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The young man - quite young, to Indis's eye - doesn't resemble her lost relative at all. Vigorously curly hair is the liveliest thing about him - dark, woeful eyes have no shine in them at all, and his aura is drawn up tightly against himself. Indis had seen Celebrimbor less than a handful of times, but she remembers sleek dark hair, bright eyes, and boundless outgoing curiosity. Indis decides immediately to treat him and Celebrimbor as two separate creatures entirely; it shouldn't be difficult in the least.
If she had not been forewarned, the rabbit would have been a surprise. It is twice as large as the ruffians she sets traps for in her garden, and looks perfectly at its ease in the young man's arms. He does not jostle it at all, even as he dips into a deep bow.
"You must be Khimil," Indis says, and smiles at him. "I am Indis. Please, come in. The Valar sent a messenger saying that you needed something of a refuge...?"
"Thank you for accepting me into your home for a time, queen-dowager Indis," Khimil responds, in very formal Sindarin, and bows again. "I hope that I will not trouble you unduly."
"Of course not," Indis says firmly, and leads him to her dining room, where tea is already set for them. "It is my pleasure to have you here."
"Queen-dowager?" Khimil ventures. "Is there perhaps somewhere in the garden I may put the rabbit? You have a lovely dining room, and I would not wish him to cause any trouble or mess..." He winces, casting his gaze downwards.
"Oh, I'm sure he would be fine," Indis says airily, waving a hand in hopes that she can reassure him. Huan had always been better-behaved than Tyelkormo, from what Nerdanel has told her. "But if it troubles you, he can acquaint himself with the garden while we talk. It's just through here." She finds a suitable dish and fills it with water as Khimil looks around the garden, settling on a wooden crate as suitable confinement. Indis raises an eyebrow.
Khimil twists his fingers together, seeing her expression. "It is a fine garden, queen-dowager, and rabbits are not kind to gardens as a rule," he explains, bowing again as if it's a reflex.
Indis chooses to ignore his nerves. "Thank you; that's very thoughtful," she says, smiling, and ushers him back into the dining room. "Please consider my home as your own, though; I would like you to be comfortable here," she adds, once they have seated themselves. Khimil sits very straight, with perfect manners, and does not relax in the slightest. "Is there anything you would like me to send for?" Indis asks. Most of the Returned have families to return to, or other loved ones to provide for their immediate needs. Even the Avari and Sinda have long since established their own enclaves. It would be cruel to remind young Khimil that there is no one here for him, though, and Indis does not mention it.
"I do not wish to trouble you unduly, queen-dowager," Khimil says, eyes on his teacup. "I require only supplies for the rabbit's care, such clothing as you deem suitable, and perhaps sketch-paper. I was not told what role I am to perform in your household...?"
"You are my guest," Indis tells him. "We are family, if rather distantly, so please, consider me such. Are there any particular foods you would like, or anything to occupy yourself? Books or tools, maybe?" She's trying not to compare him to Celebrimbor, but Indis knows very well that Noldor hands and minds must be occupied at all times, lest their owners become restless and fidgety. Finwe had been terrible about letting Feanor take projects to the dinner table; Nerdanel had shared the habit and not even tried to stop him. Maitimo, Nerdanel confided once, had been twenty by the time he learned that most families considered it rude to take books to dinner with them.
Khimil flicks his dark eyes up, searching Indis's face, and she tries to look approachable. "I regret that I do not yet know Quenya," he says after a moment. "If a primer may be found, I would be most grateful."
"I'll have one brought at once," Indis promises. She had thought he would already know it, and chastises herself internally for the assumption. "Are you sure there is nothing else?" She thinks she has a set of watercolors somewhere; surely if he wants drawing paper, he will also want colors for it? Almost all of her books are in Quenya, she'll have to send for Sindarin copies, or even Aduniac. Surely someone writes in Aduniac?
"Yes, thank you, queen-dowager," Khimil says, and pushes his lips up into a tiny smile. "You are very kind."
