"And?" Thranduil's voice is soft, slightly dangerous, though the danger was not directed towards Legolas - this was his son who had apparently been robbed. It was, however, difficult to know who to confront about that, apparently. "What was stolen from you?"

Thranduil's eyes went to the walls again, lingering. Opulent yes, but there was no sign of life, as it is typically known. The stones breathe their stories, not all of them friendly ones, but they seem no more awake than most, and less than some. But there is a sense to them, a hum as of trees that did not have to be friendly, and it was disquieting.

"You said there is a forest? Then let us go."