[ The elf's expression shifts from curiosity to grief and concern in the span of a second. He extends a hand, in case Aragorn needs assistance, and then crouches down next to his chair. Looming when one is over seven feet in height does not always help, when one is trying to be helpful. ]

Your ancestors? But I only -- Isildur is alive. We spoke not long before... [ Gil frowns, belatedly taking the cup with a murmured 'thank you' in Quenya. ] Before I came here. Forgive me, my lord. To know Elendil's line does continue is a great comfort.

He was my friend.