Heal.

"In the habit of fixing bumps and bruises? Nelyafinwë would not have asked you to."

"It only takes a moment," she shrugs.

"What's your minimum temperature, do you know?"

"Don't have a thermometer." And she goes as cold as she feels can manage; shrinking the volume helps. "That might be my limit, whatever that is."

"Do your limits change? Or was it all there the day you first realized you had it?" The ice is sublimating in the air. He watches it delightedly.

"I've gotten more finesse and I'm less timid about using it because I know how far and how hard it'll hit when I apply a certain amount of oomph, now," she says, "but I don't think I'm expanding the underlying capability at all. I'm probably better at it than a standard issue frost giant because they tend to ration the blasts. I think we run down some kind of internal reserve that I can top off with healing magic."

"That would explain why the war between frost giants and Asgardians is one," he says, "that's a pretty astonishing capability to have unarmed."

"Giants're bigger and icier, Asgardians're better equipped and stronger."

Shrug. "I'm not sure what to say; I'm sure to the extent you can't guess my opinion you don't care."

"I haven't found it particularly productive to run my personal life by committee, but 'don't care''s a bit strong and I certainly can't guess. Is he well? Did he go to New Mithrim or back to Doriath?"

"Doriath. After sitting in the middle of nowhere for a bit finding my liberal galactic opinions soothing."

"Should I have someone write him for whatever narrative he wants me to stick to?"

"He told me," she sighs. "If you want it before it comes up, hopefully never."

"I don't know how careless they're being. If I'm going to find it objectionable I should probably have it now so I can get that out of the way before I'm obliged to confirm it."

"I find it objectionable, I don't know what you'll think of it." And she recites it.

"No!"

"If you were unsure if I'd find it objectionable we've been astonishingly cautious to avoid saying anything, all these talks we've had."

"I find the story objectionable even though it is false because I like Fingon and don't like the suggested aspersions on his character by galactic standards. I assume that's not your problem with it."

"I don't actually know my nephew well enough to evaluate its consistency with his character. I find the entire artifice of cultural taboos and political compromises elevated to divine truth in the context of which this farce makes sense to be deeply offensive."

"Yes, well, I wish they could just send out wedding party invitations to everyone they know and have people go 'awww', but alas, Quendi, and, separately, you."

He raises an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that while you successfully managed not to take issue with his fiancé's gender the way most of the species would, you're making an enormous issue over his identity - and you just admitted you don't even know him very well! - and so you insulted him repeatedly to Maedhros's face and it wasn't a particularly endearing character flaw as they go."