(Disclaimer: The characters belong to JRR Tolkien. All references are from The Silmarillion, or HoME Volumes 1, 3, 10, 11 and 12. Nothing is mine except the interpretation, a few minor characters and any mistakes.)

With thanks to Bellemaine and to Emalin.

“Her father, Mahtan, was a great smith, and among those of the Noldor most dear to the heart of Aulë. Of Mahtan Nerdanel learned much of crafts that women of the Noldor seldom used: the making of things of metal and stone.’

(The later Quenta Silmarillion. HoME 10 Morgoth’s Ring JRR Tolkien. HarperCollins Ed 2002 p 272)

The house of Sarmo Urundil. Seventh Age.

I used to stand by the window of our room in the high tower of our house in Tirion. I used to stand and watch to the west when I knew, through our bond of fëar, that he was returning from a journey. Always would I hurry to give him welcome for, particularly when he and our sons had been away on long exploration, I would be delighted at the prospect of our reunion. For a time upon his return I alone laid claim to his interest. Happy years were they.

When they all went into exile, when my lord and our sons went into the north to build the fortress of Formenos, I oft looked hence from my room in the high tower of my father’s house. But a poor view had I from that location as, to the north, the foothills of the mountains obscure the vista. My sons rode forth at times to pay me visit. But ever loyal to their father were they that their company was less frequent than I wished. It was Makalaurë, Carnistir and the twins whom I saw most often. Tyelkormo I saw not at all.

Then, when they all left this land in the darkness on that second, that most dread exile, I said my ‘farewells’ to each of them - but I could not watch them depart.

When we again had light, I oft stood atop the turret of the high tower of my father’s house, looking into the east. Though by then I knew that my lord was slain, that our youngest son had perished, I still had hope for the remaining six and for Tyelpinquar - until Eärendil set foot in Aman.

There came the time when the Valar allowed the return of the exiles from the Hither Lands. After the War of Wrath many of those exiled returned with the armies of the Vanyar, and those Noldor led by King Arafinwë. I went with my mother to the harbour that was then being built upon Tol Eressëa. Cloaked and hooded we went; that it was not obvious to all whom we were. It would not have done for those returning to see amongst their first sights of the West, the wife of he who had led them to such tribulation.

Though I believed and hoped that my two eldest sons yet lived, neither of them returned with the fleet. Indeed, so fell was the news concerning them that my husband’s youngest brother, our king, brought word to me himself, rather than send a messenger.

Maitimo was dead - having killed again to seize a Silmaril from the camp of Eonwë, he had then cast himself and the jewel into a fiery chasm in seeming utter despair.

None truly knew what had befallen Makalaurë; save he had taken the last Silmaril, but then cast it into the sea – it having burnt and scared his hands most terribly. Some few even said he had cast himself into the waters after the jewel, and drowned. Yet rumours had persisted that he had wandered to the northern shores, though none made specific claim to have seen him.

Throughout that Second Age I still looked to the east, for the return of my second son, or of my grandson. It was never to happen.

Not that I was the only one to suffer grievous disappointment. Many were to realise the fate of those from whom they had been sundered was to bide long in the halls of Námo Mandos. Bide long the slain of the Noldor did, save a few such as the Lords Glorfindel and Ecthelion, and Prince Findaráto.

Yet now have all who will, returned from the Hither Lands; and very many returned from the care of Mandos that it seems I alone am still bereaved. Prince Findekáno returned of late to his mother’s people and now dwells of choice upon Tol Eressëa. They say that Turukáno will also soon return. That Anairë’s eldest son walks in the land of the living should renew my expectancy. Yet it does but make me brood upon my situation. Though the Valar understand my pain, it is in my thoughts that - for the good of all the Noldor - they can never allow any son of Fëanáro to be restored, to greet again of his mother in the Realm of Aman.

“Though you do no wrong in seeking an end to your grief, yet I believe that the higher path is to endure your vigil,” Istyaro replied, when first I wrote him of my troubled mind mood. “Some things are hidden in the will of Eru, that we know not all that may transpire. And the Valar look less willingly upon those who would be restored, having once chosen to lay down their life.”

My learned friend from of old has a very good point. Who is to say that if I chose to depart of life in hröa, one of my sons might not then be granted restoration? Who is to say that Makalaurë does not yet live – that he may not at last find his way home?

Who truly knows, save for Eru?

