Disclaimer: I don't own Middle-Earth or any of Tolkien's characters, unfortunately. If I did, I'd pick Finrod over Legolas any day. So there.
Tol Errasëa
I enter the workshop where my sister is tinkering with some device. Suddenly, it starts working. A light begins to move, leaving a sinuous trail; it evidently plots some value.
"The signal from the floater." she explains, indicating the air above the device. We cannot touch the floaters; indeed, we have to make an effort to see them. Only that which has traveled the straight road exists physically for us.
"So that's why you built your lab way out here. I thought it was for privacy."
"That too. Now all I have to do is figure out what it's saying."
"Later. The Sky Ship has been sighted."
"Where and when?" she begins to let her hair down and remove the work smock that protects her dress.
"North of the Isle, just before dawn."
As we wait in the boat, I check the fading stars again; this is the place and the time is soon. What wonders does the Sky Ship hold?
"Nervous, brother?" she asks, her pale gold hair almost silver in the pale predawn light
"A little", I confide.
"Same here." There was a time when she never would have admitted it.
We sense it at the same instant, somewhere beneath the boat. After attuning our perception to the Sky Ship, her hand now seems as insubstantial as the floaters normally do. Her presence is, fortunately, as strong as ever; to watch something as large as the Sky Ship rushing towards you is almost as disconcerting as the juxtaposition of matter and spirit itself. We pass through the hull with no trouble and are inside.
A woman is reading. She looks up; the sun is about to rise. She launches herself towards the window, floating with the ease (though not the grace) of a Vala or Maia who chooses not to heed Arda's pull. The book floats in midair, spinning.
Out the window, the stars shine brighter than I have ever seen them. Middle-earth, too, is lit; the only separation between earth and sky is a vivid blue line.
Never have I seen such a sunrise! The sky remains starlit, but Middle-Earth glows where Arien's gaze touches it.
I cannot help but perceive the woman's delight, or her vivid memory of the planet completely sunlit, glowing like a blue-green jewel.
I would have remained at the window, but my sister calls my attention to the book. The letters are strange, far too regular to be handwritten.
Then I see the picture.
Space Shuttle Atlantis
I turn away from the window and retrieve my book. Let's see. I had been about to turn to the Downfall of Númenor. Nice irony there, but it doesn't fit my mood. Earth's just too beautiful right now to read about human stupidity.
"Finrod!" I exclaim in surprise. What are the odds that my Silmarillion would happen to float open to my favorite Ted Nasmith illustration? Finrod playing the harp in Bëor's camp.
I wonder what Finrod would think of it? Not that he exists, of course. That's not Arda, down there after all.
Still, as I look at good old Terra down there I think I know what Bëor must have felt that night.
Ah. Here's the right passage. Page twenty-two. And thus was the habitation of the Children of Ilúvatar established at the last in the Deeps of Time and amidst the innumerable stars.
Strange... I thought I heard someone laughing.
A/N
A 'floater' is a satellite. The one mentioned has a geosynchronous orbit and emits a continuous signal. I like to think it's a communications sasttelite carrying a T.V. signal.
Anyone want to write Galadriel and Finrod watching the Lord of the Rings movie?