I managed to find a consulate for local mortals in this town, despite the best efforts of these evasive denizens to tell me nothing useful about this so-called Blessed Realm. I have been provided with temporary accomodation. It is nothing special but it is clean and comfortable so I shall thank Eru for small mercies.
As I write this, I am sitting in the park, eating a baguette from a place the local despot recommended. He said it was a nice change from "poncy elvish food." It is rather more "poncy" than I would have expected anyway. He assured me it would be a "rustic reminder of home." I don't remember having dijon mustard in Emerië.
Despite his help in securing me accomodation and his culinary tips, I cannot help feeling that I was once again subject to evasion and dissembling. He seemed quite aimiable until I mentioned my name and lineage. After that, he made excuses and left. Said he needed to "go and make sure the wife wasn't drowing. Or something."
I shall get to the bottom of this. I shall.