“…Isil the Sheen the Vanyar of old named the Moon, flower of Telperion in Valinor; and Anar the Fir-golden, fruit of Laurelin, they named the sun. But the Noldor named them also Rána, the Wayward, and Vása, the Heart of Fire, that awakens and consumes; for the Sun was set as a sign for the awakening of Men and the waning of the Elves, but the Moon cherishes their memory.
The maiden whom the Valar chose from among the Maiar to guide the vessel of the Sun was named Arien, and he that steered the island of the Moon was Tilion. In the days of the Trees of Arien had tended the golden flowers in the gardens of Vána, and watered them with the bright dews of Laurelin; but Tilion was a hunter of the company of Oromë, and had a silver bow. He was a lover of silver, and when he would rest he forsook the woods of Oromë, and going into Lórien he lay in dream by the pools of Estë, in Telperion’s flickering beams; and he begged to be given the task of tending for ever the last Flower of Silver. Arien the maiden was mightier than he, and she was chosen because she had not feared the heats of Laurelin, and was unhurt by them, being from the beginning a spirit of fire, whom Melkor had not deceived or drawn to his service. Too bright were the eyes of Arien for even the Eldar to look on, and leaving Valinor she forsook the form and raiment which like the Valar she had worn there, and she was as a naked flame, terrible in the fullness of her splendor…”—J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion
Vernal birth and autumnal death: colors, change, and transitions—these were his favorite seasons; and in autumn’s signal end, the hills and woods were changed.
Already, the first to change—sumacs of thickets growing low and thick, reclaiming clearings back to woods, had run their course of live-blood red and cool to darker shade of end before falling as thatch on earth beneath—already ran their course; and only the nakedness of narrow trunks and single-story canopy shone.
The greater woods lived in full colors: gold and yellows shone on the hardwood hickories, walnuts, pecans of the hills and too in the sycamores of lowland holds beside bends in the stream carving valley beneath; and interspersed were the scarlets of oaks in their varied forms and finer names.
On sighs of the sky, leaves released, flittering and falling to the earth, movement of the canopy casting glimmer and shadow so that even darkness became element and accent to light.
Denim jeans, leather boots, they both wore. Above, he wore a flannel shirt, warming and light, that still let sense and touch of autumn cool pass through in affect when winds of the world stirred.
Above, she wore a white shirt and cardigan sweater, brown sleeves tight and covering to her fair skinned arms, as through the white of season’s cool, she shone beyond the autumn and too of spring in sign of softly-swollen buds.
He walked beside her under the wave and dance of light, sun showing through the trees, and he thought of a story.
In golden light and season, there she was in living form, carrier of the sun with eyes that shone beyond vessel and containment of the body, a spirit of the same that from silver light of half-lived spirit, she awakened him from dream and into flame of light.
Sun caught on her face, and she gleamed, radiant, tail of cardigan flowing behind in grace of movements and catch of wind, as her hair lit as strands of sunlight of their own, and she their source of ray.
She moved with mirth and equanimity, at peace and home in the hills and woods and season of sun and gold; and beside her, he absorbed it all anew. For, with her it seemed: a different world, a different way, a different gold, a beginning and not an end.
As in story, they were, she keeper and protector of Laurelin-gold and light; and he the silver dreamer who in sun’s set, would touch into a distant realm, returning dreams and thoughts and inspirations from reflection of silver light from run and speak of stream in valley beneath.
Together, they would make a world, bring life and lore and legend to live beyond days and nights and time of their existence.
She smiled, and his heart warmed, fluttering like sky’s sighs in felling of the leaves, and in her guidance of Laurelin light through daytime sky, he dreamed too to Telperion’s silver flickers; when her raiment would fall and in gold and dance of campfire’s light she would reveal, and he would know and hold and stoke her naked flame in the fullness of her splendour.