"Feel free to call me Indis," she tells him, and has the feeling that he won't.
*
Indis can count the number of times she has been awoken without rising on her own on one hand, and so Fanyariel, her housekeeper, does not catch her asleep, even before the sun has crested the horizon. She's been listing out things Khimil might like but feel too shy to ask for - he had been so quiet yesterday, she isn't sure how to help him feel at home.
"My lady?" Fanyariel asks from the doorway. "My lady, you really must see this." She sounds nonplussed, and since few things have ever rendered Fanyariel speechless, Indis is quick to wrap a robe around herself and follow. Fanyariel takes her first to the garden, and Indis's mouth drops open.
The wooden crate that her guest put his rabbit in has been destroyed in no uncertain terms, pieces flung about the terrace with abandon. There is no blood, but a great deal of rabbit droppings and an overturned water dish to show for the night's work. This would be remarkable enough, but the door... The door, formerly a masterpiece of the Second Age, now has a rabbit-sized hole chewed out of it, a messy pile of wood scraps trailing into the house.
Fanyariel nods in satisfaction at Indis's expression, and leads her further into the house, toward the suite set aside for Khimil. Indis hardly needs the guidance - little droppings lead to the next door, which has also been chewed through, and then into Khimil's bedroom.
Indis has to put a hand over her mouth when she sees the tableau inside the bedroom. It has been wrecked with a master's touch, furnishings overturned and gnawed upon, urine and droppings everywhere. A stained nightshirt and pillow indicate the rabbit's method of awakening its master; Khimil is wearing a different robe, clearly put on in haste, and has just finished scrubbing his face.
The author of such rampant destruction sits primly in the middle of the ruined bed, washing its face with its paws.
Indis can't help it. She leans against the door, laughing harder than she has in years. It takes Fanyariel shaking her arm and nodding urgently at Khimil for Indis to wipe her streaming eyes and compose herself.
Once she does look at her guest, though, Indis's amusement dies instantly. Khimil looks distraught, even horrified, and when he sees her eyes on him, he drops at once to his knees.
"I am so sorry, queen-dowager, I was remiss! I did not know he had such strength, it will not happen again! Please do not blame him, he is only an animal, he does not know better," Khimil pleads, and Indis goes to him immediately, kneeling in front of him.
"Oh, don't be distressed, Khimil! It is only wood," Indis says, wishing she could embrace him outright, or even just take his hands in hers. She fears he might bolt outright if she did, though; he certainly looks frightened enough. "You have not angered anyone, be at ease! In truth, you are the most injured party; Mandos has not done well by you."
"Please, allow me to return him thence, there is no need to release his spirit, he is only an animal," Khimil says, pressing his hands together and bowing his head.
Indis takes a moment to realize what he means, and then shakes her own head emphatically. "No, no, your rabbit is a gift of the Valar! However ill-behaved, he is meant to be your companion, and I would not gainsay Namo in such a matter. Truly, I am not upset! I cannot even remember the last time I laughed so much, Khimil, what is a bit of woodwork compared to that?" She smiles encouragingly at him, and he glances up at her, hesitant.
"If I have truly not offended..."
"No, of course not," Indis says soothingly, and touches his hand. "Why don't you take him out to the garden while we straighten this mess and have a bath run for you? I think he only wishes to be near you, rather than put away elsewhere."
"As you say, queen-dowager," Khimil murmurs, and seems relieved to have some sort of solid direction to follow. He scoops up the rabbit and leaves, with a final dismayed noise at the mess in the hallway. Indis joins Fanyariel in stripping the bed; the mattress is fine, but the rest will have to be laundered.
"Poor thing," Fanyariel says, once Khimil is out of earshot. "Where is he from? I could swear he thought you would strike him."
Indis adds the nightshirt and pillow to the heap of laundry. "Numenor," she answers. "He did not have a good life there."
Fanyariel hums in agreement. "We'll take care of him now, though. He'll have a home here."
"I hope so," Indis says.