"What are their trials like?"

"Civilized. When my father threatened Nolofinwë- I don't actually know how his name ought to Thindarinize. Golfin, I think, but calling him that would annoy him - anyhow, they had a trial and it came out that both sides had inaccurate beliefs about what the other ones were planning so they interviewed people for months and unravelled all of the lies that had been planted between us and then reached their verdict."

"I have no idea how you derive Golfin from Nolofinwë," she comments. "What would they be trying me for?"

"Entering Valinor without leave, probably. And if you care, the Quenya N became the Thindarin G and they drop vowels at the end of syllables and the -wë word ending."

"Gotcha."

"And here I've been assuming that they'd probably smite me instantly."

"If you march up to them and speak your mind, maybe. Don't do that."

"I'll pretend they're my mother."

He nods. "It might be these walls will stand until we have our bombs, but I honestly do not expect it."

"You think Morgoth's going to storm up in person, or that there will be a flock of Maiar I can't wipe out before they overtake the place -?"

"Morgoth once took form as a volcano."

"...Well. I do not think I am big enough to freeze a volcano or that figuring out how to turn twelve feet tall would cut it."

He nods. "Ergo all this discussion of fallbacks of last resort. You teleport out."

Sigh.

"Anything else? I am rather busy."

"That's all." And she pops to Mithrim.

No electrical lights, but they're thriving too, taller walls built into the mountainside and the camp rapidly expanding to accommodate locals.

She demonstrates her credentials and goes to inform Nolofinwë of the language thing.

He'd already heard, from Artanis and Angaráto when they were kicked out. "Thank you for letting us know, though."

"You're welcome. What should I be adding to my name chart?"

"I'm Fingolfin," he says, "apparently." And he tells her all the others, as well.

Chart chart chart. "Stupid fucking way to make a stupid fucking gesture," she mutters.

"On a scale of stupidity from one to my brother's original decision to storm the beach armed and steal the boats..."

"Would you like me to swear about that, too? I can."