Send ✂️ for your muse to give mine a haircut
[It wasn’t easy to guess which one of your muses would do that; I feel like they’d both like to mess with Ñoldorin hair if they could… then I thought it would be rather amusing with a young stupid gullible Curvo, so let’s go with Melkor in Valinor. And I hope it’s ok for you =)]
Curufinwë was still wondering how he could have let himself be convinced when an odious apprehension started to bubble in his guts. What was he doing there, sitting on a stool in front of this gigantic mirror, with a towel around his neck? Why had he accepted this stupid challenge? Nothing good could came out of it, and yet, he was there because he had decided to be there. But... did he really had to prove anything to anyone, or had he only been driven by his pride? How ridiculous.
In the mirror he could see the Vala leaning over a table behind him, but he could not make out what Melkor was actually doing... could he be sharpening scissors? Did scissors really had to be that sharp to cut a few strands of hair? And did he really want to have his hair cut?
“Are you certain you know how to do that…?” Curufinwë asked hesitantly, unsure of how to cover up his growing anxiety. The Vala, after all, wasn’t particular famous for his skills as a stylist…not among the Ñoldor at least. On the other hand, Curufinwë was almost certain that Melkor knew very well how to use razor-edged blades. And it didn’t reassure him.
“Besides, when I said I consented to a little makeover, I did not mean you had to take the trouble to do it yourself. You must have much more important things to do and I would not like to be the one keeping you from your duties.”
The young Ñoldo wasn’t certain of anything any longer, except that this was definitely the worst idea he had ever had. But leaving now would be like admitting a weakness, like confessing that he wasn’t the steadfast and unwavering prince that he wanted to be. And he couldn’t let that happen.
“Methinks a makeover does not ultimately imply a new haircut… or does it?”
