Chapter summary: Tuilindien gives her presentation, and Carnistir asks for advice from the one brother who hasn't been irritating him lately.
Chapter X /Conference, conciliation and consultation
A week is a very long time, Carnistir discovers, when one only looks forward to a singly hour of every day and spends the rest of the time trying to make one's infuriatingly obstinate father change his mind.
It all goes well, though. Having lunch with Tuilindien every day is wonderful, wherever they eat. On three days they spend their shared lunch hour at the park closest to the library, eating food Carnistir purchased from the marketplace. He likes those days best as they offer a sense of informality and intimacy that he enjoys much more than the refined atmosphere of the finest eateries of Tirion.
He doesn't even mind it very much when Tuilindien's younger sister joins them for one of the lunches in the park.
'I'm so sorry, Carnistir', Tuilindien whispers to him when the younger girl is absorbed in examining the fried vendace Carnistir brought for today's meal. 'I didn't mean to spoil our time together, but Lirulinë just left her in the library and told the librarians that I would look after her. I couldn't leave her there alone. I have no idea what Lirulinë was thinking – she knew I was meeting you.'
Carnistir thinks of how shrewd the gaze of Tuilindien's older sister had been when she met him for the first and so far only time, and he thinks he knows why she left Cirincë with Tuilindien. It's a test of some kind.
He has three younger brothers, and little sisters cannot be so different. It shouldn't be too hard to pass this test. He tells Tuilindien that he doesn't mind the unexpected company, and believes he manages to sound reasonably earnest.
Doing well with Tuilindien's sister is even easier than he thought, though he is a little nervous at first. Cirincë isn't very different from the Ambarussar, just more well-behaved and there is only one of her, which of course makes things much easier.
He wins her over with the aid of fried fish which she initially regards with as much suspicion as her sister had.
'Thank you', the little girl with reddish blonde hair says solemnly when he hands her the dish of fish and vegetables, and then turns to her sister. 'Tuilë, are you going to eat the heads?'
'Yes, I am. I have eaten this food once before with Carnistir and dared to eat the whole fish, because he promised me they were very tasty.'
Cirincë scrunches up her freckled nose and looks at Carnistir. 'Do you promise me too?'
It seems that the astonishing blue-green eyes run in the family. Cirincë's are very big and wide on her small, narrow face. Carnistir thinks it is probably very difficult for anyone to deny her anything, as difficult as it would be for him to deny anything from Tuilindien.
'I promise', he says to Cirincë. The girl nods and takes a bite of fish, and when she grins up at him as widely as she can with her mouth full, Carnistir knows that he has passed the test and won an ally.
His father is tougher to win over, of course. Carnistir believes there is little more to be gained by shouting more at Fëanáro and he knows himself well enough that he knows he isn't the best person to patiently convince someone, so he asks his mother for advice.
Nerdanel advises a light touch. Carnistir asks for more specific instructions. He isn't sure that he understands completely what his mother advises him to do, but he tries his best, and no doubt she is also doing what she can to help his case.
Fëanáro doesn't shout at Carnistir during that week (not about Tuilindien, anyway) and grumbles only moderately when Carnistir leaves the forge every day at midday. He works long days to make sure his father can't blame Tuilindien for making him neglect his work.
Fëanáro might clench his teeth and wield his tools with unnecessary force whenever Carnistir mentions Tuilindien – just small mentions every now and then, the light touch that his mother suggested – but he listens, and he doesn't say anything cruel. Carnistir supposes that is the best he could hope for.
He bites his lips bloody to keep his temper in check for the whole week, though, and goes for long, wild rides too late at night because he needs some time for himself when he can do just what he wants without holding back. His horse, energetic creature that she is, is very pleased, but neighbours complain about the hoofbeats on the street around midnight. Carnistir grudgingly promises his mother not to gallop before he gets out of the city.
None of that matters, anyway, not as long as he can see Tuilindien every day. He asks about progress on her presentation every day and to his delight, she tells him that talking about it to him is very nice and comforting for her, for she is nervous about how it will go.
