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.
"Some of it is stuff she probably should talk to him about it but that stuff she's going to of her own initiative, the rest of it is mostly composing songs to the effect of 'blond hair is so much prettier when the brain under it is not a Vanya and other reasons Tyelcormo is great'."
"I'm not even joking, I'd offer to sing the relevant one but I wouldn't be at all surprised if someone overheard and took it the wrong way."
"I mean, the song doesn't technically say anything worse about Valimar than 'collectively really not Ahya's type,' but yes."
"I expect so. And yet: I am still not going to sing it in the palace. If nothing else one of your cousins could hear."
"I will ensure Ahya also knows not to sing that one in the palace. Not that it was likely before."
"I complain about her but she's amazing, really. I love her more than anything else in the world. I don't say that enough."
"Oh. Good. I'm glad. She's the best. And I'm really happy for her, regardless of what worrisome shenanigans led to it."
"It'd be the kind that ran the risk of being taken that way? He's very sensitive to it, from me. I'm a very manipulative person, you know."