"Ah, then you are more fortunate than I," Galadriel said and her gaze was heavy. "For sleep and dreaming are unfamiliar to me still, and I have seen you many times in my dreams. Your brothers and father still linger in my memory."

She drew a deep breath and reined in the anger that tried to settle in her chest. There was little room for it now, she was so exhausted she could barely bare the weight of consciousness. It was fortunate for Maedhros, if nothing else.

"But I am a creature of those times, I admit it, and a relic can never truly be separated from their source." She considered, then, asking if he had any of them, the gems that haunted Arda and shaped the world for an Age, but she let the thought pass. She did not want to know and, moreover, the loss of her ring was still to near. It would not do to speak of power and lost things.

In her resignation, her expression waned into something sad but relaxed. She had not the energy to read his heart, but he was not entirely himself and that was... at least for the moment, enough.

"Come, sleep here so that I do not wonder when next you will stumble in and knock over my things. I am too tired and stretched too thin to speak in veiled statements any longer."