The fate of Galadriel was known to them, but in a manner most vague and unclear. There were still more questions about it than there were answers, and nothing was certain beyond the simple fact that she was, indeed, imprisoned. For what? By whom? On what basis whatsoever, with her not being of this world at all. That was not the reason, else they would have faced the same fate upon coming into the keep, and Sam would not have been able to reach them so freely.

There were few answers in Sam's speech, many of them coloured by the very strong emotions. Rightly so, for Legolas was of similar opinion: for a Man to imprison the Lady Galadriel, or any elf, truth be told, it was a despicable thing, unbelievable. And that done on a whim, no less? It did not paint Skyhold, its inhabitants, and those who lead the Inquisition in a particularly positive light.

Listening intently, Legolas stood by Sam's side all this while, his hand still on his shoulder, still a reassuring touch. And no matter the thoughts flittering through his mind, he kept his expression gentle and understanding for Sam's sake, temper kept firmly in check. He could do that easily, for Sam was not the source of his anger, only the unfortunate messenger.

"You have spoken to the Lady, then, after her imprisonment?" He asked quietly, glancing briefly to Thranduil.