:What direction and how far?: Leareth includes all of them. :I may have to make several attempts:

He points. Eight hundred miles.

That’s...far. But feasible.

Leareth builds the threshold on the door to the room; that part is easy. Then he fixes a point in mind as firmly as he can, and - lets the Gate search. 

The first try fails entirely; his concentration isn’t focused enough on a particular place, the spell can’t resolve it. Not particularly surprised nor alarmed, Leareth gives up after a minute, before it can drain him too far, and beckons to Huan, holding the threshold itself steady.

A niggling confusion finally slips into place. The horizon seen through Quendi eyes had looked...off...but there had been too many notes of confusion and he dropped that one. :...Is your world flat rather than spheroid?:

- yes. Is yours spheroid? Huh!

:Fascinating, no? It makes blind Gates more difficult in my world, in fact, since a 'straight line' between two points must in fact be curved. I was doing those adjustments instinctively. A second try ought to be easier, if the line is truly straight: 

Leareth pauses. Holding the threshold steady isn't costing him much, not nearly as much as a full search attempt; he ought to clarify all the other possible misunderstandings. :One of your miles. How many times does would my arm-span fit into it?: He stretches out his arms. Probably Quendi can do that kind of mental math effortlessly; for sure Fëanáro can. 

Twenty-one hundred, he says immediately after sizing up Leareth.

Leareth does some slower math of his own. :...Interesting. Mine are close. Slightly longer, I think. Not different enough to matter when it is approximate anyway: 

He tries again. The second attempt gets him – ocean. Conveniently, it's a clear day. 

:Slightly off: he sends. :Not sure on exactly what bearing; presumably I did not go far enough. Can any of you see land?: He can't spare the concentration to borrow their eyes while also holding a live Gate open. 

Should've been more than far enough if the bearing was right, he says, but looks. I can see the shoreline.

:How many miles? I ought be able to land you much more precisely on the next try: 

Try eight hundred fifty.

Leareth carefully unweaves part of the spell – he loses most of the energy bound up in the distant terminus, but that's fine, he can spare it. He makes sure the threshold is stable and then aims again, telling the spell to land just...here. 

This time, when it snaps into place and the flash of light clears, it shows land. 

It's dark, as dark as his world would be on a moonless night. There are ...trees, or something like trees with leathery grey not-leaves.

"Cool," he says. They walk through. 

Leareth sends a mage-light through after them so he can get a slightly better view, and tries to fix it in mind; a direct Gate will be less tiring than a blind one. :I will open the Gate again here for your return: he sends to them. :Fëanáro, when is that? I will not want to hold it too long so would prefer they were ready nearby. If possible: It seems all too likely they'll run into trouble of some kind and Fëanáro will be sending out a search party instead. 

A day from now; give them enough time to scout the area and meet the locals and get our samples.

Then Leareth will take the Gate down without waiting any longer. 

:What do you intend to do with the samples?: he sends once he's done, recouping as much of its energy as possible. Unfortunately Huan isn't around to draw on, and he's kind of lightheaded from the power-drain. 

Make sure our crops can grow here.

:Ah. Clever - it would have taken me some time to think of that. Of course, you have had time to prepare: Leareth glances around. :I suppose we are on a deadline, now. What other preparations are there to make, and are there places I might assist?: 

The next thing we should do is talk to the King. Since until then he technically does not have permission to take the Noldor to the Outer Lands.

:Do you wish that I come with you?: If he does, Leareth can read the King's mind during the conversation, gauge his feelings about the whole matter. Nelyafinwë, presumably, can guess that as well. 

Yes, you certainly should; you change the whole situation and you ought to be the one to present your theory.

:Of course: Leareth is tempted to ask whether it's a very long walk. He doesn't; he can probably make it. 

It is back near the office where he first met Maitimo; Fëanáro is generally a brisk walker but can take a hint (about that, not about anything else) if Leareth's having trouble keeping up.

Leareth does slow him down somewhat, and is feeling pretty winded by the time they reach their destination, but not in a way that's especially visible; he's going to be Mindspeaking anyway. 

The King bears a striking resemblance to Fëanáro and does not, of course, look a day older; he is standing at the end of a long and stunning hallway whose ceiling is made of domes of very thin quartz. 

"Leareth," says Fëanáro, "Finwë, King of the Noldor; Father, Leareth visits us from another world." He's deliberately putting translations in his public thoughts for Leareth; privately he's thinking how he hates this place and soon will never have to see it again.

The translations are helpful even though he's reading the private thoughts anyway; less digging around and having to multitask. 

Leareth bows. He can't remember if there's a correct Quenya honorific for greeting the King so he doesn't say anything. He waits for either the King or Fëanáro's lead.