And then a thunderclap sounds from behind them.

As Elendil once said, the world is not a machine.  Sauron would have it be a machine, but in fact it is a symphony.  There are exceptions to the rules.

It is not like Arda is closed in upon itself with all roads bent.  The Walls of the World open every year, to let the Elves (and occasionally others) travel the Straight Road.  And they open more often than that for the Seeing-Stone on the Tower Hills, where even mortal Men may see along the Straight Road to the Undying Lands that have been taken away from the world.

(And what of the walls around Eä as a whole, far beyond the stars of Elbereth?  No Man or Elf has seen them, and what the Powers know, they have not shared - save merely, neither is Eä a machine.)

So, on the northern borders of Rivendell, where the wards of the Ring of Air are being pressed from outside (by Sauron) and changed from inside (by Elrond its bearer fencing against Sauron) at the same time, it would not be impossible for another crack to open through the Walls of the World...

Especially by someone who was bloody stupid enough to get distracted by thinking about the Rings of Power when attempting to devise/enchant/draft a vaguely ring-shaped portal-anchor frame and then fumble a dollop of essence of pregnant pause into it.  Or rather, undiluted possibility and λ-being, but when the universe is singing at you, you damn well take musical notes.

Alicia Thorn lets out a blistering "Motherfuck---" as she blows through a portal that shouldn't have existed, but nonetheless λ-did.

They turn back at the sound of a thunderclap out of what had been - well, not a clear sky; it's rarely a clear sky in late October - a sky that definitely didn't look like a thunderstorm.

There's no rain or lightning.  Instead, for a moment the air looks glistening... and then it's just normal air again, but it looks like a person is sprawled on the pebbly beach next to the Bruinen.

Adrahil and Halbarad exchange one nod, and then ride toward the person.

It's a girl.  A young human girl... maybe a little younger than Halbarad's youngest, thirteen or so?  In a strange but obviously well-made dress.

She doesn't look like she's Dunedain, or Beorning.

Adrahil raises an eyebrow as they approach, and touches his sword.  "Strange," he murmurs in Sindarin (a language evesdroppers are less likely to know).  "Maybe a trap?"

Halbarad shrugs.  "Can't leave her here," he replies also in Sindarin.

Adrahil nods.

Halbarad slips off his horse as they approach.  "Hello?" he says in the Common Speech.  "Who are you, and what brings you here?"

If she doesn't seem to understand, he'll try again in Sindarin, and then haltingly in his few words of a few Orcish and Rhovanian dialects.

She's picked herself up, and is looking around herself with all evidence of - fear-worry, incomprehension, and self-disgust, muttering in a way that is just evidently full of imprecations despite being unintelligible once she's gotten past "Oww", but it seems that neither Villarosan Common nor English have cognates here.  And if this is where she thinks it could be, why would they, Tolkien said the text was translated from - Westron?  The Shire's native language - and then there were like several dozen conlangs - (well, no, that's a lie, she only knows of, like, three, but still -)

She turns around, looking at where the portal probably should have been.

It isn't.  She doesn't know what she was expecting, and ends up kicking the beach in a frustrated mini-sulk.

"I'm sorry, I can't understand you," she says, shaking her head.

Right.  Time to try - magical pantomime, most probably.

She takes several steps back, and - well, tries to call up a simple magelight as her first step before she starts trying to make more complex illusions to explain things, hoping they won't get spooked.  She's pretty sure she saw that guy's hand go to his sword.  She does not like that.

(It is probably worth noting that she is wearing a sufficiently bejeweled tiara to indicate that she's Important even while she's wearing her toolbelt and lab safety equipment.)

Of course she's afraid, in the wild away from home.

... some ways away from home, given that Halbarad doesn't understand her language at all.  Though there's obviously something strange, given how she's wearing on her head more jewels than he's ever seen outside Rivendell...

He shakes his head too.  "I don't understand your language," he says in the Common Speech.

And then she makes a light right above her hand!

Halbarad gasps in shock, his eyes wide.  He can't do that.  Aragorn can't do that.

He hears Adrahil gasp behind him, "Barrows -"

... yes, that could almost be it.  He's heard Barrow-wights sometimes dress their captives in strange clothes and jewels.  It's not impossible there could be one near here; maybe the Nine Riders stirred it up...

"Did you escape a Barrow-wight?" he asks, trying to not let his pounding heart into his voice.

...No. She headshakes.  She's pretty sure that was an is-there-danger sort of question.

Pantomime it is.  Especially with - she's not really sure that she's waving around the same magic, but the magelight is working fine.

"Bloody language barrier...  I don't know what you're saying but you clearly think I'm impressive -"

Alright.

Introductions first, or - no, explanation first.

She stares frustratedly at where the portal was first, for a second, before cueing up the illusion of what should have happened - stylized Alicia-working-on-portal-frame, Alicia-puts-[arcane-purple]-magic-in-frame, frame opens somewhere else with another frame (zoom out, show the connection on a not-map -) - and then she shakes her head, shoving it away, and shows what did happen.

Alicia-working-on-frame, Alicia-gets-distracted-by-thinking-of-magical-rings (no specific details like the fucking Black Speech inscription, she doesn't even remember it precisely, they just glow colors in the thoughtbubble), Alicia-thinking-causes-different-magic (shadowy, absence-of-light unlight), different-magic-splashes-on-portal, surprised-Alicia-experiences-stylized-air-currents, beach.  And faceplant.

Alicia then shows the same zoom on the map, but - much further.  Wrapping the map around a planet and adding a starfield, zooming the starfield out to show a galaxy, zooming the galaxy out to show multiple universes, all of that overlaid with a zigzaggy broken line of travel.  She does stick a little picture of the beach in the 'corner' to show her destination, though.

... All right, apparently she's somehow an Elf?  Able to sing illusions without the actual singing?

Halbarad has heard of magical rings, but most everything else here is lost on him.  Surely, after all, she couldn't be talking of actually traveling past the stars?

"Elda?  Elleth?" he ventures, pointing at her questioningly even though she if she was an Elf she would surely have recognized his Sindarin greeting before.

Adrahil has also heard the stories of magical rings, and he's again thinking of more concerning possibilities.  Given she's pretty clearly not an Elf, and she's probably too young to be a witch calling on Sauron's dark power herself, her magic needs to come from somewhere... and the strange jewels on her head are an obvious possibility.

He makes a show of taking off his hood, and then lifts an imaginary wreath off his head, and then gestures to her expectingly.

"No.  No Elda, no Elleth," she says, pretty sure what that's about even if she has to guess from the Warhammer Eldar to get started.  "Human."  Not that they'd recognize the word, probably.

...Sure, she can take the tiara off.  She gives him a quizzical look as she does.

...And then she remembers just what setting she might be in and just.  Puts it on the ground and facepalms.  "Should have guessed that might be a concern..."  ...Now how does she communicate 'no, the tiara is not an evil magic artifact'.

...How did she get this one, anyway...?

Her thinking face isn't exactly intentional but it's probably nonetheless indicative; she steps away from the tiara and does another bit of illusion.  This time she shows her immediate family tree - Queen-Consort Jethelia, King Ambrose, both with their own crowns, producing a baby - and then the baby turns into her, time passing with an hourglass with - fourteen tally marks, communicating her age more important than strict accuracy, and Queen Jethelia talks to a smith-caricature, speech-bubbling the tiara at him, and then the smith hammers it into existence.  From raw materials.  Well, if 'silver bar' and 'gems sticking out of a rock' are 'raw materials'.  (And then it gets put on the Alicia-picture on the family tree, of course.  After passing through Jethelia.)

...Actually, she should probably explain...

Well, the magic comes from inside herself, sort of?  Even if it doesn't really?  And that's not even taking into account her own reality distortion field.

Still, she can -

-- but should she.

Better, probably, to keep opsec on that a bit more stringently.  But she can show the same Alicia-activating-portal without the tiara, and - perhaps pulling up an image of a shadowy figure puppeting her (through the tiara?) and then shoving it away forcefully, with a "No.".  That should probably help...?

Adrahil relaxes visibly when she takes off the tiara.

What she shows then seems to be clearly a tableaux of her life... until the part where she seems to be traveling through a suddenly-appearing door that opens somewhere else?  And when she shows a shadowy figure, he's not clear whether she's saying it didn't happen or it happened but she very much hates that it happened.

Well, whichever one it is, it still calls for the same response.  He turns to Halbarad.  "We need to bring her to Rivendell.  With this many mysteries about her, Aragorn needs to see her... and Gandalf, if he's still there."

(The names "Rivendell" and "Gandalf" are translation-convention for original names in Westron (aka Common Speech), so Alicia won't recognize them.  However, the name "Aragorn" is in Sindarin, so it's literally the same and Alicia will (probably?) recognize it.)

Halbarad doesn't make any more sense of the tableaux of Alicia's life.

He nods to Adrahil.  "Yes; we can't leave a girl out in this wilderness.  And even aside from mysteries - better to take her to Rivendell where someone might speak her language, than to our villages where no one will."

Now how to convey that to Alicia...

...Yes, she does recognize Aragorn.  Unfortunately she doesn't recognize anything else and frankly, racking her brain for Sindarin produces "mellon" and literally nothing else.  Except the horrible xkcd frenemy portmanteau.  Unless 'Morgoth' literally means enemy and you have to just guess if it's in capital letters in spoken Sindarin.  Which might be the case for all she knows.  It's not like Morgoth isn't that blunt of an instrument.

...She'll put her tiara back on now?  It...  Settles her.

She can kind of guess that they're talking about 'take her to our leader' sorts of things from that particular namedrop, so...

How to do this.

...First, establish an 'in charge' sort of symbol?

...Well, and introduce herself - or...That can probably wait.

First, show the King and Queen again, and herself, and some Generic Humans.  Then show the King and Queen saying things, with the crowns, tiaras, whatever, on the speech bubble.  Then show the people moving about when that happens, connected to the speech bubble.  ...Also show Alicia ordering some of them about even if she doesn't like that she can do that.

Now show them and a "Generic" (read: Movie Aragorn, with the beard -) Boss Dude, With Fancy Crown Tacked On, ordering them about until they run into Alicia, and...  Ask "Yes, or No?"  Because she shouldn't know Aragorn, son of Arathorn, or his hierarchical position, really. ( ...That is his dad, right?)

(If "No", then repeat but with someone with Alicia's tiara giving them orders that the Boss Dude gives them, but she doesn't think it will be necessary.)

Then show them, and Alicia, going to the appropriate tier of Generic Boss Dude, "Yes, please," and them leaving Alicia to go say Alicia is on the beach "No, please."  With a sad Alicia, you don't want her to be sad, do you?

She seems to recognize one of the names he mentioned?  He's not surprised; Gandalf and Aragorn have both traveled to some far-flung places...

It takes a moment for him to guess what she means by the crowns.  Even when Aragorn's ancestors were kings of Arnor, they didn't wear a crown... but after a moment, he remembers that the kings of other realms do wear crowns.

... wait a minute, is that what the jewels on her head are?  "Is she saying she's a princess?"

"Then all the more reason to bring her safely to Rivendell."

He turns to Alicia.

First to introduce themselves.  He points to him and his friend in turn:  "Halbarad; Adrahil."  Then to both of them together:  "Dunedain.  Rangers."  He points at her, questioningly, and waits a moment for her to give her name.

Then sweeping around them, indicating the whole land:  "Eriador."  Then to the southwest, toward the mountains that can be seen on the horizon:  "Rivendell, or Imladris."

Then he points to all three of them and their horses, and makes walking motions with his fingers in the direction he pointed toward Rivendell.  Hopefully she'll look happy at that?

Since she seemed to recognize one of the names, he points again and repeats, "Aragorn and Gandalf are at Rivendell." 

(All the proper names here are literal Sindarin... except "Rangers", "Gandalf," and "Rivendell," which are translation-convention.)

"Alicia," she says, then pointing at Halbarad and Adrahil she repeats their names, then pointing at an image of what's-through-the-portal and making the sweepy gesture she says "Villarosa; Halbarad and Adrahil Dunedain, Alicia Villarosan".

"Alicia," walky-fingers "go to," then "Rivendell, Imladris?  Yes."

He nods.  "Alicia, Halbarad, Adrahil" (finger-walk) "go to Rivendell.  Alicia on horse?"

He gestures as if lifting someone onto the back of his horse.  It wouldn't be the first time he's carried a girl in front of himself on his horse... though it's usually been his children or other Dunedain's.

Alicia appears to be thinking about that.

...She really wishes she had a better spell for travel.  Sure, she knows the train enchantments, but they're kind of useless without an actual train.

"Alicia on horse yes-no; Alicia on horse maybe.  Alicia on horse maybe ow.  Alicia want no ow."

...If she's in LotR, perhaps she'd best not spook anybody with a void horse - but she probably could whistle up something if she did want to risk it...

...But the anti-Song and the anti-Light is the Enemy's, or at least the Enemy's allies - what with the big fuckoff spider that ate the Trees, she thinks - and she doesn't know if that correspondence would hold true for Void magic.

Damn it.

"...Alicia on horse yes, please."

(Elrond would be sighing a sigh of relief if he had known about her decision not to summon a horse from something that sounds like the Uttermost Darkness.)

Halbarad hears the "ow" and smiles reassuringly.  "Don't worry."

He brings his horse a few steps closer and holds out his arms to lift Alicia up onto the horse.

Alicia permits this to happen!  ...She is clearly not used to traveling by animal.

...Should've made a flying carpet, probably.

Halbarad is very used to it, and his horse Peartree (named by his neighbor's son) is also used to it and stands steadily as Halbarad sets Alicia up astride.  (He's seen some sidesaddles at Rivendell, but Peartree's never worn one.)

And then he gets up behind her, reaches around her for the reins, and clucks for Peartree to start back toward Rivendell at a walk.  Once they've forded the Bruinen again, unless Alicia's having trouble, he and Adrahil will speed up to a trot.

(And if Alicia does have trouble - the other reason to put her in front of him is for him to be ready to keep her from falling off.)

(If he'd tried to sit her sidesaddle she would have rioted, to be honest.  She's wearing pants for a reason.)

...She can probably manage this.  It's like riding a bike!  Something she's never done properly!

...Okay actually it's slightly easier than biking because the horse moves itself.

Oh, hm, river.  She can make a little magic bridge over the river.  Except that might spook the...

Well they didn't spook at the illusions...

...Is it really necessary?  ...No, not really.

She just continues riding.

There aren't any bridges over the Bruinen.  There haven't been any bridges for generations of Men.

The Rangers and their horses have forded the Bruinen many times before today.

Well, yes, obviously, that's why she didn't bother magicking up a temporary bridge.

Meanwhile, Gandalf (on Asfaloth, borrowed from Glorfindel) is galloping out swiftly towards the place where something strange briefly appeared, something feeling unlike anything in all Arda.  And... he can't remember very well his life in Valinor before coming to Middle-Earth, but it feels sort of like the Straight Road by which ships go from Arda to Valinor, and also sort of the Doors of Night.

Which makes him very worried.  Especially when he still has no idea what the Nazgul might be up to after their defeat a couple days ago.

He draws rein when he sees two Rangers trotting toward him... Halbarad and Adrahil, he recognizes after a moment, with a strange girl-child in front of Halbarad?

"Good-morning!" he calls in Westron.  "Did you see anything strange near the Bruinen... perhaps a little over an hour ago?"

Halbarad is glad to see Gandalf a little earlier than he thought - especially if he's about to be leaving Rivendell?

"Why yes!  Or, we heard a thunderclap - but no storm - and then we saw this girl lying on the beach.  Her name is Alicia; she doesn't speak any languages we can recognize - and she can make magical lights and illusions."

Gandalf smiles.  The question is answered - and the traveler down this new Straight Road, whatever she might be, has been found by these two Rangers!

(She might prove to be a problem in these unsettled times, but Gandalf prefers to be an optimist.)

"Good-morning!" he says to Alicia in Westron.  Tapping himself, he adds, "I am Gandalf."  And then, when she doesn't recognize it, he repeats in a dozen more languages including Sindarin, Quenya, Valinorian, and (finally, reluctantly) the Black Speech.  In half the languages, he gives his name as "Mithrandir" since he more often goes by that name when speaking them.

"Mithrandir" is literal Sindarin, meaning "Grey Pilgrim"; not translation convention.

