Galadriel drew herself up, stood at her full height, and stared down at Cassandra as one might a bug. The guards moved alongside her and, at the Seeker's command, ran their hands along her form. Her indignance was couched in terrible, timeless rage hidden only by the careful, icy mask that she'd donned as she spoke with the Seeker. From her they claimed the Light of Eärendil, but little else. Her staff, left waiting in the rotunda, would be easily claimed.

"I shall not forget this trespass, child," Galadriel uttered, her tone as dark and oppressive as the shadows that stretched the length of the room.

When the guards bade her follow, she went with them. She did not owe the Inquisition much, but she would not injure those who did their duty, not for such a slight transgression. She was quickly escorted from Cassandra's presence but hers was a countenance that Galadriel would remember for ages to come.