Northstar Vale i'd rather have this empty seat by my side

The mountains upon her; the misty remnants of the Vale brushing over her hips as the fée strides for the premises' beckoning. The sky was unblemished, this day; a high sapphire, but the midnoon sun had yet to warm;
the earth had been alive with the deep greens of midsommar; majoram and mint once piercing the soon-to-chill winds with their sharp fragrances; buttercup and forget-nots and snowdrop alike had once pushed through tangled growth, only to be bruised underpaw and unthaw. Clutches of windswept pine reached from their rooted lees; muted soldiers in the needly earth that yet remained.  Light streams out through montane jaws;
and she knows somewhere high above, behind the thick cover of dawn, is Soronúmë, the stars that stand over the westwatch of the Sunspires like watchful sentinels. Halfsight flits back down to all-earth—

Alighting upon a wanderer; Melkor;
though she is loathe to remain here and not press herself so against him and the offerings of his oresence, she is also Undómiel. For now, then, she keeps herself quieted; presiding over how this meet would be met out.