...What the hell was the name they gave for apparently-not-actually-called-Gandalf Gandalf?  ...Does she remember the elfy name?  Started with - O - Olorin??????????  She is not confident enough in that.

Mithrandir...maybe rings a bell, in that it gives her a bit of a squinty thinky look for a second.

She waves at him.

And then...

"I'm sorry, I can't understand you."

...Time to Play Charades Again?  She magics up a light, then waves-at-Gandalf-"Yes?"  (...If yes, she will proceed to show the portal thing, again.)

If she had actually said "Olorin," Gandalf would have been very surprised...

... but as it is, he frowns.  "I don't recognize that language either, which surprises me less than it would in any other time..."  He gives a thin cryptic smile and turns to Halbarad.  "Since the manner of her arrival makes it likely she is from far away.  You were taking her to Imladris?"

(He uses the Sindarin name for Rivendell, in the vague unlikely hope she might recognize that.)

Halbarad nods.

She recognizes it but she hardly recognizes it.

"Then I shall go with you --"

He stares at Alicia's light.

It doesn't feel like sorcery.  It feels... not quite in step with the Song of the world, but not out of tune either.  It feels like an echo of one principle, sort of like the echos of Eregion's constructions that can still sometimes be felt amid its ruins, or the echos of Morgoth's hostility that still waken sometimes in the Misty Mountains.  But this one girl is calling it up right now.

"Amazing," he says aloud.

She covers her face with her hands like she's embarrassed.  (Because she kind of is.  Why is Gandalf in awe of her!)  And then...  Well, she sets about doing the same illusion-sequence she did earlier to try and explain the portal accident, like she was planning to.

Gandalf holds up his hand to stop her a little ways into the illusion-sequence.

"One moment, and I think we can talk more easily...  I usually would not try to speak mind-to-mind with someone I have just met," he says, aloud for the sake of Halbarad and Adrahil.  "But usually, we would speak each other's language, or there would at least be less urgency to talk."

... Both to help her focus on him, and to ease the strain of osanwe to someone he knows next to nothing about, he holds out his hand to take Alicia's.

<Hello, and well-met I hope> he says into Alicia's mind through osanwe.

He's sending the words of Sindarin as well as the wordless thoughts.  It probably won't help anything - except names; he does want her to hear names as well as the concepts behind them - but words are the less-unusual form of osanwe; most Elves consider the wordless version to be inelegant.

<I am Mithrandir, or Gandalf.  I felt the magic of your extremely strange arrival, and came to see what had happened, only to find you had already met these Rangers.>

...Wergh that feels strange.  Oh well.  Telepathy kind of is just by its nature.  If she had to guess it's a Spirit thing?  Except she's not in her native/adopted cosmology at present...

Now that she's done gesturing for him to wait just a second while she processes all this, she needs to figure out how to do it back - damn it, where's Lila, Lila would be good at this, she's not -

<Sorry, I - had to figure out what I was doing,> she attempts to send back, <I'm not actually any good at the relevant branch of magic where I'm from.  Or perhaps just not practiced, this doesn't seem like it's giving me overmuch trouble as of yet even if it is the strangest feeling I daresay I've ever felt, I'm not supposed to be - well, the relevant metaphysics - who actually even knows if they still apply here - anyway - Hi!  ...Would you, perchance, happen to also be named Olorin?  I think I know that - and while I could tell you exactly why I think I know that, it's a horribly strange tale that I hardly wish to make your problem when you likely have many other things - but I'm not sure that I know that, and it is bugging me.>

Gandalf leans back as Alicia figuratively slams her fëa and a torrent of her thoughts toward him.  It feels almost as if she might know him better than he knows her?  Or she feels great urgency?

<That - I can hear you, but you should speak more tightly>, he answers after a moment to clear his head.  <Osanwe sends what you give it to send; it feels like you are trying to open up your entire spirit.>

<Yes, I am Olorin.  Or, perhaps better, I was him.  But I would ask where you learned that - I would have thought hardly anyone would recognize me by that name?>

<Unfortunately, I have no practical experience with this and I'm pretty sure I'm doing it wrong!  I am not good at shamanic practices in general and this feels very much like one of those - I can't do the - it's all meditative openness and I do not do either of those things well at all.>  A brief, imagined scene - a powerful wizard talking to her apprentice about the different perceptions various magical traditions can have about something as simple as drinking water - flutters into the gap as a follow-up.

(She's not exactly slamming her entire fëa into him anymore, but neither does she seem to be quite capable of not throwing more of herself than might be strictly necessary into communicating things.)

<The answer to where and how I learned that is going to sound utterly insane, but that's just been my life for the past several months, so I guess you asked ->

<Someone in another universe - not even the one I'm visiting from, that's a whole 'nother kettle of fish - published a bunch of novels that they purported were mostly translated from the Westron, first the reclamation of - oh, bloody hell, what was the name of it, the mountain, with the thirteen dwarves and one hobbit whose name was translated dammit Tolkien, and the Arkenstone and Smaug - and then the story of the destruction of the One Ring.  Then a bunch of worldbuilding notes came out posthumously including a bunch of information on the local cosmology and, like, a variety of things that by the time of the published novels were ancient history, stories of past Ages, the creation...uh, well, not exactly a myth if it's true - as well as...like, at least three languages?  Or rather dialects, I suppose, since I can only speak to Sindarin - which definitely got coverage across the aeons, though I barely know a single word of it.  I don't know if anything else came out, and I know we never got Westron.  ...I only read the first book - or, the revised first book, because the original novel was intended to be a lot more self-contained, and it was...lighter -> - a flash of the riddle scene makes it across, complete with fragments of movie!imagery, and the knowledge that the first version presented the ring having been a gift, if she recalls correctly - <- but they were very popular - adapted into - well, I guess I can just say 'blockbuster movies' and you will kind of get it, but if that's not how this works, just...imagine something like the inverse of a Palantir and not telepathic that could show you a play from across half the continent and you're not far off, there's storage and recording involved but it's not really material - and I picked up a bunch of random bits and pieces from the bits I haven't read, because it was both a huge cultural monolith and also inspiration for a lot of people to remix the original works.>  The ghost of a fanfic that manages to land a redemption arc on the reincarnated soul of Sauron of all people gently brushes past, beneath the surface.  <The name you were first given was one of those things.  Also that you have the Ring of Fire, I believe?  ...I sha'n't let any of that about, though, I don't think.  None of my business.>  This, with a complex associative web of right-to-identify tangled up beneath.  <...When am I, anyway?  I'm more specced for making big gribbly things regret the mistake of giving a wizard time to prepare, than sneaking across fucking Mordor, or - well, I do recall there being a damn big distraction of some sort while the hobbits are sneaking the Ring to Mount Doom - but if we have the One Ring to deal with, I suppose it wouldn't be a horrible idea to try spatial displacement somewhere unpleasant first - or disenchanting, or - hm, I don't rightly know how to make strong acids but I do know some of the formulas ->  (Here, the image of Gimli hitting the One Ring with an axe lies beneath, and the impression of Alicia thinking, now that she is encountering the question herself, that that was not trying quite hard enough.  She wonders if she could make enough fire.)

<-- Sorry about all the rambling on, I just - well, my brain is like this all the time and I will admit that I'm not exactly happy to be here since as best I know this world is a series of nested tragedies until Dagor fucking Dagorath, pardon my language, but that's going to be a whole project.>

Gandalf is feeling less overwhelmed now that she's backed off somewhat in her osanwe.

<The quest for Erebor, the Lonely Mountain...>

And then both his eyebrows curl up when she mentions the destruction of the One Ring, and again when she mentions his having the Ring of Fire.

<Amazing.  This is why only a fool would say he has seen everything.>  (He intentionally lets through the osanwe a brief flash of his recent conversation with Saruman, fallen into folly and claiming no chances might avail them against Sauron.)  <However this writer might have gotten the book he translated - it appears so far to be accurate.  And quite valuable now, I am sure.  Though I do thank you for your discretion in sharing what you know - both with me and with others.>

<If it means anything to you, this is the twenty-third of October by the Hobbits' calendar, 1418 of the Shire Reckoning or 3018 of the Third Age.  Frodo Baggins arrived at Rivendell three days ago, and is still abed sorely ill.  If you know of the Ringwraiths - they were defeated for the moment when he and his companions crossed the Fords on their way here, but we are still uncertain what has become of them.>

<Damn, I'm a bit late for that.  I had hoped to be of use warning you that he had gone...  Saruman is definitely - not up to anything good, I think he goes down fighting?  Have you run into the balrog -- no, surely not yet -- I don't know when all the things happen in relation to eachother except that this, what is about to happen in Rivendell, itself, is a big one.>

<...As for the Ringwraiths, I know a woman and a hobbit both contribute to the death of the Witch-King of Angmar?  But nothing...  Actionable, of that.  It might have already happened.>

<Unfortunately, this is about the extent of my knowledge.  I could probably try to bolster Frodo a bit, in non-metaknowledge matters...>

<Alas; that was not to be.  No, I fell into his trap, and much was hurt.  And, I have not encountered a balrog... nor have I heard of one in a full Age...>  He falls silent for a moment, considering where one might be.

<A woman and a hobbit?  To fulfill Glorfindel's prophecy in both interpretations; ha!> He lets out one chuckle.  <No, that has not happened yet, unfortunately.  The Witch-King was at the Fords three days ago, and Frodo hurt him, but no woman was present.  Perhaps next time...>

He peers at her.  She looks like a child, but... ah, her spirit does not look childish at all.  <... you, perhaps, can be there to help.  And in the meantime, any help with Frodo will be appreciated.  Do you perchance know whether he survives?  Or how?>

<He makes it to Mount Doom, beneath Sauron's notice all the while; the Ring is destroyed there, and he returns to the Shire - a bit worse for wear -> - A character analysis meta of Frodo rebuking Gollum/Smeagol with the Ring's power, "if you touch it you shall be cast into the fire", and that being exactly what meant that he couldn't let go even if the Ring was still destroyed because of the fight over it - <- but alive, with the help of a loyal companion in - that name's translated again, blast, but there's another hobbit that's with him -  ...Okay, so the Mines of Moria are yet to come...>  An open question of what the transition of 'Gandalf the Grey' to 'Gandalf the White' even means, because that's also something that happens there unless she blows the balrog up somehow - <And then there's an army of orcs?>  The fortress shots; she's seen that fight enough in gifsets and whatnot to recall it -  <I don't know if the hobbits were there or if they'd split off and this was the distraction - Minas Tirith?  Was that the name?  No, Helm's Deep?  Are those the same thing?  Oh and getting past fucking Ungoliant, for the hobbits, though... that one is much reduced from her height, I have to presume ->

<So Frodo does live!> He visibly relaxes.

And if Frodo falls far enough to invoke the Ring's power... he's going to ponder that more himself.  Perhaps it means nothing except that he had some flaw the Ring could exploit.  Perhaps more; perhaps something that could be averted.

<Ah... there is a Balrog in Moria?  Yes, that would explain some things... disturbingly.  And Ungoliont still alive?  And the Hobbits get past her?  That would be a marvel in itself, though one we can hopefully spare them.>

<... Minas Tirith, I was expecting a battle at already.  And another place...> He frowns.  <I can imagine a number of other places a battle might be...  Perhaps Osgiliath or Pelargir, in the same assault on Minas Tirith?  The Lonely Mountain or Lorien, in a separate attack?  Or if on Rohan - which might bode either well or ill, depending on how my warning about Saruman was received...>

He pauses in thought.

("Helm's Deep" is translation-convention unfortunately.)

<I don't think the Ungoliant they face is anywhere near at the power of the Ungoliant that ate the fucking Trees.  Or - who knows, really.  I just know Ungoliant does still lurk somewhere along the hobbits' path through Mordor, probably in an annoyingly otherwise-impassable way because that's just what Mordor is like, and they do get past her without taking a lasting injury that I know about ->  Except that she does recall Samwise Gamgee abandoning his pots and pans, and a lot of Frodo's resilience against Sauron was surely affected by morale - <There was something about stairs?  Maybe?  But I disgress.  And I think I might tell a lie, when it comes to what constitutes injury - for in this matter, injury to the heart is fell enough, with what is all but a piece of Sauron's soul wearing at Frodo the whole damn time - and I do think they sacrifice many things that would make especially hobbits heartsore for their lack, to push onwards in Mordor.  Whatever could be done that would not draw Sauron's eye, there...  It might help.  Though perhaps - well, the Council of Elrond is coming soon, surely, and many who will be there are surely clever enough to find things I would not think I know, so maybe - but then, memory does fade, if hardly on so short a scale as days ->

<...Damn, do I wish I had a map.  Not that it would be - overly helpful alone especially considering the translation issues...  I'd probably have to pull one into being from the primordium, to actually - reverse-engineer something like a timeline from the journeys - but I am hardly Eru Illuvatar to be able to constrain the infinite possibilities of what is Not and yet could be so finely, so that's hardly a viable plan even if I could materialize the entire Legendarium.

<And - I think one of those battles is where the Witch King gets fatally stabbed, or that at least you've put me onto something, because now that I'm thinking of it, Rohan rings a bell...  It's - the Rohirrim?  Maybe?  I think it's one of the Riders who is the woman who fulfills Glorfindel's prophecy.>  There are definitely some associations with cavalry.

<Also, "The beacon is lit, Gondor calls for aid!"?>

<...I think that line is from Helm's Deep, but I haven't seen the movies.  The amount that I know I do not know but could have known...  It's quite frustrating.>

<...Lorien is a place name I recognize; I...>

<I know nothing more than 'it's familiar'.  I don't think there's - but there could be - but, no, wouldn't that have been - no, the speculation's useless.>

<...For that matter, I could swear I recognize Osgiliath as well, but I definitely don't know anything about anything that might happen there.  What I wouldn't give for an Internet connection...>

<...I should probably actually think about that one, if I have to do multiverse shit anyway.  Won't be remotely fast nor easy, though.  I've nothing to anchor it with, not even - well, that's private.>

 <Gondor calls for aid from Rohan?  There is no surprise there.  I hope Rohan will be in a situation to answer...  Elrond has good maps at Rivendell; the best between Gondor and Mithlond.>

<And do not be frustrated.>  He squeezes her hand.  <What I could have done just this year, had I known earlier that Saruman was a traitor ->  He shakes his head. <But I did the best I knew at the time, and I must not fault myself.>

He turns to the Rangers (while still echoing the meaning of his words in osanwe to Alicia).

"This is better news than any of us hoped.  She is from another world, outside all of Arda, but she has read - something like a book written with Foresight of what has recently happened here, and what will happen.  She knew who I was, and what Frodo carries, and some of the threats we would have faced."

Halbarad's arms on the reins around Alicia tighten momentarily with shock.  "How!?  And will she help - though she's just a child?"

"She knows not how.  I know not either... but I am ready to trust it.  And she is happy to help, though 'how' will have to be decided...  Unfortunately, she did not know it was Foresight at the time, so she did not read as much as she now wishes she had."

Halbarad sighs a long slow sigh.

"I suppose that settles whether there's anyone in all Middle-Earth who can speak her language.  And Rivendell is exactly the right place to take her.  But I wish there were other children there...  Is there anything we should do right now?"

(Gandalf translates by osanwe, adding that if he remembers correctly Halbarad has several children of his own.)

...Alas that Halbarad comes from a place of such kindness with those concerns, for she must turn them away for duty.

<There is little that can be done but our best, Halbarad - but this I must tell you; I cannot spare the time for yet more childhood with what has fallen to my shoulders, for all that I appreciate that you would care.  ...Besides, I'm older than I look -> A statement truer than anyone would know, except perhaps Gandalf - or Mithrandir?  ...She should probably ask him about that, actually - <, though I'm sure I know exactly how that sounds.  Still, it is true.>

<...I have been remiss in not asking - what name would [you-Gandalf] prefer I use?>

<Ah, thank you - I have been both "Gandalf" and "Mithrandir" for many long years, and I am just as fine with either.  One day, if all goes well, I may be "Olorin" again... but that day has not yet come.>

He translates the earlier part of her response to Halbarad.  He considers adding that what he's seen in her spirit makes him agree it's true, but - at least for now, until he's asked Alicia herself and perhaps Elrond - he decides not to disclose it.

Halbarad sighs.  "Alas for the war.  Valar grant that it end soon."

