*can hardly bear your expression, so full of pain and other things, too—things he cannot comprehend*
*quickly, to banish that thought (and yes, he has asked you these things before, too)* What sorts of things do remember? Do you remember (the things I sang to you)(the way I held you until you slept) what happened to you before you came in here?
*sits back in his chair and tries to interpret your mood (why won't you talk to me? why can't you look at me?) but cannot make sense of it at all* *very gently takes the book out of your hand and closes it* Glorfindel?