Macalaure noted the slight hesitation before Tyelperinquar said he was ‘well‘ and internally sighed. So this is what they had come to? This disconnected and disorganized group who out of fear and concern had set their only transportation away ablaze, and they could merely say they were well.
“No, Tyelperinquar… I do not believe that they will be joining us. Not anytime soon if they are going to do so anyways.”
He knew that his uncle, half-uncle according to his father, would likely refuse to accept defeat though and if Nolofinwe was going to brave that which even his father had been reluctant to face there would be great heartache and hardship later.
“Do not speak of them around your grandfather okay?”
His voice was soft as he spoke the request. It was something many had differing opinions on, and while he was sure that in his rational moments Feanaro was willing to regret it he was loathe to chance the words being spoken while everyone was less than lucid.
‘Ai, atar is this truly the path we should take?’
It was far too late to question this path though. It had been too late to question it the second he allowed those words to fall from his lips and more contemplation now would do them no good but rather possibly some harm.
“Now, come little jewel. Let us return to where the others are.”
“Not a word of it shall pass these lips. Promise.”
Tyelperinquar nods in agreement with his uncle, even in spite of his own bitter disappointment at the outcome. It is probably wise not to spark a debate whilst many of the others are weary in both body and mind. There is naught that any of them can do now to aid those left behind, and he knows that to speak of it now would only cause further disquiet among their people.
Tyelpe leans in toward the hand on his shoulder, comforted by his Macalaure’s seemingly endless patience. He wishes he could emulate that very same steadfastness that each of his Uncles possess; of being certain of one’s actions and following it through to the end.
“If anyone should ask, I sought to rest somewhere quiet and lost my way.”
Far be it from him to lie to his own family -- nor to ask another to do the very same without him feeling especially guilty about it -- yet this is not the sort of conversation he believes will end well for either of them if his father has anything to do with it.
His inquisitive nature has always done him well in his crafts. He loves to discover the how and why: to observe every outcome closely, but he finds that this trait brings him no joy here. This is an outcome he bitterly despises.
Does his tendency to question things make him inherently disloyal? The mere thought upsets the younger ner, and he glances back at the ships as they make to leave this place together. His conscience yet continues to gnaw.
Is there something wrong with me?
“I hope you’re not upset by what I said. I didn’t mean to doubt.”