"Your arcanist?" The word was unfamiliar but, from its parts, it was not hard to see the potential that such a person could provide.

She considered his suggestion carefully, even as she moved and swung a swift arc toward his shoulder. He blocked her and, as she slid her own staff back, she neatly sidestepped a blow meant to knock against her hip. He managed to block her next swing, and evaded the low strike that chased directly on the heels of that form. He nearly caught her on the backswing of his next blow, but she was able to direct his weapon's arc with a careful twist of her own.

"Arda, you mean?" Galadriel supplied and, admittedly, found it hard to concentrate on both words and the push-pull of sparring simultaneously. "It is not so different and yet, I fear, entirely unlike these lands."

It was a painfully vague answer, one she didn't elaborate on until she'd swept her staff around and deflected a thrust that he'd aimed at her lower legs.

"It is...darker," she said after a moment of contemplation. "The shadow presses far closer and with a dreadful purpose that...I do not sense here. But, it is also beautiful, shining and bright in ways I would be hard pressed to recount."

"It seems nearer than this world, though I fear that makes little sense."