"Before you begin, I beg a moment to fetch some ale," Gimli announced. "I have a feeling I'm going to want to be good and drunk before you regale me with tales of Legolas's fornications."
At Malenfín's look of utter horror, the Dwarf quickly added, "I apologize. I did not mean to fill your pretty head with images of your father..."
All right, Gimli, stop talking.
"Maybe filling my head with ale isn't such a good idea."
Shaking his head as if to toss away the mental pictures, the young Elf cleared his throat. "Are you certain you do not want a drink?"
Gimli chewed the thought over for about five seconds. "No," he answered.
With that, he walked over to the wooden cabinet in one corner. He opened a door, and from within produced a hammered metal flask.
Malenfín watched with mild interest as Gimli poured an astoundingly dark and thick liquid into a water-spotted mug with a large chip on the brim.
"Care for a taste?" the Dwarf asked, although it was more of a polite, rhetorical question. He knew full well what the Elf would say.
"I appreciate the offer, but I'll pass," Malenfín replied slowly as he tried to conceal his distaste.
"Naturally. Your father wasn't much of a drinker, either...but that isn't to say he couldn't drink. In fact, the one time I saw him do so, he quite literally drank me under the table."
Malenfín emitted something between a gasp and a giggle at the thought of his father out-drinking a Dwarf. "I cannot imagine my father, from what I've heard about him at least, inebriated."
"Neither can I," Gimli replied with a shrug as he took a sip of the ale. "Even after practically inhaling all that beer, I doubt very much he felt a thing."
The Elf opened his mouth to speak, but after the loud belch the Dwarf emitted in appreciation, it simply hung agape.
"I beg your pardon, Malenfín. I am not nearly as refined as your father was," Gimli told him apologetically.
Obviously wishing to get past that awkward moment, the Elf leapt headlong into another. "You wish to know the identity of my mother." It was not a question.
"If you believe it is any concern of mine. I do not want you to divulge things you are not comfortable...ah..."
"Divulging?" Malenfín offered, realizing that the drink was beginning to limit Gimli's available supply of vocabulary, and was startled when the Dwarf belted out a laugh and slapped him on the knee.
"Precisely! Always skilled with the words, you Elves."
Malenfín decided to keep his knees far from Gimli's short reach after he had announced his mother's name.
"All right, laddie, on with it. Who is your mother?"
A little perturbed by Gimli's obvious lack of respectful patience during such a difficult revealing of information, Malenfín shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"No one must know of this. My mother asked me to promise that I would not reveal her identity to anyone. I am going against that promise only because I know that you were a true friend to my father and I'm placing a lot of trust in you, Gimli, to never repeat this to anyone."
"I promise," the Dwarf answered with overly dramatic drunken solemnness. "Not a word."
Satisfied that the pledge was genuine, he continued, "According to my mother, her love affair with my father began long before King Elessar was brought to Rivendell, even long before he was born."
"What does this have to do with King Elessar?"
"He is her husband now," Malenfín revealed carefully.
Under normal (sober) circumstances, Gimli would have immediately figured it out by now, but his mind was far too clouded.
Malenfín seemed to realize this. With a sigh, he said, "He is Lady Arwen's husband."
He sobered up instantly as he spat his ale against the wall.
"Arwen!" he practically shouted.