On some days she seems a little nervous about him too, on those days when he arrives in a foul mood from his father's forge. But as his irritation slowly melts away while they eat and converse, so does her trepidation and the watchful, careful look in her eyes and manner.
Carnistir himself is nervous the day he has to deliver the news that his father, or in fact his entire family, will come to the colloquium to see her presentation and others that are scheduled for the same morning.
'All of you?' Tuilindien asks, a little pale. 'Even the little twins?'
Carnistir shrugs awkwardly. 'Father thinks it is high time for them to gain an understanding of scholarly processes.'
'They will surely be bored', she says, and Carnistir agrees. 'Well, at least I am reasonably sure that I can handle any questions or critique that they might have. I'm not so certain about your father.'
'I don't think he means to humiliate you', Carnistir says, just about confident enough that he dares to say this. 'I made him promise that he wouldn't.'
Tuilindien lets out a choked little laugh, and Carnistir chuckles too, realising how ridiculous his last words sounded. He shouldn't have to extract promises like that from his father.
'I am sorry, Tuilë', he says, wondering how many times he has already apologised to her. Too many that he would care to list them all. 'I promise, I am not going to let him hurt you. I'll drag him out of the event if I have to, I swear I will. I'm taller than him now, and I'm sure my mother would help. She is a lot stronger than she looks.'
He is immeasurably gratified when Tuilindien smiles at his silly promise. 'Thank you for letting me know that they are coming', she replies. 'I have been wondering if your father would, so I suppose it is a relief to have confirmation.'
'I will sit next to him and keep him in check', Carnistir promises again and though Tuilindien's smile is trembling it is still there, and it is enough.
When Fëanáro and Nerdanel's family enters the amphitheatre where the colloquium is held, Carnistir shoves Curufinwë aside so that he can walk right behind his father. Curufinwë has been insufferable ever since he returned home two days ago, making pointed remarks about Carnistir's schedule and meetings with Tuilindien, so Carnistir doesn't feel very bad about making him almost walk into a wall.
Fëanáro leads his family to the front row where an embarrassed Maitimo has been keeping seats for his parents and brothers. Thanks to Carnistir and Nerdanel's manoeuvrings Fëanáro ends up sitting between the two of them. The cold look he gives them both says that he knows he is being supervised and he doesn't appreciate it, but Carnistir barely notices it. He's looking to the side of the stage where Tuilindien stands with her father, their heads bent close as Ingolmo whispers some last-minute advice or support to his daughter.
Tuilindien looks a little nervous but not as much as some of the other young scholars waiting for their turns. Carnistir closes his eyes for a moment to concentrate on their connection in an effort to send encouragement.
When she takes to the stage Tuilindien notices him and gives him that shy little smile he has come to know well, Carnistir smiles back despite the anxiousness he feels for her and because of his father who sits very still and very expressionless beside him. When Tuilindien begins speaking, Carnistir quiets the mental connection for her sake.
He hasn't attended as many scholarly presentations about language as Maitimo or Curufinwë, and very few since he came of age and gained the right to choose how to further educate himself, but he knows enough of such events to recognise that Tuilindien does well in spite of her nervousness that is greater than it would have been without the complications brought on by Fëanáro.
Her voice is a little quiet at first, and her speech fluctuates between Vanyarin and Noldorin varieties for a while before settling into pure Vanyarin. She must have realised that there is no need to accommodate her listeners since most are experts of language and will be comfortable listening to Vanyarin. As she gets deeper into her subject she gains confidence and begins speaking with conviction, laying out her arguments clearly and methodically.
Carnistir steals quick glances at his father when Tuilindien begins discussing the weaknesses of the early work of Fëanáro's that she's commenting on. She covers them thoroughly and offers her own counterarguments, but unlike some scholars Carnistir has seen debating a work, she doesn't grow agitated or combative: she stays her own calm, sweet self even when talking about a mistake Fëanáro made 'whose egregiousness can only be explained by the groundbreaking nature of the work as a whole'.
