Dol Guldur still stands - dark and infested - and the horses do not want to go near it. Galadriel looks to her husband, to their entourage, and smiles.
She walks, alone, to the great gates, and lifts her arms. Nenya is cold on her finger, not yet revealed. She feels the dormant malice of the place in the numbness of her lips and fingers.
She summons words of power, words of destruction, whispers them to the empty night sky.
She chants, slow and sure. Nenya gleams and the power of the Three is with her. But it is not enough: still the gates do not move, even as the first light of dawn appears in the East.
Sauron is not of Arda; his enchantment cannot be beaten by all the wisdom of Arda. But Galadriel is a daughter of Valinor. She closes her eyes and lets the black waves crash against her.
The song she weaves is harsh and cold. She sings of crushing mellorn roots and of raging sea-storms. She sings of the fall of Beleriand and the folly of greed. She sings about Finrod Felagund – his childhood and his reluctance and his fall.
The gates shatter and Galadriel thinks, for the first time, I must leave this worn-down world, and look for my brother.