If the Valar are yet compassionate, and what is told by those restored is true - that great love binds fëar even in that place of Mandos - I could again be with my sons; be with some of them, at a time of my choosing. Mayhap could I even be with he whom I abandoned to himself? If he still has any love for me, as I have for him, mayhap that will be my doom?

But it will not be yet!

No more watching from towers or windows for those who do not return. No more crafting in stone. It is long since time I put away my works of sculpting and took up my pen to do battle with Moringotho’s legacy - to set down in script the truth of those memories that are my glory, as well as my shame. It is long since time I took up the battle against Morgoth Bauglir that my lord began, and in the only way I can.

- - - - - - -

I was born in the Year of the Trees 1180, during that time when many of the Eldar first began the bearing of children in safety. Prince Finwion – Fëanáro - first begotten in Aman was himself born late in the previous year. Following the lead of their king, the Noldor began to again seek increase to their numbers. Yet all was not as joyful as it should have been for, in the bearing of Fëanáro, Queen Míriel became consumed in hröa and in fëa. She yearned from that time forth for release from life. That was the first sorrow to enter the Blessed Realm, and at it many wondered.

My father, Sarmo Urundil - also known in some writings as Mahtan - gave me the name Nerdanel. He is still a great craftsman amongst the Noldor, being foremost in the regard of the Vala, Aulë. Though my father has always had a most stern streak of temperament and is sometimes brusque with his apprentices, yet has he always loved me dearly and sought my happiness. Only to be expected it was that he wished to bring two of his greatest loves together. So from him, and from an early age, was I given tutelage in those skills of metal and stone that are rare amongst nissi.

Istarnië was the name given me by my mother, Arátiel Taurlotë. The wisdom for which the Noldor were already renowned was she thinking of when she gave me that name. Wisdom and patience are characteristics she has always valued highly. From her it was that I learnt much of true nobility. From her was I given understanding of the history and lore of our people, and skill in the tending of plants. My mother has always had a love of learning, of knowledge of many kinds. I remember her joy in sharing with me the early works of the sage, Rúmil, who was the first to develop a written script. She also loves the stars and would, when the mood was upon her, wander with me to the seashores where we would spend long ages together watching the sky. There would she tell me of the starlit Hither Lands to the east of the seas, whence she and my father had originally come - the memory of which was imbedded in her heart. In the service of Varda do I think my mother would have been most happy. But a true Noldo is she, who likes making things of her own cunning. When I was a child she would draw and paint the likenesses of the Valar in the physical forms they oft appeared to us. She would make carvings in stone, small sculptures for the most part, but lifelike to behold. So were my earliest works mostly imitations of hers, in drawing and painting and sculpting.

We lived then as we do now, in a sprawling collection of houses clustered at the western end of the Calacirya near the foothills of the Pelóri Mountains: the dwellings of the Aulenduri! In those times Aulë was ever the friend and helper of all the Noldor, but we were among the families who had entered his service. From him we received instruction in the lore of metalwork, stonework, and the crafting of gems - in weaving and shaping of wood and the tilling of the land. My father’s good service since his arrival in Aman had ensured he was most dear to Aulë. He was oft a guest in the halls of that mighty Vala. My mother and I would, when chance allowed, accompany him there. Thus, from my earliest memories, was I familiar with some few of the Valar and Maiar.

I loved Aulë: his generosity of heart, his pleasure in works of skill - his desire to make things new and unheard of. Mostly I loved the way he - one of the Great Ones - gave praise and counsel to others, and listened to them in turn. He listened most attentively to my father’s setting forth of plans and devices. Indeed, there was only ever one whom Aulë loved and listened to more than Urundil.

Now rarely was the work of the Aulenduri disturbed, but given the location of our dwellings as well as the requirements of our expertise by others, some visitors we inevitably had. Near times of festival our visitors were oft the highborn lords and ladies of our people whose estates lay on the edge of Eldamar and Valinor, and who were travelling to and from the fair city of Tirion. Sometimes would they halt to request refreshment from us. At other times would they seek to take rest in the many roomed house provided by my parents for that purpose. Then it was that the neri would take of opportunity to discuss works of craft with my father and his leading apprentice, Narwasar. Though of nature were my father and our artisans reluctant to leave their pursuits, yet was the welcoming of others a most noble duty. Despite his brusqueness, my father could be patience itself when explaining his craft to any who showed genuine interest.

My mother and our servants took upon themselves the main task of offering hospitality; so my father be not disturbed save at great need. From the first I could walk I sought to give aid to my mother in that service, though out of curiosity as well as a desire to be considerate. Fiercely proud, yet beautiful to look upon were our lords and ladies, and a most intriguing sight were their colourful cavalcades to me as a young maid. I would eagerly watch their approach - and when they left I would rush up the many flights of stairs to watch their departure from my widow until they were but specks against the far distant green hill of Túna.

