Two wizards and two soldiers appear in the desert, a few feet away from a tired slave caravan.
They nod at each other and disappear again.
"Since they met us and realized we were imperfect and had been breaking the rules we didn't know about."
"Mine did not do that. Soft coercion of the dead, sure, that we had to discuss. They didn't edit anyone alive without their consent, however overdetermined that might be by parental pressure or what have you."
"It could be a magic versus less magic thing, I suppose?" She looks at Maitimë.
"Our Valar didn't edit living people. That sounds - awful - is that what's wrong with you -"
"I wouldn't have guessed it was what was wrong with me but meeting all of you is making me consider attributing more to them than I previously was."
"The wars. Wars are bad for people. It's more obvious with humans, because the Elves don't stop being at war but our humans do. Soldiers come back and they hit their wives, they beat their children. There's some stuff you can do to help them manage it but it took us a while to hit on it."
"Well, if we had stopped being at war before Cor killed Melkor then we would all have been tortured forever."
"Oh, we are stopping, now. Waiting on - news about Sauron."
“I would be pretty surprised. It doesn’t usually work that way.”
"Seems like jumping to conclusions a little," he mutters too quietly for anyone but Rirosseth and Mirelótë to hear him.
"This must all be real interesting for the people who know what's going on."
"Sorry, there's kind of a lot of it and it's all complicated and in half a dozen languages. - was that allowed, since she's not one of the pharaoh's wives -"