"Uh. I guess."

Magic cleaning spells.

"Eaugh," says Ladah, of the internal scourgification.

"Sorry. Your world's people are kind of pointlessly dicks."

"I taste soap."

"Were you ever tempted to just - spread a plague -"

"Oh, all the time. But - this was better."

"I guess." He does the other spells and gives him the potion. "Okay, kiddo, you are all ritually clean."

"I'm five."

"Yes but you are my alt's kid so it doesn't matter if you're technically older than I am."

"...I'm not sure that makes sense."

"Would you like me to call you something else."

"My name's Ladah. Or Radah if you can pronounce R."

"My name has an r. Okay, Radah, you are ritually clean."

"Thanks."

"Uh huh. Can testify to it if necessary. Take care."

"I will."

And they go off to play with dragons.

"I don't think Tanalo is actually dangerous but just out of curiosity -"

"I could handle it, yeah. Strongly prefer not to. Don't particularly mind it being implied that I would."

"If he asks for anything that really bothers me I'll imply away, then."

Space Elves make Beka and the local Fëanáro and everyone else who is dead and who Maitimo wants alive on a first pass bodies.

They notify everyone that the Valar might get mad about this and close portals so be in your preferred location. 

And they get to work on weaponizing the Silmarils to contact people in Mandos.

Sooooooooo booooooooooored. How long has it been now.

Five Endorë years. 

Are you like really really sure you can't tell them I surrender and then let me be alive.