~See? They have been talking~ Ingwë murmured to Finwë with Osanwë, ~they are not /total/ strangers as we feared.~
"We decided that we were tired of conducting our business inside a muggy office when we could enjoy the breezes from the Mountains and also enjoy the gardens whilst still discussing relevant business," he replied out loud,
He looked between the two, admiring them. They were both handsome and young, proud in bearing and in their heritage. Intelligent, and apart from Olwë’s young children, the only two of the same relevant social status as one another.
"My heart does rejoyce to see you two associating," he commented, "King Finwë and I often hoped to see our children as friends but the removal to Taniquetil and Valmar did put a stop to those hopes. We are not interrupting anything were we?"
~Not strangers,~ he agreed, ~but not yet close enough.~
As they approached and Ingwë spoke aloud, he took the moment to examine his friend’s son. Ingwion was not unpleasant; as an athelete and a noble, he assured to be sound of mind and body alike, a worthy match for Fëanárë if she might not see it now.
Not only that: were his daughter to wed Ingwion, the old ties between the First and Second Clans would be forged again, more solid than before. After the turmoil around his second marriage, a tie which only split them further, it would be good to have a new bond.
But that was only assuming their children wed in good spirits. The look on Fëanárë’s face told him this was not so.
"If we are," Finwë added, once his friend stopped speaking, "we will gladly leave you two to discuss it."
Fëanárë could feel herself shutting down, her face growing even stiffer and even blanker than before until each emotion was leeched away and you were left with a face that didn’t quite meet the usual standard criteria of humanity (well that was how a fellow apprentice had described it once.)
"No. We are done speaking," she said tightly, eager to be away from the three of them. She felt … not in danger…but certainly vulnerable.
"Have a good day," she ground out at Ingwion for politeness’ sake, and then turned to Ingwë, managing a stiff cross between a bow and a curtsey "Your Highness."
Ingwion could not quite bring himself to give an answer as straight as Fëanárë’s. His stretched his lips in a smile and looked from his father to Finwë, to his daughter, slowly and carefully, as if that single gaze could explain the kind of ties and expectations that he could almost see between the four of them, thick and uncomfortable as molasses.
No, father, he wanted to say, you are not interrupting what you are hoping to interrupt, not that kind of thing – but he kept both his mouth and his mind shut, at least until they were alone. He would have liked for the two of them to leave them discussing it, but he was not sure that Fëanárë and he could reach any kind of… agreement. Her intentions were not so distant from his, but her ways to reach that aim could not be reconciled. Which left him in a gloomy mood.
« Have a good day » he managed to tell her before she departed. Thus he turned toward the two kings. « We were done, yes. But maybe you are not. Shall I leave or do you… need me here? » If he could influence them before anything official was announced maybe that unpleasant situation could resolve itself even before starting.













