"Estel..."
"He is no mere Ranger! He is Aragorn- son of Arathorn."
"Aragorn."
"Mellon nin, Estel"
"Aragorn!"
"Estel-"
"ARAGORN!"
"Estel?"
"...Aragorn..."
"Estel!"
"Aragorn?"
"ESTEL!"
"Legolas! I wish to speak to you!"
"You should let him know, elf."
"You know exactly who and what I am speaking of. Do not hide it from him—let him know! Do you think that I would not notice? That it is his name you cry out in every battle? That you search for his face and reach out to protect him? You love him!"
"Aye, Gimli- he is my brother, whom I have known and loved for many, many years."
"I may only be thigh-high, elf, but I pray you not to think that I cannot see what lies in your heart. You know of what I speak. Do not play stupid with me, elf, for it will not work!"
"And what would you have me do? Proclaim myself to him? Nay, Master Dwarf, I think not, for he loves Lady Arwen, whom is like my own sister. I would rather watch from afar, than to risk our friendship in a venture from which no one can say the outcome. No, Master Dwarf, my lips will never speak of this to him."
"…What can elves die of?"
"Battle."
"What else?"
"...grief"
"Grief- you will die, elf."
"So be it."