During those visits, while the lords were occupied with my father, my mother and I spent time with their ladies. Strange did I find their lack of interest in smith craft. Strange, no doubt, did many a lady find me. Though they would attempt to speak with me of broidery, herbs and plants, yet did they look perplexed when I turned conversation to the smithy.

“What an unusual hína, Lady Taurlotë! So knowledgeable for her years; yet think you not she dwells overmuch in the forge?”

“Nerdanel is as Eru intends her to be. (All did bow their heads at the use of that name.) My lord Urundil does but encourage her natural inclinations; as do I”

Most of the ladies would smile kindly upon me at hearing such words from my mother, but some few would continue to view me as an oddity. Once I heard what I was not meant to, and that from a lady of aloof elegance speaking to her maid:

“The child of this house has unnatural interests – but as she has no great beauty to enthral the lords of the city, it will be no loss for her to find her place working amongst the stone masons.”

No great beauty! Do not all of the Eldar, all of the Quendi, possess beauty? Does it not draw us; inspire us in our thoughts and deeds? Yet beauty is not only of the kind that meets the eye. I had not thought of myself as beautiful or otherwise until that moment. But never had I heard any speak thus of another. That fine lady’s words so stung me that I hurried up the stairs to my room, where I examined my features in the mirror upon the wall.

So for the first time I made thorough study of myself, as if I would later make a sketch. My hair was not the usual dark brown or black hue of the Noldor, and was a touch unruly when un-braided, having a will of its own in whether it would curl or no. My eyes were just a little smaller, a little more almond of shape than some would wish for; my mouth was somewhat small, though well curved were my lips. I knew not how I was expected to appear to meet that high lady’s criteria, but experimented with varying expressions and arrangements of hair until, after at least half of one hour, my mother found me so doing. 

Moving aside the russet and green tapestry cushions, she sat upon the coverlet of my bed and spoke most gently to me.

“Do not confuse high-born blood with nobility, daughter; though most times do both go together. Yet some of our lords and our ladies have more arrogance - more ignorance - than is good for them.”

Wise words they were, from one who knew the noblest, the most beautiful of our ladies as a childhood friend and had been amongst her companions on the Great March.

“Beauty is important,” she continued, “but those who make comment upon what they perceive from a few moments glance are somewhat immature, do you not think? Nobler are they who seek to praise, rather than to belittle. Those who are truly beautiful think little of it.”

“That I understand, mother” I had sought to reassure her that I was not overly distressed.

She had smiled in return, but sought to reassure me all the same. “Though in appearance you have made no great impression upon that lady, yet are you beautiful, Nerdanel.”

But she was my mother! I would not have expected her to say otherwise.

Though neither my mother nor I travelled to the city in the days of my childhood, we knew a little of what transpired in Tirion. My father would travel there himself six times a year, or more often should the king summon him. A few of the Aulenduri had set up a small enclave within the city walls, to be at hand for the immediate requirement of the king’s house as well as of others. Amongst them were my father’s sister’s family. So were we kept informed of the desires and delights of those seeking to build new dwellings or to make decoration of their existing ones. Also were we informed of the marriages and births amongst the folk with whom we were aquatinted. All of the Aulenduri knew of the most disconcerting news - the weakness endured by our queen - and of the fast growing reputation of the son she sacrificed so much to bear.

“It is said that the young Finwion has much of the look of Míriel about him,” my mother had commented one instance at late meal. The first comment I was to consciously hear of him, it was.

My father, who had recently returned from a visit with King Finwë, had nodded in agreement.

“So I have observed, Taurlotë. Though dark of hair is he, like unto his father. I met him but once. Swift of thought and word is he, for a child. Onónon has begun tutoring him in smith craft, Tulcavaryar in sport and the hunt and Niecarindo in lore. He holds much promise I deem, to have the skills of both his parents, and a great love of knowledge.”

“And great impetuousness and temper too, it is said - that Míriel named him Fëanáro!”

My father made a wry expression that suggested there was some truth to this mother-name of insight. “Onónon said that he finds the prince - challenging!”

But Finwë was a strong king who commanded great devotion and respect. We thought he would also be a strong and guiding father. No need had we to be overly concerned with the ‘Spirit of Fire’s’ seemingly complex nature. The children of the Eldar have ever been most biddable, and Prince Finwion’s parents would assuredly teach him of restraint, as he grew older.

