The Silmarils. They're magical lights that can grow crops and provide light for our civilization outside Valinor.

All right, that seems important. Leareth wonders how many other important things he's missing because people don't think to bring them up as part of the obvious introduction to a visitor from another world. :How amazing! Might you tell me more?: 

He spent five Years on them. They capture the light of the Trees and cast light of their own, very bright, enough for cities and all the farmland around them. They probably do more than that, but I wouldn't know. He doesn't let anyone touch them. He wears them, sometimes, for important events. They're very beautiful. And not in a way that makes other things seem drab - they make everything they shed light on beautiful.

:Fascinating: He hopes to find out more. :Also, might I ask you a favour? I do not speak your language and so can only communicate in this fashion, but I would prefer to understand the spoken tongue as well, if you were willing to teach me a little while we travel:

Of course!! Where do you want to start, I've never taught anyone a language.

Leareth has learned a lot of languages in his time. He'll start by getting her to speak some sentences out loud as well as communicating them mentally, and then ask some questions about the grammar and word order for subject/object/verb, which kinds of words have grammatical modifiers applied to them, and then he can start collecting some basic vocabulary, pronouns, the names for various common objects or actions, and go from there.

He didn't remember to request paper from his hosts at the farm, so he also asks the cart-owner if she has anything he can write on. 

She does! She can teach him their alphabet, too, if she wants. It's gorgeous. The Prince Fëanáro designed it. The Prince Fëanáro dabbles in a lot of things but linguistics and magic are the big ones. They can practice Quenya all the way to the base of the hill Tirion sits on, where they'll have to get off the cart because it slows to a crawl fully loaded with two passengers going up the hill.

Walking is fine. :It is a very beautiful city: Leareth sends, he doesn't have the vocabulary to say that in Quenya yet. 

I'm sure the cities of your homeland are beautiful too.

:Yes. Usually not so clean, though. It...does remind me of a place I once knew: Urtho's Tower. It reminds him of Urtho, and there's still a distant pang in that, even two thousand years later. 

They reach the city. There are men at its gates, with swords, shouting at each other. Some of them are holding the swords but it is instantly obvious to anyone who has ever trained to hold a sword that none of these people have. Someone is stabbing the dirt for emphasis while he talks. 

There's a conversation in Quenya; he can maybe follow half of it, more if he's mindreading. 

"Who's that for?"

   "Everyone," his escort says. "It's food. I think we all still eat food. What's the story now -"

"The Prince Fëanáro nearly murdered the Prince Nolofinwë in open court."

    "Huh."

"The Prince Nolofinwë started it," someone else volunteers. "He told Finwë that two loyal sons remained to him."

   "Mmm."

Leareth is not fully alarmed yet – it does, in fact, seem that if fighting breaks out the sword injuries are more likely to be accidental than deliberate – but he brings all his defensive shields up instantly. And is reading everyone's thoughts, though it's hard to pay attention to that many so he mainly focuses on the dirt-stabbing shouting man.

Dirt-stabbing shouting man is angry with the King; Prince Fëanáro is plainly planning to kill people when he takes power and if that's not disqualifying what is? He is saying as much to another shouting man, who is of the opinion that probably you shouldn't publicly go round calling the King's heir a traitor to his people if you don't want him to get mad at you and admittedly the death threat was excessive but that's Prince Fëanáro, right, and he's not going to actually hurt anyone on purpose or surely Mandos would have something to say to him about that. 

Other people are also shouting, both out loud and in their thoughts. 

- can't back down now because if they win he'll kill him -

- the King didn't say anything -

- the King doesn't care, the King's decided, the King would like us to all calm down and so that's what we should be doing -

- the Vanyar'll get involved, if it comes to that -

- the Valar'll get involved, if it comes to that -

Great timing. Just perfect. 

Leareth takes a deep breath. He's still a very long way from oriented, here, there's a lot he doesn't know about the history and culture that inform what's going on right now. But - someone has to do the sensible thing, clearly. 

:Could everybody please be quiet for a moment: he sends to the entire group, putting some force behind it. Then, just to the dirt-stabbing man and the other man defending Prince Fëanáro: :Might I speak to you both?: 

Who is that -

- the form's not quite right, though it's good for a first attempt -

They stop shouting.

Who're you? Uh, sir? asks the angry dirt-stabbing guy.

:I am not one of your smallgods: Leareth clarifies. Get that part out of the way. :I come from another world, and have arrived in yours by mistake. When I learned of the dispute over succession, I decided to come to the city immediately - I have experience advising a King, and my world has had many transitions of power, whereas it sounds as though this is your people's first? I wish to offer what advice I can to your King on how to resolve this disagreement peacefully: 

He keeps his mindvoice level, friendly, but with the tone clearly indicating that he's not asking for permission. And waits to see how they're going to respond. 

They blink at him, a bit confused. 

I - don't know if he's taking visitors right now, someone says after a bit.

:I see. Then perhaps I can speak to Prince Fëanáro first. Where is he?: 

- I don't know if he's taking visitors either. 

Nelyafinwë will be. 

- they started this, it's their fault -

- I didn't say the visitor should go to them, just, Nelyafinwë'll be taking visitors -

- Prince Fëanáro moved into the palace, when all this started, someone tells him. Right at the center of the city. I can go with you, if you'd like.

"Thank you," Leareth says to the last person in Quenya, his accent is probably terrible but he's got that much vocabulary. He switches back to Mindspeech. :I may speak to Prince Nolofinwë as well, but I wish to understand Prince Fëanáro's intentions with this death threat first. And, who is Nelyafinwë?: 

Prince Fëanáro's son. He's, uh, easier to talk to, and his office is open whenever he's awake. 

:Then I suppose I would not mind speaking to him first. Why is Prince Fëanáro difficult to talk to?: 

I don't think he trusts very many people, and I don't think he likes talking to people he doesn't trust.

They can head through the city. The streets are mostly deserted, with occasional clumps of people whispering to each other in the shade of its various (beautiful, architecturally improbable) buildings. There's audible singing, though they don't run into the singers.

Fair enough, Prince Fëanáro, Leareth thinks to himself but doesn't say. Instead he compliments his guide on the city, asks some polite questions about the fashions in architecture.

He keeps his Othersenses wide open, both for magical artifacts and for hostile nearby minds. 

When people want to build a building that's impossible (say, because they want it to float) the Valar (big gods) or Maiar (small gods) will help them. Though lately people have been trying to build things they can build without such help; we're not new to building anymore, and in the Outer Lands there'll be no one to rely on but ourselves.

There's lots of magical artifacts here. The lights are magic, some of the storefronts (open to the air, with no glass in the windows) have magic jewelry, the fountains are magic, some of the people are wearing magic things.

Lots of people are watching him, trying to figure out what he's doing here. Wondering whose side he's on.

The palace is stunning, even by local standards. His escort hesitates for a second (should I tell them in advance? I might be interrupting, though) and then picks a door.