[Fëanor studies the boy, watching the fear cross his face. It's an expression he's not entirely unused to, especially when people are looking at him. Still, he's not so far gone (or is he?) that he would frighten a child purposely. So he leans back in his chair, a small smile on his face, doing his best to look unthreatening.
He's not entirely sure he'll succeed at that, but he tries.
And he's impressed with the boy's determination to stand his ground, and the pride in his voice when he answers.
Still. This child is not an elf.]
And how did you come to be a member of this house? Surely you were not born into it.
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He's not entirely sure he'll succeed at that, but he tries.
And he's impressed with the boy's determination to stand his ground, and the pride in his voice when he answers.
Still. This child is not an elf.]
And how did you come to be a member of this house? Surely you were not born into it.