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Falco gazed up at the Elf woman in deep amazement, and fumbled about with his hands. He was at a complete loss for words in the face of her kind smile, and he felt upset with himself. What had he said to make her apologise so? He had wanted to see these Elves apologise, but now that this fair lady was... it was not right. She had done nothing wrong. But... how could he say even that?
"I do not know what I would have you do," he faltered, feeling inclined to drop his eyes again, yet unable to take his eyes from her kind face. "Do what you think best for the lad. I know I can do nothing for him but be his friend... but perhaps you can help him more than that."
"Do you think," she said, "that to help restore the use of his legs would be a better help than the love and kindness you will show him?"
He crimsoned at her open use of the words 'love' and 'kindness' in relation to how he felt towards the lad, and at the not at all subtle implication of praise in her words. He could think of nothing to say, but again: "Do what you think best." And then he hurried to sit beside Rory and Marigold before she would say anything further.
Marigold smiled shyly up at him, and when he looked down at her he started momentarily, the vague feeling of familiarity stirred up in him again, as it had been at the hand-fasting the day before. He felt, as he had then, that he had known her before, and it puzzled him.
"I do look to you, Mr. Headstrong," she said. "You've been kinder to me than any other hobbit since my dear mamma and papa died."
He started again, more violently this time. He had not known that her parents were dead. He had wondered absently why she was wandering about with no one to care for her, but he had never guessed that she had no parents.
She put a little hand on his arm and looked up at him with big, shining, earnest eyes. "Will you take care of me?" she asked.
Falco looked quickly away and coughed, and made a grunting noise that could be taken as either agreement or dissent. Of course he would, if she wanted to him, and even if she didn't really care if he did or not. But this was getting much too sentimental. Little hobbit girls could have big shining eyes, but it was awkward when they were looking up at a crusty old hobbit. Much too sentimental.
"Do you know, it has gotten quite late, and I did not notice!" he said, coughing hastily again. "Why don't we find a nice table to sit at, my lad and lass, and prepare ourselves for the delicious supper that is no doubt waiting for us?"
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