With her elf ears, the she-elf heard it all. [i]War.[/i] She knew that this would come, sooner or later. Thorin was under the spell of Dragon Sickness, and in most cases, the bearers of excessive amounts of gold may not see reality ever again; just like his grandfather. In this case, the dwarven King won't see reason. Thorin was getting worse by the minute; exactly what she feared... Fili looked at his little brother with tiredness in his eyes, being apparent in expressing exhaustion from the endless search for the Arkenstone, and from stacking the crumbled rocks of stone to barricade the gate they were currently standing on. This was how far Thorin's corrupted wrath can go: endless labor. If the king wasn't this blind to the wellbeing of his kin, he would know the amount of abuse he was giving them. His own nephews, especially. Bags were underneath the blonde's eyes; his attempt to do the work for his brother apparently drained him, but he put up a good fight to stay on his feet. Like he always did when they were children. Saeril was already walking down a stony corridor, until she heard the quickening footsteps of the youngest. Her cloak dragged behind her as she walked, and the dim lighting made her luminous eyes glow slightly. He was right to follow; this was an event that might end badly, and he was right to be in her good graces a day before it happened. The she-elf heard him ask of what she just overheard, and she responded with an exhale through her nose. "I did", she responded with a troubled voice, as she stood within the armory. She took a glance at him, before sheathing out her daggers, twirling them. Upon discovery of Fili, she earned herself a pair of laced gauntlets for her forearms, to which the eldest heir gladly fastened upon her being. "If tommorrow is to be our last stand, I can guess that you'll always follow me? Even into battle?", she asked him, wanting to know if he's willing to follow down a path that may result in death. ------------------ Upon reaching the top of the hill, Legolas waited for Tauriel and Yavanna to catch up before having to kneel down with them, taking cover behind a large boulder, and look upon the ruins of Gundabad. It was just how he remembered it all those years ago. "An old enemy", he answered the princess, looking towards her before looking back over. "The ancient kingdom of Angmar. This fortress was once its stronghold. It is where they kept their great armories, and forged their great weapons of war", he explained. "It is a fell place. In another age, our people have waged war on these lands", just as the Elven prince said this, a memory came back to him. A memory he had wished to forget, but lingered. The thought made him look away from the scene, almost sadly. "My mother died there", he finally said it, having to look at the two she-Elves. "My father doesn't speak of her. There was no grave; no memory, nothing. Her light was mine; it faded, and died with her", he sadly admitted. Truthfully, he had a light of his own; a trait he got from his mother, but ever since she left, the Elven Prince's heart has turned cold, ever since.