Despite herself, Galadriel has traveled little in Thedas and the places she has been sent have, more oft than not, been dreadful and dreary, drowning in death. To travel with friends, with the promise to see a clan of Dalish outside of the high walls of Skyhold, that is a gift. Despite the task ahead of them, Galadriel is excited.

There is always a surreal lightness to her steps but, as she treks alongside the party, there is a certain, tangible joy to her gait. If she were capable of it, she might be floating. It is a great salve, the open, unhindered sky and she relishes it.

Indeed, she is so delighted in the travel itself that she often slips into song. It is not a tradition the people of Thedas share, she expects, but singing while one walks is too ingrained in her to avoid. The songs she sings are sometimes mournful and sometimes upbeat, but are always in elvish--if she knew any in this common tongue, perhaps the others would sing along. For now, she contents herself by singing of days long passed and places far from these lands, and watches the slow passing of the scenery as they walk the freemarches.