"Not at all," he demures. "Have you seen Maia this night? Another Rifter? He shines. You ought to meet him, my dear, if you have not already."

Thranduil listens to her speech, then lays his hand over hers on the rail, giving it a small squeeze before withdrawing. He considers reminding her she isn't really a guest at all, calling her attention to the name of the city. She's already running hot enough tonight, and he does not want her to make mistakes. She wants to be a bard-- she is a bard. He cannot tell her anything she does not already know.

"I wish you well, Beleth. I will be close at hand tonight-- take no risks without notifying someone of what you intend to do. Too many elves disappear, and I would not lose you."