"Then I wish you a clear mind," Galadriel replies and makes no move to draw away from him. In fact, she nearly leans into him, into the hand at her hip or the one on her cheek.

"It shall be a very interesting wedding, I expect. Will that token be permanent?" She reaches here and lifts just the edge of his necklace's cord, plucking it up a bare inch from his chest. She does not look down at it, nor at the hair wound with it.

"If it is, I fear I may be driven to compete."