He did not offer her his arm in replacement—the situation not formal enough to need it, and while he was in a foul temper, he was not that poorly to remove his hand so rudely. If Galadriel had answers, she would share them, or they would spar verbally until the edge was taken off and he might pry them from another source. No point in denying her what amounted to comfort.

“Not long.” A quick glance to the sun—assuming it moved similar to Arda’s, he would measure “—perhaps six hours. I—stumbled upon whatever this place is to find myself fighting what I can only term dark shades, dispatched them, and found my presence… requested by the Man who found me.”

He raised a brow as they entered the tavern, glancing at Galadriel. This is where the Lady of Lorien would go to drink? This is the best this Mannish town can offer?

“Like unto the Avari?” He had some Penni in his kingdom, though most married outside that group, and no purebred elflings of that group had been born in an Age or two, to the best of his recall. He listened to the conversation in the tavern—eavesdropped, in truth, but it was in his favor to gather as much information as quickly as possible. “The Man with his law on the floor, he acted like he had not seen an elf before. Pray tell why that was.”