I Don't Speak Elvish

part 7

After discarding the bandages from my shoulder, I dipped my heel into the steamy water, testing it's temperature. Deeming it suitable, I slid under the surface of the water.

Soaking in that heated water, feeling it hug every inch of skin so gently, breathing in the aroma of the bath water... it was my heaven, a sanctuary for parched skin and aching muscle.

It was clouded with lotions and ointments, scattered herbs and flowers floating on top.

Melethron left the towels on a nearby dresser, I watched him, just my eyes and nose above the water as I watched him leave.

He nodded to me as he exited the wetroom.

I took a breath and dunked my head below the surface, fully soaking my hair, seeing the dark residue of my dried blood float in front of my eyes.

As I rose, I spotted a row of brown glass vials and tinctures, serums and soaps neatly lined up along the wall.

I couldn't tell what was shampoo and what was soap so I just used a little bit of everything, one at a time, taking extra care when stretching to wash my hair, minding my shoulder.

Rinsing my hair, I sat for a moment more, relishing in the cosy water, taking a few moments of peace for myself.

I hummed a tune as I continued my soak, wondering if Melethron was still in the other room.

I watched as a small pink flower floated across the surface of the water, stopping just above my navel; picking it up on my fingertip I inspected it, smelling the sweet heady aroma that came from it.

A sweet breeze came from the small square window high on the wall, stirring the water and the flowers that lay upon it, sending ripples across it's surface.

It was then that I thought again on my vision, of the orcs.

I was certainly pleased that the king had taken me seriously enough to actually humour me. But I didn't know how to feel about it still. What more could I do? Was I just a vessel for premonitions or was there more I could do to help?

I knew nothing of war, having grown up in such a quiet, rural, farming village, but horrible, gritty stories certainly weren't in short supply.

Stories of great tragedies and loss of life on a magnificent scale.

As soon as my teeth began to chatter, I knew I had soaked long enough. As I rose from the water, I squeezed the excess from my hair and stepped from the tub.

Amongst the towels Melethron had left, was a large plush bath robe, soft and sweet like wearing a cloud.

I took a small hand towel to dry my hair as I padded barefoot back the way I had come.

"I took your clothes for laundering, I hope you don't mind," Melethron was sat at a large desk in the far corner of the room.

"Not at all, can I send a runner to fetch me some of my nightclothes and bring them here?" I asked, pointing towards the door.

Melethron stood, still somehow making me marvel at just how tall he was.

"Please allow me, you must be starving," he gestured to the food that had been brought earlier.

Without a word leaving my lips, my stomach growled happily at the mere sight of a substantial meal.

I laughed out of nervousness, a mere bodily reaction causing a blush to rise over my cheeks.

Melethron moved behind me to a tall cabinet.

I wondered what he was doing until he opened it, a row of cords hung in a line, labeled in elvish script.