(Adrahil nods.)

After a minute, he adds, "If Alicia has read Foresight... then she knows who's in Rivendell?" 

<Some.  Surely not every citizen, but if you mean the notable figures...  Perhaps most, albeit not all by the names they'd actually use, because Tolkien decided to Anglicize most of the names of men and hobbits - ...and also the dwarves, in part, because some of their names as written were English words, albeit possibly simply transliterated ones instead of Tolkien playing some bizarre cultural-phonemic game of telephone - er - whoops, idioms - passing notes through half a dozen intermediary stages until what was put in is almost unrecognizable as what came out - but the Sindarin is the same.

<I swear there were notes about that particular process that I'd read of, come to think, but damn if I recall the slightest details.>

Enough connotations come through Alicia's wordless osanwe that Gandalf actually has some idea what a telephone is.  He raises his bushy eyebrows in amazement.

<Ah... it's clear you know Frodo and Sam the hobbits; unfortunately they do not have enough osanwe to talk with you yet...  Elrond Half-Elven is master of the house, and a great healer.  Aragorn is Chieftain of the Rangers and rightful king of Arnor and Gondor; he plans to join the Quest.  I am sure Halbarad plans to present you to Aragorn, and I would introduce you to Elrond as well if you can give any help to Frodo.>

<I believe it would be worth the trying, to do.>

...Dear gods she is going to be part of the Fellowship of the Ring.

<...Though, come to think of it, as I am not trained for a Light-healer, and from how the metaphysics of the forces I wield shakes out, perhaps what I should be doing is introducing Light-work to Sam.  He's[he-has] the personality for it, I think.  >

<...but then the Eye.  Damn and blast Sauron...  ...but then, could I...>

Her thoughts trail off into a maelstrom of proto-ideas.

Gandalf smiles at the thought of Sam as a healer.  By Elven standards, he would be well suited for it if he had the strength of song-magic.

A lot of hobbits would be, in fact.  That's one thing he's always liked about them.  But Sam even more than most.

As they go down a steep zig-zagging path into a mist-covered valley below (with snow-capped mountains in the distance), they can hear the singing of Elves - songs with a hint of sorrow in them, this time, unlike the merry songs Bilbo had heard long ago, but still songs that feel more encouraging than despairing.

The air grows warmer as they descend into the forested valley, but not just warmer but almost tangibly more comfortable around them.  Halbarad and Adrahil straighten up more, with resolute smiles.

And then, they approach a narrow stone bridge over a small stream - and behind it, a lithely-built sprawling spacious house (with smaller outbuildings all around it) that is built with artistry as if it's trying to be a part of the rocks and forest around it.

An Elf, Erestor, is waiting on the bridge to greet them - he's seen their horses descending into the valley, and came out to see what brought them back so soon.  "Mae govannen!" he says in Sindarin.  "Hail and well-met!"

He holds out his hand to take Adrahil's bridle, but isn't surprised at all when Adrahil shakes his head.

"A child?  A human child?" he says, peering at Alicia curiously.  "Is she a new Dunedain to be fostered here?  What brought her into the wilds?"

Gandalf translates for Alicia, and answers, "No, from much farther off than that.  And she has heard what seems to be some important Foresight...  We must tell Elrond.  And Aragorn."

...It's a beautiful place, and she is not ashamed to admire it, nor the magic in the air.

She nods, at what Gandalf says.

Elrond is singing magic next to Frodo's bed when he hears (by osanwe) that Gandalf has returned.

He sings back the darkness again, warmth spreading up Frodo's arm from the hand he's holding, but still without any more clue as to the darkness's origin.  He glances at the obvious culprit - the One Ring itself, chained around Frodo's neck in a way that leaves him wondering whether Frodo has chained up the Ring or the other way around - but once again he decides that, no, there needs to be some other cause for the darkness in Frodo.  He saw Isildur, after all, with the Ring chained around his neck.  He saw Bilbo, with the Ring in his pocket.  There was not yet such darkness in either of them.

And then he hears Gandalf himself telling him to come down to the Outer Aspen Hall at once if he can.

He nudges Sam, who's half-asleep on the chair watching his master, and tells him what's happened.  Sam nods, of course; and stays, of course.

The Outer Aspen Hall is one of the rooms more reminiscent of Doriath, as some of the Elves will tell you from personal experience.  Elrond has long since made his peace with how he himself is not one of them.  But he does appreciate how the treelike walls and green veined roof of the room (some of the wood still live) look like you are in a forest.

He enters, by himself, and gives a brief nod to the two Dunedain and a deeper nod to Gandalf.  They've brought back a human child with them - a girl-child, who doesn't look like a Dunedain, who is looking much more composed and mature than Aragorn usually did at that age.

"Hail and well-met," he says, in Westron for the girl's sake since she probably doesn't speak Sindarin.  "What brings you back so soon?"

Gandalf smiles to his old friend (and echoes in osanwe to Alicia.)

"Alicia has come here from outside Arda, it seems.  For certain, she does not speak any language that we know; I have been forced to speak with her in wordless osanwe.  And she has read a strange book with what might be called Foresight about us, including ..." (he glances at Halbarad and Adrahil, who don't know his origins) "... some of my ancient deeds that few now know.  And she wishes to help.  But she can tell you more herself."

Elrond isn't a demonstrative person.  He raises his eyebrows in surprise.

He steps forward and takes Alicia's hand for osanwe, if she'll let him, and says again, <Hail and well-met; I am Elrond, if you know my name?>

<As it happens, I do recognize it, yes.  You are a figure of some import in the events to come, if I have what fragmentary pieces of the timeline I do know lined up right.>

<I am also told that you are the one to speak with should I hope that I might have applicable skills in the treatment of what besets Frodo?>

Elrond is also surprised by how much of her soul Alicia puts into her osanwe, and also by how much more mature than her apparent age she's sounding.  He nods and smiles at her, the same respectful smile he used to smile at young Aragorn.

<Fragmentary pieces?  Even those would be helpful, I am sure.  Though if you do not consider them urgent, I would be happy to wait till you can speak to more people at once... less comfortable if we share no language, but still possible...>

He takes a moment to mentally inventory the languages he knows.  No, he decides, Mithrandir speaks everything he speaks except maybe Adûnaic...  "I trust you do not know this tongue?" he says in Adûnaic.

<... and yes, help with Frodo is more urgent.  Do you know what is causing the Darkness pulling him into the spirit-world?>

She shakes her head at the language.  <I don't know that one either.  As far as I know, if I still had access to the relevant resources I'd only count on finding a Sindarin dictionary.  Not that I know more than a single word of it, and some names besides.>

<...I don't know what could be doing that, no, besides the obvious guesses - which is to say, Sauron, and-or Ringwraith exposure - ...I'm assuming you do know about them - but if that's our problem then I might have something workable regardless - I would need to take a closer look at how to have a better idea of what might be worth trying - and then the question of magical translation - but...  I do actually expect I might have tools fit for this task, depending on what I can feel out of the nature of the problem.  Wards, or banishments, or...  A variety of things.>  

<Those were the obvious guesses, yes.> Gandalf interjects.  <Or the Ring itself.  And he has held up better than I expected under that - or better than I would have expected, were it not for his uncle Bilbo.>

(note that "Bilbo", like "Frodo," is not translation-convention.)

<But there is something more lingering than the Ringwraiths, and more active than the Ring.  Still - if you think you might be able to help, please, come.>

He indicates the door with his free hand, if Alicia is willing to follow.

Yes, she will absolutely follow.  She has Probably An Exorcism to perform!

Every room in the House has been lovingly decorated over more than two thousand years, in various forms of decor, from Doriathic Sindarin to various attempts at Valinorian, blending at the doorways.

Almost everyone they see as they pass quickly through various rooms and up one spiraling staircase is an Elf, though there're a few Dunedain Rangers there as well.  Most of them will nod to Elrond as they pass, with some of them greeting him in Sindarin.

And then, Elrond opens the closed door of a simpler room.  There's one bed there, and two stuffed chairs.

Frodo is there in bed - looking, to a glance, much the same as when Elrond left him.  He's wearing a white shirt, and a thin golden chain around his neck goes to a cloth package which (Elrond knows) holds the Ring.

In the chair is Sam, who looks up with some confusion at seeing Alicia.

"She's a new visitor," Elrond says, "who does not speak the Common Speech, and thinks she may be able to help."

(He repeats in osanwe, adding, <He is Sam, Frodo's servant - he has scarcely left Frodo's side since they came.>)

Elrond stands back, but watches carefully, including if she'll make any moves toward the Ring.

She is not touching the fucking One Ring, thanks, she knows what that does to people - even though she does kind of need to get closer to get a better look, given everything.

<I do wonder - the Ring, when Bilbo wore it, was a ring of invisibility in practice.  It was hiding.  Now, though...  It is most certainly not.  I wonder if that is part of our problem.  ...then, there is also the precedent of Gollum/Smeagol...>, she directs to Elrond, clearly intending this for the clinician only, as was.

"...Hello, Sam," she says, because it would just be rude to not say anything even if she speaks not a word of Westron.  "My name is Alicia."

<I don't know if you're able to hear this, but - I know you two bear a great burden, and I will do all I can to lighten it, for all that I know it is not one I could be trusted to carry myself.>  She knows her own heart well enough to know that she is far too petty, and brittle-willed besides.

Oh, but since she's already so close, is she sure she's not touching it?  When it could help her do so, so much?

She wants to heal Frodo?  She could heal him and everyone else too!  She doesn't like being on rails of Fate?  She could wrench the whole world off those rails, irrevocably!  And shut down all the oppressors and put them where they can't hurt anyone else!  And give everyone their ideal immortal bodies!  And so much more... just reach out her hand to the Ring...

(It's a voice in her mind, one that can easily resonate with her own thoughts if she lets it, or be mistaken for her own thoughts if she's not thinking about it... but it's not actually anything more right now.)

Fuck off Sauron.

Oh, it'll still be there when she wants it...

(And then the voice falls silent.)

Meanwhile, Sam is looking around in surprise.

He actually heard in his head - not the words, not the full meaning - but a strong sense of sympathy, in a way he hasn't felt someone else's emotions before except the one time Gildor and the Elves were singing.

He doesn't mind at all - he was rather expecting things like this in the Elves' house.

"Was this more Elf-magic?" he says in Westron.

Elrond gives a cautious nod, but keeps watching Alicia as she's glaring at the Ring...

Yeah how about 'she will never want you, especially after you tried to tempt her with that'.  (Not that she's going to let it know.)

See, the thing is, she's already thought about this.  And in absolutely no circumstances does her path to doing any of those things route through the fucking One Ring.  (Or authoritarianism, for that matter.)  She knows better.  Even study of its secrets is likely to be kin to the danger of researching Chaos in fucking Warhammer.

So now she is treating the Ring to her best death-glare, the power behind her eyes flaring up as the hand that is hovering over, and mark the distinction, Frodo, clenches into a tight fist and a wall spins into being around her soul, or rather her soul and her spirit both - for Sauron is not welcome there.

...This is going to cause communication problems, isn't it.

She turns to Elrond, shields up, and starts making illusions, frustratedly.

Elrond and Alicia, wibbly graphics and speech bubbles.  (She uses "Don't touch/put on the One Ring" as the example, because 1) she's a bit cheeky like that, 2) it's not that hard to render in pictographic format, and 3) she wants to make it clear that she very much knows how bad of an idea that is.)

The One Ring, emitting wibblygraphics indiscriminately.

The One Ring emitting its telepathy from 'behind' a surprised-ish Alicia, sneaking in a voice that 'sounds' like hers and promises - well, fire and death, really, but she supposes she can make it make a shiny promise that turns into fire and death from what's evident in what the One Ring is thinking about it.  (...How do you make an inanimate object do the evil-genius cackle...)  Alicia rejecting that out of hand, knowing it's the One Ring, because she knows that the One Ring will turn her to fire and death if she tries it, complete with eye-roll.

The One Ring going...quiescent.  Wibbles much smaller but still kind of there.

Then (image) Alicia does a thing that turns her purple, and now the One Ring's hypothetical insinuations bounce, but she's not sure about what will happen if Elrond tries to say something.  Or whether she can send out - she demonstrates her own wibbles bouncing off the interior of purple-Alicia.

(The funny thing is...

Phenomenal cosmic power is the absolute worst thing Sauron could have picked to try tempting her with, because she's had some and she doesn't want any.  Phenomenal cosmic power comes with phenomenal cosmic responsibility, you know?  And she is not perfect enough for that.)

If the Ring could've read her mind right then, it would have been unable to comprehend it.

Responsibility?  Separate from what you want, or what other people are telling you to do?  What's that?

Oh, of course, she's closed herself off to all osanwe.

Well, if that's what it takes for her to be confident she won't give in to the Ring's temptations, it's much better than the alternative.

... especially given -- what is she doing with this magic already; she's human, isn't she?  He has questions for Mithrandir now!

Unfortunately he can't say any of this to Alicia anymore, but he smiles and nods approvingly, and gestures to Frodo with a questioning look.

She nods, and starts, well, looking.  The information she was given was that something was trying to draw Frodo into the spirit world.  That leaves a few possible suspects, and several different therapeutic approaches depending on which one and whather it's internalized...

There is a shadow creeping over Frodo, as if his body is not entirely in this plane of the world.  It's centered around his left shoulder, reaching down his arm with the blood-flow, and also in toward his heart - but it's retreated lately on his arm, and it has not quite reached his heart yet.

There're also signs that he's recently had a quite ordinary fever from an infected wound, but that's much better now.  Right now, it's the shadow keeping him unconscious.

If she looks broadly, she'll see a thread reaching out from the shadow as if it's calling to, or responding to, something else.

Oh that's not good.  But it's something that seems like it will respond well to a precisely-targeted Death Grip.

She displays a hobbitish body-doll, showing the blood system and the dark infection, and that dark infection sort of strung out of his body off into the distance.

Then she shows herself doing a casting animation and pulling the darkness out - including the darkness that's trailing off, is the... problem?  It looks kind of violent, too, honestly.

She turns to Sam, and animates something striking at the wound with a big bunch of questionmarks.

...Shit, how is he going to communicate back?

...Actually, hold on, scratch that last - she shows 'Alicia pulling the spell/darkness out' and 'Ringwraith being dragged over Generic Fantasy Plains Background while flailing by a magic tether or Ringwraith being pulled out of thin air' to Elrond.  It's his hospital.

Sam isn't exactly surprised, but he's not exactly at ease with dragging out... a tiny Ringwraith or something like it?  He looks helplessly at Elrond.

Yes, that's sort of what Elrond has been trying to do - though he can only push, not pull.

Now how to communicate this...

... actually, maybe there's a simpler method.  Maybe Alicia will be fine opening osanwe when she's not in the same room with the Ring?  He steps toward the door, inviting her to follow with a questioning air.

She nods, and follows, and - no, it would do no good to bring Sam and he cannot truly understand besides.

She does, however, summon a shield around them, a flaring purple, before she speaks.

<I do not trust that my own thoughts are secure from that thing, without a shield.  It is a clever mimic, and it knows more than it should in its temptations, if not as much as it would want to - as it has offered me the one thing that I would revolt from taking.>

<As far as medical care - I can pull out what I am assuming is part of a Ringwraith from Frodo, but it is very likely - or at least, not so unlikely as to dismiss - that this will also produce the rest of the Ringwraith.  I could set up wards, but they would be relatively untested.  And for another matter, I would be calling on ->

<If you will permit a small digression into my homeworld's metaphysics - or, indeed, physics - as I do believe it relevant to this matter...>

<I know for a fact that my world, and my magic, was not sung into existence by Eru Illuvatar and sundry, and I would ask that you not inquire further thereupon, as it is not something of which I wish to speak.>

<There are six fundamental forces, primordial concepts, however you may call them, in three equal and opposite pairs, at the core of it - and none of them good nor evil.  They simply are.  The force behind the spell that would draw out the Ringwraith fragment(speculative)...>

<Well.  It is surprisingly apt that the Ringwraiths are all but ghosts.  And I do not wish to introduce that here, where you have built something strong in the opposite direction, without your leave.>

Elrond nods seriously at what she's saying about the Ring.  <Ah, the Ring is certainly clever enough.  Shielding your own mind - like you were doing in there - is enough; more than enough I would normally say if you trust yourself to selectively open osanwe to one person.  But if you think it safer to close your mind off entirely, I cannot protest.  I have shielded this whole valley, and I could shield a room - but it would take time, much more time it seems than your shields.>

<What happened to Frodo, I am told, is that the Ringwraiths stabbed him with a Morgul-Knife, which has been known to turn its victim into a wraith.  The knife vanished afterwards - or most of it; Aragorn said there was a chip missing.  I have been pushing back the darkness in him, but so far without success.  If you can use another force... that might help.>

<I do not think the knife had a fragment of a Ringwraith specifically, but what it might have -> He shakes his head. <I do not know.  But I think my shields around my valley will keep out what you might summon by pulling out this darkness, if it is being summoned from outside.>

<I do not trust that the Ring is not capable of listening in, right now.>

<...Did you...remove the chipped-off bit of knife...from the wound.  Because it's absolutely still in there to be causing this sort of problem.  ...I mean, I haven't really done the right sort of diagnostics to be truly sure of that, but knowing how...inventive...Sauron is...  If it isn't something like that - I am reminded of volcano-glass, which is exceedingly sharp and yet equally brittle, and of the strength of bones.  And obsidian is thematically appropriate for him, with the volcano lair.  ...Well.  Not a lair per se, but still, close enough.>

Elrond sighs.

