At home the sky is blue with white or grey clouds in it, during the day, and dark with stars at night. It's not trees that make it bright in the daytime but the sun - She sends a timelapse of a day.

Hmm. That's pretty. Especially the bit when the light hits the clouds while it's at an odd angle, and you get all the colors - I can ask them about clouds - actually, I think the clouds are just on hold because no one has a roof to sleep under yet, I think they are typically present.

The clouds don't always rain, it's usually just if there's lots of them.

Then perhaps they'll introduce clouds even before the city is finished. Something to eat?

Sure.

He tosses her a package of some kind of nuts. There's a river coming up where we'll stop to drink.

Nom nom nuts.

The river is hard to look at directly; because of the light it looks like some kind of molten white metal, though the horses drink readily enough and the Noldor seem unbothered.

Everyone is quite happy for her to do this.

So she shuts her eyes and tries to use the nearest functioning set.

The sky no longer looks entirely white; it's streaked with purple. It's beautiful but no longer blinding. She can see Tirion as clearly as if she were standing outside its walls, examining them. She can see that the water is cold and colder beneath its swift-moving surface. She can see Lórien, gold-leafed trees a hundred miles ahead of them. She could count the leaves on the trees.

Ah, Rúmil thought. I'd assumed I couldn't see clearly through your eyes because you make yourself so hard to read in general. That's really how you see?

That's really how I see. I don't have bad vision for a human, either.

Perhaps once the Valar get good at biology we can both of us ask them for improved vision.

Maybe!

They stop shortly past the river for the evening. A few of her escort stand next to their horses nervously. We're used to having guards when we travel, Rúmil offers, and it's silly and not needed here but a hard habit to break. Many of us can't sleep alone.

Believe me, I understand. In my home we mostly go for trustworthy architecture over people guarding us but the idea's similar.

What harms could befall you while sleeping at home?

Nothing would be likely to get into the dormitory where I slept, or even one of my parents' houses; but if I went out in the woods something might very well eat me or set me on fire or think it was cute to dump me in a river or turn me into a tree or something like that.

Your parents had several houses?

Separate houses. They divorced when I was a baby. Before I went to college I lived with my mother most of the time but visited my father summers.

Among our people it is considered a terrible tragedy for a child to grow up without both parents. Thus everyone's fears for Fëanáro.

It's not that uncommon for humans and it's only considered a big disaster if the parents can't cooperate on having a child together all right. My parents get along fine and didn't have any major disagreements about how to bring me up, they just turned out not to want to be married anymore.