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Bella's house gets done, and she fills it up with things. She experiments with magic, and theorizes when she has more data to work with; when she runs out of her steadily increasing mana supply for a day she studies Quenya. One morning she sits bolt upright in bed, realizes she has not seen a single wheel since she got here, and runs off to Mahtan to explain the concept, which is, it turns out, new.
When Fëanáro is feeling sociable she hangs out with him. He finishes his novel. (In it, the school turns him over to social workers and adopt him out, he escapes his foster family, he encounters a dragon and talks his way past it with stories about Arda, he studies wizardry and is unreasonably effective at it, when the dragon opens a portal to Arda he sneaks through too and the Valar slay the dragon, he fixes his mother with magic, and then he masters planar travel himself and conquers Bella's plane.) He finishes his typewriter, too; Bella's of the opinion that it would have been easier if he made vowels separate instead of consonant-hats, but it works okay like so. She acquires one when there is more than one, and learns to type, because crystal balls are a long time coming.
She has made some progress, though. She finds the common thread in dud combinations that produced an aura, and successfully decomposes all her original spells into pieces and begins to make new combinations. Most of these are trivial like the increased character limit arcane mark. Reverse-engineering her undead-damaging spell, though, gets her (small) arcane healing well in advance of when she was expecting to have that down. So anybody who lives on her block and cuts themselves cooking breakfast can knock on her door - or that of anybody who's getting the spells as she turns them out - and get that seen to without bothering a Maia.
Once a month she sees Miriel. Bella doesn't have any ideas that land any better than "forget you forgot something". But forgetting the contents of that foolish, foolish oath is at least a holding pattern that lets Miriel pretty much live her life, so, therapeutic success? ...Bella makes sure to remind Fëanáro that he is very adorable and lovable and adored and loved.
subtly_artistic
subtly_artistic
"So I just - go to Manwë and explain that this is very alarming and I would like my sense of time restored to its original condition." Pause. "I bet Fëanáro would like it too, come to think of it. I guess it might make being a small child more frustrating but he's always worried about not getting enough done."
"Let's just ask for you, first, and then if there are no negative consequences we can discuss it with him. It might make it hard for you to maintain relationships with people, if you experience time very differently from them. And that's not a problem he needs."
subtly_artistic
"I can't tell if the impulse to wait until the birthday festival's over is me or the time-slidey thing so yes immediately."
"I had the impulse to suggest that and then thought you'd feel that way. All right. Let's go get horses."
"I"ll ask a friend to accompany us, she was torn over whether to leave Tirion when the Vanyar did and will be delighted to go visit them."
"I will doggedly follow her around while she packs, at least. Meet you at the gates by the Mingling?"
They are there by the Mingling. Rúmil's friend is in fact very bemused that they want to leave now, but okay.
And they head out. It's a week's travel to Taniquetil. No time-blurring, it's just five hundred miles and even Valinorean horses need rest sometimes.
subtly_artistic
Bella spends the trip diligently running out her magic every single day - she holds a bit in reserve until she's going to go to sleep, then spends it - trying to feel out the bits and pieces that eventually free Proper Wizards from having to cast discrete 'spells'. She solicits obscure Quenya vocabulary. She borrows Rúmil's friend's eyes and looks at things with Eldar vision. She notebooks. She practices teekay, which tires her out but doesn't have a hard limit. She seems terrified to slow down.
If you were Fëanáro, this is where I'd reassure you that you don't stop mattering if you haven't solved everything fast enough.
subtly_artistic
I'm not actually worried about external deadlines. I'm worried that I spent ten years not noticing that a thing was happening to my mind. I am very interested in making sure that I'm capable of staving it off manually. The rock she is levitating spins in the air.
Taniquetil towers over Valinor, its location (in the middle of the rolling plains) and its symmetry obviously supernatural. The path winds through picturesque valleys where the Vanyar have settled, up above the treeline, up above the cloudline, high enough to see the stars.
Noticing anything? It may just be that Valinor's social environment, and gracious array of distractions, encourages one to think about time less.
subtly_artistic
It's very subtle or it wouldn't have gotten past me this long. I don't have anything definitive.