There's nothing quite as likely to make Galadriel homesick as an elaborate treehouse, empty and uninhabited, though it may be. She hadn't been here for the first expedition, but she can imagine what this place must have been like when it was filled with life- filled with light- and it hits a little too close to home.

Elves don't really need to sleep anyway, so she'll leave the rooms for those who have more need of them. She doesn't want to be behind walls tonight anyway. She finds a quiet spot on one of the many walkways of the treehouse and seats herself there, her bare feet dangling into the air. And then, she begins to sing.

It's a hymn, something not unlike this, haunting and beautiful, filled with both reverence and longing for a time long past. She sits utterly still, unmoving even after she's finished her song, letting the final notes fade into the night sky.