<Perhaps it is.  I have looked long for it, but if it is there, I have not yet found it.>

She has at least three ideas for how to do this depending on how much feedback he can get from the Song, and she is not a doctor, Elrond -

No, that train of thought is pointless except as it informs how to make a successful removal attempt.

<I can think of a few ways, and once I've identified it I should be able to get it out of him.>

<Excellent.  If it is there, absolutely we should get it out... Preferably without injuring him further, though any injury would be better than leaving it in him to work its evil.  As far as I can tell, the anatomy of Hobbits is essentially the same as Men's.  Or, at least, the Men of Middle-Earth.>

<I am aware of the broad strokes of that anatomy, and not inclined to find out whether I am a special case.>

<As far as the removal goes...  I intend to utilize a spatial displacement to remove the object, followed by Light-healing once it's gone, since frankly teleporting it is a better idea than me trying to conduct a surgery.>  She's seen enough medical dramas to know she absolutely doesn't know.  <I've actually done a spatial displacement before.>

Elrond nods, much relieved.

<Teleporting would be much safer than trying to navigate it out through his shoulder, especially if it might be different in any way than the shoulders you might be more familiar with.  Once it is gone, I expect my own healing songs would heal him well - I have long experience in treating the Enemy's wounds - though I would not be opposed if you want to help there.>

<And of course, be careful with the fragment.  It might vanish once out in the air, but if it does not, the covered bowl on the table should be safe to keep it in.>

She nods.  <I will be glad to leave the actual healing to the professional, to be honest; I know that I do not know all that I would like to know to consider myself capable of treating complex wounds.  If it would help if I provided power behind your work, though ->

She holds out a hand, a fingertip, bearing the smallest spark of proper Light.

<That, I can likely do.>

<If the plan's settled - we should inform Sam.>

Elrond nods and smiles.  <I think I will have enough power; if not, then Mithrandir or any number of Elves can assist.  But my thanks to you for your offer.>

He pauses.  <If you do not see any such fragment of a dagger, though... tell me through an illusion, and then your Light healing would be needed as mine is already proving insufficient.>

<And I can explain to Sam, unless you would rather we convince him to reluctantly come out here?>

<If you wouldn't mind, yes, please do tell him.>

<...To be very clear: The method I have in mind for removing this particular possibly-immaterial curse, should it not be bound to the physical fragment of dagger, is not Light magic, nor Life magic - both of those principles easier to heal with than others are.  It's fighting necromancy -> An association with two principles, here, one of them a strange composite - <with necromancy.>

Elrond frowns gravely.  <If that does prove the case, please let us talk more first.  I would first wish more assurance that it is not Evil - and probably the advice of Mithrandir as well.  But let us hope you do find a shard to remove and anything more proves unnecessary.>

<I cannot speak to Eru Illuvatar's opinion on this matter, and it's his world we're in, but I know that as far as the magic of my homeworld is concerned that the moral of a tool is in the using.  But... Yes, let us hope, indeed.>

She pulls her psychic shield back around herself, and drops the bigger one, before returning to Frodo.

Elrond would be very hesitant in speaking to Eru Illuvatar's opinion either, which is why he would want to ask Mithrandir... but he would rather not have that conversation except perhaps about questions of theory, in a well-lit study.

Sam looks up, confused but hopeful, as they return.

Elrond folds his hands and says, "I am sorry we had to leave, but Alicia does not speak any language I speak, and she does not wish to open her mind to osanwe so close to..." (he hesitates to name it, but it would not do to be vague) "the One Ring.

"She guesses - as Gandalf guessed yesterday - there is still a fragment of the dagger in Frodo's shoulder, and that is what is causing this.  Further, she thinks she can find and remove it, by what you might call magic; and then I will be able to heal him with my own arts.

"I know very little of her methods, but I will be closely watching, and Gandalf has confidence in her."

Sam doesn't know what "osanwe" is, and his mind boggles at the thought of this strange person (who looks sort of like one of the Big Folk except she's littler?) speaking some language that even Elrond himself doesn't speak and knowing some magics that Elrond and Gandalf don't know!

But it wouldn't do to start demanding they explain all of everything to him right now, with Master Frodo still lying deathly sick.

He nods.  "Whatever you think best, Master Elrond.  And - thank you."

Elrond opens the lid of the covered bowl he mentioned to Alicia.

Then, he holds Frodo's hand and starts humming, a song of watching.

And then, he nods to Alicia.

Alicia has many ways of finding the knife-piece.  One, by looking for suspicious differentiations of mass/density/material.  One, by finding a suspicious void of biology.  And one, by tracing the darkness itself back to a source volume.

She spins all her options into being, and should they find an object, she is quite ready to teleport it into the covered bowl provided, after having set up extra warding - not that she doesn't trust Elrond's safety procedures, but it would be better to not let a lingering darkness irradiate things.

The darkness is doing a good job not being traceable.  There's not really anything that stands out as especially dense in the material world, either.

But - for all Frodo's fragility of life right now, there still is solid life in his body.  He is breathing, and his heart is beating, slowly but steadily.  Even the dagger-wound in his shoulder has scarred over, and the flesh under it is healing... more slowly than it would in other circumstances, but healing.

Except at this one point - a small triangle, if she's looking precisely, a little above his heart.  Right along the line between the healing dagger-wound and his heart.

Her breath hisses between her teeth as she processes that - but she's pretty sure she's found it.

She feeds the volume into spell cache, controls for Frodo's breathing, and - teleports.

A tiny firm pointed bit of something dark clinks into the bowl.

Elrond catches his breath.  He can feel something - something inside Frodo momentarily, not unlike the alarm he felt on the wards a few hours ago.

And then he instantly makes sure the bowl is covered, and surrounds it with a shield.

When he turns his attention back to Frodo a moment later, he thinks the hobbit might be already more firmly in the material world. He smiles and breathes out in relief.

Alicia nods to Elrond; it's his turn, now.

(It's not that she doesn't also have ideas, but she certainly would prefer the trained healer doing the decursing, here.)

Elrond sings again:  a soft song of life and light, of plants growing in desolate ground, of stars shining through the shadows, of flowers unfurling their petals to drink in the light of day...

It's a soft song; the images do not appear before them.  But Alicia can maybe see the magic stirring from the world around them as Elrond calls it into Frodo.

The Shadow left in Frodo doesn't vanish all at once.  But it subsides; it retreats; Frodo looks more alive.

After some time, Elrond looks up with a smile of triumph.

"Things are going very well," he says to Sam.  "That did remove the source of the darkness.  Now, I expect Frodo will awaken by tomorrow, healthy."

He gives Alicia an approving nod, stands - he can spare a moment now - and gestures at the door questioningly.

She nods, and follows him out.  <...I imagine that you have questions.  Not limited to but probably including 'how the fuck did she even do that'.>

(The expletive doesn't come through the language-independent osanwe except as [expletive], or else he would have even more questions.) 

<Yes, many of them...  But I would prefer to return to Frodo soon, so - is there anything else you remember from your book that happens soon?  We were looking for the Ringwraiths; do you know what happened to them?>

<No, unfortunately.  Not that you're not already planning to do, I think.  I only know what's supposed to happen to the Ringwraiths, if I haven't thrown everything off by merely existing, and not where.>

He bends over, closer to Alicia's eye level.

<Do not feel ashamed.  We are all playing parts whose consequences we can scarce guess.  But as of yet, I have not shared my plans, save with Mithrandir, and it is still possible they might change... which plans do you think may happen soon?>

<Well, the plot that occurs here, as you plan to destroy the One Ring, is called the Council of Elrond by most commentary.  I don't remember precisely who was invited besides most of the people who are already here, but - there were a lot of important people, and, I do believe, four entire hobbits.  ...Possibly Galadriel, in addition to Gandalf, Aragorn, - do you have any dwarves, yet?  There should be some dwarves - but I only recall something she said about - what she might be like, if Sauron successfully whispered in her ear, and not the exact details of where and when she said it.>

Elrond raises his eyebrows.

<Yes, I have already decided we must try to destroy the One Ring.  And I was planning to have a Council shortly, once I need no longer be healing Frodo...  No Dwarves are here yet, but I would be unsurprised if they came.  Nor Galadriel, and I would be surprised if she came.

<I trust we do decide to destroy the One Ring?>

<Yes.  The Hobbits sneak through Mordor to Mount Doom, while the various flashy folk are very distracting because Sauron would not expect his downfall to be Hobbits - though I've no idea of the precise logistics.>

... Yes, he hadn't considered an intentional(?) distraction, but that would help...  And he had been thinking the people going into Mordor would need to do so secretly, but sending just hobbits would be risky...

<Interesting...  I hadn't been considering that far yet, though now that you mention it I would not be surprised if Mithrandir had...  Perhaps we should discuss this more later, since I should return to healing Frodo.  Thank you very much, once more...>

He shouldn't leave a child to wander the House alone, even with directions.

<... Shall I show you back to the Rangers?  Or to one of the gardens?>

<I think I will need somewhere I can do craftswork, if I am going to be of particular help besides in blowing things up - that pouch over the One Ring isn't exactly containing it properly.>

<...Also, as far as adventuring logistics, I'm pretty sure there's quite a bit to go, still, before the hobbits - by which I specifically mean Frodo and Sam, here, there are other hobbits and I do not know everything they get up to - break off from the rest of the miscellaneous adventurer types and also Gandalf, nor do I know how or why that originally happened.  ...I mean, Gandalf originally takes a balrog to the face, but he gets better, and I'm pretty sure I have type advantage.>

< No, the pouch is not.  But I am not confident anything here will.>

<And a Balrog?  I had not known there were any Balrogs still --> He shakes his head.  But if anyone could defeat it, of course it would be Mithrandir. <Still, I will show you to Lindir who is familiar with crafts work.>

<Honestly I kind of hope I can short-circuit the entire problem by just teleporting it directly into the volcano.>

Elrond stops stock-still in the hallway.  He hadn't thought about that at all.

<That... might work.  Or might fail dangerously.  We should probably think about that more once Frodo is better.>

<Spatial magic is something my people take very seriously, when it comes to the required safety precautions.  I'm just not sure that Sauron wouldn't have done something to prevent it.  ...Or - [expletive], the bit where the [expletive]ing world's bent sideways for only some people - the topology - I mean it's probably possible to control for weird Valinor gravity - or force the possibility to collapse spherical, our planets are spherical - I don't even know if the planet's spherical after controlling for that - this is going to involve so much math ->

<... Yes, absolutely, that failure sounds like it could be dangerous...>

The shape of the world is something Elrond has thought of time and time again for over an Age, though he hadn't considered till now how it might be relevant to teleporting or other non-representational arts (save of course navigation).

<...The world is round, more or less like a sphere.  There are not many maps of it, but I actually do have some saved from the libraries of Arnor before its fall.  Though I know there are better maps in Minas Tirith, and Umbar - or at least there were in Umbar before Sauron conquered it.>

<And has it been round the whole -- no, that I should ask Gandalf.  He'd know.  Or at least I think he would, I don't exactly know-know...  I mean I could probably figure it out by sufficiently advanced reverse-engineering of the Song regardless, but I'm not from Ar Tonelico and anyway there's no way I have the time so it's better to just ask ->

<And that's assuming that gravity is still the same gravity, here - I mean, it's looked like you have something coherent to my model of spacetime so far or else the other teleport would have fizzled, but local geometry can be approximated as flat a lot better than -->

<You probably don't need to hear me going on about the math.>

He shakes his head.  <Ah, you did read of the Changing of the World...  But gravity was never my art, nor abstract math.>  Abstract math was more his wife's art... and hopefully is again now, beyond the Sea.  <And I have never sailed away from this part of Middle-Earth.  But I do know that when I was last at the harbor watching a ship come in, the tops of its sails could be seen before the rest of it.  That was not so in the days of my youth.>

<...Right.>

It's one thing to know of that little bit of fact.

It's another to know that fact, and that it is quite possibly relevant to your life right now.

<That is definitely going to complicate the math somewhat, especially given that there are yet ways to pass to Valinor last I recall -->

<...But that is not something to bother you with; I should likely be asking Gandalf about anything to do with that particular matter.>

<Yes, but only for Elves.  I hope you are not hoping the Valar will make an exception.>

He is ABSOLUTELY going to warn her before letting her repeat the mistake of the Numenorians.

<And in the meantime, the closest crafting room is this way; I expect Lindir is already there...>

He leads her down a spiral of stairs and through a hall slightly smaller than the one where they first met.

<No, no, I do not want to come to their attention unless I'm already trying to get back out - I'm more worried about what the [expletive] happens because of any remaining interface, how the interface behaves for various conditions and how that could impact large-scale/long-distance spatial magic...>

<Ah... I do not know of its affecting any magic, but I have not worked any magic larger-scale than the shields around this valley since the Changing of the World.  Mithrandir might know more, or perhaps Cirdan - though he is far away at the Gray Havens.>

Or (he remembers a bit later) perhaps Galadriel - the shields around Lothlorien are probably not larger-scale enough, but she has jousted with Sauron at long distances several times...

There is a brass knocker in the shape of a horse's reins on a door off the main hall; Elrond knocks on it twice.

<It is not that I do not wish to talk with you, Alicia - and I thank you very much - but merely that I must return soon to Frodo.>

<And I could not bear to keep you from that.>

Alright.  She has a couple different priorities.  One, arming herself for balrog.  Two, making a full-on isolation chamber/magical Faraday cage for the One Ring.  Three, determining ways by which she could attempt to short-circuit the need to walk the damn Ring to Mount Doom - both in the question of whether she's going to need to ensure the Ring is hand-delivered, and in the question of whether the Ring needs to be destroyed specifically in Mount Doom.  That, and she can't stop a small thread of attention from contemplating how to unfucken Mordor and/or orcish biology.

A light-haired Elf somewhat taller than Elrond opens the door, with a slight frown on his face.  Behind him in the room is a forge, but banked not in use, and several workbenches with necklaces and clasps and various other adornments on them.  He looks curiously at Alicia, and then up to Elrond.

"Yes, Elrond?  Has something happened with the wraiths?  Or the Hobbit?"

"Ah, Lindir," Elrond says with a smile that might betray a hint of slyness.  "Frodo is on the mend, thanks to Alicia here.  She is a traveler from so far off she does not speak any of our languages - but I must return to Frodo, so she can tell you her own story."

(Meanwhile, he's repeating everything in osanwe to Alicia.)

Lindir laughs at Elrond.  "Very well, very well.  I trust you have an excuse for handing this mortal to me... and if she has truly helped heal her fellow-mortal despite her age, I suppose that might be the excuse."

He bends down to Alicia (revealing an eight-pointed Star of Feanor pin in his hair), and sends in wordless osanwe crisper than Elrond's with fewer other concepts blended into the units of meaning, <Greetings; what brings you here?>

She doesn't actually recognize the symbol, funnily enough.

