That Which Is Fairest

Three strands she gave me, ere we left Lorien.

One, radiant as warm gold. Another, cool luster of mithril. The third… ah, the third! Some metal never mined, mithril and gold both, yet surpassing either. So must the light of the two trees have shone, caught mingled in jewel-stuff.

I had thought their faces ugly, bald cheeked and bare chinned. Fair to each other, I supposed, but never to my eyes matching the comeliness of full luxurious tresses.

Then I beheld her, and realized I had been blind. Her gift opened my eyes. Now I see so much more beauty.