[There is so much to show. When Fëanor discovered he can work with the substance of all those strange worlds they get to visit the way he did with the substance of Arda it was a relief. Yet a true pleasure was always working with her. He almost forgot how good it felt to create something together.
So when they finish, it's simpler than what he'd like to make. Still, it's a lot sturdier than the flimsy ice strip he could throw over to the other side on his own in the same time.]

Time is often a problem here. There seems to never be enough of it for doing anything properly. I wonder if it is how humans always perceive it. They do not live long enough to make their creations eternal. So all things around them must speed up.

[Days, even the arbitrary months of train time, are shorter than any measure of time he remembers. It still feels odd.]