Far above Arda, Tilion lazily floated through the realm of the stars. Within the crystal confines of his lantern bloomed Isil, the last flower of Telperion, the tree which he had cherished when he dwelt in Valinor. Every night Tilion traversed the earth, but never was the course of his island straight, for his thoughts were upon Arien, the Maiden of the Sun. Most beauteous was she, a spirit of fire, keeper of the golden fruit of Laurelin. Ever did he pine for her, but always did she elude him, laughing playfully, her eyes shining as two orbs of gold.