Saeril gave a silent, amused scoff at Kili's insistence. Clearly, his stubbornness was like her own, and she had to rethink if this is why Dis chose her; it was funny. Turning her head to the side, so she could see him at the corner of her eye, the she-elf had that glare of a traditional mother: a dissapointed glare. "Comparing you and me, your injury is much more fatal and critical. Mine, a scratch; yours, a mortal penetration. So, don't tell me that you're fine", it was the tone of a mother who knows the details of the situation. But, if her tone was too much and too demanding, she would regret it. But she needed Kili to understand the circumstances of his wellbeing. 

The man picked at a dent on one of the barrels where the wood had started to peel away. "I know where these barrels came from", he stated seriously. "I don't know what business you had with the elves, but I don't think it ended well".