Alicia waves.  <Hi.  Honestly I'm probably jumping -> the gun - <my cue - a bit by ending up at a workshop before I even have solid plans for what I will be making in the next few days vis-a-vis ensuring certain malignant forces->  The balrog, especially, slips through connotatively, but it's not like she can totally conceal how concerned she is about Sauron - <-regret encountering me, but - well, needs must, and I rather don't figure there's...  Well, I suppose I could set up anywhere with some space that won't be missed if I fill it with entirely absurd quantities of math for some of the theory-work, really.>

<...Still, it's quite possible that I'll need to work on things that benefit from ready access to tooling in the next few days, and while a lot of it I can improvise, or have with me - I'm here because something I was working on reacted just the wrongest way to a stray thought, so at least I have some safety equipment - but, well, it's not exactly power-efficient to hold things at forging temperature through magic alone, for example.>

<...I do suppose I could start on the isolation ward straight off, actually.  That one's relatively proven given I've used it and hopefully used it successfully, and it seems particularly needful regardless of whether my long-shot plans work out.  That and perhaps - hm, but that's spellwork as much as it could be enchanting ->  By which she references 'plans to stab the One Ring with Light-enforced chaos magic', though it doesn't exactly make it across because opsec.

Lindir doesn't expect humans, or even most Elves, to recognize it anymore.

He smiles lightly.  <Ah, a mortal with plans!  I am Lindir; I hear you are Alicia?  A strange name, that.  What means it in your language?  And, you say, you have the art of warding - 'tis strange as well to see that among mortals, especially those as young as you!>

He chuckles, still not entirely sure whether playing a game - he would have thought not given that Elrond says she did heal Frodo, but her claim is so implausible in these times of decay, and he really doesn't know how mortal children mature when they've grown up around other mortals.  After a moment, he finds a question that won't seem impolite either way.

<How came you by this art?  From Numenor, perhaps?>

<A pleasure to meet you, Lindir.>  She is not going to bring up the lack of strict biological mortality vis-a-vis Villarosan humans.  <I don't believe my given name has particular meaning, beyond its having a pleasant sound; my people do not have the habit of naming their children recognizable words, for the most part, though I'm sure you could find a meaning somewhere with enough etymology.  ...As for my skills - no, they were not learned through Numenor, nor indeed in any place on Arda, as strange as that must sound - but I do truly hail from a place that Eru Illuvatar did not have a hand in making.  Thus the language troubles, and, really, thus my ability to do magics at all; it is hardly a capacity given unto the mortal races, as far as I know.  ...Wasn't there something with Aulë having to beg intercession for the Dwarves' magics, for that matter?

<...Leaving ancient history aside, it is kind of funny.  Of all the languages I could have picked up bits and pieces of, for reasons you probably wouldn't believe if I told you, I know exactly one word of Sindarin, and nothing else of any tongue of Arda.  ...Well, no, I tell a lie, I know two, counting osanwë.  ...Three counting Sindarin, I suppose, but considering that there is simply no way it doesn't have a true meaning beyond being the name for the language - most of my homeworld's languages' names are simply backformed from demonyms or ethnicities, by contrast - it's hardly true to say I know it as a word...  Oh, and Mithrandir, even if I've no idea how it was compounded, so I guess that's four-ish.  Three-and-a-half.  Just...  Definitely don't ask me to put together an actual sentence.  Or pronounce anything properly, it was all written...>

<Intriguing!>

He would have said unbelievable for an elf-child to be making this up; he doesn't know about mortal children...

<Some sorts of 'magic' crafting, as you call it, were known among the Numenorians.  Some of them assisted me, at times.  If you journeyed to Annuminas, you would see some of their works...  though> (he shakes his head) <Annuminas is sadly dead and ruined by now.  There are still some other cities and towers of theirs down south.  Or I suppose Aragorn has a sword they made, though that would not let you see the true subtlety of their arts.>

(The concept of "magic" in his osanwe is clearly just repeating her concept back to her without it relating to any precise concept in Lindir's own mind.)

<I would be interested to see some of your 'magic', to see whether it is different from theirs - as I would expect given your story?>

And that would also be some actual evidence whether this tale that's getting more implausible by the minute is actually true.  Is this growing incredulity what Elrond was hoping for when he introduced her to him and then left?

Sure, she can call up a magelight.  Silently.  And concurrently feel sympathy-grief at the loss of such a place.  (...With a small, stifled undercurrent of frustrated rage at Eru Illuvatar's grand tragedy.)

Lindir looks.

Then he stares, intrigued, trying to unravel what's happening; whence these new tones are coming into the Song of the world.

Then, blinking, he turns his gaze to Alicia herself, looking at her.  Her body looks... well, it's been Great Years since he saw any mortal child save Aragorn, so he can't really say.  Her spirit... very well; his sight was never the best there, but he can tell apart Elves from mortals when he's looking, and she doesn't look unlike mortals?

(All this will take some time before he's satisfied, unless Alicia wants to interrupt.)

....Yeah, she'll give him a minute.

(If it takes long enough her brain starts eating away at her sanity over standing still too long, she will probably produce a (magic) notepad and start drafting some things.)

That makes him stare at the magic notepad instead for a few moments.  But then he shakes himself and remembers that mortals and children sometimes get bored, and Alicia's both of them.

<Amazing!  I doubted your story at first because it is so unprecedented, but - now I believe you.  Yet your story raises many questions.  I had thought there were no places that Eru Illuvatar had not made or caused to be made.  How do you know that Eru did not make the place you are from?  And how did you come here to Arda, and how are you still able to work 'magic' in the same ways you are at home - unlike any other person in Arda that I have heard of?

<Can you teach that art?

<And - what is in it?  We use some mathematics in our arts too, but I suspect you use other sorts?>

<In order: Many of the details that truly render me sure of that are secrets, but of the things I can tell you, I can say that the arc of my universe is not so tragic as Eru seems to prefer, for what little that means.>

<I came here because I charged a portal-frame I was working on with - raw essence of possibility, in a moment of power incontinence that, frankly, I was lucky to survive - and as to why my magics still work and whether I can teach them, I truly have not the slightest idea.  Or rather, I have some vague speculations, but nothing I would wish to put forward as truth.>

<The sort of magic that makes portal-frames is definitely heavy on the math when I do it, but that is as much a consequence of how I view the world as it is a consequence of the magic itself - magic drawing upon the cosmic principle of Order requires that you have a system of meaning, but it does not prescribe one.  There are five others, formed in equal-and-opposite pairs, as well as two 'composite' magics, formed of a combination of those primes; the basic elements of the world are also made of such stuff, though I would not say that this is likely true of Arda.  ...Osanwë is strikingly similar to spirit magic - one of those composites - which honestly surprises me, because I've never had a knack for that one, and yet here I am, having complex conversations.>

<Interesting.  Personally, I would doubt that does mean anything about Eru's preferences.  Many times in my life, I thought I could infer from the Age I was then in, to the overall arc - and each time so far I have been surprised.  Or -> He shrugs.  <Perhaps Eru could play different themes in different creations?  But you say you have other details.

<Though the fact that your familiar magics still work here makes me consider whether there might be some more fundamental harmony between the principles behind your magic and the Song behind Arda.  If Eru did in fact cause your world to be made - or conceivably if he took inspiration from the principles behind it - or if whoever else made your world took inspiration from here ->

He shrugs.  <I am speculating well in advance of information here, without even any supposition how to demonstrate any of my guesses.  Could you determine whether Arda is in fact made of these principles?  Even in concept?>

She blinks, bemused.

<...It's not made of my cosmology's primes, it's made of Song.  The Song is the fundamental building block of Arda as much as the six primes are the fundamental building blocks of my homeworld.  Whether there is some other resonance...>

<All things are within the Song, even such things as the Enemy - so it would not surprise me if there were, independently, similar leitmotifs, to use the obvious analogy?  It's hard to make worlds that don't have certain concepts, even if some of mine are more esoteric than others.>

(There are so many things she wants to answer with "I know that's not how it went because I didn't do it that way/it couldn't have happened in that order because if my personal timeline is indicative I most certainly postdate Arda", in this set of questions, but she is, thankfully, able to restrain herself.)

<That's not to say that I couldn't go look, it's just that...well, honestly, we don't have the time for it right now, unless it somehow becomes relevant to questions like 'since the world-with-Valinor-in-it is - quite probably still flat, given some of my information, and the world-without-Valinor is spherical (like planets should be, if you want to have a gravity that's not jank; the amount of things that are all but held up personally by Eru et al. instead of being an emergent consequence of simpler rules is really annoying to my sensibilities on how worlds should be built - as a writer, I hardly have practical experience -),> which is at least Kenobi-true, <what spatial geometry should I be embedding my teleportation in?'>

<...I mean, there's just no way,> she is gesturing heatedly, now, <to have a steady gravity and a finite plane without fiat, and as far as I know Valinor is hardly infinite -->

<...But that's not immediately relevant.>

He shakes his head.  <No, it is not infinite - or at least it was not before the Changing - my father went to its edge once.  But you are right; this is not relevant now.>

<You were mentioning warding...>

He looks at her appraisingly, and then glances over the various magical adornments strewn over his workbench and a set of cabinets on the wall of the room.

<Perhaps first, we can see if our arts would work on you.  Many effects that I have here would be too subtle to measure... do you have any skill at the bow?  Or at sketching?>

<Not more than a basic facility with blueprints, in the case of sketching, but it is more than I've skill in the bow, specifically - though depending on what the item that improves archery skills does, it might still improve something I am practiced in.  I - hm - well, I can definitely tell these do things...  I similarly figure that I would be able to tell if these effects do something to or for me, being as I am reasonably attuned to perceiving my own self, though I'm not as sure I'd be able to specifically tell where or how they act without more knowledge of the overall style or particular study of a given piece...>

She's going to take a closer look at what's there, modulo other instructions.

Lindir doesn't think much of humans' attunement to perceiving their selves.  Maybe Alicia's better here, but he's not going to assume.

<Hmm, perhaps if we have no other option... Singing?  Swordplay?>

Alicia can see several necklaces and bracelets, a coronet, several coat-clasps, and some less-identifiable adornments - as well as a few door-hinges and a number of nails.

Well, everybody needs hinges and nails.

<...Might be able to swing swordplay - it's more of a desperate-holdout-weapon level of training, combat magic being my particular preference - but I do know a bit about stabbing people with pointy bits of metal.>

<Ah, do you think you could strike a quoit?...>

He opens the door to one of the closed cupboards, which holds two swords wrapped in cloths.

<Most likely, yes.>

He nods, hands one sword to Alicia, picks up the other one himself, and beckons her to follow down the hall.

<The sword you have is made by the Beornings recently; it has good balance but nothing more.  The sword I have I forged several Great Years ago.  If you can strike the quoit better with mine, then I think it will be proven that our 'magic' can indeed affect you.  Which to be honest I suspect, but it is best to experiment.>

(Alicia will find the sword somewhat heavy given her age, but no more so than the swords she might've held before.  It is a good sword.)

Well, she can certainly take a stab at it, then.  (While being bemusedly amused at her own sense of humor.)

<The question is then what constitutes 'better', and how we measure that...  I could rig up a more precise hit-tracker, if that'd help, but I'm not certain...hm, but maybe I could -> measure the quality of her form, that is.  <...Wouldn't really trust that, though, I've never quite thought to do it before and I'm not certain what the right values would be, kinematically speaking....  Though things like speed and force are easy enough to measure regardless.>

Lindir nods.  <I was thinking speed and accuracy, yes... form would be helpful if you knew what form you were trying for, but I do not know what the swords would do for novices... I was never one to train children.>

Just at the end of the hallway is a door framed against an arch of branches, which Lindir opens into a grassy yard.  At the other end is the stables, with some horses' heads poking out.  Near the middle of the yard, a leather-covered ring about head-wide dangles on a long rope from an arm stretching out from a balcony overhead.

Gandalf and Halbarad are both in the yard, by the stable door, with Halbarad stroking his horse's head.  Halbarad looks up at Alicia and Lindir with surprise, raising his hand in greetings.

She waves.  <We are conducting an experiment.  ...Which, now that I think of it, is probably obviated by [CLASSIFIED INFORMATION],> she very firmly doesn't-say - to wit, the One Ring (knowing she was there and) trying to tempt her, not that that passes outside her innermost thoughts, <but we're already out here and magic swords are neat and I could probably do with the practice anyway, so we may as well see if my limited ability to sword is helped any by that one.>

"Ah!" Halbarad looks with interest when translated.  "A full-sized sword, too - and you're at the right age when my own sons started getting used to it.  I hope you were able to help the hobbit?"

<He's on the mend; I was able to find and remove what was ailing him,> she replies, once what Halbarad said is translated back.  ...She really needs to get something working for this, not everybody is Elves (or Maiar &c.,) and she can't just hope random places will have one available to play translator.

<Oh, excellent!>

Gandalf relaxes and smiles visibly.

<Yes...> Lindir adds distractedly.

"Halbarad - you are more familiar with children and mortals; can you watch Alicia's form and her hits on the quoit?"

"Of course.  And well done, Alicia, with the hobbit!"

<Thank you,> she returns to Halbarad, <it was really just - the least I could do, given the circumstances.  Elrond deserves just as much credit for keeping him alive this long with a piece of evil knife inches from his heart.>

With that out of the way, it's time for her to spend a few minutes laying spellwork on the blade and on her target, as well as hooking it up to her datapad.  This mostly involves the occasional purple glow, in terms of visual effects.

<Oh - and since you're here,> she directs to Gandalf, <I was wondering if you knew, or would be able to deduce, anything about how - well, if I want to execute a long-distance teleport, I need to know if I need to account for Flat Arda.  But that after our tests, I'd get horribly distracted otherwise.>

...Not that she's not still thinking about that problem now, but it's at least at a tolerably low level of thoughts like "spatial deformation from the Changing vis-a-vis accounting for intersection safety interlocks?" and "oh fucking hell what's the basis - and what about material compression!" as she takes a few warmup swings and checks that her spells are recording fine.

Lindir carefully verifies that her spells are merely recording spells, intently watches her cast them, and then stands back.  As he watches her practice swings, he's reminded of why he never volunteered to teach children.

Yeah, she's not exactly proud of her skills here either; they'll just have to do.  At least she's got half-decent edge alignment, even if she's a bit prone to overbalancing - she's used to smaller blades, generally.

...Right.  Time to stab.

She just barely hits the edge of the ring!  It spins and thwacks her forearm.

"Fair!" Halbarad calls.

(Fair for a not-quite-novice, that is.)

She winces, though at least her gloves mean that the impact is likely not sharp enough to bruise.

Only a few dozen more to go, she thinks, and then the next set.  50 swings is surely a decent sample size...

She bangs the quoit (and it bangs her) again several more times before Halbarad calls "Enough!  If you're practicing, practice with the right form!"

<Look, my experience is mostly with holdout knives and shortswords,> she beams back, getting the gist of what he said from the tone - <I'm trying my best to adjust but this is really much more blade than I'm used to!>

"Leave the lesson till after the experiment," Lindir says smoothly, echoing in osanwe.  "But that's enough with that sword - take this one instead."

He offers her the magic sword.  It's got a more ornate hilt (with a gilded swan), but about the same weight and balance.

Also, once Alicia swings it, she might notice it nudging her hands and arms slightly as she swings, toward better form and a squarer hit.

<...Yeah, that's definitely active and helping,> she says after the first stab.  <I'm kind of curious how much, and it's probably going to help me with my form in general, so I'm going to keep going, if that's alright.>

"Better!"  It's still not much better; her form's still off - maybe beyond what the magic could correct at once.  But it's better.

"And an intriguing sword, Lindir!"

"Ah, thank you."

<And certainly.>

<My thanks.  ...This is - I figure you did not intend this blade to be a training tool, but just look at how it shortens the loop -> An inchoate image of the process of a teacher correcting a student's form - having to notice the flaw and communicate how to correct it and deal with the imprecision of over- and undercorrections brought on by language - <It's not a proper replacement for instruction, because you have to learn the forms to begin with, and that is something that needs a teacher, but for getting the muscle memory right?  This effect really excels.  I am impressed by it, for while I imagine that it's not theoretically impossible to make in the framework I'm used to, I'm not sure I've ever heard of its like.  You'd likely have to start from Life, and that's hard to wrangle into an enchanting mindset...  Spirit's marginally better at enchanting, but then you have to hope you've taught it well.  ...Most of the time people just make weapons that hit harder, not better - or add a bound spell.>

Lindir is flattered.

