The years apart weigh on him as he ghosts along the edges of the enemy's camps, darting in to sabotage when he could. So many times he'd almost been captured before he could slip free. He's had to keep his end of every bond closed, not daring to give potentially false hope to his loved ones until he could find and go to them.

It wasn't entirely difficult, once he slipped past the worst of the hoards. But by then, he only discovered the last place his family had been. Not if they were still there. Not even if they were still alive. He still doesn't dare open those bonds.

Not until he hears a strange rumor where it was believed he were the one who had been captured or killed. The knowledge itches at his heart, gnaws at doubts before he shoves them away.

Finally he sees the borders of the Greenwood, and takes a breath once he steps into the sheltering boughs. He moves along the path his heart knows, and eventually he senses others watching him, following him. He does nothing to reach for a weapon, only pushes his hooded cloak back to reveal his face as he pauses on the border of Lothlorien.

"I seek my Lady Galadriel," he calls calmly. "Where might I find her?"