…as it relates to Maine. Galadriel sang in lament of Middle-earth and the fading elves, as the fellowship sailed downstream away from her. They heard her song remote in passing on toward their fearful quest and duty:
“Then it seemed to Frodo that she lifted her arms in a final farewell, and far but piercing-clear on the following wind came the sound of her voice singing. But now she sang in the ancient tongue of the elves beyond the sea, and he did not understand the words: fair was the music, but it did not comfort him.”
Long after, remembering the elvish words, he was able to interpret them.
“Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind, long years numberless as the wings of trees! The long years have passed like swift draughts of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West beneath the blue vaults of Varda wherein the stars tremble in the song of her voice, holy and queenly. Who now shall refill the cup for me?”