There's an amphitheater, a place where a hundred of the stone walkways twine around to create space for a hundred thousand people to sit in close proximity, and someone is giving a lecture or a demonstration at the base of it, the seats closest to him filled with eager, tiny, bearded Dwarf-children.
And they spiral down, and down, and down, past waterfalls and egg-sized gemstones left half in the rock and halls of crystal. Everything grows gradually more ornate and more perfectly maintained and the clang of hammers fades behind them. "People say," her guide says, "that we only have a council instead of a single King because there were nine winners of the competition to design the throne so we couldn't just select one person to sit it." And they push open the doors to reveal, indeed, nine thrones so elaborate it would be hard to choose between them, and nine squat bearded people sitting them.
"He might be able to get somewhere with just what I could tell him now but it requires a lot of things I don't remember, including metals that are, let's call it poisonous, to be near."
"Well, it probably means you can't construct them the way I've read about in the presence of a Silmaril but would be well advised to have one handy in case you had a lab accident. But the Silmarils are behind this fortress which is as yet tragically unleveled."
"The smushing-atoms-together kind might, the taking-one-apart kind probably not. Actually, I'm not sure you need any of the poisonous metals for the smushing variety, I could be misremembering, but there's some reason they're harder to invent."
"Yeah. I could more readily answer the questions of whether poisonous metals must actively poison in order to serve as this sort of weapon if I remembered all the books I've ever read."
"I wouldn't have said 'Quendi' if you said you were planning to never speak to him again, but you said 'a few centuries' as an explanation for how you'll cope with the downgrade from twice-weekly updates."
"For a while I wanted to never speak to him again, but it was always fairly obvious that if there's going to be coordination on facing the Enemy some of us are going to have to set grievances aside, and I have the mixed blessing of finding that very easy to do, so I never really thought it'd be 'never'."
Apparently the other host is considering some arranged vaguely-political marriages with locals. I objected. Not particularly forcefully, but I objected.
No, not really. I'm pretty sure my parents are married because Vanaheim really wanted Odin to go away and leave them alone and it was somehow implied that a pretty husband would make that happen more smoothly.
Romantic love is a concept we - invented in Valinor is an exaggeration, but certainly the ways we conceived of it in relation to marriage were invented in Valinor. It doesn't surprise me that my cousins are delightedly throwing out every norm at whose roots they can identify a Vala.