"Suspect we scale differently, anyway. I keep meeting people all from this one family, here; I don't branch off like that, humans're pretty atomized."
"That's hardly fair," Maitimo says, "I have lots of things to command my attention -"
"And reasonably good taste," says his father, "so things that are a good use of your attention get it right away. I'm less confident in Tirion's populace. For example, less than a third of them have learned the common."
"I don't know how disappointed to be in that; I'm used to thinking of learning a language as a major time investment. I'm still not very good at Quenya."
"I've been assuming Elves are just better at languages than humans usually are but I'm not sure what you can possibly mean by 'intellectually inclined' if he doesn't count."
"That's not what I want for you."
"And not my fated path, apparently."
"I favor averting your fated path, but you at least didn't seem incompetent at it."
"You two," Nerdanel says, "need to say whatever you actually mean, this is ridiculous."
They stare at each other for a minute.
"I am upset with you," Maitimo says, "because I apparently commit terrible crimes and you apparently murder my brother and now you are making more and better desperately important Silmarils which perhaps some day I'll murder tens of thousands of innocents to retrieve and I am worried we've made fate pick up the pace instead of preventing it."
"I am upset," Fëanáro says, "because it seems I have fifty Years to figure out how to fight a Vala and that's not enough time and I'm worried if I'm not good enough you're going to end up tortured until we can only recognize you by the hair."
"There we go," Nerdanel says wearily.
...Kib is not sure he has anything to add here. Except the handsqueeze he cannot produce in company.
"- um? It is in general horrifying when people are tortured and wind up probably mentally warped in some way such that they go on to massacre people, and in specific horrifying when it's Maitimo. I would like it to not happen and I'm working on it best I can. What are you looking for exactly here."
"I was aware he felt that way."
Nerdanel sighs. Again. "Fëanáro-"
"I don't care at all how you conduct yourself," Fëanáro says impatiently, "though I feel badly for raising children in Valinor who'd by exposure start taking the laws and dubious morals of our idiot gods seriously. And I love you. And you two should be less obvious there's a great deal at stake."
Sigh. "If having it on the list of possibilities closes the gap then when people go to my world and notice how we're infested with public gays in lieu of idiot gods, this may be a problem."
Kib and Maitimo walking down the path to the house, their postures changing as they come within view of people, the comfortable intimacy of the original poses mostly apparent when they change into tense ones. And a lot of Kib looking at Maitimo at all the moments he had wished he could squeeze his hand.