She had not expected he would have a mirror of all things, nor one of such fine material as silvered glass. When he held one before her and one behind, she was startled. It took her a moment, staring at the reflection before her, to realize that she was seeing herself. She rarely bothered to check her own reflection in Lorien and, indeed, preferred memory and the indistinct nature of watery reflections to this. Seeing herself so clearly was jarring, it would have been regardless of the setting or how harrowing the years had been, but it was especially strange with this place all around her and clad as she was.

It was lamentable, really, that she saw herself like this, but she managed to preserve the majority of her smile.

The way he had wound her hair was masterful and, if only because of its artful nature, her smile perked up again. She turned her head slightly to see better the back of it and delighted in how he'd woven it atop the back of her head.

"How skilled you are!" Galadriel exclaimed quietly and, as all people did when placed in such a situation, reached back to run light fingers over the bound shape of the bun. She turned, then, and ignored her reflection in favor of looking at Zevran.

"I am certain, in all my life my hair has never been dressed so beautifully." The praise was honest and the compliment true. She had rarely ever bound her hair, let alone binding it up, and on the few occasions she had, it had never been so intricate. Celebrian, perhaps, had drawn her own hair into more complicated arrangements than this, but Galadriel had never before bothered.

"Thank you, Zevran Arainai," she said and, given the night around them, felt justified in adding: "Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo."