Yet you have it, and here I am, an elf apparently beholden to yet another mortal. [ pause. ] Have you yet realized you will be expected to 'clean up' Lady Galadriel's 'messes' as well as mine?

[ in other words, preemptive apology! like a fruit basket, but you can't eat it or share it. ]

Oh no, dear knight. I will not dress you. The finest Elven tailors of Halamshiral will dress you, and I will sit to the side with Duinenor and we will laugh when the misery and indignity shows on your face whilst the day drags on.

Does this sound agreeable?