Disclaimer: It's all the Professor's.
Author's Note: For the 'molten' challenge.
Her skin was cold and pale and faultless as ice, as Helcaraxë must have seemed before Elven feet first scuffed its pristine shell; her hair like molten gold or sun-washed waterfalls, 'minding him of Henneth Annun when at dawn Arien first above the far horizon her golden head raises.
So alone and empty she seemed, standing in the dappled light; though, for all her outward sorrow, her fea he saw clear, as a glowing thing: bright and brittle and resilient.
"One so fair should not be so sad, lady."
"There is little that can bring me joy."
"Then let me try."