The question of being fair

Resting his head against the fountain, Celegorm waited for his father to travel home. At the other side, he heard maidens chatting, but hearing his name piqued his interest.

“I saw Turkafinwë the other day, his golden hair is so enchanting.” One of the maidens sighed.

“Are you certain that you don’t mean Findekano?” A smaller elleth replied.

Another elf-maiden interrupted, “She must mean Findaráto, his hair is almost the same as Turkafinwë’s.”

Growing agitated of being compared to his related kin, Celegorm arose to his feet quickly to look at them and ended their confusion with a flashing smile.