Ossë hated it when she was coy like this.  Her hair was spread through the deeps of the Sea, but it was so tangled in things that it gave him no clues, just the merest scents and the softest brushes on his soul.  He had asked creatures of all kinds, from the minnows to the whales, where she was, but they were on her side today, and none of them would yield so much as a word.

One of the dolphins laughed—laughed!—and he very nearly punched it in the nose.

Uinen wanted him to work for this, and the worst thing of all was that he had no choice.  Finding an end to one delicate sea-green strand, he took it, and followed it, through the heights and the depths of the sea, until at last he found her, floating in the sea-foam, utterly beautiful and utterly happy.

“Uinen,” he whispered, reaching out a hand to brush her cheek, but she, giggling, disappeared into the foam.

Growling, he snatched at her, until he held onto something—a hand?  a foot?—and swore that he would not let go till she answered to this insult.

She twisted in his grasp, and her voice came from all around him.  “Are we feeling wroth today, beloved?”

“Very.”

“Be still, then,” she said, and this time she was naught more than a whisper in his ear.  As if he could possibly be still when she was tantalizing him like this!

“Never,” he said, and he caught the whisper and kissed it.  The whisper kissed him back, and suddenly she was there again, clad only in her hair, and ah! if she disappeared from him again, he would destroy an entire island in his pursuit.

Fortunately, Uinen was the type that liked to be caught—

—eventually.

There were storms on the sea that night.