"Is it adding up? Are you going to have an epiphany in a week and be all sad I'm gone?"

"They sure seem to think so, maybe more like a century than like a week. I've been talking to you like you're actually mine but I don't think they'd pass up a chance to taunt us both about it if you'd actually been recaptured, do you? Probably they'd swear you were really out and laugh at you and then throw us together."

"I'd sort of expect that whether or not it was true, really. Maybe it's somewhere on the schedule but that writer's slower."

"Yeah, could be."

He plops down on the bed next to where Aydanci's sleeping and pats him and sighs.

"I tried to make sure he was eating and everything. He'll be so glad you're - lucid and not flinchy - even if you think he's Thuringwethil -"

"Even she's not very good at him, but if Thauron tries it without her help then I can not remember a thing to be remotely suspicious of and listen to him say a sentence and wonder what the hell was in his tea that morning, so."

He giggles. "Inimitability by Thauron is a good trait in people. Show us a movie?"

"Sure." He puts on the next thing on his recommendation list, which is one of Tiny Bella's suggestions and contains lots of assorted bloodsport animal things being appealing and fierce by turns. She apparently watched it with Miranda first to get help providing a suitably comprehensive set of cultural footnotes.

He sits a bit stiffly on the couch and watches with what eventually fades into amusement. "I like whoever's coming up with these."

Sigh.

"They're very dedicated to the craft. There should be orc art festivals or something."

Aydanci stirs, eventually.

Kib pauses the movie.

"Mmmmmrngh."

"Hey. Kib's out. It's a long story but we thought -"

"..." Aydanci rubs his eye and looks at the room, at the Elves - pauses when he sees Kib - holds very still with great effort.

"I think Fëanáro said a very long time ago there couldn't just be two worlds? There are more, and some of the others got their affairs in order and came to help. You were asleep, but we thought you'd want to see him as soon as possible. The war's over. There's a full explanation in writing."

"...okay..." This is not the okay of someone who believes that anything is okay.

"Thuringwethil's back from her vacation?"

"Who?"

"She's a Maia. Nobody else can imitate you convincingly. Least not after you wake up. If you spoke in more than monosyllables."

"Aydanci, can we get you anything?"

"Probably tea," says Kib of the resulting silence. "Mysteriously terse is a new one."

"He thinks he's in Angband. Right?"

"'Okay' is two syllables."