Thranduil didn't lean against Legolas, not quite, but he did incline himself towards him, bowing his head just a little over his son's. And he listened. His eyes closed in a very subtle, veiled sorrow - he knew, only too well, what it was to hold everyone at arm's length. He would not wish such isolation for his son. It had, for Thranduil, been what he'd used to deal with being forced to take his throne in Mordor, in fields of ash and blood. It could be a very lonely existence.

"The Ruling Ring has been gone this past age," he said carefully at this news. He was not completely ignorant at its history.