Tarvarthal followed after her, beaming, and folded himself onto the quilts to sit beside her. "Good. Now, let me find what is hidden within." He tugged at the ribbons, slipping the knot. The paper tore in his fingers and he pulled away.
She couldn't take her eyes from the bundle in his lap. Her teeth chewed mercilessly at her lip. Her cheeks flushed. As the ribbon and paper were delicately pulled aside, he found a simple item within. A hat. Dark, steely blue. Knitted from a thick, woolen yarn.
Once it was visible, her finger went to her lips, and she gnawed anxiously at her fingernail, glancing at his face. "You said I couldn't knit you a scarf. But you didn't say I couldn't knit you a hat." Her voice was soft, distant.
Tarvarthal leveled the hat in one outstretched hand while tugging the shape into fullness with his other. His teeth gleamed in the firelight, utterly amused. "Indeed I did not. And that is well, or I would not have this of you. How does it suit me?" He opened the gap and slipped it on. It did not keep its rigid form as the helmets he had donned in years gone by, but bunched up around his ears.
Beaming more brightly than she had in some time (though it was hard to judge exactly, for how often he drew such brilliant grins from her lips), she twisted a little to face him better, and reached up to gently tug and pull and adjust it around his head. Perhaps a bit longer than necessary, cocking her head this way and that, taking great and obvious pleasure in pampering him so.
"There! You look snug as a bug in a rug! Is it warm?" She patted his covered ears lightly. "Your ears are warm?"
He shyly danced around her eyes to allow her full attention to righting the unfamiliar garment. Thankfully he had it on the right direction. "I do not know for a bug, but I feel the working of it already. It is a fine gift, Taite. Thank you." He smiled for a length after speaking, then abruptly angled his head to drive his lips onto hers.
