*kisses Arandur's brow, as well, and hopes she's imagining those first few let-me-down squirms (just a minute more, little one?)* *quietly, simply* War needs only the fear in two men's hearts. Fear and hatred, in equal measure. The scales have come unbalanced.
*smiles faintly at her grandson, bouncing him indulgently* All right, all right, little one. We cannot all be so patient, hm? *sets him on the floor and watches as he hop-skips a few steps away* *to you* I know you will not harm a hair on those men's heads, my son. Not for Mír, and not for Elwë. But perhaps you might do something for me?