He does not object. He looks sad and blank and empty.

She hugs him, and holds his hand the whole way there. Twice, it seems like she's about to osanwë something, but she doesn't.

The King was very upset to come back and not find Fëanáro. Fëanáro knows he is not allowed outside the palace yes even if a Maia comes and offers to show him around. Fëanáro stayed out late, too. The King looks exhausted and very sad.

The kobold is something approximating content to hang back and observe. That is probably the only thing about this entire exchange she's even an approximation of content about.

Fëanáro says, mechanically, that he is very sorry. The King asks if he'll do it again. Fëanáro says yes probably it was fun. The King gets angry.

...yeah, that's the end of her being even approximately content. She takes two steps towards Fëanáro and then teleports the rest of the way, places herself neatly beside him and takes his hand, her gaze fixed on Finwë, her posture alert and defensive.

I am sorry, says the King, who are you?

I am myself, she sends wordlessly. I saw to it that Fëanáro wasn't harmed during our outing today, and I won't see them come to harm because of it, either.

I am not going to harm my son, he says, very angrily.

She bristles. She adjusts her hand in Fëanáro's so it won't be painful if she squeezes. You already have.

And what qualifies you to say?

I am a kobold - she's still not bothering with words; the impression is that of a people who survive on the strength of their relationships with each other, and therefore learn to pay attention to each others' wellbeing the same way they might pay attention to the time of day or the changing of the seasons - and a Speaker. And it's exceptionally obvious. If he was walking around with an open wound it'd be easier to ignore.

I have no idea what a kobold is or what you are talking about.

She stands down, just a hair, and her face softens a bit.

Would you expect someone to apologize for eating when hungry? Or demand that they promise not to eat at all? What I've seen you do today isn't so different from that.

He does not need the run of the city without permission.

They need more freedom and agency than they've been allowed. There's an undercurrent of disgust at the idea that this is something to be allowed rather than considered a basic right. Perhaps there's a better way to accomplish that than having run of the city, but if so it's not obvious.

She squeezes Fëanáro's hand and glances over to check how he's handling this.

He is a bit overwhelmed but squeezes her hand back immediately. 

I would like you to tell me when you're taking my son out, Finwe says.

She relaxes somewhat and nods. I can do that.

And where you're going, ideally, and don't do anything dangerous with him.

I won't always know where we're going, but I can come back and tell you if we're going to leave the city. And I'll certainly keep them safe; my home is quite a bit more dangerous than Valinor and I'm not in the habit of taking unnecessary risks.

You may not leave the city. 

She bristles again, just slightly, but gives Fëanáro a questioning look rather than answer directly. Can you live with that?

He's watching uncertainly. I usually can't even leave the palace.

She squeezes his hand again. Well, if it turns out to be something you need, we can do something about it then.

She returns her attention to Finwë. We can live with that.

You do not get to decide how my son is raised. The Valar don't get any voice in that.