Aftermath
Legolas is troubled when he comes down to breakfast. He doesn't say anything, but I've known him all his life and a large part of my own, and I can read him as easily as my father could read me.
The Dwarf and I are the only ones up to breakfast this early, although I did see Kayli slip out the kitchen door about an hour ago.
"What troubles you, son?" I ask.
He simply glances at me, and then shrugs and looks away. "'Tis nothing, Adar," he says.
"You lie," I say.
"And not very well," Gimli adds.
He smiles – but it is a twisted, bitter mockery of a smile. "She refused me," he says quietly.
Gimli and I both stop moving. My hand is poised halfway to my wine, and Gimli has just stuffed a chunk of bread into his mouth. His fingers are still at his lips, apparently stuck there.
At any other moment, this would be funny.
"I…beg your pardon?" I ask.
Legolas shrugs and drops into a chair, pouring a glass of wine and draining it before pouring another.
My son is getting drunk at the breakfast table. I'm fairly certain I raised all four better than this, but these are distressing circumstances.
"I asked her to marry me," he said, voice oddly flat. "She said no."
"She said…no?" Gimli says. "Are ye certain, lad? Just no? A flat-out refusal? 'Cause that doesn't make any sense."
He smiles bitterly. "Nay. She had to...think."
Gimli stares at me blankly. "Think about what?" he asks, obviously confused.
Legolas shrugs and drains another glass of wine. "She says she loves me, but that she has to ... think. She does not think it is wise."
Gimli and I exchange another blank look.
"I don't understand women," Gimli says finally.
"Nay," he says softly. "Nor do I."