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.
"We should--probably figure something out, I hate to interject sense into fun but I don't really want to vindicate Marille's worries..."
"That we'll escalate too far and someone will get hurt by accident."
"And I like you and I would kind of like to interact with you in a less--oppositional--manner than this."
"Okay. Now I just have to figure out what to do with the stuff I was going to ambush you with."
"Yeah. I know you spend a decent fraction of your time running around the countryside with your magic dog hunting things..."
"Sounds fun, but maybe not something I want to make a default what with my twin attached to Tirion."
"Yeah. And, you know, I can come along sometimes. Just not all the time."
"I haven't tried it! If I hate it I can just, you know, not do it again, and I like you, and getting away from--well, almost everyone in Tirion who isn't related to one of us, it seems like sometimes--sounds nice."
"Most people in Tirion are pretty okay over, like, the short term, but. We live here! Because family."
"Seems plausible. Also I think the linguistics guild might be hard to convince to move?"
"It could just be Maitimo. I don't really know your dad that well, mostly I have secondhand reports from Marille."