Carnistir feels his father twitch at that and upon glancing at him sees that his expression has grown ever more forbidding, but he relaxes substantially after Tuilindien mentions that he presented a reformulated, less problematic version of the theory in question in a later work of his.
During the second half of her presentation Tuilindien introduces a draft of her own reformulation, or further development, of Fëanáro's theory. Here she finally grows more animated, gesticulating excitedly as she explains her future plans on the subject.
Carnistir's eyes flicker between her, admiring how lovely she looks now that she is a little flushed with excitement, and his father, who still sits with his arms crossed on his chest. He looks less than pleased but Carnistir thinks – and dearly hopes that he isn't just imagining things out of desperation – that there might be a reluctant acceptance hiding behind his father's scowl.
Carnistir is certainly very proud of Tuilindien. It cannot have been easy to discuss Fëanáro's work in front of him (her choice of topic was a rather brave one to begin with, he realises) and she has reached the end of her presentation without losing her composure.
He catches her eye when her gaze sweeps over the audience as she invites them to ask her questions and share their opinions, and tries to convey his congratulations in his expression. The Valar know how odd his face ends up looking, for she flushes and stumbles over her next sentence, but she gathers herself again soon and finishes with confidence.
There are a few comments and questions as soon as she stops speaking. Carnistir keeps an eye on Fëanáro in case he speaks up to say something provocative or rude even though he promised not to, but Carnistir and Nerdanel's vigilance turns out to be unnecessary, for Fëanáro remains quiet if attentive.
When the comments from the audience come to an end Tuilindien glances at her feet for a moment, then raises her gaze and looks at the front row. Carnistir thinks she is looking at him again, but when she speaks her words are aimed at his father.
'Prince Fëanáro, it has been an honour to present my views on your work. Do you have any comments to make?' Tuilindien's voice is soft, but her blue-green gaze is steady. Carnistir can feel his heart beating faster.
'I thank you for your attention and insights on an old work of mine. That is all.' Fëanáro bows his head ever so slightly in a nod of approval. 'I expect you and I will have many discussions on matters of language in days to come.'
Carnistir lets out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. His father's tone was hardly friendly but the words with their implication of approval and acceptance were more than he had dared to expect. His father has always been able to surprise everyone, sometimes even in good ways.
Tuilindien thanks Fëanáro and the rest of the audience and steps off the stage to take a seat to the side as the next scholar begins his presentation. Though he too speaks well, Carnistir and his family listen to him with less interest than to Tuilindien. Carnistir cranes his neck every now and then to peek at her, but though she still looks a little flustered, and happier now than she did while before the audience, she is clearly concentrating on the current speaker and doesn't notice his looks.
After that speech it is thankfully the time for a break. Rúmil, who is hosting the proceedings, takes to the stage and announces that the next presentation will be in two hours' time. There is a round of polite applause after which the amphitheatre fills with chatter as people begin discussing the recent presentations as well as their plans for the break.
Carnistir heads straight for Tuilindien. He can hear several of his family members getting up and following him, but he is no longer keeping an eye on them. As long as he makes it to Tuilindien first it'll be alright.
She greets him as soon as he reaches her side. 'Carnistir.'
She'd already been talking to someone and thanks and dismisses them with a graceful nod before turning to Carnistir. She wears that nervous smile again, but it's close to turning into a real, joyful one.
'You were wonderful', he tells her. 'All your preparation paid off.'
And there it is, the joy, bringing a new flush to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes. Carnistir loosens his control on their connection so that he can feel it there as well. They have become rather good at controlling the flow of emotions between them during the last week.
They gaze at each other silently and stupidly for a moment, until Carnistir senses disquiet from Tuilindien. He turns around swiftly to see who is behind him, a curse already on his lips. Instead he says, low, as a warning, 'Father.'
