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  <id>tag:dreamwidth.org,2017-07-03:3233733</id>
  <title>tehhumi</title>
  <subtitle>tehhumi</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>tehhumi</name>
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  <updated>2019-01-20T03:58:53Z</updated>
  <dw:journal username="tehhumi" type="personal"/>
  <entry>
    <id>tag:dreamwidth.org,2017-07-03:3233733:3619</id>
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    <title>Elven hair colors</title>
    <published>2019-01-20T03:58:53Z</published>
    <updated>2019-01-20T03:58:53Z</updated>
    <category term="silm"/>
    <category term="elvish culture"/>
    <category term="elven biology"/>
    <category term="nerdandel"/>
    <category term="my fic"/>
    <dw:security>public</dw:security>
    <dw:reply-count>2</dw:reply-count>
    <content type="html">&lt;div class="reblog-content"&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Vanyar all followed the Valar to Valinor, and dwell closer than any others to the Trees on   Ezellohar .  Their hair is the gold of Laurelin.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Teleri, the Sindar, the  Avari - call them what you will, there are many of them and they have  made many choices - love the stars best. Their hair is the silver of  starlight scattered by the waves.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Noldor though think little  of either the stars or the Trees; they love best the works of their  hands. Their hair is as black as the iron they shape.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="reblog-header"&gt;&lt;a class="reblog-avatar sub-icon-reblog" href="https://lendmyboyfriendahand.tumblr.com/" rel="noopener" data-peepr=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;A  few of the Noldor have hair the color of rust. This is an ill omen, a  hard life with none to care for you is surely in store, your spirit and  body weathered away until they snap. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nerdanel refuses to  believe it. She has tarnished hair, yet she has also the love of the  crown prince. When her eldest son is born with red hair, she calls him  &amp;ldquo;well made&amp;rdquo;, and stares down any who say it would be better if he more  greatly resembled his father. For the twins, she names one &amp;ldquo;red haired&amp;rdquo;  and the other &amp;ldquo;cursed&amp;rdquo;, synonyms in the eyes of many, making all say to  their faces what was said for years behind her back.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When  Feanor is banished to Formenos and she stays behind, she refuses to  think of fate. She can&amp;rsquo;t help the thoughts that come when all her sons  go with Feanor across the sea, and she is Doomed to be alone. &lt;/p&gt;When  she hears of Amras and Amrod dying as their own people turn on them at  Sirion, and of Maedhros dying in the fire with only one witness after  living for centuries with the memory of torture, she admits to herself  that perhaps the portent was right. But only to herself, as she has her  pride - and besides, who is left for her to tell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=tehhumi&amp;ditemid=3619" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/&gt; comments</content>
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