jules

It’s a calm, domestic moment that brings to you both a rare peaceful and comforting feeling.

“Tell me if I’m pulling too much.”

Thorin lets out a genuinely amused laugh. “Do you believe you could hurt me?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you doubting me?”

“Well, yes. If you think your strength is enough to inflict me pain you are out of your– ah!” The dwarf king snaps backwards when you pull one of the locks you had divided.

You giggle. “Oops, I’m sorry, that was unintentional.”

You can’t see him but you know he’s rolling his eyes. “Sure,” Thorin agrees sarcastically, his expression way too serious for the joke you have just pulled.

When you finish braiding, you step back to look at the result. Your eyes widen. His hair look so elegant, elaborately embroided like that. In one big central braid are converging smaller ones, while the remaining loose thick hair fall free, wavy and heavy, under your creation, making the whole outcome extremely appealing to the gaze.

Thorin appears ethereal. Elvish, almost, but you’re careful avoid to say that. “You look gorgeous,” you comment instead. “Royal. It suits you a lot.”

You turn around to face him and notice his embarrassed expression. “Is that it?”