'Carnistir.' Fëanáro makes a bow to Tuilindien, a small one but well within the boundaries of politeness. 'Lady Ingolmiel. Congratulations on your presentation.'
Nerdanel appears beside her husband, looking flushed and hauling two bored-looking red-headed boys behind her. 'Yes, you spoke beautifully!' she adds, far more effusive than Fëanáro. 'I was glad to see that you were able to overcome your nervousness so soon. You started enjoying yourself, didn't you?'
'I did', Tuilindien replies. Carnistir can see her looking curiously at his youngest brothers who look like they are trying and very nearly failing to resist the temptation of poking each other behind their mother's skirts.
'How did you find the first linguistic lectures you attended?' she enquires of them, playfulness in her voice.
The Ambarussar look at each other in slight panic at being spoken to unexpectedly. Telufinwë recovers first and, clearly attempting to be on his best behaviour, replies, 'They were very interesting. My lady…'
The title is given as a question; evidently the etiquette lessons the twins' parents and eldest brother have given them have not made it clear how they should address visiting Vanyarin noblewomen who are older than them but not very old.
'We didn't understand everything', the more straightforward Pityafinwë admits. Telvo scowls at him.
'It is alright –' begins Tuilindien but falls silent because Fëanáro had begun speaking at the same time.
He says with exaggerated fond exasperation, 'I am certain that had you two concentrated more on listening and less on gawking around and pointing out odd clothes, you'd have understood more.'
'This is a scholarly event, not an exhibition of fashions', Nerdanel says somewhat sharply.
Carnistir thinks of the criticisms Fëanáro has voiced about Vanyarin craftsmanship on several occasions and tries to think of something to say to further deflect his family's attention away from this topic, but as usual he is slower than his father to speak. Thankfully Fëanáro has moved on anyway.
'Your arguments were well presented and the synopsis of my work commendably clear. Some others have managed to make a muddle out of relatively simple matters. I disagree with the structure you chose for your discussion of my work, however. The balance between discussing original, flawed theory and revised version could have been better.'
This time it is Tuilindien who speaks before Carnistir can.
'I chose to balance the discussion as I did, my lord, because your original theory caused such a stir in the scholarly community when you published it, changing the way we view these ancient changes in our languages. I believe I made it clear, though, that you later modified your theory and that the revised version is held to be closer to the truth. Thus I stand by my choices.'
Carnistir doesn't know how she can do this, reply so calmly to criticism of her work and disagree without any heat in her voice. Perhaps it is her nature, perhaps it is the way of the scholarly community of the Vanyar – Carnistir has certainly witnessed passions rising among the Noldor when discussing theoretical matters. A few years ago Curufinwë almost got into a fistfight about the properties of metals.
Tuilindien is just enough shorter than Fëanáro that she has to lift her chin slightly to look him in the eyes. When she does, the long fall of her golden hair – longer than most people's, impractically long, and so beautiful – moves and Carnistir notices the glitter of silver and small blue-green gems among the golden curls.
Seeing her wearing his combs again chokes the words in his throat, and it is probably for the best. The tense silence reigning between them all should be broken by Tuilindien or Fëanáro rather than any clumsy words from Carnistir.
After a lead-heavy moment Fëanáro gives a small nod. 'I can understand your rationale, though I still disagree with your decision. It was a competent performance, anyway.'
'Thank you, my lord.' Tuilindien's curtsy is deeper and more respectful than it was last time, at the ball where Fëanáro insulted her, and Carnistir knows that his father will notice this nuanced display of changing attitude though Carnistir himself would have missed it if all his attention hadn't been on Tuilindien anyway.
In the space of a heartbeat, he realises that though he has at times hoped Tuilindien wasn't so different from him that it is difficult for them to understand each other sometimes, it is a blessing that she isn't like him or his father. If she was she wouldn't have given them another chance.
'Will you come to lunch with me?' he asks her in the now less tense silence, his family forgotten and ignored. He wants her for himself for a moment now.