Now there was one time when Tolfaen, the renowned Teleri silversmith paid us visit at my father’s request. He stayed at our house for several days as honoured guest, rather than in the separate dwelling. I liked him well; for he was very different in appearance and demeanour from the apprentices whose company I was used to. Gently spoken was he, though enthusiastic when talking of the skills he had learnt from the Maia, Salmar. On one particular occasion did he call me ‘Nerdanel the Wise’, for the vast amount of my childish ‘wisdom’ I freely bestowed upon him; and he gave me a necklace made from seashells. (Though of nature am I one to listen carefully to others, yet in my younger days could I talk overmuch to those whom I esteemed.) Most knowledgeable was he that my father - who preferred working with copper - sought to learn more of silver craft from him. A friend of my parents from that time forth, Tolfaen was to visit with them many times in the following years, and even to offer me an apprenticeship in the skills of the Teleri smiths.

So it was that we lived fairly quietly in the days of my childhood. I was most content with the life that had been granted me. Then, when I was almost two years of age, King Finwë himself came to visit.

- - - - - - -

Now as is well known, the stonemasons of the Noldor quarrying to find marble with which to build, had come across those gifts of Aulë, those gems of the earth whose radiance so enchants us. Freely we gave of them to each other and oft to the Teleri, with whom we had a deep friendship. It was, of course, in answer to the prayers of our king that Ulmo brought the Teleri into the west in the first place. My parents said that there had been rejoicing amongst our people when those of the third kindred had, at last set foot upon these shores. Not so long before I was born, my parents had themselves given aid in building the Swan Haven, the city of Alqualondë for King Olwë. (Alas for the horror that befell that friendship, for the abomination of Teleri blood spilt by the Noldor - by my family!) But at the time I would write of, work had been undertaken amongst the Aulenduri of crafting the most impressive of the gems into fine jewellery. There was to be a gift of one friend to another, a gift from King Finwë to King Olwë. To see what progress my father had made with that work was the reason for our guest’s presence.

My mother spoke to me with thinly veiled concern, however. “This visit is as much an attempt to bring some lightness of heart back to our queen,” she had whispered. “Your father will attend the king and the prince. Look you to the needs of Queen Míriel, as will I. For I fear that she may be beyond cheering and, valiant though her heart is, she is without strength or joy.”

So young I was, so innocent of the world about me. To me, life was joy: the pursuit of knowledge, delight in creating, wandering this Blessed Realm in wonder at the gifts given to us. The visit of Queen Míriel gave me much to consider.

As the king’s party approached along the avenue of oaks, dismounted from their horses and crossed the circular courtyard before our house, I made to stand beside my mother near the door of the main hall, to await a formal introduction. My first sight of the king, at the head of the group, was of a tall, lithe figure; broad of shoulder and narrow of hip. His hair of silken black fell loose to his waist. Garbed was he in a tunic of white, embroidered with thread of silver and gold. Palest grey were his trousers. His leather belt was embossed with silver and sapphires; grey leather boots were upon his feet and a plain silver circlet upon his brow. Never had I seen a lord I thought to be so dignified; so charismatically commanding. But it was his eyes - thoughtful, powerful grey-blue eyes - that drew my attention the most, so I noticed neither his entourage nor almost the lady at his side. Yet as the group entered the main door; no doubt did I have that lady was his queen, for it was to her those grey-blue eyes most frequently glanced, and with the light of love in their depths.

Though my mother had oft spoke to me of Míriel it was my first sight of her, also. Slender, and delicate of form for a Noldo was she, though most regal in demeanour and beautiful to behold. Her hair, confined in a net of small opals, was unusual in colour - like unto shimmering silver. The sapphire blue gown that she wore that day was overworked with elaborate silver designs amongst which were set further gems. And it was whispered by Failië, who stood behind me, that Míriel had made the designs herself! A queen she was, embroidering her own gowns! But then, there were never any who could compete with Míriel Þerendë in finesse of hand at embroidery.

Yet weary did Queen Míriel look. It seemed to me that her heart was heavy indeed. She stood at the side of her lord, speaking softly to all of those who greeted her. She smiled briefly, though most radiantly at my mother. But before my father had finished his introductions or could escort the king and queen to our great hall, she drew aside. Asking leave of her lord, then gesturing for her ladies to leave her be, she walked out of the entrance hall towards the gardens. My mother nodded to me, so it was that we both followed discreetly. Was it not what my mother had feared would come to pass?

