"How indeed?" Fingon murmurs to himself, a little wry and a little sad. "I suppose I taught myself not to think on it very much. An easier thing to do, perhaps, when it did not linger in the air before me."
His eyes follow Myr's to the spirits about them, mimicking the lives of people he once saw every day. "Of course; ask as much as you like. As for the clothing- well," he laughs, "my people are known for being terrible show-offs."
Which might explain a few things about Fingon's favorite hairstyles.
"But no, this is the Great Square- few among the Noldor would choose to be seen at less than their best before the King's House, and fewer still would forego the chance to model their own work. Every metalworker here- and there are a fair few, I expect- is wearing an armband or cloak-pin of his own design. And the nissi of the Embroiderer's Guild are, if anything, even prouder of their work."
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His eyes follow Myr's to the spirits about them, mimicking the lives of people he once saw every day. "Of course; ask as much as you like. As for the clothing- well," he laughs, "my people are known for being terrible show-offs."
Which might explain a few things about Fingon's favorite hairstyles.
"But no, this is the Great Square- few among the Noldor would choose to be seen at less than their best before the King's House, and fewer still would forego the chance to model their own work. Every metalworker here- and there are a fair few, I expect- is wearing an armband or cloak-pin of his own design. And the nissi of the Embroiderer's Guild are, if anything, even prouder of their work."