Run and Run and Run
She delights in moving fast, delights in the fresh sweet wind of Valinor blowing through her long auburn hair as it flows after her in waves.
Her dress appears simple enough, but there are thousands of pleats hiding a thousand more layers of light gaudy reddish-brown skirt that billows out around her like a great flower as she spins and twirls on the luscious greens of Valinor.
But even more than dancing, she loves to run.
She could run all day and all night, and she does, never pausing for breath.
To her, running is like flying as her feet delicately spring, step by soaring step across the forest floor at speeds unimaginable.
Tulkas chases after her, crying out that he will catch her yet.
But she smiles and flees him, though she would not object to being caught just this once, and she knows for all his strength and muscle that she is the faster runner.
As she runs from him, laughing gaily, her voice mingling with the song of the birds, the swift tawny deer leap from the brush around and join her, for they are her friends, they love to run as well, and could do it forever alongside her, though Nessa knows she is the swiftest of all.