We were not to speak with King Finwë at that time, nor hear the exchange concerning the progress of the gifts for Olwë, my mother and I. Neither were we to hear Finwë’s long account to my father of his pleasure in the fast growing skills of his beloved son, who had surprisingly been unable to accompany his parents on that particular visit.

(After the king had left, my father told us all that was said. He told us he had been apprehensive King Finwë would ask of him to oversee the instruction of his son, who, it appeared, was still proving challenging to Onónon. Though my father would have done whatever Finwë asked of him, he was not overly enthused about having the strong willed, hot-tempered prince as an apprentice, no matter how promising he was.)

“No need is there for your concern. I will but take a short rest here, for the fragrance of your garden is a pleasing tonic unto me.” The delicate enunciation of Míriel greeted us as we rounded the corner of the walled pleasance.

My mother made a curtsy, gesturing for me to do likewise; but the queen waved that the gesture was unnecessary. She and my mother had been friends in their youth, and were distantly related; both being descendents of Tata and Tatië - though of different lineage. It seemed she would have no unnecessary ceremony from Taurlotë.

Confident of their relationship, my mother spoke familiarly in response. “I am concerned for you, Míriel,” said she, taking a seat in the bower opposite our guest. “There is a steadfastness about you, but it is not a form that springs from true hope - only from resignation. I wish to be of assistance, if you would but permit?”

Míriel smiled faintly as if her thoughts were elsewhere. But then she fixed her brilliant eyes upon me that I could see of the stubborn strength within her fëa. Weak in body, consumed by giving birth to such a son, they said; yet as I watched her expressions, her movements, I saw how unassailable she was in spirit.

“There are none who can help me. What I desire must wait yet awhile,” she mused. Then, breaking the intensity of her gaze upon me, she turned again to address my mother. “So this is your daughter, Taurlotë?”

“Yes; forgive me, my queen. This is my daughter - Nerdanel.” My mother spoke with a pride that warmed me, bringing a smile to my face.

I had nothing to be ashamed of in the presence of our highest lady. Míriel was kindness itself. She smiled back at me in a thoughtful manner.

“Such rare colouring! Her hair is of a most unusual brown. It seems to have the odd streak of red lurking in its depths. I have not noticed such hair colour before,” she observed.

“Has that not oft been said of you, Míriel? Most rare is silver hair amongst the Noldor.”

“Unknown is copper-brown hair amongst the Eldar, save for your husband and his sister,” Míriel countered immediately.

My mother smiled at having drawn so swift a response. “Nerdanel has something of the colouring of her father, it is true, though of a far more muted tone. The glint of redness is only lit to flame in the full light of Laurelin.” She beckoned for me to sit next to her, and then raised a hand to stroke my hair as if it were something most precious to her. “That is not all she has inherited from my lord Urundil. She already has skill with stonework that makes him proud, though it is a little unusual in a wendë to have such interests.”

I coloured with emotion, as was my nature, at my mother’s words and I was concerned that the hue of my face was matching the red glints in my hair. Strong emotions were always hard for me to hide. One had but to look to my complexion to see what I felt in my heart. But Míriel did not seem to find this unbecoming. She appeared to behold me with ever more esteem.

“Your mother says she wishes to assist me. Do you also wish to be of help, little maid?”

There was the sound of sudden laughter, and we three turned abruptly to see what the commotion was about. But it was only the neri, crossing the courtyard to the forge. They would be examining the quality of the work done for King Finwë, and we could be excused yet awhile.

“I will help if I can, my queen.” I brought Míriel’s attention back to the moment.

“Ai, yes! Then there is something I would ask of you. Something that, with the skill your mother speaks of, you could do for me?”

“Willingly!” I had replied. Though little did I know to what that response would lead.

“Craft something for me - a sculpture, something from stone that I may admire. Make me something of life and of joy as you perceive it, and I will gift you in return.”

I was startled at the request, as well as at her generous offer of a gift. How could I make something fitting? Míriel was talented far beyond the likes of me. But I would not dishonour my father, or the skills he had taught me. So I curtseyed to her.

“That I shall do, my queen. I will start straight away.”

Míriel laughed openly, a sweetly musical sound that brought more animation to her face than I had previously seen. She was so very beautiful, I thought.

“Such eagerness in one so young! Wait at least until this visit is over. For will there not be feasting and singing and dancing to come?”

Putting a hand upon my shoulder, my mother spoke for and to me. “Indeed there shall be. And my daughter shall be part of it, though she would prefer to be making study, or out wandering in the hills.”

