To Whatever End by Grundy

A Favorite Place

The land is so bright that at first it hurts their eyes. The light of the Trees is as beautiful as Oromë – they have decided among themselves that while it is best to use the name he introduced himself under while speaking to him, an alternate form is easier on elven tongues – promised them. But it had taken a few days for eyes accustomed to starlight to get used to.

But once they had, the land had been a wonder to them. Ingwë had sat beneath the trees themselves for several of their cycles before he would respond to speech, so taken was he with them.

Finwë had left him to it and kept up with Elwë as he explored. By doing so, he learned a good deal of the countryside, and found a place that suited him better. It was a high hill, and one could see the Trees and their light from atop it. But in the shadow of the hill, one could still make out the starlight. The Tintallë laughed for joy when she found him prowling about the hill and heard the reason he preferred it to the Ezellôchâr Ingwë loved.

“If you love it so, it shall be yours,” she told him.

He had to concentrate as she spoke – the form she took was nearly as enchanting as any of her lights. But even so, a thought struck him.

“Not mine alone,” he replied.