'Yes', she says simply and turns to his parents; as always she is less able to forget everything around them than he is. 'Your presence here today was an honour, my lord', she says to Fëanáro, and curtsies to Nerdanel and smiles to the twins hiding behind her skirts pretending to be shy.
'I am still interested in linguistic matters even if I focus on different pursuits these days', Fëanáro reminds her. 'Especially when said matters are discussed by one with whom my son has grown so close.' His eyes flicker to Carnistir for a moment. 'I wish you two a pleasant mealtime, though I still –'
'Father', hisses Carnistir, gripping Fëanáro's wrist.
Fëanáro eyes him with amusement and something a little darker. 'I was saying that I still think one should be cautious when making important choices, such as that of a spouse.'
'I completely agree, my lord.' Tuilindien extends her hand to Carnistir. 'Carnistir, let us go before all the eating places nearby are full. Thank you again for coming, my lord, my lady, Pityafinwë and Telufinwë. I wish you a very pleasant day.'
It is a more graceful exit than Carnistir could manage, and, grateful, he quickly lets go of his father's wrist and entwines his fingers with Tuilindien's instead, the feel of her hand in his familiar now.
Nerdanel bids them goodbye while Fëanáro tells the twins that they'll go seek out Tyelkormo next because it is his turn to look after them for the afternoon.
At the breakfast table Fëanáro had tried to assign the task to Carnistir, but he'd protested that he had plans with Tuilindien. In truth he had only had intentions of making plans, but he'd been determined not to be encumbered with the care of his youngest brothers and furious with his father that he would even try it.
The twins aren't happy about being Tyelkormo's responsibility for the day, though. As Carnistir and Tuilindien head for the amphitheatre exit, he can hear them grumbling about how they'd rather have gone with Carnistir and 'his girl'. They have shown a lot of interest in Tuilindien lately, far from discouraged by Carnistir's irate refusal to talk about her. They had only shut up when he had threatened to no longer let them do the homework for their lessons in his room – their older brothers' bedchambers have always exerted a powerful pull over the Ambarussar.
Carnistir tries to ignore the twins' loud, bright voices and focus on Tuilindien instead. It is easy because the half-dark, half-light part of him that flared up in anger when he saw her dancing with another man is purring, gratified that she is choosing to leave this event where she distinguished herself to spend time alone with him.
'I found the bakery that makes those little lemon cakes you enjoyed so much the night we met', he tells her. 'We can go and pick up a few of those after lunch.'
Tuilindien happily replies, 'I would like that', and Carnistir feels a sweet warmth in his spirit.
Before they make it out of the amphitheatre they hear Tuilindien's name called, and when they look around they see her older sister waving and making her way toward them.
To Carnistir's surprise, Tuilindien groans and keeps walking towards the exit, ignoring her sister.
'Lirulinë just wants to tease me', she explains. 'She's been doing it ever since you and I started seeing each other every day. I've heard at least five comments a day about the 'ardent flames of fresh love' or something like that. She's a really bad poet', she adds at Carnistir's bemused look.
'We have far too many family members', he mutters, not quite quietly enough, and speeds up his steps while keeping an eye for anyone else trying to waylay them.
In the end they escape Lirulinë successfully and make it out of the amphitheatre without further distractions, but halfway to the tavern Carnistir has chosen for lunch they are surprised again.
Tuilindien has just remarked that she feels silly and embarrassed for having spoken Noldorin during her presentation when all other Vanyar had kept to Vanyarin.
'You do speak a little bit funny', a young, slightly winded-sounding voice pipes up from behind them. 'But we could still understand you.'
Carnistir spins around, barely remembering to let go of Tuilindien's hand in time, and bites his tongue to keep from exploding into curses.
'Can we come to lunch with you now?' asks a messy-haired Telufinwë. By his twin's side, Pityafinwë nods his enthusiasm. They have clearly been running, their fine new shoes dusty.
Carnistir swallows down the curses and settles for glaring. 'Where is the useless lout who was supposed to be looking after you? Tyelko', he clarifies to the frowning Ambarussar. 'Did you run away from him again?'
