"...what's that have to do with anything?"

"So if I and all my children were comfortable in her presence and said what we really do think which is that there's nothing to hide from allies here, people'd feel like they ought to be comfortable, like they were doing something suspect if they weren't."

"Well, that'd freak her the heck out. And crowd her, there's lots of you."

"Yes. So. Here I am, though I don't mind if she reads my mind, so no one thinks they ought to let her."

"Okay."

"The book will take us a couple days; are you going to tire of this?"

"Don't really have anything else to do," shrugs Aleko. "So, like, yes, but not more than I would tire of staring at ice all the time? I can't fill all day with ice skating my ankles would go into open rebellion."

"What do you do at home?"

"Draw, help Kiri with stuff because she's got this heavy political job, go into town or Chialto and do stuff there, we have a little brother and I hang out with him, we have parents and I spend time with them, I have friends..."

"You're welcome to draw? Can't help much with the rest."

"Yeah, can I have some paper?"

He can. There's spare from translating the book. 

Aleko doodles. His subject matter is fanciful and creative and his technical ability is pretty okay.

 Fëanáro does not dispense compliments. Macalaure comments to Aleko at one point that his father has never had anything nicer to say about his singing than 'people will be very impressed'.

"...well, I'm a people who's very impressed."

"Oh, I wasn't looking for musical compliments, I was apologizing on his behalf for his failure to notice that the drawings are very nice and that you're being very helpful on the translation project."

"Oh. Thank you."

"You are very welcome."

And Fëanáro, who apparently ignored this exchange, has another barrage of translation questions.

Which Aleko answers quite patiently, doodling all the while.

And time comes for the two of them to sleep again.

Which they do!

Barrelling across the Ice this way, they reach the opposite short in two weeks and a half. The host stretches out behind them for a hundred miles; not everyone is moving so fast. And they encounter orcs.  Fëanáro has ordered some brought back alive for Kiri to have a go at.

Delightful.

And here is an orc. They're - shorter than Elves, a tad grotesque, but not appallingly so. They're trembling. The Elves look unhappy.

Kiri sighs. And steps into range of one.