"You should ask someone to show you, though. Someone with more time than me. If you ever do want to hide something - though, I suppose, in one way of looking at the situation it's to youra advantage that we can be confident you're not concealing some villainous motive, it means we don't waste time mistrusting you."

"I do very much see the logic in that."

"I think I have enough to work with here. I'm going to try to discern, first, whether any of your weapons are possible to replicate with our technology, and if not then I'll get started on the decay question, which has numerous other applications. Do you want to help? Because if it's not something you're going to want to do consistently, I'm sure you'd be equally appreciated back in the library - and what's the rest cycle of Men? We fetched you a full sun cycle ago."

"...I do need to sleep at some point. Soon would be good, even. Men habitually sleep eight hours out of every twenty-four."

"I am not surprised at that; I am only surprised you haven't developed some incredibly impressive technical solution that makes you our equals despite the astonishing biological disadvantage."

Miles laughs.

"We have a few things, but it's a bad idea to make a habit of using them."

"I have a bed somewhere. You're welcome to use it."

"Thank you. I might just return to my shuttle, which unlike your bed I definitely know where to find. When I wake up we can start on the weapons - please don't try to take apart any of my things in the meantime, I haven't gone into how to do that safely yet."

"Noted. Sleep well."

"Thank you. Have fun scanning things."

And he goes back to his shuttle and goes inside and closes it up and has about eight hours of moderately uncomfortable sleep, after which he gets up and opens the hatch and peers out.

There's an argument going on on the ground. At least two dozen people are observing, and Maglor looks very unhappy. Amrod, who'd gone to explain Miles to the other camp, is back, and appears to have company.

Miles has just woken up and yesterday(?)'s advanced command of Quenya has not quite returned to him. "Uh, hello," he says to the assembled, in English.

"Hello," Maglor says wearily. "Did Tyelcormo tell you of the other Eldar?" He gestures across the lake.

"In brief."

"This is my cousin Irissë. She is-"

He doesn't continue the sentence. Irissë seems to be asking for a translation, rather aggressively, and when she gets in Maglor's face someone tugs her back and Maglor has to shout some command, rather sharply, to stop an embarrassing tussle from starting. 

Miles sighs. "Good morning," he says in cousin-Irissë's direction. The Quenya becomes more understandable as he hears more of it; maybe in another couple of exchanges he'll be back to the fluency of his conversation about scanners, through some combination of re-immersion and increased wakefulness.

"Good morning," she echoes cautiously, glaring at Maglor as if she expects him to burst into laughter and reveal that the words are some dire insult. 

Come on, come on, language...

"My name is Miles Naismith Vorkosigan." That seems safe enough to start with.

"Irissë. May I come up and speak with you?"

"Yes." He half-smiles. "Though I warn you I've only been learning Quenya for a sun-cycle."

"If you've been learning from them, you're learning wrong anyway." She heads up.

He steps back into the shuttle and sits in one of the seats.

"It is a pleasure to meet you. What wrong things am I learning?"

 "My uncle was a reactionary prescriptivist who politicized a bunch of sound changes in the language. His children talk like him. No one else does." A few words are in fact a little different.

She looks around, awed, raises an eyebrow, runs her hands across the nearest metal surface, and then inclines her head towards him. "You are very talented."

"I didn't make any of this. Everyone keeps thinking I made all this and I made none of it. Among my own people no one ever assumes someone made a thing just because they have it. But, on behalf of Men in general, thank you. We frequently are."

"Well, you're talented at persuading people to give you extraordinarily generous gifts," she says. "I saw it fly, last night. Can you fly it?"