"Noted. So where're Idaia and Tyelcormo?"

"Got a room."

"Why am I not surprised."

"Because you have ever met either of them."

"Oh, let's be fair. You have to meet both of them to expect it."

"True, but either one is sufficient for it to be unsurprising."

And at this point the New York City shuttle arrives, and explanations are repeated, and then the Canada shuttle is not far on its heels and Amras is mostly transparent.

And there are hugs. This is important.

Yeah. Hugs. Lots of disbelieving hugs. And Fëanor asks the Bar hundreds of questions about the translation magic and by the time he's satisfied Maglor's arrived and there are more hugs.

And then, finally, a woman who looks almost exactly like Imliss walks in with a heavy black bag slung over one shoulder.

Everyone turns around expectantly. Matt lets the door close.

And Emily unzips the bag and pulls out a pair of astonishingly beautiful gemstones and hands them to Feanor and says, "Are the Abbadon versions this gorgeous? Because wow."

"Yes, they are."

"...thank you," Fëanor says.

He is not crying. Some other people are maybe crying. Amras stops being mostly transparent though he is shining like he's mostly made of Silmaril.

In Fëanor's hands they come alive and leave somehow the strong impression of a dog, abandoned for the day, racing to the door when its companion comes home, or of a child peering out from behind her parents' skirts, or of a lover rolling over in the morning to see the most beautiful person in his world beside him in bed. They set the bar ablaze. They are stunning.

Fëanor's hands are bleeding and the air smells like meat cooking.

"Do you want some gloves. And directions to the infirmary."

"Gloves yes," he says. 

Gloves.

"And then may I please fix your hands I am a fully qualified medical angel."

"...sure, if it's convenient."

"It is highly convenient and also likely to mean that the air doesn't start smelling like charred meat again if I make it stop." She makes it stop. She fixes his hands. "If I had known that was going to happen I'd've just handed you the bag. They didn't do that to me, not even the little bit my indestructability'd allow."

"They burn evil things."

"...Evil defined how?"

(Look at Cam not flinching. By holding very still and not looking at anybody.)

"Killed enough people, I think, or served the ends of the Enemy. There's a spectrum, they're worse for me than for my father."

"Why would you build those in as the criteria -"