Saeril heard the youngest's responding retort, and she couldn't help but smile playfully back at him, and chuckle good-heartedly. Even Fili snickered at the response from next to his little brother's horse.

The walk was long, but the she-elf didn't complain. Saeril's biology was beyond that of humans and dwarves, so moving by foot was no problem. Not a single ache came for her feet, but she was pretty certain that the ponies can't walk forever, which also became one of the reasons they had to stop and camp for the following night. 

That night, Saeril let her cloak transform into her feathered wings, tucked in behind her as she sat with her godsons near the fire. Only being dressed in her black, tight, catsuit-like outfit with feathers embedded in the fabric, Saeril wasn't cold, and she certainly wasn't tired; not with her godsons still awake; she could stay awake for the longest of periods. 

Saeril was enjoying the company of her new family, and she certainly felt herself grow close to the young heir. She hoped that Fili didn't mind, but of course, the she-elf will accept them both, and she would have to. Good laughs they had, good stories to tell. It was purely familial. Saeril was about to reach behind her waist for one of her curved blades to sharpen it, but froze once a loud shriek sounded in the distance. It can't be, can it?