Míriel nodded thoughtfully, but there was a strange glimmer in her eyes. “All to the good.” she whispered, and leant forward to me. “But life is for happiness with others, also. Do not shut yourself away, little maid. Now, you shall send me my gift as soon as you may. It will be something to lift my heart; I have no doubt. My gift you may not have for a few years yet. Though it will be something most precious,” she added enigmatically.

We took a stroll around the pleasance, through the formal garden, the rose garden and on to the orchard, across the stepping-stones that led to my favourite grotto. We spoke of other matters, of memories of childhood shared, of games and dances and festivals. Soon enough, we returned to join the main party. Finwë was to surprise his wife with a necklace that my father had forged in secret, on the king’s instructions. Sapphires and diamonds shone brilliantly in a setting of finely wrought silver, creating an illusion of stars in a darkened sky. Míriel smiled, thanking her lord most profusely, but she had become weakened and her thoughts were again elsewhere.

As the queen departed some time later, her eyes sought me out in the crowd of well wishers. “Remember,” her voice was like soft music in my ears. “Remember my gift, Nerdanel, and care for it well when you receive it. I shall not make its like twice.”

‘Embroidery!’ I had thought. ‘It will be a piece of magnificent embroidery that I may show in future times to my own descendents, as an example of the queen’s esteem for me.’

I never saw her again. Míriel died! And her gift? It was not embroidery.

- - - - - - -

Makalaurë – Maglor

Carnistir - Caranthir

Tyelkormo – Celegorm

Tyelpinquar - Celebrimbor

Arafinwë – Finarfin

Findaráto – Finrod

Findekáno – Fingon

Turukáno - Turgon

Anarië – Fingolfin’s wife

Maitimo – Maedhros

Curvo – Curufin

Ambarussa the younger - Amras

Moringotho – Morgoth

Finwion – Childhood name of Fëanor.

Aulenduri - Servants of Aulë

Nís / nissi – Adult she-Elf. / she-Elves

Hína - Child

wendë - girl, young she-Elf

neri -he-Elves

Þerendë – Serendë. See The Shibboleth of Fëanor HoME 10 for Fëanor’s insistence on using the original Þ rather than ‘s’.

Tata and Tatië - In 'The legend of the Awakening of the Quendi' ( HoME 11) it says that Tata was the second Elf to awaken. Tatië, his spouse, was asleep beside him until he awoke her. From this couple, and those Tata chose of the subsequently awoken Elves, the Noldor would eventually spring.

Regarding Nerdanel’s hair colour: I can’t find an exact reference to her hair, though in ‘The Shibboleth of Fëanor’ The Peoples of Middle-Earth it says Carnistir had dark brown hair and the ruddy complexion of his mother. I assume from the manner in which this is expressed that she did not have dark brown hair. In The Shibboleth it also says that the first and last of Nerdanel’s children (Maitimo and the twins) had the reddish hair of her kin. (p353) (Not necessarily her!) Of her father, Urundil, it is said ‘ His hair was not as dark or black as was that of most of the Noldor, but brown, and had glints of coppery-red in it.’ (p336)

In ‘The problem of Ros’ The Peoples of Middle-Earth it says ‘…referring to red, red-brown hair of the first, sixth and seventh sons of Fëanor, descending to them from their maternal grandfather, father of Nerdanel, Fëanor’s wife, a great craftsman, devoted to Aulë.’. (p368)

There is the issue of the epessë given to Urundil of ‘rusco’, meaning ‘fox’, and, of course Russandol, ‘copper-top’ for Maitimo. The twins name, Ambarussa, is given as ‘top-russet’.

I have also been told that in the work ‘Vinya Tengwar: 41’ it is stated that Nerdanel has brown hair.

From all of this I am writing as if her hair is a medium brown with some red / copper glints in it. I am assuming that Maitimo and the younger of the twins have Urundil’s colouring. The elder twin is said to grow darker in hair colouring as he grows older. (p355)

Saying all this, I am no expert on Tolkien or on Quenya, so I could well be wrong.

Regarding Míriel’s hair colour, it says in ‘The Later Quenta Silmarillion’ Morgoth’s Ring, that her hair was like silver. It also says that Fëanor in childhood was like his mother in voice and countenance. In all the references I can find, Fëanor has raven-dark hair. Finwë is recorded in notes to ‘The Shibboleth of Fëanor’ as having black hair and brilliant grey-blue eyes.(p357)