Saeril had to depend on her impressive eyesight and hearing to try and decipher what they might run into in the dark. So far, she could catch the sounds of falling stone, as well as the group's assumedly-silent footsteps upon the rocky surface. 

Undoubtedly, the Elf Prince could hear the same sounds, as he stood near the princess and his closest friend. He seemed to be more closed up than usual, since Yavanna surprisingly returned to him, after he had assumed her to be dead. It was as if the memory was starting to replay itself, having to remain as a reminder, if he were to fail on his promise to Lord Elrond. By instinct, he clenched her hand; not too tightly, but enough to know that she was present, and not in the frigid snow. 

As they traveled through the dark chasm of the Dwarven kingdom, Saeril could remember everything from the past; from when she had first come to Moria during the battle. Every crack upon the rocks has absorbed that very moment when she had killed Thrain, and the blood that has been absorbed into the ground will forever imprint this place as one to be in the presence of one of Middle-Earth's most violent of conflicts. 

[i]'Forgive me, Sons of Durin'[/i]

She mentally said to their surroundings, as if the wind would carry the message, but the only thing that stood was the air, making the wind, reasonably dead. The elder she-elf looked at Kili nearby, and sadly sighed at the memory. "Forgive me, Son of Durin. For what I have done to your kin, was unbearable, as your family had never deserved to meet such an early fate", she had to whisper this to him, hoping to receive his forgiveness, the same way she had received Yavanna's own.