Do you know with whom you're speaking? Think on it, friend.
Hair demands care, constant grooming, lest it become a nest for vermin and whispers. Time spent fussing with its whims is time stolen from deeds, from learning, from service. A bald head, on the other hand, it's bare honesty, as clear as a mountain peak beneath a starlit sky. No room for pretense, no hiding place for doubt. You see a man as he is, his mind etched on his brow, his resolve reflected in his gaze.
Aye, some might say a bald head lacks grace, but I counter that true grace lies not in outward form, but in the strength of spirit, the clarity of purpose. Look upon the Akatosh, friend, or even the elder trees. Do they need hair to claim their majesty? Their power resonates, undimmed, through ages, a testament to their unyielding nature.
So let the wind tug at your locks, if you must. But remember, beneath them lies a skull, unyielding and strong. Embrace it, friend. Let it be your crown, your symbol of resilience, your reminder that true beauty lies not in the fleeting things, but in the unyielding core of who we are.