This story has been brewing in my mind for some time, so I judge that it's high time that I let it out. Here's the disclaimer: I believe that Christopher Tolkien owes everything and everyone in this story except Puigion, Duidil, Silorë, and Noldarel. I own them! Yay!!

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Oromë had called all his hunters together. There was a long line of them, all the way from young Silorë to old Noldarel. Oromë paced up and down this line. He said, "Yavanna is to attempt to make sources of light to replace the Lamps that, through Melkor's treachery, have been destroyed. The sources are to be in the shape of trees. She has asked me to pick one of you to be the Keeper of one of these Trees. This is a great honour and a very serious job. This tree is take up your whole life. Which of you shall volunteer?" He stopped pacing as three of his hunters came forward: Tilion, Puigion, and Duidil. "Why do you wish to be the Keeper of the Tree, Tilion?"

The dark-haired youth answered in his clear ringing voice: "I wish to serve Milady in any capacity possible, and, as you know, --" he blushed "--I'm not so great at hunting." Most of the hunters laughed, and Tilion grinned good-naturedly. "I'm afraid I'm a bit of a burden to you, Milord, and by tending the Tree, I hope to earn my keep."

Oromë applauded. "Very noble reasons, my dear! Puigion, why would you like to be the Keeper of the Tree?" he asked, wondering why in Valinor Puigion would want to care for the Tree. He was a stickler for cleanliness, and, to Oromë, tending a Tree didn't sound very clean.

"Hunting is to dirty a sport," said Puigion in his fussy way. "Too much blood. Trees sound cleaner."

Oromë laughed. "Hmmmmm. Duidil, why would you like to be the Keeper of the Tree?" Duidil was silent. "Duidil, Valinor to Duidil . . . " Oromë said. The hunters laughed.

That did the trick. Duidil jolted awake. "Wh-what, Milord?" he stammered.

Oromë asked his question again.

Duidil looked sheepish. "Oh, so that was what I was volunteering for. Ummm . . . I dunno." This was typical Duidil for you, never paying attention. Everyone laughed, and Oromë sent Duidil back to his place in disgrace.

"Shall we vote?" asked Oromë. "Or shall I simply decide?"

"Vote!" chorused all the hunters. Tilion looked decidedly nervous.

Poor guy, thought Oromë. He wants so badly to be the Tree-Keeper, but he feels for sure that Puigion will get more votes. A thought struck him suddenly. I must remember to tell him that he is most decidedly not a burden. Having finished his train of thought, he said, "Well, let the voting commence. Who believes that Puigion should be the Keeper of the Tree?" Only a few of the hunters raised their hands. Well then, I suppose Tilion wins, he thought. But just to be fair . . . "And who thinks that Tilion should be the Keeper of the Tree?" he asked. All the rest of the hunters raised their hands, a majority by far.

Oromë watched as Tilion looked, amazed, looked out into the forest of hands. Oromë's grin almost matched Tilion's when Tilion realized he had won. Oromë announced, "It appears that Tilion is the Keeper of the Tree!" Cheers erupted from the hunters.

Tilion was still in a state of mild shock. "I didn't know I had this many friends," he whispered to Oromë.

Oromë whispered back, "We are all your friends. I shall come for you when it is time for the Making. You'll be at the Gardens of Lorien, right?" Tilion nodded gratefully and quietly slipped off. Oromë turned back to the hunters. "Gathering dismissed!"

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More later!!!! And yes, it most definitely is romance. The girl just hasn't entered the story yet. It will be continued after I get a couple reviews.