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Tumunzahar makes Menegroth look like a contract project. Which, the Dwarves assure her, it was. The stonework is astonishingly careful and beautiful, silky to the touch up close while from a distance it gives the impression of stretching on forever above, a sky of stone with crystals for stars. Vast natural cave systems are connected by dozens of perfectly smooth, gently sloped broad stone pathways from which the fall, if she fell, would be several miles down. There are handrails. "We use those to move materials carts," someone explains to her, "we're not going to be reckless."
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.
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Being toyed with isn't really the outcome I'm afraid of. Thauron doesn't learn anything from that. It should be a chance I am willing to take if the benefits should this world be real are good enough. I'm just not quite disciplined enough to actually keep taking it except in dire need.
purposeful_glory
I cannot be sorry that you're playing conservatively with your sanity. Nothing's riding on you adding extra, secret tragedy to the you-and-Findekáno drama.
No, he says with satisfaction, it's not. I appreciate your role in that whatever it may be.
And I suppose I needn't worry whether you'll stay warm. Good night, Loki.
And I suppose I needn't worry whether you'll stay warm. Good night, Loki.
purposeful_glory
Good night.
And she goes to sleep.
She has not soundproofed the buildings of the city, yet; he might hear her murmuring random nouns.
And she goes to sleep.
She has not soundproofed the buildings of the city, yet; he might hear her murmuring random nouns.
If he does, he doesn't comment. In the morning a Dwarf brings breakfast.
purposeful_glory
She thanks the Dwarf, eats the breakfast, heads out at a leisurely enough pace that Maitimo could catch her if he thought of something else he wanted to say, and then flies around doing soundproofings.
When she's done she doublezooms all the way home.
When she's done she doublezooms all the way home.
The Enemy did not exploit her absence, at least not in an obvious way; the camp is still standing, and everyone greets her with relief.
purposeful_glory
She says hello to everybody and tells them that this place isn't defensible. In anticipation of Thauron coming out and being a huge jerk, they will be falling back to other locations: families with babies too small to learn to fly can scurry south to the Dwarves who said they could take some people, they should be able to get there in plenty of time and before winter sets in. Everybody else is gonna learn to fly and go in batches to the eight-pointed city, which has graciously set aside space for them under the following generous parameters. The Quendi are going to be really perfectly polite about that, right?
The Quendi are at least going to voice their objections privately.
"The help of Fëanáro's firstborn always comes with strings - not just attached, but woven in rather thoroughly," someone says to her once they get a minute alone. "And he's not trustworthy, and he's a Feanorian. And the city itself is a Feanorian city that's arranging for you to owe it a favor, not a place for Men. And Men shouldn't be around Feanorians anyway."
And so on in that vein.
"The help of Fëanáro's firstborn always comes with strings - not just attached, but woven in rather thoroughly," someone says to her once they get a minute alone. "And he's not trustworthy, and he's a Feanorian. And the city itself is a Feanorian city that's arranging for you to owe it a favor, not a place for Men. And Men shouldn't be around Feanorians anyway."
And so on in that vein.
purposeful_glory
"Well, you don't have to come if you don't want to, I can make an extra trip to escort you back to your host, but I'm sure the Men would miss you. What's your alternate plan? Overwhelm the Dwarves with refugees? Park here and hope really hard?"
No, it's definitely better to go with the Men, and there's not a good plan, but that's classic prince we-don't-say-his-name-you-know, leaving you with no better options than running into his arms.
purposeful_glory
"It's not his fault I didn't beat the asshole into tiny enough ice fragments to give us time and wherewithal to build our own defensible city," Loki says. "Look, does it help that he owes me his not being in Angband to begin with? This is a big favor, but he can only offer anybody favors because I hauled him out of there."
That does help. The opinion is voiced that Loki should have leveraged this to get the Feanorians to apologize and yield the crown, not that they'd have done that even in exchange for his rescue.
purposeful_glory
"Well, I didn't do that, it's not my style, and now I need a place to put a bunch of Men and Maitimo has one."
"Maitimo is quite charming, isn't he?" The grumbling mostly quiets as they help the Men pack and prepare.
purposeful_glory
Loki makes sure everyone knows how much birds can "carry". The illusions on the singing objects and the telescopes and the mirrors and the clocks are actually not going to survive the trip - if the physical substrates are hidden away and the illusions stop playing she'll have to replace them anyway - so don't pack those unless you're going to the Dwarves; she'll make replacements there for any such things needed. Messenger bird, go tell the Dwarves how many are coming and when, ask if they'd be willing to provide escort for some feasible consideration. Maybe they want clocks, she hasn't offered them clocks yet. Rest of you Quendi are on osanwë flight-teaching duty. She would like the first batch - call it two hundred, all adults, none of the werewolves, no essential personnel - ready to move quite soon. She wants everybody where they're going before the first snowfall.
Everyone's sad, distressed, anxious, but ready to work hard. Two hundred Men learn to be birds.
purposeful_glory
She promises the city is very lovely. She illusioned it that way herself.
She zooms out to toss Maitimo a, Hey, I'm going to bring a batch of two hundred soon as I get home from here. Larger batches from there if they don't meet mishap.
She zooms out to toss Maitimo a, Hey, I'm going to bring a batch of two hundred soon as I get home from here. Larger batches from there if they don't meet mishap.
We have finished defending the walls, and will expect you.
purposeful_glory
Back in a bit.
And she turns right around and collects the two hundred and zooms them all invisibly cityward along with a couple of elves for midflight osanwë if something that needs more than unidirectional audio illusion communication comes up.
And she turns right around and collects the two hundred and zooms them all invisibly cityward along with a couple of elves for midflight osanwë if something that needs more than unidirectional audio illusion communication comes up.
Nothing disturbs them.
purposeful_glory
Here we are. What's intake protocol? Loki asks when they're there.
Land outside, play the song, ask everyone individually to confirm that they're a Man or an Elf or whatever and that they intend to abide by the laws of this city or leave it if they decide they cannot.
purposeful_glory
Sure. Loki announces this to her flock, and then she touches down at the gate and holds out her hand to be deluged in birds.
Song! Quiz!
Song! Quiz!