A/N: This chapter leans a bit more towards actual slashiness, but it's still very, very, PG.  As always, it is all the creation of Tolkien; I'm just borrowing them for a bit.

Mahtan keeps his hair bound back if he's working by the forge; vanity is not worth setting oneself on fire for.  But whenever he gets the chance – whether he's taking a break or working away from the flames – he lets it loose, because he is vain, at least about this one thing.  He makes combs and circlets of copper and tells himself he is going to give them to Nerdanya, but half the time they mysteriously end up staying in his possession.

"You ought to braid that cursed stuff back," mutters the dwarf (and Mahtan knows his name, yes, but he is still sometimes 'the dwarf' in his mind, the only one in Valinor, after all).  "You're getting hair all over the plans."  And he is not, and besides Gimli is working on a part of the design, a present for that Sindarin friend of his, that Mahtan's hair is not even touching.

Then the damned dwarf, obviously not content with simply being rude and irritating, tugs a lock of hair hard enough to make Mahtan's eyes water.  "Stop that!" he says, a little louder than he should, and a couple of the smiths on the other side of the room look up before deciding it is best if they pretend the odd pair do not exist.  "Must you be such a…" He can't think of a good enough word, and so finishes up, a trifle lamely, "such a dwarf!"

Gimli chuckles.  "Why are you so obsessed with that hair of yours, anyway?  It's hardly your best feature."

He feels like he should be offended by that, but somehow he's not.  "It's considered quite distinguished among the Quendi, I'll have you know.  Very rare.  Besides which, I am not obsessed."

And the dwarf roars with laughter.  "And among my people it's as common as muck, so quit your airs.  I've got cousins galore with hair like yours, and none of them let it flop around in that ridiculous fashion."

"It does not flop," he mutters, but cannot help but smile at the image of dwarves like Gimli but with red hair like his own.  They go back to the design for a bit, until Mahtan, trying his best to be casual about it, asks, "So what is my best feature, then, Master Dwarf? In your expert opinion."

A hand slides across his own, squeezing gently.  "Right here.  The rest of you just looks pretty, Elf.  These can look pretty and make themselves useful as well."  The dwarf peers at the pattern.  "Do we really need all those frivolous Elf bits on it?" The question sparks off yet another argument, but the dwarf's hand lingers on his own, warm and steady, and Mahtan does not move away.