I am very sure you won't hurt, Rúmil says. She's hurting as things are. And we can go get your textbook back from Fëanáro.

That one and another one that's in my house plot.

Bella follows nervously.

Back to Tirion, back to her plot. People have left more gifts. No one will blame you if it doesn't help. We do have to try.

She finds the Mood Disorders textbook in her pile and picks it up and hurries after him rather than immediately set upon her gifts.

To the palace. Finwë is not in his throne room. Rúmil pulls up and waits there.

Bella fidgets. And flips through Mood Disorders.

He still doesn't come back. By the time he does, the light is changing colors overhead.

Bella eventually sits on the floor rather than stand around. Mood Disorders, Mood Disorders.

The King strides in. You should probably stand, Rúmil whisper-thinks at Bella.

She gets to her feet, tucks the book under her arm.

Not exactly! I was going to learn but then I had my accident. But the skill I'm using to talk to you without sharing a language is considered essential for mental healers in my plane and the books may have something I can use to piece together guesses about things to try.

Mental healers?

For people who have - problems they can't fix themselves, with their mood, or with thinking about bad things that happened to them all the time even when they're over, or with feeling compelled to do things that don't make sense, or with having impulses they can't control, or with seeing or hearing things that aren't there. I hadn't learned enough to specialize but those are all things mental healers work on and I'm certainly forgetting some.

We don't have those. It sounds like what we require. I'd be grateful for your aid.

I don't know if it'll help. But I can try.

Thank you. My wife is in the gardens of Lórien, a few days' travel from here.

I take it this takes priority over teaching Fëanáro to read. ...And I'll need the book he's borrowing back.

I'll have someone go fetch it right now. And yes, it does.

It might take a long time even if I can help. Possibly as much as years. And as a matter of professional practice I've actually already agreed to take patient confidentiality seriously; I mustn't discuss whatever happens with you or anyone else but her personally unless something happens such that she's unable to tell me her own preferences on a subject and I have to go elsewhere for a decision.

He frowns. You've sworn to abide by that practice of your people?

...My people don't do swearing things the way yours do. It is not literally impossible for me to disclose patient information. But I have said I wouldn't do it, and I meant it, and you would need an extremely good and unexpected reason for me to be willing to do it anyway. Your wife is under no such restriction; she can tell anyone anything she likes.

All right. We can try the customs of your people.