Wife of the Thain: Old Tales of the Shire

Hair like the light of the autumn moon falls, a cascade of windblown curls, down a swan white back. Silver-gray, feral eyes like some wild creature sears him to the bone. Clothed in silks like the twilight skies alight with pale stars, she dances as if made of wind and water upon the surface of the lake.

He worships with silent gaze, knowing the sweetness of hope, as well as the bitter taste of despair, for how can a plain and simple hobbit, Thain or not, tame such a lovely creature?

“Lady...” He moans, and despairs.