<Why, my thanks to you as well!  That is the best praise I have heard in long years!  And - I had indeed not considered it that way, but I suppose it would - >

He holds out his hand toward Halbarad.  "Go ahead, show her the forms if you want.  The blade doesn't take any care beyond the usual."

<Is the blade friendly?> Gandalf interjects.

<To its wielder?  I am no Eol; it will not betray you.  If your enemy pushes on your hand, it will try to deflect away from your own body.  But its power is limited - I am also no Curufin or Celebrimbor.>

Well, isn't that an.  Interesting.  question to be asking.

<...I doubt as to whether much more power would be of help here anyway, with the scope as focused as it is - perhaps you could have extended its guidance to footwork, with a bit more power available, but there's only so much you can get out of a body to begin with, anyway.  Unless you start enhancing that, but that really doesn't seem like it fits...>

<It is said the swords of Eol could speak and give advice - and stir you up to hapless action.  And, they would sometimes slip at ill-timed moments.>

<...It's honestly surprising how much I'm not surprised by that being a thing that happened,> and  <...I think I'm going to blame Sauron for that too, on general principle, because it definitely seems like something he'd take glee in,> overlap in her reply, being of equal primacy in import and simultaneous in realization.  <But this sword isn't - computationally, thaumaturgically complex enough to start manipulating people, regardless, I don't think?  Like, it only has room to know how to sword good.  Which...  Frankly, intelligent items are spooky.  That's almost like having a kid for their future utility, independent of concern for their own wellbeing.  Unless - well, some are instead fragments or echoes of their creators, which is at least a different sort of quandary.>

<You are quite correct, it does contain something of its creator.  An echo, as you say.  The grandest jewels that Feanor made contain an echo of him; the grand hall that Celebrimbor constructed contains an echo of him; the Ring that Sauron made contains an echo of him.>

<...I thought the Silmarils contained an echo of the Light of the Trees, or something similar, not of Feanor himself - like that's what made throwing one up there as a replacement sun even work, right?  Though I guess that could explain some things if they did...>  Her train of thought silently spirals off from "Didn't one end up in Mordor" to "atemporal Morgoth fuckery????  Unlikely."

<And I don't mean - in the sense that all creations show the influence of their makers, though it's not as though the edges couldn't get blurry when you're throwing enough high magic around...>

Gandalf raises his bushy eyebrows.  <They contained some of the Light itself, and also an echo of Feanor.  And - are you talking about the Star of Earendil, or the idea to destroying the Silmarils to restore the Trees?  For Feanor said that destroying them would kill him, and he spoke truth.>

She waves a hand up at the sun.  <That.  That is what I'm talking about.>

<I hadn't heard of the idea of destroying the Silmarils to restore the Trees, as far as I recall, but I certainly don't think it would've been a good idea either.  A Silmaril is easier to play keep-away with.>

<...And, dammit, now I'm off thinking of whether and how I could possibly attempt to grow new Trees, albeit I don't...

<...Well, no, there is precedent for some very enormous trees arising from my homeworld's magics, and if that Light and my Light match...

<...And with enough druids to bolster a seedling...  Which I think is basically the right analogue for the Elvish ways, even as they're not the same thing in practice -

<...I don't want to overpromise.>

<I really don't want to overpromise.  I am not remotely capable of living up to the scale of - actions of Eru Illuvatar.

<But I see no theoretical impossibility here beyond the question of what the Light of the Trees is.  Just a lot of practical questions.  ...I wasn't even thinking about the Trees!  There are enough problems on my plate with Sauron's entire existence!  But now I kind of have to, because if I could and I didn't I would be being kind of horrible!  And the fucking... mostly-inevitable tragic decline of the universe, here, really frustrates me anyway!  So I guess I'm going to have to see if I can make a seedling of a Tree!  Out of fucking spite!  This shouldn't be the sort of thing one does out of spite!>

<...The - [CLASSIFIED] - is a more pressing problem, though.>

<But, ah - is this the right kind of Light?>

She takes a deep breath, centering herself in herself, and pulls the smallest fraction of the indivisible eternity that is how her homeworld's Light works to the tip of a finger, welling up and shining.

It is going to be hard to pull herself away from its promises, when she has her answer.  But she has a duty.  She may even have two.

He looks, and looks again.

His memories of the Trees are faint, dimmed not by the passage of time - as they would for Men - but by taking on this body and mission.  He's never fully explained this to anyone, though some - like Galadriel and Glorfindel and Gildor - clearly know.

It's not exactly Treelight, but he thinks it's closer to Treelight than the Sun is.  It might be the basis of a fair attempt.

<I... cannot say for sure.  There are Elves here who have seen the Trees and can show you a better picture than I can, or perhaps you can look at the Star of Earendil tonight.  Though as you say, there are more pressing matters.>

<Then, when there is time...  I will ask.>

<In the meantime...  What was this experiment with swords trying to determine?  And do you have further plans?  I believe Elrond was planning to hold a Council soon; if you would speak with us there or beforehand about the Foresight you read, it would be much appreciated.>

(She feels a vague embarrassment at only recalling now that the Sun and Moon were in fact derived from Tree fruits, if she recalls correctly, and thusly not aiming her dramatic gesture at anywhere near the right thing, but clearly it went fine and therefore doesn't matter, anxiety.)

<Whether Elvish works and their sequelae - such as this enchanted sword - have their expected effect on myself, though given that [CLASSIFIED] did try to do the thing it usually does to those it does not know suspect it, it wasn't necessarily - though, now that I think about that it's hardly a good example considering that there was not a single piece of Elvish craft in its construction - anyway, we found out that Songs will probably work and that I really don't know how to longsword.  And, yes, of course.  If nothing else maybe being there will jog my memory a bit.  Human recollection is often - context-dependent, in my experience, and I am, unfortunately, human.>  Probably, she doesn't think very loudly.

<As far as plans - In the time before Elrond's guest list arrives I rather intend to see if I can work a ward for Frodo akin to the one I resorted to, and either concurrently or sequentially arm myself for balrog.>

<Though, speaking of the Foretelling, there is a question I would speak to you privately upon, if you've the time.>

Lindir nods at the description of the experiment, and then solemnly again at her being unfortunately human.

"The most fascinating human I have seen in many Long-Years," he adds with a shallow bow to her.  "I would be interested to see you work that ward."

For her, with that context, he'll absolutely have time.

<Certainly.  Privately, not with Elrond?>

Lindir, she is flattered.

<It's a matter pertaining to you, specifically, Mithrandir.  If you wish Elrond to know it, that is your choice, but I would suggest that you make that decision with full context.>

He nods gravely, and after brief farewells to Lindir and the Rangers, leads Alicia around the stable to a couch grown among the roots of a grove of trees on a hillside.  They see several Elves as they go; Gandalf raises his hand in greetings but nothing else.

<This should be privy enough since we are using osanwe>, Gandalf says once they're seated in the smooth branches of the couch.  

<I have shared much with Elrond, but... there are things I have not>

- such as some of what he did in Valinor, and how much he has forgotten about it -

<and things it might be wise not to share considering what might happen.>

- such as, preserving some shreds of secrecy in case Sauron regains the One Ring.

Alicia hums contemplatively at his opening comment, and wraps a purple shimmer around them that fades into invisibility in moments, a simple refinement of the osanwë-barrier.  <I mislike trusting 'should', when it comes to secrets like yours, Olorin.>

<Am I correct in my assumption that you are currently - in the guise of, as an approximation of whatever really happens - Gandalf the Grey?>

He shrugs at the extra shield - though he would've nodded anywhere other than Rivendell and maybe Lorien - and nods at the "Grey."

<Perhaps better 'form', though any concept known among humans or Elves is but an approximation.>

<In the events that occur for lack of my interruption, you are - presumably somewhat inconveniently discorporated, holding off the balrog from the Fellowship of the Ring,> she cannot stop the image of YOU SHALL NOT PASS! from transmitting, <and return, later, as Gandalf the White.  I don't, rightly, have half a clue what that means in practice - but it was important enough to be of narrative relevance.>

He pauses, trying to think what might have driven him to that image.  It goes against the strategies he has followed - with good reason - for Long Years.  And his death(!) only accentuates that risk.

<Things must have been desperate indeed, for me to try my strength against the Balrog like that.  And... how long was it until I returned?  A year?  Longer?  Was the Quest somehow not yet complete?>

<That, I do not know.  I don't think it was after the One Ring met its end in Mount Doom, but nor do I have reason to believe it took you a year, beyond that you are presently expecting it to?  But neither do I have reason to believe it did not.  Mordor is not a very easy-to-traverse place, and it was the hobbits alone - and the being who had prior held the Ring for who knows how long, actually, one Gollum/Smëagol(?) - who did.  ...I didn't read this book, I must regrettably remind you.  I only read the book that contained Bilbo's tale, and such ancillary information as that you put on the best fireworks the Shire knows.>

<My fireworks made it into the book?>

<And I do not see how it could take less than a year, and I would expect longer; I am very invested in this body...  Even if I had help, I cannot think of any Vala or Maia who would be both able and willing to help enough for it to take less than a year...>

<They did, yes.  As did your leaving (and later obliterating) a thief's mark on poor bewildered Bilbo's door, and a myriad other things.>

<And then there was the time you used them to scare off some wargs, on-'screen', as-was...  But we digress, I daresay.>

<...Hold on.  The Valar and Maiar who could help, wouldn't help you return to a fight against one of Morgoth's most dangerously clever lieutenants?!  Have they learned nothing since Ungoliant ate the Trees?!>

<...I can but hope otherwise, and that there is something I do not know, that helps you.>

<They have learned much.  And among the things they have learned is to be cautious interacting with Middle-Earth.  That was why they sent me and my cousins, to live here and know it as one knows their home.

<I think they might help me return, but - I would not assume it would happen quickly.  And even if they did, I do not believe they are practiced in helping others assume bodies swiftly after a body they have been long invested in is disincorporated.>

He's already telling her more than he's told anyone except Galadriel and Elrond and a few others, but she's asking questions few others have asked him.

<...Well, that's fair.  Honestly, for all I know, it's an intervention of Eru that does it.>

<...Still, I am - relatively sure that it is not as if Frodo and Sam are wandering in Mordor for years - they would have run out of food, surely, even as talented as Sam is - and I am pretty confident, similarly, that you return before they succeed in destroying the One Ring, because that sort of dramatic name change isn't epilogue material.  So the question is, with the situation thus - whether you believe it worth it to keep that part of the Foretelling on its rails, or whether we risk diverting it, especially knowing that there must have been things you were involved with afterwards that I don't know.>

<Indeed; indeed.  There is little room to wander in Mordor, even if one will eat such food as orcs eat - unlike dear Sam and Frodo.

<An intervention of Eru?  Perhaps; that would certainly be sufficient, but I would not dare assume!  He has not intervened so directly in Arda since, I believe, the Change of the World!

<And I came back as the White, you said, taking Saruman's place...  That would be significant, though I must ponder how.  But fortunately, we can avoid that balrog by simply not traveling through Moria should we choose not to.  And we need not make that decision today.>

<Nor would I, in truth.  It's merely possible.>

<...I am not sure what routes might permit our travel - ideally beneath Sauron's notice at the critical portion where the hobbits must split off for Mount Doom - we're aware of the Eye of Sauron, right? - to accomplish the needful things of this adventure, though you would surely know better than anything I might.  Since - one does not simply walk into Mordor, as the saying goes when - I believe you coined it.  ...I am also fairly sure that we should not just leave the balrog for a party less able to handle it, in the fullness of time when someone goes to reclaim Moria.  We're wizards.  We can handle a balrog, I should hope, where I daresay much of Middle-Earth could hardly contemplate the feat.  Even if that rather strikes a vein of hubris that I know got tacked on to the title of 'wizard' long after you had it.>

<But really, I do like our chances.  It's just - a big fiery thing, even if it's primordial.  I've seen worse, around here.  It's not a continent-sized dragon, you know?>

Why yes, she does remember Ancalagon the Black, thank you for asking.

He raises his eyebrows at her mention of "powerful magic-users" (or, as she put it, "wizards")  That's not a concept he's heard people talking about before, but not precisely outlandish here... even though wrong...

<Many Dwarves were also powerful in magic, but the Balrog slew them.  But perhaps when Sauron is overthrown, some of us can address the lesser though still poisonous weeds in this garden such as the balrog.  The balrog has been content to sit in Moria for millennia; for now, Sauron remains the most urgent foe.>

He reaches his hand into his pocket and takes out one of his carved pipes, which he runs his hand over thoughtfully; and a small bag of pipe-weed.

<Is there anything else you wished to tell me privately?  I still have questions for you, if there is anything you wish to tell me privately knowing who I am.>

<I doubt many dwarves were armed for giant flamey thing with whips, nor for such a thing appearing inside and even worse behind their siege defenses, is what I expect was the problem there, but I do take your point.>

<...I can't think of anything other than what we've already discussed that depends on your being Olorin, so - ask your questions?>

<Your body looks like a child, but your spirit - as far as I can see, which is not as far as some - does not.  How did that come to be?  And, what sort of life were you hoping to lead before you came here?>

<...Yeah.  That gets a bit...  Complicated.>

<This isn't the first life I've lived, and it wasn't by my decision that I came to have a second, though I had more influence than most might on the specifics of where and how, despite some...  Imposed constraints.>  The crown weighs heavily upon her.  <...The works of Tolkien were from that first life, not the second - and there was (Or, so I thought to the best of our ability to determine, small coincidences aside -) no magic there, no true foretellings.  But across a wide enough multiverse, everything is true.  And clearly, I am here, now, so something either gave me some very detailed ~false memories, when it plucked my soul out of the timestream or whatever it did, or there was a bit more than I was aware of, or this is - some even grander coincidence, reified from an idle musing.  Perhaps all of those are equally true.>

<As for the life I hoped to live...>

<I like solving puzzles, I suppose.  Magical research is a lot like that.  I like helping people, which...  You know, the Ring tried to tempt me with that?  But it wasn't capable of comprehending how much I know I am not fit to be a god, and that was its plans' undoing.  Not that I'm stupid enough to ever touch the thing, I know what it does, but it could have tried to be a lot cleverer than it was - attempted to tempt me with knowledge, more than power, perhaps.  ...I'm still not sure if it's a mind-reader, though, because there were things it offered that it could not otherwise have conceived - but the question is whether, then, it spun something that would let my mind fill in the blanks....>

<But to return to your actual question - for reasons that are long and complicated and I don't want to get into them, a quiet life doing research - has never been a second life I could afford to expect.  There are some very scary things, in that general vicinity, and while I broke the wheel of Fate in my choosing, one was still rather entangled with my starting point.>

Gandalf half-fills his pipe, lights it, and puffs a smoke-ring into the air thoughtfully.

<Even stranger than I thought!  But if there are two worlds, it does makes at least as much sense for there to be three or more.  I wonder what indeed is the relation between them...  I called the book you had read Foresight; I am not sure that is wrong, but it would be a stranger Foresight than any I have heard of, by far, unless its author or one of his friends had previously lived here.  But perhaps it is something stranger still, and we know too little to do more than idly muse...>

<Do people where you are from naturally live more than one life?>  He smiles faintly.  <You may have heard that Elves do here, though not altogether without help from Mandos.>

<If you wish to live a life of magical research, I am sure Lindir is not the only Elf who would be happy for your help.  Or if you wish to go around doing noble deeds like slaying Balrogs - you would not be the first girl I have helped along that path.>  He faintly remembers several Hobbits and one Princess of Rohan.

