As I told hrymfaxe in an email earlier today, I often compose stories (particularly ficlets) around a strong image, in this case the thrashing pine trees of Dorthonion. Dorthonion, to me, has always evoked a sepia-toned image: the brown earth and the white sky, the only color coming from the deep green of the pines. When I see Dorthonion, in my mind, I see the trees and I see the color of it and little else: For me, this defines this particular setting in The Silmarillion.
This is not something that I've shared with anyone because it is largely frivolous and irrelevant; however, hrymfaxe's work picks up on these images that I've held in my mind with an almost uncanny perception. The result is something that I think makes the ficlet more meaningful than my words alone ever could have.
Thank you, hrymfaxe, for such a lovely gift!