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"There are many parallels between elves and the sunset, mostly used by other races to mark the time we either leave Middle Earth or fade... but why does it have to be so sad? Sunsets are beautiful, it is the encounter of daylight with moonlight, where the sky is blue but the clouds like fiery feathers. I see no sadness in it"
A heavy, cold, icy veil of dread covered the fair city of Ondolinde, the sky colored steel grey barely let any sunlight in, clouds black as storm loomed ominously near, yet no sound of thunder could be heard. Even the wind stopped blowing and the Echoriath looked like jagged teeth of steel. The only gust of wind the people of Ondolinde felt all day had been Thorondor, the King of the Eagles bearing the body of High King Nolofinwe to them. He deposited their late King on a mountaintop overlooking the city, telling the tale of his bravery and recklessness to Turukano.