<Oh, no, no, though it is a common enough trope in works of fiction, which, well.  Who knows, really, given all this.>

<...And as to my plans...  I may wish what I like, but...  I have a duty.>

<I - bear a responsibility to the world I arrived from, much as...>

<Much as you might, in some senses.>

<So I will...  Have to see what can be done, on that front, ere I turn my mind to a future here.  But I am hardly going to leave the problems in front of me, either.>

Gandalf smiles and nods.  <Well chosen.  I would not know how to begin to approach that, except to see if your arrival here left anything at the riverbank, or to speak with the Valar - and I doubt either of those would help...>

<And for how to proceed in light of your knowledge, 'twould be best to speak with Elrond, and... I am curious, which other people who would be wise to include do you remember?>

<...There are few I can be sure of, and most of those already slated to be invited or due to arrive, if I even know them by their names.  Frankly I'm a bit surprised I could recognize Aragorn's; I'd no idea it was Sindarin.  He's definitely involved, but you know that.>

<...I know Galadriel will be invited.  She gave a very evocative speech on why entrusting the One Ring to her would be a terrible idea.  And - well, inasmuch as I know anything of her I would say she is one to admire.  But I certainly do not know who of those who might be here when Elrond calls a Council, will specifically be of help in interpreting what scant foreknowledge I even have.>

<As far as the matter of my arrival, and, hopefully, my return, goes, I know what I did, at least, and I have some hope that I will be able to replicate such a thing in a more - controlled, manner, now that it is definitely a thing that I know can be done.  It is, however...>

<It is something that I am sure of, that no primordial force of the world I devised carries inherent moral stain, beyond that of the things one uses it to undertake.  I do not, however, know if Eru Illuvatar agrees with me, or if I am even playing by Eru's rules as such things go - there is a sense in which I could be carrying a part of my world with me, and I do not know if what I would call Void magic, is even the same thing as the Unlight which killed the Trees.  I do not think so.  But...  I do not know.  It is not as if...>

<Mm.  If we analogize the Song to the Light of my world, then the Void is the staff-paper upon which the Song is written - or, no, rather the ink in which one writes.  But the ink can write many Songs, could write things that are not Songs at all.  And to know that truth, and to even know of the Unlight...>

<I would never.  But it is not beyond me that I perhaps could, and...  Well.  I do not wish to find out if it will feel like I am, even when I am not, around this many Elves.  I'd rather not - remind them of their losses yet again.>

Gandalf remembers very little about the Darkening of Valinor, but he's sure he would remember the Unlight if he felt it again.

<I have not felt from you anything like that.  I am sure Lindir and Glorfindel... or, at least Glorfindel... would mention had he felt it.>

<And yes, Aragorn, and Glorfindel and Erestor, and ->

A sound of loud laughter and singing comes from behind a nearby hill, on the side of the valley toward the mountains.

<- ah, someone is arriving.  Perhaps a messenger from the Beornings?>

<...Well, I'm not doing anything like that right now, is the thing, isn't it -->

<Oh, hm.  I'm guessing you'd want to do something about that.  Or Elrond but I don't know if he's busy.>

Meanwhile, the back of her mind is going "Tom Bombadil???" just based off of the merriment quotient, for all that she's not actually sure that was his thing.  There was definitely a thing.  She's just not sure it was his.

If Gandalf is, in fact, going to do that, she brings down the shield with another brief flare of purple.

Gandalf is going to puff one more smoke ring from his pipe, slowly stand up, and regretfully extinguish it.

<The Elves have never learned to appreciate the joy of pipeweed, but I digress...  I am sure several someones are greeting them - and making merry songs around them - but I would be interested to see as well...>

He puts his pipe back in his pocket and starts walking around toward the front of the house.  <Then perhaps we should speak with Glorfindel next - which may be helpful anyway, as he is familiar with balrogs.>

And he also actually killed a balrog, died himself in the fight, and was resurrected... but he prefers not to share that with strangers.

<I mean, smoke in the lungs is a nasty thing that causes nasty after-effects no matter what is actually in your pipeweed,> she says, noting her air filtration enchantment spinning down, <Even if smoke tricks are neat.>

<...Getting advice from someone who has actually faced a balrog, when we might also face one, seems wise.  But...Well, if there is a messenger, then there is surely a message, and we should likely learn of it.  There's plot afoot.  Even if we must thusly brave...merriment.>  She is an introvert, y'know?  She's no good at parties!  <...I jest, but truly I hope that I will not be expected to participate in the singing myself.  I'm shy.>

<Ah, I had not noticed smoke doing that...  And I would think I would have gotten used to my body enough, before picking up the habit, to notice...  Interesting.>  It's surely a better reason not to smoke than any he's heard from Saruman or Glorfindel or anyone else.

<And do not worry.  Hardly any of the Rangers sing, either; they will not expect it.> 

<It's probably Narya's...  ?fault?>

<Or, it would make sense if the Ring of Fire came with immunity to smoke.>

Gandalf nods thoughtfully.  <And all the Elven-rings tend to hold back the ravages of time...  It would fit.  I am tempted to suggest that Elrond take up pipeweed as an experiment, so I can see his face when he hears it.>

And as they go, he ponders what Alicia meant by saying she devised the primordial forces of the world she had been in... and whether she meant to share it in her osanwe.

Her spirit feels human.  Strange, but human.

But - some people say that after the song of Arda is finished, humans will join the Ainur in making a Second Music.

She says she doesn't know Illuvatar's opinion on her world's design... so maybe she hasn't exactly done that, but something sort of like it?  Which perhaps humans can do?

She feels more prickly than he would have expected someone would feel after singing in the Music - at least, someone who hasn't lived through all-but-uncounted Ages since then.  But... he doesn't remember how he felt during those Ages either.

So what does this mean?

Nothing much.  Yet.

When Bilbo had found the Ring and was keeping it secret, it was obvious, but he didn't mention that to Bilbo.  That was Bilbo's business if he wanted to play games about it, as long as it wasn't harming anything.  It was also obvious Bilbo was lying about how he got it, but he didn't mention that either... he wanted to see more clues about why.

So he'll keep treating Alicia much like he has been, but he'll keep a sharp eye out for... anything else in this vein.  And maybe probe about more serious subjects about the nature of worlds.

Meanwhile, they get to the front of the House and start walking up the road toward the mountains.  They aren't on it for long before they see an Elf calling from a treetop, "Dwarves!  Only a few of them!  From Erebor!"

(Gandalf translates.)

(There is a part of her that didn't.  There is a part of her that very much did.)

...That was a good talk.

Maybe more than she rightly should have been talking about, she supposes.  But it was - good, nonetheless.  And the ability to think <Smoke the pipeweed, Elrond, it's for !!SCIENCE!!!>, and burst into very quiet giggles - really, more a high-pitched squeak, but it was because it was funny, so there - certainly didn't hurt, either.

And now, there's dwarves.

<...I can hardly say for certain, being as I certainly don't know any details whatsoever, but I do believe they're here at the right time to be the dwarves who ~should~ be present at the Council of Elrond.>

Gandalf noticed her squeak, and a little of his own grin was in response to that.

<Indeed.  I don't suppose you remember anything about these dwarves or what news they might bring?  They seem too small to be an ordinary trade caravan.>

<Unfortunately, no, I do not.  I know really very little about any of this, for all that I know a random selection of details I really shouldn't.  I don't even remember all the darn Rings.  I do remember approximately half a poem about them!  And their number - three for the Elves, and, come to think, the Elf-rings being special because it wasn't just Sauron who made them but also - Celebrimbor?  I think - seven for the Dwarves, nine for the Men who became Ringwraiths, and, of course the One Ring - "One Ring to rule them all, and in the darkness bind them" - but not names and traits and everything like that.>

Nod, but <Celebrimbor alone made the Elven-rings; Sauron alone made the One Ring; they made together the others...  Poetry sadly suffers in language-independent osanwe.  I am told that is one reason the Elf-fathers invented language in the first place.>

He smiles.

<...And clearly my recollection isn't necessarily accurate either even when it's not things like names that I know were Anglicized and are thus useless to me because the names are in the questionably original Westron!  ...At least I'm armed against - whatever Sauron might try throwing at me.>

<...My native language, the one Tolkien wrote in, was basically five languages in a trenchcoat pretending they were all the same tongue, by the time I was around to speak it.  In the words of - well, whoever came up with that turn of phrase - English follows other languages down dark alleys and mugs them for spare vocabulary.  Quite literally, or, well, the mugging is obviously figurative, but especially when it's a thing English doesn't have a word for, you get 'we didn't even bother to change the pronunciation to fit the one you would expect from standard orthography' 'loanwords'...  ...I can only imagine how aghast - or, possibly, intrigued - say, Fëanor, would be, by that.  Though given that, if I recall correctly, there was all but a civil war over 's' vs. 'th' at some point, perhaps more aghast than intrigued after all.>

<Indeed.  Not a civil war yet, I do not believe... but ah, Fëanor.>  He shakes his head.  <Alas for the darkness he fell into.  Lindir would tell you much about him, if you ask - he followed Fëanor as a youth during that time, and still wears his emblem though he has over time recognized some of his failings.  And he was himself more interested in magic, as you have seen.>

<...Fëanor should have been anything but a King.  I think it broke him.>  ...She isn't going to say more because if she does that's going to get into the 'What the fuck, Eru,' and/or 'What the fuck, Valar,' topics.  And that would just be rude.

<I do not know if it was that or something else, but at the least, it broke many other people.  Though I do not believe he was ever broken beyond mending himself - if he had seen how, and chosen to.>

Sigh.

<And I have been wondering lately what broke Saruman.  He said it was his losing hope about Sauron's power... but I feel there was something else as well.>

<...Sometimes, you have to meet people where they are, not where you wish they'd be.>

<...As for Saruman - I wish I knew, but I don't think it was ever said, or at least if it was I've certainly never heard of it.  Unless there was a Palantir involved, which would be more of a deduction than any specific knowing.  There was something about probably-Sauron having some influence - not on what was seen, but how it was seen.>

<A Palantir?  I had not thought of the Palantirs for Long Years...>

He starts murmuring to himself, with scraps of thought floating through osanwe:  <... Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree...  who knows where the lost stones now lie... buried or drowned, or Elendil's Stone on the Straight Road...  Ithil, ah, Ithil, or perhaps Amon Sul...>

While Gandalf is still musing, a party of four Dwarves come down the road riding ponies, with grim expressions on their faces.  One of them is much older than the other three, and he gives a curious look to Gandalf as they pass and calls out "Ah, Gandalf!"

Gandalf starts.

"Why, Gloin!  What brings you here?"

(Meanwhile, he sends to Alicia, <This is Gloin, one of the dwarves who came with me and Bilbo to the Lonely Mountain.>)

His face darkens.  "A long story, and not a happy one.  I hoped to bring warning, and seek Elrond's counsel - and yours, since you are here."

<...I'm not nearly as surprised by that as I rightly should be,> she sends back when there's a lull.

<Ill tidings, I take it?>

Gloin doesn't notice Alicia's osanwe, even if she was attempting to speak to him.

"Is Bilbo still living here?" he asks Gandalf.

"Yes, and his nephew Frodo has just arrived..."

"... though grievously wounded; that is another story in itself.  Another newcomer here - Alicia - helped heal him.  But come, let us speak inside.  I believe Bilbo will be in his study, if you wish to see him; and Elrond may still be with Frodo."

(For the record, her osanwë was directed to Gandalf, specifically.)

Alicia hears her name, and waves.

<...I think I should like to be included in the briefing on whatever this is,> she adds, to Gandalf.  <If that's convenient.>

<Absolutely,> Gandalf says as they walk back beside the Dwarves.  <I wish you could speak some language in common with us - I am sure Aragorn will be there too, and perhaps Bilbo.>

Gloin smiles with satisfaction at Alicia, but then he studies her with surprise.  "A girl of Men, isn't she?  To have such talents at her age!"

<I'll add translation to my to-do list.  I mean, it's on there already, but, well, moreso.>

And, hm -

<I'm a bit of an outside context problemsolution - it's not normal at my age, but where I'm from, anyone who'd trained in the right skills could have done what I did.  Hopefully, with that - mostly - sorted, I can cause some problems for whatever's giving you problems - though I suspect your problems and our problems are going to be the same problem.>

Gloin feels a mental nudge at his mind, and starts; but he doesn't hear anything more.  He looks up at Gandalf.

"That was not me, but Alicia."  He repeats what Alicia said.

"Strange."

Gloin frowns, not liking the nudge he'd felt.

"Yes, I fear they will be the same problem - if not already, then shortly."

...She's just going to silently bump up the priority on translation, and maybe start working out an effective form factor as they walk.  Really, the question is how she wants to approach the problem more than what she needs to do, she already has two disparate plans taking shape...  Or maybe one plan that uses both?  Maybe that.  Yes, that.  Because then it can hopefully work both ways...

Anyway.  Walking.  To wherever they're going.  Instead of being distracted by translation problems.

As they return to the house, Gloin and the other Dwarves (including his son Gimli) are happily talking with Gandalf about how things are at the Lonely Mountain.  They've been prospering, with a firm friendship with their kin the Dwarves of the Iron Hills and with the Men of the city of Dale nearby; and a more tenuous but peaceful relationship with the Elves of Mirkwood.

But despite the prosperity, Gloin is troubled.  On the one hand, some of his friends have gone to found a settlement in Moria; and nothing has been heard of them lately.  On the other hand, they've recently received a message from Sauron... but he would rather tell of that to Elrond as well, and perhaps Bilbo.

All names in the first paragraph are Translation Convention; the last two sentences are all not.

Gandalf is happy to let Gloin direct the conversation, and aside from a brief frown and a nod when Gloin mentions Elrond, doesn't press about the message from Sauron.

When they reach the house, and Elves come to take the Dwarves' ponies, Gandalf remarks that he has some other business but will be back soon.  He asks one Elf to please ask Aragorn to come to speak with the guests, and then turns to Alicia.  <Come, follow me.  Before we talk more in a larger company, it would be good to find a better way for you to talk at all.  I have some ideas, but do you also have some?>

<I have some wildly speculative guesswork, which is to say, if there is something you'd like to suggest I will gladly listen to it.  I do believe what I have in mind ought to work, but the question of how I'll get there is...  Still open.>

<...Are we...Going to tell them about the balrog?  By the way?  I know I heard them say Moria...>

<... Yes, in time.  I did not want to greet him with the news that his cousins are even more likely than he thinks to be dead.>

<And I also have some ideas.  It is said that osanwe can work with the mind of any person who is open to it.  I have not used it much here in Middle-Earth, and most people have used it little more, but it should be possible.  Gloin felt it when you tried to speak to him - despite how you were not touching him, and you had just met him.  So it should be possible for you to speak to Hobbits and Men and even Dwarves with osanwe.>

<Osanwë is all well and good, but - mm, sometimes you need to be able to speak, as much as I sometimes rather wouldn't - not to mention, the question of whether speaking so will even allow others to reply - my knowledge suggests it might, but that that would require much effort.  I hardly intend to neglect it, but I'm not sure osanwë is sufficient even as it is necessary.>

Gandalf nods.

<Absolutely.  Anyone can in theory reply - osanwe is possible for any person.  But most people are far less used to it than we are.  I, or an Elf who has practiced, could translate - but it would be better if there was a better way.  Besides, as you say - words strike you in a different way than wordless thoughts, and words in your ears differently than in your mind alone.  And, as the Elves keep saying, words are beautiful.

<Do you have another idea?>

<I have the vaguest notion of how I might accomplish a translation effect with magical shenanigans.  If it doesn't explode.  Unfortunately that's kind of a known risk of Void/Light interactions, though I do have some practical knowledge on mediating such.>

<... What sort of explosion are you thinking of here?>

<...Well, mythologically speaking, the Void/Light interaction is what created my universe, but in practice, considering that I am just a squishy mortal that can't, actually, survive all that much power being routed through me, the kind of explosions I'm expecting are the annoying ones.  Just...  Enough of a nuisance that I'd rather try and pin this down as an enchantment rather than formalize it as a spell.  ...It's not a question of power as much as finesse anyway.>

<... ah.  Unfortunate.  Do you have any clue how to do it 'as an enchantment'?>

(He's visibly echoing her concept without understanding it himself.)

<Oh, yes, definitely.  Just need to -->  And here, her thoughts trail off into things like "linguistic vector reflection", "λ-speech synthesis", and <-- really, this is like dropping a boulder from a mile up to hammer a nail but with no common corpus to use for an arcane analysis we have to go back to fundamentals -->

<...Oh, right, you probably meant making it durable.  ...It's a lot easier to enchant things when you're not - what's effectively a druid, trying to multiclass into artificiery.  I don't have such - far-reaching - results as Rings of Power available, not without putting in much more effort, both in - concentrating the power to begin with, and in setting up the infrastructure to direct it within the enchantment's framework - but it's a science more than an art to craft enchanted objects, and one I have some skill in.>

<That sounds like it would take much more time than we have today.>

<That does depend on how much time we have, but it's not like getting my osanwë to the point that it can sustain a two-way connection is going to be faster, given I've really no aptitude for shamanism.  ...We'll make do.>

Gandalf nods.

