There's a city surrounded by farms and some villages that are more distant.

People are terrible. He hates them.

He flies off in whatever direction looks like it has the least people.

Those mountains haven't got any.

Then he can fly to the mountains. Eventually he'll have to get rid of the people, but he did just receive new skin after centuries of captivity. He might be due for a rest first.

If he can be very sure that there are no people for miles and miles around, he'll go to sleep.

Miles and miles away, people are learning French and very pleased about it. 

Oh good! This person actually knows a bunch of languages, but doesn't really want to teach him all of them until they've gotten more things. She's very impressed with how quickly he's picking it up, it takes most people much much longer.

Which other ones does she know? (Among Elves it'd be very rude to be all transactional about language-teaching and supply-fetching but these are traumatized aliens and he's not going to try to explain that).

English, French, Spanish, German, Russian, Italian, Portuguese, Hungarian but she's pretty sure her accent is atrocious, some Cherokee, a little Chinese, a little Arabic, enough Latin to read poetry with a dictionary.

He is so jealous!

"You can learn them all eventually!" she says, in French.

(She's not entirely sure he can learn them all eventually, because most people don't live nearly as long as she does, but hey, some actual humans are polyglots too and who knows how long these demons live.)

"Oh, we don't die. I don't think you will here in Valinor, Valinor mostly isn't horrible if there's some obvious way it could not be horrible."

"Ohh. Is that so." She was not going to die anyway but that's fascinating. Also apparently these people are mindreaders, lovely, maybe she should be doing that thing she learned to do in Tibet a long time ago to block basic mindreading. And now all of her thoughts are private.

"Yes. 'is that so', do you say that for skepticism, or -"

She says it's a polite filler phrase that doesn't mean much of anything. She is pretty consistently less helpful than Karen when she talks about connotations, honestly.

French is still enough to keep him occupied until Maitimo and Nerdanel and Karen come back. 

They have maps, paper and parchment and ink, cooking pots and water skins, knives, jars of jam and honey, and beautiful clothing for everybody. 

"We don't have more carts like this one, it's new magic and the only other carts that move at all don't handle terrain well. You can attach normal carts to the back of it."

They are very happy about all of the stuff. Well, the ones who can manage happy at all are happy, although some of them are also still kind of paranoid about the elves' intentions. They note the lack of spears and take it as information, but they don't bring it up out loud. They can try making weapons out of rocks or sticks or whatever later. At least they have knives, knives are pretty important.

" - but you're offering us the magic cart anyway?"

"We can make another."

These people are so suspiciously helpful apart from the not giving them any way to defend themselves. It's very suspicious.

"OK. Thank you."

Can he learn Spanish now?

Yeah sure he can learn Spanish, that's fair.

Has anyone remembered their names? Not having names seems very sad.

Nope, nobody here seems to have a name. Except this one person who says he was astral projecting the last time the cart visited, his name is Kevras. 

"Hi, Kevras. What's astral projecting?"