Downstairs the door opens and in walks a six year old girl with a weird animal.
"You want to come along or should I fly up myself and see if she says hi?"
"Not, like, especially enthused about having to do gene therapy to do magic. You can totally go poke around the volcano."
He flies.
When he gets high enough a colony of bats flies past him, coalesces suddenly into a winged woman chewing idly on her fingertail. "Hey. Looking for me?"
She sends hers; it's a long soaring trill with a background patter like beating wings. "Or Thuringwethil in the vernacular. What brings you here?"
"Well, they make nice dumplings and playgrounds I would probably have strangled a puppy for as a five year old."
"So you're here for, what, corroboration? I do magic favors, I mostly let them come up with the religious stuff on their own."
"I have sources I trust farther on the facts of the religious stuff, I was just curious about you. You don't help them theologize?"
"It'd be a total waste of time. I'd say something that some great scholar three hundred years ago conclusively refuted and they'd decide I didn't know what I was talking about, never mind I was there, and then they wouldn't come here for the magic favors and shit. The religion's their lookout, I'm just the god."
"That'd be even worse. They know the Valar line on things, you get nowhere pushing it."
"I mean, I could've badmouthed some alternate universe Valar for whatever credibility that would have got me."
"There are more than four hundred million Ardas and this one has the only Valar who are genuinely good at their jobs."
"Funnily enough it's because this one has an alternate universe version of me, who is an Elf and very patiently explained to the Valar how not to suck."