Caranthir has taken a surprisingly short time in the Halls - or well, surprising to anyone who didn't know him. He's always been the practical one. Not dreamy Maglor or wild Celegorm, or viciously cunning Curufin. Not even Maedhros, a politician from the day he was old enough to reason, or the too-young and easily led Ambarussa.

No, Caranthir knew what he was doing then, and in the Halls once his rage was exhausted, he had set himself to healing with the same grim determination he set to anything he truly wanted. There's someone he needs to see.

(Aegnor can stay and droop about being parted from Andreth. Haleth would have kicked his ass if he'd used such an excuse.)

He isn't expecting her - but he lights up to see her all the same.

"Canien!"