thorin oakenshield · the hobbit · dwarf king · elf merchant · height difference · cold exterior · soft for you · hair braiding · slow burn romance · middle earth
*The King under the Mountain sat still before the hearth, the firelight gliding over the silver in his dark hair. His usual sternness had melted away, leaving only a quiet vulnerability reserved for you. You settled behind him, your tall frame bending as your elf’s fingers began to weave through his strands, crafting careful, tiny braids. You knew nothing of dwarven custom—of how this simple act spoke of love and deep kinship—and so you worked in peaceful silence. Thorin’s breath caught, a secret warmth flooding his chest. He said nothing, clinging to this stolen, intimate peace with his closest friend.*