The twins exchange a look. 'Father told us to go to him. We decided to come to you instead.'
And Carnistir had thought that Curufinwë was irritating as a child. 'Coming to us wasn't an option.'
'Carnistir, perhaps they could come with us–' begins Tuilindien.
'No!' he snaps. 'Maybe some other time', he amends a second later, remembering Tuilindien's little sister joining their meal in the park. 'Not now, when they were told they couldn't, and chose to disobey. Even I know they shouldn't be rewarded for disobedience. They have a terrible habit of following people when they've been told to stay behind.'
'We'll take them back, then.' Tuilindien sighs. 'Come on then, Pityafinwë and Telufinwë.' She starts back towards the amphitheatre; Carnistir can feel her irritation, and it fuels it his own.
'Apologise to lady Ingolmiel', he barks at his brothers who aren't looking nearly contrite enough. 'She doesn't speak funny, just different.'
'Carnistir, it's alright –'
'No it isn't!'
'We're sorry', the twins chorus. 'I didn't mean funny in a bad way', Pityo adds.
Carnistir thinks, not for the first time, that his second-youngest brother has as much natural diplomacy as he does. Telufinwë is usually a little more tactful in his words if just as badly behaved in his actions.
Their way back to the amphitheatre passes in silence and bad mood on all sides. Carnistir cannot believe that now that his father seems to have found his reason, his brothers are ruining his time with Tuilindien. Are they never to have any peace? He resolves to arrange a meeting for the two of them that is somewhere more private for once and cannot be interrupted by family members who have too little or too much enthusiasm for their relationship.
He is however relieved to see the next family member who appears: Tyelkormo sprinting down the street towards them at a pace that goes ill with his formal court robes but well with the thunderous expression he's wearing.
'I know, I know', he says before Carnistir can tear into him. 'I messed up. Shout at me later at home, and I'll yell back as usual; now I had best take these two miscreants–' he grabs the twins by the backs of their collars '–and you and your girl continue to wherever you were going.'
Carnistir dearly wants to wipe the smirk off Tyelko's face, preferably very physically, but Tuilindien is here, and he and Tyelko are too old for violence now anyway. (Things between them were much simpler when neither thought they were too old for expressing their anger physically.)
He contents himself with saying, 'You should feed them as soon as possible. Maybe with their bellies full they'll be slow enough that you can keep up with them.'
Tyelkormo just laughs, the infuriating idiot.
Carnistir takes Tuilindien's hand once again. 'Let's go, Tuilë. Again.'
Tuilindien turns to look back at Carnistir's brothers and bids them goodbye. Carnistir doesn't bother.
'Your brother winked at me', she says, confused, when they are back on their way to the tavern again. 'Why did he do that, Carnistir? I thought you and he weren't on particularly good terms. It certainly didn't look like you were just now. Yet it was a friendly sort of wink, I think?'
'He winked because he's the only one of my brothers who has worse manners than I do. Please forget it and him.'
Tuilindien makes a calming noise. 'I will.'
And it is bafflingly easy for her to banish her irritations and return to the elation she'd felt for her presentation having gone well and for his coming to her straight after, or perhaps it is the elation that dispels all negative emotions from her without any conscious effort.
Carnistir wraps himself up in her happiness and concentrates all his willpower on finding his own joy: the simple happiness that is Tuilindien beside him, the floral scent of her hair in his nose, the solidity of her hand in his. Their shared awareness, the connection.
It is not so difficult to let go of anger when there are so many better things to take its place.
The next morning Carnistir wakes up unpleasantly early in order to visit his only married brother before they both go to their day's work, though as a musician Makalaurë keeps a much less regular schedule than anyone else in the family.
Carnistir arrives at Makalaurë and Tinweriel's house just as the lady of the house is leaving. She mentions where she's going but Carnistir doesn't really listen, thinking over what he's going to say to his brother instead.
