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This is so poignant, Treebeard, ancient already, observing them all arrive and still being there long after they've all gone. (Young Elrond indeed! Quiet tears leaked from heart through my eyes.

All their contrasting fates: Gandalf departing in song and laughter, while it's terribly sad that Curumo's spirit fell until there was nothing left to salvage. The idea of Radagast's main work only beginning after the others have left really resonates with me. (I wonder if he'll return to help us recover from the blight of this seventh age?) And I love the reappearance of the Blues, and enjoyed your description of their sky-colours, one morning, one evening.

 I'm standing under the eves of Fangorn, and I too sigh...