A/N: Interior monologue-y, but I can very well picture Idril Celebrindal saying this in no uncertain terms to her cousin...
Answer
My smile sours
and hatred swells in me
whenever I behold you.
The black
of your hair
is as jet,
as the wings of a raven
on a starless night.
But your
heart
is blacker still.
And as you stand so grave, so
trusted,
by my father,
my hatred fills me. The
sight of your
eyes: cool, hiding furnacefires even
I would not care to face.
Mine black earth as you will. Jar
in the song
of the singing stone.
But come
never closer,
kin of my blood.
For it shall not be as you desire.
****