<Very well; it might be worth a try while the Dwarves eat and bathe after their journey.  What do you need?>

<Most enchanted objects are metallic because that's more fault-tolerant, in that if you do fuck it up you can just ground out the residuals, melt it back down, and start again.  ...Shouldn't need all that much working space, I'm just performing a minor miracle of reification here...  The trick's in the interactions more than the enchantment framework itself, I mean, so I don't need all that much room to scribe things.  And I figure we want a handheld form factor...>

<...I'm afraid I don't have much ability to know the local weights and measures, but certainly not much more than a palmfull of metal, plus any fittings, if I pull this off right, as I should be able.>

<Ah, Lindir can help, and I am sure he would be happy to watch.  I can show you to his workroom again?>

<Please; I'm sure I could eventually find it but I wouldn't wish to get lost.>

<Of course.  It is, after all, your first day here - and the house was made for Elf memories not human.  I have often seen new Rangers getting lost here as well.>

Gandalf leads Alicia through a set of halls that are imitating caves more than forests, before coming out at what she might recognize as the same forest-like hall from before with Lindir's workroom and the door out to the practice-yard.

Lindir is actually in the hall, a frown on his face as he's talking with an Elf-woman named Taurel.  "Of course I will advise Elrond - but tell me when people are ready, and I will come; I do not wish to sit around at a table with new-come Dwarves reluctant to share their crafts -"

He breaks off mid-sentence, seeing Alicia and Mithrandir.  <Ah, Alicia!  Do you have something more to show me, or be shown?>

<I suppose I do, at that - it has come to my attention that my osanwë is insufficient for reliable communication with every party to whom I might wish to communicate, and it occurred to me that I might be able to make something to rectify that, with time, effort, materials, my particular knowledge, and, I must admit, a bit of luck.  I haven't exactly had to make a translator before and even if I had made one in the more common style of my people, the framework they were operating in was wildly different - mostly a sort of direct comparison of dictionaries, rather than what I'm going to have to pull, considering that I know precious few words of Sindarin, for example, and haven't the time to learn the rest, let alone adding other languages like Westron - and certainly while I imagine there are elves that could learn my native tongue, with sufficient exposure, it would take entirely too long; I don't have - we don't presently have - years, not even the short ones, to spare, before things that must be done need their doing.   ...I should note, I will have to ask that you not look too closely at some parts, as much as I would let you if I could afford to do so; sometimes the mere act of observing things changes them, and if this project is to be finished before it will be needed - I don't really believe I'll get this right the first time, so I can't afford to introduce more variables to the process.  That should just be the infusions, though, not the crafting itself...  Insofar as what I'll likely do is any sort of crafting compared to 'drafting a mold in real time'.  ...I mean, that is sort of crafting, but the way I do it is mostly maths...>

Lindir raises his eyebrows in surprise, and grins.

<Are you planning for it to aid in osanwe, or something else?  If it needs to read a knowledge of Sindarin from someone's mind, I would be happy to volunteer - or what else are you planning?>

With a nod at Mithrandir, and another at Taurel, he strides back to his workshop and throws open the door.

<And what do you need?>

<The thing I am attempting is for it to, through a complex sort of conceptual alchemy I don't have time to get into right now, collate the words of a communication into a higher-order λword that then passes through a reifier into what will be for most purposes the listener's common tongue - though I certainly shouldn't say we won't be needing a copy of procedural knowledge of Sindarin, I don't know if this is going to work yet, we might have to improvise - and oh, of course I could make an osanwë-focus -- later, one thing at a time, that's not even my field anyway ->

<Ideally, metal, because it's harder to rework other materials if it doesn't set properly; I won't need much to describe the enchantment around -> She tosses an approximation of the shape and size out, already starting to mathematically define - well, something like a bullhorn, really, but the functional surface is smaller so she can make up most of the cone with an arcane surface rather than a physical one if it's necessary - <- but I wouldn't want to risk the surface to rust in the longer term, even as there's some inherent durability improvements in making an enchanted object ->

She could probably cannibalize a bit from her tiara, if that's necessary, but she's really not sure if that's needful.

<Ah!>

Lindir's eyes open wide in fascination.

<Curufin used to claim his father could have done something like that - but he had any idea how... and I do not see how even Feanor himself could possibly have done that; language is so rich - if you can do it, I would be amazed and want to know how... What metals do you want?  I know not how they work with your magic.  I have iron, brass, bronze, tin, silver... we could find enough gold if that is what you need...>

<Really it's not so much the metal as what I'm going to do with it, although my brain is throwing up the bit where - I think brass commonly has arsenic in it and arsenic is bad for you?  So - not iron either, iron rusts especially without additives I don't know how to isolate or replicate and who knows what Mordor could do to it if I end up there - silver?  Silver seems fine.  ...Don't know much about tin.  Pure copper actually produces a protective tarnish at least when it's just saltwater and not, like, acid rain - oh that might be a problem, Mordor is horribly industrialized, ecologically, I should absolutely make something for Frodo and Sam just to take that problem off their chest, a Decanter of Infinite Water is practically a party trick, but then - Mordor, and the fucking Eye and I don't know how good hobbit sneakiness is when it comes to - but veils - one project at a time Alicia and I'm going to have to see if anyone around here can - but then there's the fucking backdoor ->

<Anyway the trick to doing that, is that I'm not doing that, not myself, I'm - giving the universe a fill-in-the-blank problem and letting it naturally arise from - the harmony of the Song, to put it in your terms?>

<...I don't expect Fëanor could do the thing I'm planning on doing, but that's because from my perspective he's already shown profound aptitude in doing the exact opposite approach, of - immersing himself in the Song like a boulder in a river, a power I have no hope in mastering - beyond the lightest touch of it I can muster for - legacy reasons; with his making of the Silmarils, he's - He really is an unparalleled genius, and if anything I think that was his tragic flaw, compounded by - well, the Valar have made some questionable decisions in their time like inventing kings, if I recall correctly, and that really didn't help - and why am I saying this to you of all people, you who were there for too much of that tragedy when I am just this upstart outsider who doesn't even have the decency to be an Elf ->

With a Herculean effort, she wrenches her train of thought around by main force.

<I say too much of what little I know, or think I do, and...  I would apologize, should I have offended.  But I certainly believe that Fëanor could have done something similar by entirely divergent means.  And that is not what we're here to do, regardless, so - silver would definitely work for the enchantment's functional surface; I don't think it tarnishes in a particularly destructive way...>

Lindir shakes his head. <"If you end up -" No, Imladris is as safe as most anywhere in Middle-Earth; the Enemy cannot harm you here.>

He looks thoughtful when she mentions "the harmony".  <I have not found the Song to be willing to supply language.  You need to invest something of yourself in what you are making... and if you do not know the language, I would not expect it to work by that means?...  And, ah, thank you for your sympathy.>  He looks into the distance for a moment.  <You are the first mortal I have heard who has mentioned Feanor as anything except a name in distant songs.  Thank you indeed.>

And then he shakes himself and dives into a cupboard.  <Silver, ah... here!>  He produces a bag with some silver coins and rings in it.  The coins are mostly Arnorian minting, though there are some Dwarven and a few Gondorian and a few still with Gil-Galad's star-and-spear.   <Will this be enough?  And do you wish help with the forge?>

She's - being thanked?  She was not prepared to be thanked!

<...The Enemy shall not breach Imladris, but - I do not know if I can bear to stay when others leave to do what must be done, even knowing the risk I take by doing so.>

<...I believe this should be more than sufficient mass.  As far as the forge goes - It is a common skill of mages of my homeland to heat - and cool - things by application of magic, and managing temperature in a general sense is a simple enough extension.>

<As far as the question of how I hope to achieve language without first understanding it myself - or, worse, shoving a piece of my soul in this thing, that's positively unsanitary ->  She's joking, it's clear, but she also is not -

<Well, firstly, osanwë itself proves the concept.  Communication can occur on a conceptual level.  From that example, but not truly of that example, we define a λspeech that communicates, as an inherent property of its nature, and transform the speech that this device picks up as its input into such a communication, then harmonize with the [knowledge-fëa-being-nature] of the listener to cause it to be rendered in the tongue they would most expect to hear and understand ->

<I am not sure that I can truly explain how something is λ, but - there is a purity to it that permits impossible things - that all but demands them, really.  To λ-be is to be something that will only ever behave how it behaves, because it is impossible for it to do otherwise.  To then shine a Light on it, and collapse the impossible into the real by force of an impossible reality in turn...  It will work.  The principle of explosion created my homeworld from its λbeing.>

<Admittedly, to say that is to horribly mangle the concept, but it's kind of funny that introducing a reifying force to P ∧ ¬P results in literal explosions.>

Lindir wasn't prepared to thank her either!  But then it was called for!

He covers the awkwardness by bending over the forge to add and arrange charcoal.

<Unclean to put your self in a thing?  It is not something you do casually, and I have not done it in long years, but I would not say unclean...>

Lindir listens curiously to her philosophy as he finishes readying to the forge, but frowns toward the end.  <That... sounds somewhat like what Sauron the Deceiver was saying in Eregion, how we should force our will on Middle-Earth.  But it was not impossible; rather the question is whether we ought to... and I would not deny that we should to some extent; am I not here in Middle-Earth?  Those who think otherwise have long since returned to Valinor.  Yet saying it is impossible for the principle you cite to do otherwise... reminds me somewhat of Arisseranta's interpretation of the Valar as being crystalized willpower incapable of change?  Her interpretation has never entirely been disproven, though I have not heard anyone reference it in long years...>

It's not like Fëanor's dead-dead, it only makes sense to talk about him like he's alive because he's still around to kick up a fuss, surely?  Even if he's irretrievably in the Halls...  Ah well.

<Yeah, that was - A humorous turn of phrase, it's not, like, theologically forbidden or anything I just don't like the idea unless I'm literally trying to put my entire soul into something else that better suits me.  Should such a thing exist.  Leaving bits and pieces lying around just seems...  Strange.  ...Even most of the practitioners that have stuff to do with souls in my homeworld, at least the ones that aren't - effectively analogous to Morgoth cultists - would find that - odd.  A soul is meant to be the whole of you.  Though perhaps if it was Spirit...  Hmm.  Have to think about that one, actually.>

<And as far as...  I mean, the thing is that I'm not from here and I don't rightly know if my rules still hold, besides my magic obviously still working to some extent, but - no, the Valar Are, they aren't λ, I should think - even if they're extremely Light-stubborn.>

<The nature of Void is that it is - pure concept, unbound by physicality.  The Valar were made.  They were made real.  I suppose that knocks the question up a level to whether Eru could ever have been other than how he is, in creating this world...  But even so, I don't...  Think...  That that's...>

<How to put this...>

<If Eru Illuvatar was a creature of λ I would be vastly surprised.  To λ-be is to be irreal and yet still exist because you simply cannot care that the Light of reality finds you impossible to reconcile with itself.>

<And yet Eru Illuvatar is all but synonymous with the Song.>

<And not in the way that Cneph advised Harumaph...  But that is another myth besides, and one I am not sure I could retell and tell true to the story as it was told to me.>

<...To force one's will upon Middle-Earth...>

<...Dear gods, didn't that sink a continent?  But the worst part is that to live is somewhat to force one's will upon the world, this I cannot refute ->

<But if anything, Void magic is the exact converse of 'attempting to force your will upon the world', because it is 'inviting into the real world a - reflection of what you seek'.  Being stubborn enough to shift reality into a more desirable shape is more a feat of Light-work than Void.>

<Leaving aside that the Fall of Eregion was more of a shamanic disaster than anything else, paradigmatically, if you put what little I know of it - that it resulted in the loss of a continent from assumedly the world revolting, not the rendering-a-disaster-area of a continent from a force left to run riot - through the lens of my understanding of my magic.  Or, well, maybe the Valar did it, which...  Still isn't not a shamanic disaster, albeit for different reasons...  I vaguely recall that at some point somebody smacked a large landmass into something hostile like the world's most overpowered flyswatter, but that is - stretching the limits of my knowledge.  That might have been Mordor, actually; I don't know.>

Right.  Anyway.  Time for some pyromancy.  Not her favorite field, certainly not her preferred combat magic - she favors, in the terms of a game she isn't playing, Frost and Arcane - but she can handle fire, when something needs to be at melting temperature.  She just needs to have the runes ready to etch once she's cast the template...

<Yes, I am also curious about how your magic's rules still hold for you when... some of them rhyme, perhaps, with the rules of magic we know; but they are far different.>

He grins.  <The verdict would be to try to learn your magic - but that is a project for another day.>

<But... if most anything of what we say about Eru Illuvatar is true, He not synonymous with the Song.  Some people have ventured that He is synonymous with the Secret Fire, which... sounds like it might be the same thing as what you call the Light of Reality... and I do not believe the Valar have said otherwise?  Though some people have also said the Secret Fire was sent to the heart of Arda, which does not necessarily contradict that but would be surprising...>

He cuts himself off when she starts working with the fire; craft before philosophy.  <I can pump the forge?> He gestures to the forge opening, and then the bellows.

<I wouldn't know much about that from your end of things, but I have some suspicions as to whether I might sort of be carrying my magic around with me.>  Being as there is a tap to the Twisting Nether in the heart of her soul, and all.  She paid fiat for that, a mere multiverse accident surely shouldn't break that particular design....  <Goodness knows if it's something I could teach, but I do think it would be quite worthwhile to try, given that the present circumstances involve trying to give Sauron the worst day and any surprises we can spring on him will be very helpful.  ...Though I'm not sure how much we can keep secret from the methods I know he has to spy on things, let alone those I don't.>

<Wouldn't dare speculate on the Secret Fire, though.  I can't say I've any recollection of it, though nor am I truly surprised.>

<...Probably wouldn't help to pump the bellows; the airflow only matters when you're actually burning something, and could be kind of unhelpful when it would be blowing the hot air away...>

<Heat equalizes, but it equalizes more slowly across things that are particularly similar in temperature because there's just less energy to gain, as I understand it.  Though I do suppose I should note that I mostly specialize in cold/ice, and macro-scale kinesis, even if I'm pretty confident in my physics, short of divine intervention.>

Anyway!  She's just going to introduce more thermal/kinetic/Fire energy into the (levitated a safe distance from both of them and also anything that's particularly flammable) metal, until she can start pressing it into the arcane mold!  ...This shouldn't take all that much time, but it's definitely not all that kind to her mana reserves, so she's glad she can do it here, and not in a cave with a box of scraps.

Lindir steps closer in surprise as she's forging the silver entirely by magic, outside of the forge!

<I was assuming you were going to use the natural fire --> He gestures at the forge.  <We... find it easier, using our magic.>

<It probably would be less taxing, to be honest - I have an enchanted forge that has its own fuel reservoir and actual controls in my own workshop, for much the same reason - but while I do know the theory of coal forging, smoke is horrible for people's lungs (and also the environment in general if there's enough of it - that's part of Why Mordor Is Like That, actually, I believe -) - and I can afford to bring this to temperature the hard way since there will be time enough to recover my personal reserves afterwards, before other things start to happen.  That, and doing intensive work like this helps deepen my reserves, or at least improves my fine control - like building muscle or training flexibility, but for magic.>

Now that she's finished with that, she has to actually charge and set the enchantments - and introduce the other forces.

<Now, this is where stuff starts getting kind of crossdisciplinary, and I'm going to have to start asking you to Not Look at some of the things - not yet, I still do need to charge the anchor runes and that's not the part that breaks if someone tries to look at it funny at just the wrong moment, but soon I'll be inserting Voidstuff, which is very much something that gets modulated by perception -- You can look at the Light, though, though now that I'm thinking about that that's a different sort of hazard, sort of, being as how it really wants to unite everything within it...>

Lindir didn't know that about mortals' lungs (and it sounds like a shame), but he can totally understand about improving one's control of artificing magic!

He nods acceptingly, and glances at the Light.  If it doesn't feel too dangerous (especially, too much like Sauron), he'll look further.

...Anyone's lungs, surely!  ...Wait, but...  Now that she's thinking about it she's not sure anymore!  

The Light, once Alicia has carefully fed a spark into the center of her not-megaphone...

It beckons.  It promises.  But it is not misleading about its promise that it can make you one with it and the universe - that you can't really keep being a you if you surrender to its song is...  Evident.