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    Summary

    Looking around, though, she begins to understand why she felt that way. She is barefoot, toes curling against the pleasant coolness of an immaculate floor, and the veil she felt like she stumbled through is a real one. Soft, delicately-woven. One of the many floating amidst the airy spaces of what looks like an incredibly vast room - a candid-white bed at the center of it and the most elegant decorations ornating its walls and ceiling. She sees slender branches gracefully climbing the wall at the back of the bed, and she recognizes the unmistakable golden leaves covering them and gently fluttering in the air. Elven blossoms, Elven trees.

    She feels like laughing again, unbearably relieved.

    This is home.

    “Galadriel?”

    She turns to the voice, and there he is - standing perfectly still in the doorframe, one hand resting on the wooden jamb and eyes firmly fixed on her. He looks composed, calm, except for his tone - that sounded hesitant, disbelieving almost. Is it really you?

    [After the meadow and the raft, Sauron shows Galadriel a third vision.]

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