I don't think we'd object? We are going to have to be accommodating of what Men need if we're hiring any anyway. You sleep more and so forth.

If you try not letting them sleep you won't accumulate enough workers to form a union in the first place. They probably won't resort to strikes if they can get whatever they like by asking, anyway, but it wouldn't be nice to be completely blindsided by the tactic.

Alright. You satisfied that this is a good place to open relations on this continent?

Yeah, I think so. Do you want to go make out on a random street bench before we go home?

Very much so. Are we confident that's safe here?

Kib spends thirty seconds looking around and then points out some women who are not actively making out but are walking down the street hand in hand with their faces very close together, gazing into one another's eyes and giggling.

He grins. He kisses Kib. He looks around for nearby random street benches.

Well, that's lovely. His reflexes are not entirely persuaded, but still, lovely.

Kib's reflexes are fine but he does not suggest that they go try to negotiate for a hotel room in a foreign language or anything.

They should get back anyway, to let the Valar know this is a good portal location.

Yep. Back to Valinor with them.

Kib brings a few spare notebooks.

Fëanáro, denouncing the Valar beneath torchlight in a darkened Tirion. Fëanáro, cutting through terrified people on the docks of Alqualondë. Fëanáro, dying on strange shores, his children gathered around him. Findekáno bludgeoned into the ground, blood staining blue-and-white silk banners.

Tell us how you really feel, Fëanáro. Kib writes it all down. "...anything else?"

"Much, much else, but we do not share the future lightly."

"Do you have any idea what precipitates all this? Why it's dark? Why he's slaughtering his way through Alqualondë?" At least now Kib knows when Telufinwë dies.

"His rebellion against the Valar and against Eru. We do not know what prompted that, or we would change it."

What an unhelpful self-serving deliberately oblivious sort of answer. "Do you have anything shortly prior to his rebellion against the Valar and Eru that might be more informative examined from other perspectives?"

They do. They have a circle of Valar pleading with Fëanáro for a Silmaril so they can restore light to the world, and Fëanáro refusing, calling them 'Moringotho's kin'. They have Fëanáro drawing a sword on his half-brother. They have Fëanáro having a fight with his wife.

...Kib would, if he did not suspect Valar were incapable of shame, suspect they were picking and choosing scenes to make themselves look really good. "What is a Silmaril?"

He gets shown one. The gem in the necklace that had appeared in the Dwarf-Elf war and in Maitimo's sacks of two cities.

...that's something. Scribble scribble. "Those things may be important, anything else with them in?"

Sure! A festival in a few decades, Fëanáro fawned over, the Silmarils worn on his head in a circlet. They are very pretty.