He smiles; the slight curve of his lips that indicates reserved pleasure, which grows with a laugh- though far from at the Outsider's expense.

"No ship in Thedas will take me to Valinor, my friend. And were I to go, and throw myself at the feet of the Valar for aid in our little problem-- well, I would lose my audience when I berated them for allowing Thedas to be in such a state." But that offer, the kindness behind it, even though Duinenor can have no idea of the magnitude of it-- that is why he is fond of him, calls him 'friend' so carelessly and without his usual reserve. He runs his thumb over the silver tangle of branches that makes up a ring on his hand. "And I do not think the sea will raise the longing in me. Perhaps an echo, but those are easily silenced."

He is well trained in ignoring everything but the problem at hand by placing to the side his own desires. And more inclined to think on whales and their young than considering it in the first place. Thranduil's smile turns soft, and genuine; relaxed. "No, you did not. I have been told they sing. I would like to hear that. Tell me about the calf- how new was it?"