Okay. Keep your heart rate down, Marillë. Yes, this is the Prince Curufinwe. Yes, he's the most genius Elf in all Aman. But he liked your paper, he asked you to be here. There's nothing to be nervous about.
She knocks on the door.
Okay. Keep your heart rate down, Marillë. Yes, this is the Prince Curufinwe. Yes, he's the most genius Elf in all Aman. But he liked your paper, he asked you to be here. There's nothing to be nervous about.
She knocks on the door.
"You had the information that you looked even prettier than usual. But I take your point."
"But that probably doesn't make me non-random," she concedes, "since out of the many things that are wrong with Tirion 'lacks aesthetic value' isn't one of them."
"...Although your family is significantly prettier than average, and also significantly less foolish...hm...where would you rate Marille and I in terms of prettiness? Maybe there's a relevant correlation we could rub in the faces of people who care about prettiness but not non-foolishness."
"Dunno, my cousins are stunning and stunningly stupid, the lot of them. And the Vanyar are supposed to be the fairest."
"Or you're biased. If everyone thinks the princes are the prettiest it's like, maybe their standard for prettiness includes prince-ness somehow."
"I suppose it's possible that some people would have that heuristic."
"Yeah. I dunno, my feelings about you being a prince mostly boil down to being grateful it's not making anything awkward."
"According to Marille your father and Curufinwe manage it by being such overwhelming nerds that it kind of drowns everything else."
"According to Marille Nelyafinwe manages it by princeing so excellently. No idea about Canafinwe."
"Princing so excellently no one falls in love with him? I am - disappointed in the population of Tirion again."
"You lost me. I thought we were talking about absence of awkwardness."
"You said it about your brother. 'Princing so excellently no one falls in love with him.'"