"The one he's wearing is beautiful. She did astonishingly well."

"She'll be glad to hear it, she was really moved by his reaction to it but I don't think she quite trusts him to be objective on the subject."

"Well, my father has quite the reputation for trustworthy objectivity but someone will need to translate his compliments, they all take the form of highly specific methodological questions and therefore don't always convey the high regard that motivates them."

"Highly specific methodological questions equal compliments. Gosh, I sure feel flattered over our magic right now."

"Means he expects you understand your work deeply enough for that sort of inquiry to be productive and interesting, which is a conclusion he'd only reach if it were very impressive."

"That's a good kind of compliment."

"Once it's translated, yes!" And they carry the food in. 

Oh wow if this stuff tastes half as good as it smells it really won't need the "ate nothing but random plants and game for probably weeks I wasn't keeping track" for garnish.

It's delicious. Maitimo promises to convey all their compliments to the palace kitchen staff, even though that'll require admitting that he stole ten servings' worth from them. "And Imliss, it occurs to me you might want to live in the palace while getting a feel for Tirion, just because it's impossible to get so lost in the city one can't find the palace and it's right near the artisanal district -"

"Whole city could be characterized as an artisanal district," someone objects, and Maitimo concedes the point.

"Is this likely to result in fielding more questions about, like, my sister and what the hell she was thinking, while I'm still adjusting, because I don't mind being interrogated on things that actually matter as far as random interrogators ought to be concerned like magic and how my clothes were made and other technical stuff but I don't really want to feed a gossip mill."

Everyone looks at Maitimo.

"Oh, all right," he says. "For Imliss and Idaia, mind, not for you Tyelcormo because you could have seen it coming. There will be absolutely no discussion of Idaia and Tyelcormo and what they were thinking."

"Oh, Idaia had enough of an idea of what she was doing that I have no sympathy if people want to ask her what the hell she was thinking, but she's my sister and I don't want to accidentally give strangers the impression that I'm not one hundred percent on her side no matter what reckless life choices she makes."

"I can do that too, if you'd rather," Maitimo says, amused.

"I also have no idea how most people are going to react to the fact that I'm obviously not an elf."

"Can announce that in advance of you and ask people not to bother you around it unless they think it's likely they've thought of a question my father did not."

"That probably works."

"Then I think Tirion shall be safe enough." He shakes his head. "If anyone does bother you, do tell me who?"

"Alright."

Then more questions about their homeworld and magic system dominate dinner.

Is it going to be weird for anyone that the twins are only fifty-three when that comes up? Their species is fully grown by fifty, they promise.

"Father got married at forty-seven," says Carnistir, rolling his eyes. "Mind, you can also tell him he was an idiot."

"I don't think I know nearly enough about the circumstances to do that."

"I have seven children as proof at least of my enduring idiocy," Feanaro says.

"To be fair, if two of them are twins, doesn't that only count as six for that particular criterion?"

The whole table laughs. "Did Tyelcormo not explain Elven childbearing to Idaia," Ambarussa says teasingly.

"Would've been a strange thing to bring up," he says firmly.

"It is considered important to the health of the child that the parents spend every night together during pregnancy," Feanaro says, because Tyelcormo is going quite red and clearly not going to volunteer this.