That's all so pretty, and I can't think of anything more sensible to say than to sit here drinking in the prettiness. Especially: the uncoiling shadow, the rain-water shard of a mirror, this unravelling world, the unpeeling gaze...
Such lovely descriptive phrases. I can feel Boromir still dealing with stray and confused thoughts, but slowly becoming one with himself again. Perhaps something of Galadriel does remain here to help him...
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