January 2025 Instadrabbling writings: Olwë, Tuor, Illuvatar, Finrod, Dior, Gil-galad by Quente

First hot bath in Gondolin

Prompt: The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea.

Life in Gondolin was beyond anything Tuor had known. Not half a day had passed since the God had left him trembling before Turgon, the mightiest of Elven kings. And now, Tuor was in a bathing chamber, grander than any work of Men.

He stared with dazed eyes as the metal of the spigot turned to release water into his hands. The water was hot, flowing from a source not natural but invented, somehow harnessing the powers of water and wind to stoke a furnace far above them on one of the peaks of the encircling mountains.

Tuor shuddered, feeling the heat penetrate into his hands for the first time in days, weeks, a season. Voronwë, removing his first and second layers of cloak beside Tuor, had a similarly dazed expression.

“My lord Círdan would have given his left arm for hot water from a metal sluice,” Voronwë chuckled, “not that King Turgon was ever generous with his blueprints.”

“I remember seeing these in Nevrast, and wondering what on earth it meant,” Tuor said, watching as the water rose in beautiful hot steam from the growing bath. “I think I’m even beginning to thaw.”

“So, get in,” Voronwë prompted, setting his own foot into the pool, now ankle-deep, and hissing with the heat of it.

Tuor hastened to remove the rest of his clothes.