"Don’t let me know too surely what he thinks of me." (//for Caranthir of course XD)
haunting of hill house || accepting
Morifinwë snorted, picking at the food remaining upon hisplate. There had been many dishes made, for this was a feast, welcoming notonly Curufinwë and his people, but a contingent of Casari from Belegost, includingthe currently-appointed official liaison of Belegost, a stocky black-beardedfellow delighting in the unlikely name of Jari.
For their delectation, the kitchens had spared no effort. A boarhad been hunted and roasted slowly upon a turning spit, along with innumerablesmall game birds tucked among the coals, their skins gilding and crisping withthe heat. There were salads of greens and bright edible flowers, tarts of sweetfruit honeyed and glistening in their pastries. There were dishes ofslowly-cooked grains flavored with wine and threads of precious saffron, andthere were cheeses and nuts spiced with flaky sea salt and dried rosemary. Therewas a rose custard, and a dense sweet cake with ginger and cinnamon. Wine, and richmiruvórë; and the women had made them fresh bread. Not the lerembas, theway-bread for travelers; this was the simpler massë, soft and fragrantand studded through with seeds and nuts.
The dwarves had fallen to with a passion; the elven guestshad eaten more slowly and decorously, and not without a number of careful lookssidelong to the table of loud Casari throughout. It had taken Caranthir himselfsome time to come to terms with the table manners of the dwarves – to see themas, in fact, manners at all. Amongthe Casari, it seemed, they considered it polite to show their greatappreciation for the food, not through careful comment at meal’s end butthrough vociferous and exuberant enjoyment throughout. Maddening, but he andhis own folk understood it by now.
Moryo followed his brother’s gaze; the younger was lookingat Jari, the dwarven emissary. A dark brow arched. “Are you feeling insecure,Atarincë? Afraid of what a Casar will think of you?” He tossed back a swallowof wine. “If you attempt to speak their Khuzdul, just remember that the wordsfor ‘to melt iron’ and ‘to make love’ are quite similar. Try not to mix themup.” A beat. “Unless you are looking to have a very interesting visit.”
