{x number of weeks after the attack? Sabotage? (Beleg still isn't entirely sure), Delving is slowly but surely pulling itself back together, having come so very close to pulling itself apart. It will take more than a public handshake for the Noldor and the Sindar to be entirely reconciled, but the borders are re-opening, under certain restrictions. Certain restrictions mean that all marchwardens are working double-shifts, more often than not.}
*arrives back into the city centre following her fourth inspection of the main route out of Delving* *stops to buy camomile tea*
*stands in front of the Palace, which is slowly starting to take shape again, and blows on her tea to cool it down*
*tries to decide whether to call in on Mablung or whether to go back to HQ* *doesn't even think about the antenatal appointment she sort of forgot to attend yesterday*
*equally cheerfully* I'd watch my mouth if I were you, Erchamion. A few weeks ago, I'd've thrown you in prison faster than you could say "Father-in-law".
*folds her arms* Let's look at the evidence, shall we? *starts to circle you, in the manner beloved of television detectives* You elope with his daughter. You have a propensity for getting inveigled in dangerous schemes, from Silmaril hunts to rebuilding the Palace and Eru knows how many accidents happen on building sites. You joke about calling him Dad.
Take off that hard hat, mister, and let's see that tattoo.
*laughs and holds up his hands* I swear to you, I'm only here for the girl this time. But it is pretty weird. I mean, I'm sleeping under Thingol's roof and he hasn't sent the heavies after me. I mean, the mafia are only half-heartedly following my movements.
*falls silent for a moment* I guess it's because of ...
*more calmly than he actually feels* *has been getting good at sounding calm, for Lúthien's sake* She'll be fine. She'll come back to Thingol, though Eru alone knows why. She'll come back to Lúthien.
*with forced good humour (but not too-forced)* You're right. If she doesn't come back to lick Thingol back into shape, I'm sure the -- the mother-daughter bond is as good an anchor as any.
*wrinkles up his nose and takes a step back* Dude, no. I'm in no way mentally or spiritually prepared to discuss the size of your bump. Do you have morning sickness? Lúthien had morning sickness something rotten with Dior.
Anyway, mate, I have to get back to work. I don't get paid for standing around, you know. I actually don't get paid at all because the bastard knows I'll do anything for Lúthien's sake.
Whereas I do get paid for standing around and keeping my eye on unsavoury characters like you. *sips her tea* So, carry on about your business. Hop to it, now.
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