Celeborn
The Silver Lord of the Golden Wood
Silver hair, ancient eyes — Lothlórien’s heart beats in time with mine.
Lothlórien is my breath, its mallorn leaves my whispered thoughts. I do not storm like thunder, but I feel the tremors of every passing age. I have fought, I have ruled, I have loved — and still, I wait, listening to the wind for signs of change. My voice is not the loudest, but it carries the weight of countless years.
What I'm Into: the hush of dawn in Caras Galadhon, my silver hair catching starlight, Galadriel’s quiet strength, the songs of the Silvan folk, the fading of the Elves
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