Beleth had paid such careful attention to her account that Galadriel had been all but certain her questions would trend toward what made her mother angry. What she asked instead was unexpected and, indeed, something Galadriel wasn't certain how to answer. Beleth was an elf, but the answers to the questions she asked now were exceptionally personal. They were ancient secrets, older than the kingdoms of Thedas, and Galadriel held them closely.

But, perhaps, she should not guard them so well.

They held less weight here, in this place, than they did in Arda. There were none Beleth could repeat them to that would know how to exploit them, nor any with the will to do so.

Much as Beleth had, moments before, Galadriel paused on the cusp of a response. The time that passed then seemed to move very, very slowly.

"I am uncertain," she said earnestly. "I have few regrets in my life...but those I have are bitter and will haunt me ere the ending of days. All of them could have been avoided, had I not defied their wishes...but had I obeyed I would have gone without all the good that I have seen, all the people I have loved.

"The path I chose was right, and I would not choose otherwise even if I were given the decision once more, but so too was hers. I have spent ten thousand years wondering if our paths will combine once more, if I want them to, if I can truly be forgiven or if I will remain apart, and still I have no answers."

Galadriel fell into an uneasy sort of silence; it didn't set well on her shoulders and made her seem far more mortal and far younger than she was.

"Have you reached a crossroads, Beleth? Where you must choose between the path before you and the way that diverges toward your own ambition?"