When they deem it necessary. [He rests a hand against Maglor's back, wanting to comfort him. The memories of their previous conversations are beginning to become clearer and he knows the Elf has been dealt a sore blow by the monarchy.]

The magic here is greater than the magic in Valdemar. I could do horrible things. [Sometimes he wonders if his magic isn't somehow independent from himself. It often seems like a wild animal that, once loose, cares for nothing and no one.]

Why did you leave Valinor? [He wonders over the draw of Middle-Earth.] I'm grateful the recipe for it isn't lost.

[His brow furrows at the sight of the loaves, curious over their ingredients. Not that he'll pry. His voice is breathless when they arrive in the Station and he quickly finds a place to sit.]

Thank you, Maglor.