Saeril gave a sad smile, in return to Yavanna's own, as soon as she finished gently cleaning her face from tears. "I knew Thorin, for as long as since the beginning of this age", and it was true. The winged she-elf knew the Durin family like the back of her hand. As far as tradition went, her kind's alliance with the Dwarves of Erebor made them both spiritually and emotionally connected to the royal family. "You see", she began, lowering her hand away from the girl's face, frowning. "Of all the Elves of Fangorn, I am the last of them, as you already know. Ever since Smaug took Erebor, so many dwarves have died; trying to survive. My kind couldn't bear to witness so much of it, so most of them took their own lives due to a broken heart. Because of misery, they felt themselves having nowhere else to go, so they succumbed to their own sadness, leaving this world behind", the taller she-elf sighed sadly at the memory; it pained her.

"I survived because I had a purpose. The sons of Durin gave me hope; a reason to live on. I found them in the Blue Mountains, growing strong and fast. So happy, they were, in their mother's company. I longed to join them, but...", she paused, her tucked-in wings stretching out a little. "I realized that my everlasting "deformity" would be the knife to their happiness. I feared disgust, anger, and hate. You have no idea what it's like to be stuck in the shadows, hiding with an element that can make you feel like a burden", she admitted with shame in her voice.