Book/Source: The Silmarillion
Disclaimer: Tolkien's the genius, not me.
Note: Here's all the drabbles at once, but in reverse order.
A Moment of Quiet
Finwë’s was the first tomb to be constructed in Valinor. Miriel Serindë’s body had been buried in a simple mound in the Gardens of Lórien; Finwë was laid to rest in a magnificent sepulcher of carven stone, marble and granite, though there had been little ceremony as his body had been laid to rest: they had no such ceremonies, here.
Findis stood before it beneath the black, starless sky. In the square, Fëanor roused their people to rebellion; but here it was quiet, and she could bow her head and weep in peace—for her father, and for her brothers.
Crystal lamps and candles sat scattered about the room, but all their light, even the lamps once thought to be so bright, seemed dim and weak against the darkness that lay like a heavy blanket over Tirion. Findis, sitting very still, watched Lalwen’s shadow on the wall, flickering with the candles so that it seemed to be moving on its own, dancing madly.
“Are we not also Finwë’s children?” Lalwen demanded, looking indeed every inch Finwë’s daughter, down to the obstinate jut of her chin. “Don’t you want to see him avenged?”
“Father would not,” Findis whispered.
Lalwen turned away.
A great wind came up from the east, flowing through the Calacirya and driving away the last shreds of Unlight. It was still dark, but this lasting night was not so terrible beneath Elentári’s stars, clear and cool and clean, the air smelling faintly of the Sea.
Findis stood on the high white walls of Tirion that shimmered faintly beneath the high Sickle’s swing, and watched the last torches of her brothers’ host vanish into the distance. But the cold east wind still carried their voices back, and their defiant songs sounded to Findis more like wailing, and she shivered.
A Thousand Shades of Grey
There was no color beneath the stars. Once Valinor had been a riot of color, every shade of the rainbow and more from gemstones glittering in the Treelight to tapestries of innumerable flowers in the fields and meadows, bobbing gently in the breeze.
Now everything had faded to black and white and a thousand shades of grey, and the only flowers Findis could find were tiny things, like pale imitations of the stars nestled in the grass. She knelt among them and wondered if they grew in the Outer Lands, and if her brothers would think to look for them.
The Moon’s first rising was a marvel, unexpected and sudden. Findis stood outside of Valmar with Ingwion, watching transfixed, breathless, as Telperion’s last bright flower rose over the hills, silver-white and smooth. Feathery clouds passed before it, hardly dimming its light at all—a bright echo of its parent Tree.
For a long time there was silence, until the bells of Valmar began pealing. Ingwion laughed aloud, taking Findis’ hands to spin her around; he shone almost as bright as a Maia, his hair like white gold and his eyes aflame. “See, cousin?” he cried. “The Shadow cannot conquer forever!”
If Moonrise had been marvelous, the first Sunrise was something else entirely. It began as a faint glimmer on the horizon, as the sky turned first pale grey and then to gold and finally to brilliant blue, and the world around seemed to spring to life again: grass greener than green, and flowers of every hue and shade. The bells of Valmar rang louder than ever now, and the people lifted their voices in bright songs.
Findis did not sing; her heart was still heavy with grief. But she stood in the first sunbeams and felt their warmth, and smiled.