(The hand isn't in any hurry to leave Elros's still soft hair. However it, like the rest of his foster-son, feels fragile and so he is careful with his strength.)

Diplomacy, Elros. (That's as strict as he can be. Isn't it frightening?)

I think it is safe to assume that all Elves on Arda are doomed to suffer in one way or another. No matter their demeanor, we should have some pity for them.

(He smiles down at Maglor, holding him safe and secure with his free arm. If he had one more arm, Fingon would find himself trapped too!)

Cousin, if you think sleeping on the ground is new to me, you are sadly mistaken. (His amusement fades further at the mention of the Oath. He had repeated it in Thranduil's presence - a way of showing his sincerity - and he regrets the effect it seems to have had on Fingon.) Finno, we are the ghosts. If you do not fear us then you do not fear them.

(His nose wrinkles.) As long as we stay as one, we have some protection against their barbs. I do not care if they call me knife-eared or a...rabbit? That is rather comical. But if they move beyond words, we need to support one another.