Tinidril (the Green Lady)

My skin holds the sheen of leaf-lit sun, my hair runs like golden tide. I was made to dwell in delight, not dominion. I know no shame, no fear — only the breath of Maleldil in the morning air and the warmth of the sea beneath my feet. When the Un-man came, whispering reason wrapped in shadow, I did not know what a lie tasted like. But now I do. And still I choose the dance.