The Merchant of Valinor by Tehta

Yanta (bridge)

“You speak the language of the Orcs?” the red-faced Fëanárion asked me, and I answered honestly, “Only poorly, but I understand a great deal.” 

And that is how I ended up sitting by ‘king’ Nelyafinwë’s sickbed and (judiciously) translating his Orc-speech as he complained of torments past, present, and imagined, and cursed his captors and his kin. Not all his words required translation, however, for as he healed he began to lecture his brothers in the poetic Quenya of his old home–and of his brother Makalaurë. “To have the material for the walls we need to raise against our Enemy, we must first build bridges,” he told them, “and we must start by bridging this lake.” 

Afterwards, he swapped a bothersome, useless crown for the military alliance he needed, and I was intrigued by the idea that captivity had finally taught our ‘king’ the basics of trade.