[ Orodreth stops singing suddenly, when he hears that voice. And sure enough, there is Curufin, with all his casual arrogance and easy confidence, singing at him as if he had not attempted to put a metaphorical knife in his back, once. Twice. He frowns, wary, at the cousin he had the least desire to meet. There is a flicker of temptation to rest a hand on his sword, but he does not - he is not like a Fëanorian. ]
no subject
I had heard you were here.
[ His tone is calm but decidedly cool. ]