledge that they must show concern for the wellbeing of their young ones will motivate them to tread more carefully. We must think first of the safety of our own people."

Loki inclines her head. "I see. That was my last question." And she stands aside for the next person.

Lúthien is at the other end of the room, chatting animatedly with a crowd of people. Melian still isn't stirring.

Loki tucks herself somewhere out of the way to await Lúthien's attention.

Within a few minutes Lúthien is bounding over to her. "I overheard. Círdan has no enemies in all the continent, and you'd have to go out of your way to make one of him. He'll agree, I expect."

"His animosity for orcs notwithstanding? I'm trying to think how to present it as a slap in the face to the ones I haven't got to..."

"My own understanding of war is heavily flavored by... game theory and a crowded world full of people with enormously disparate capabilities. I have some sympathy for the position, but..."

"Obviously a society that disarmed to demonstrate their commitment to pacifism would not long endure. But if everyone had the capabilities of Doriath - impenetrable, no capacity to attack anyone - wouldn't that be safest?"

"It might. But they don't. And not all peoples are indivisible; and as with the orcs I want there to be escape routes."

Loki has been doing really well at not flirting with Lúthien, why is anyone speculating about hair braiding? Does that even mean what she thinks it means? "I can occupy myself. Is the same guest room open?"

"Yes, it is. I'll find you there later! Golden bells, they're astonishingly pretty! You have excellent taste in flowers."

"I didn't consciously choose them, but thank you; I do like them," Loki agrees. And she inclines her head and follows her golden bellflowers from last time to the guest room.

It's empty, though a few people have clearly been in; tiny purple tulips and a scarlet morning glory. The dresses are still in the closet.

It might actually be nice to get out of her armor for a day, however well-designed for long engagements it is; she can always leave in her own clothes tomorrow or the day after. Loki investigates the pocket-having and mobility-permitting properties of the various outfits.

They are not bad on the mobility front; you could climb a tree in any of them, and it's clearly among the purposes they were designed for. One has something like a backpack sewn in, and all have pockets.

Lovely. She finds a green one, changes, transfers her most irreplaceable possessions into its pockets (Lævateinn tucked into a sleeve), and works on her spell.

Someone knocks on the door about an hour later.

Loki gets the door without troubling to dismiss her illusion letters.

"Hello! Did you want to be introduced to Dwarves tonight, or do anything else? Also I'm to invite you to a formal dinner, also that dress is stunning and I shall convey effusive compliments to the seamstress. Do you like green?"