It is embarrassing to ask for advice but he is at something of a loss for what to do next with Tuilindien, and Makalaurë is his only married brother. The Valar know he isn't going to ask his father, and he has relied on his mother too much already.
So Makalaurë it must be, but Carnistir still finds it difficult the get the words out once his brother leads him to a sitting room. Makalaurë takes a seat and invites Carnistir to do the same, but he remains standing, or rather paces back and forth on the resplendently colourful carpet. Makalaurë follows his nervous movements first with amusement and then, as Carnistir stays silent but for curt replies to his polite questions, with irritation.
'Please sit down, you're wearing a hole into the carpet and it was a gift from my mother-in-law.'
Carnistir sits down and taps his foot until Makalaurë snaps. 'Say what you came to say or I am throwing you out.'
Carnistir stops tapping but it takes him a moment more of nervous fidgeting to ask his question.
'Cáno. What does one do with a girl one is courting – in private, I mean?'
Makalaurë's jaw drops open, and Carnistir thinks that never in his life has he managed to surprise his brother as completely as by this question. Makalaurë's astonishment is quite satisfying and makes up for some of the embarrassment of asking for romantic advice.
'You don't… I mean… I hope you're not asking for... tips about kissing?' Makalaurë sounds rather horrified for a married man. 'It's a little early for that, isn't it? I know you're impatient, but you have only known her for, what, three weeks –'
'No!' Now Carnistir is just as horrified. As if he would speak about kissing with his brother. 'I mean, I want to ask her to meet me again but more privately this time, because I want spend time with her without countless other people around for once – but what do we do? Where should we go?'
'Oh.' Makalaurë pats his own hair as if to make sure the intricate braids haven't somehow come undone during his astonishment. 'Well. There aren't very many options for people like us. Going on walks –'
'We have done that. There is always someone staring here in Tirion.'
'Indoors… there are some more private restaurants, and otherwise being sequestered in a room together is acceptable if you're, say, singing or playing to each other or together. That can be quite pleasant, Tinwië and I did a lot of it together when we were courting…'
Carnistir's scoff fails to banish the fond smile of recollection from his brother's face so he adds in a tone that brooks no argument, 'I am not going to sing to Tuilindien or with her.'
'I don't see why not, you have a quite tolerable voice and I taught you enough that you wouldn't embarrass yourself playing a lyre.' At Carnistir's angry scowl, Makalaurë spreads his hands. 'Very well, no singing or playing. But,' his face brightens, 'you could take her to a concert to listen to music at least, or a poetry-reading or a play perhaps.'
'Those things don't exactly offer a lot of privacy, do they? Just sitting next to her without speaking, listening to other people make noises.' Which would be more pleasant with Tuilindien than with anyone else, but Carnistir wants more.
'"Make noises?" Makalaurë raises one eyebrow. Carnistir remembers him practising that skill in front of a mirror when they were much younger, Carnistir just a disgruntled toddler who had sought refuge in the room of the one brother he knew wouldn't tell him to brighten up.
'You know what I mean', he says. 'I think I'd rather take her on a walk again. Not quite so sedate and dull, if not completely private either.'
'If she likes riding you could go riding with her, show her the environs of Tirion', Makalaurë suggests, and it's the first suggestion Carnistir likes. He likes it very much.
'I will ask if she would like to do that.'
'There is this little forest glade near a waterfall where father sometimes took us on a picnic when you were little. Do you remember the way there?'
'I think so. Do you think it would be a good place to show Tuilindien?'
Makalaurë coughs and blushes a little. 'Tinweriel found it very romantic.'
A/N: That feeling when you're the equivalent of eight years old and your dad drags you to a scientific conference… poor Ambarussar.
In the next chapter, Carnistir realises that there are very good reasons why courting is usually done in public places. In other words: the last few chapters have been rough for Tuilë and Carnistir, but in the next one there is sunlight and fluff and basking in each other's touch.
I'll be travelling in July and spending two weekends attending weddings so it will probably take a month again for me to update this story.