[ But Sam misses Thranduil's patient explanation entirely. He stands stock-still, stunned into silence for one in his life, and stares.
He knows him.
He knows him for a hobbit, and he'd barely even blinked to see him there. ]
You're - you're an elf!
[ But that's not enough. There are so many elves here, and he expands on the exclamation immediately, his words tripping over themselves now in his haste to get them out. ]
You're a real elf! You're from Middle-earth! You -
[ He realizes what he'd said, and claps a hand over his mouth. Real elves they all are, of course, but, well, there's elves and there's elves, after all. And this one looks nearly as elfy as Galadriel.
He lowers his hand, craning his neck to gaze up at Thranduil, wonder in his gaze and his voice a mere whisper. ]
no subject
He knows him.
He knows him for a hobbit, and he'd barely even blinked to see him there. ]
You're - you're an elf!
[ But that's not enough. There are so many elves here, and he expands on the exclamation immediately, his words tripping over themselves now in his haste to get them out. ]
You're a real elf! You're from Middle-earth! You -
[ He realizes what he'd said, and claps a hand over his mouth. Real elves they all are, of course, but, well, there's elves and there's elves, after all. And this one looks nearly as elfy as Galadriel.
He lowers his hand, craning his neck to gaze up at Thranduil, wonder in his gaze and his voice a mere whisper. ]
- You're from back home.