Short Tales of Arda by grey_gazania

Light

Thanks to the Lizards for their help.

In the gardens of Tirion, flowers have been replaced by a haphazard patchwork of vegetables - a row of tomatoes here, a rectangle of cabbages there, vital for survival and growing only by the grace of Yavanna. Digging in the cold earth, the Noldor rely on the fickle light of candles and oil-lamps to push back the ever-present gloom. If, in the privacy of their homes, they choose the unwavering glow of a Fëanorian lamp…well, as long as the curtains drawn, no one ever need know. They are the people of the stars, but their spirits ache for brighter light, hot and gleaming, and when the last fruits of the Trees finally take to the sky and dance over the earth, the shouts of joy do not echo only in Endórë.