The Bathhouse, by Sauronnaise
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tolkienshortfanworksAuthor: Sauronnaise
Title: The Bathhhouse
Text type/format: Not fixed length
Source/Fandom: The Silmarillion
Characters: Hador, Gildis, Original Characters
Rating: General
Word count: 984 words
Summary: Hador shares a talk with his friend Idal.
Author's notes: Prompt: February 2024 - gift or gift-giving.
This story takes place in my Hador & Fingolfin verse that I'm writing in a disorganised manner. There'll be a cohesive fic one day. For now, we can thank Himring's prompts for getting me going!
Idal is Hador's friend and a warrior. She is the daughter of Ethelde. Uland and Raeburn are her brothers. Alderic is Gildis' partner, and the couple lives with Ethelde's family.
In my worldbuilding, the people of Marach, when setting an alliance with new estates or kingdoms, send them a Gift. A Gift is a person that has been selected to spend a few years, two or three on average, to study their new political partner. The new politic partner, in exchange, must treat the Gift well. If they don't, the alliance is broken, and the people of Marach may launch an attack as a consequence. They are war-like, in accordance to canon. In my story, they are a mix of semi-sedentary and semi-nomadic, depending on the clan and location (same for North Sindar. It will be relevant at some point in the story, but I'm not decided on the details yet). So far, the people of Marach are the only ones in Beleriand to have domesticated the horse. Cattle is also domesticated by them and Bëorians. There's no cattle in Valinor and the few horses are wild. In Beleriand and Valinor, domesticated farmstock are goats, sheeps, pigs, goose and chickens. Elves don't domesticate horse and cattle because they're big animals and it scares them.
As a warrior known for his strength, it's in Hador's benefit that he sires children (either sons or daughters. Women of the people of Marach are respected. They manage and administrate internal affairs; men administrate external affairs. So, Hador doesn't wish to have a son over a daughter unlike the Ñoldor and Bëorians). Idal does not want to give birth: she's scared pregnancy will take away her strength and stamina. It's Gildis who volunteered to be the mother of Hador's first child. She and Alderic hope to conceive children of their own one day, too.
Hador inspected the braccae. All their small defects had been carefully repaired; they were as good as new. Satisfied, he folded them and put them next to his sewing kit on the wooden chest. The scent of cedar perfumed the room.
“Ethelde!” he said loudly, almost screaming. He walked toward the other room. “The braccae are done! I’m going to the bathhouse. I’ll see you la-… You’re not Ethelde.”
The figure smirked. “No. I’m her daughter.”
“Idal.”
Idal rose from the bunk bed. She grasped Hador’s forearms. “It’s been a while,” she said.
He scoffed, “As if. We met a week ago at the camp.”
“We only greeted each other. The sun hadn’t had time to change position in the sky, and you were already gone.”
Reluctantly, Hador had no choice but to agree. “I left early to come here,” he explained. “To fulfill my duty.”
“I know,” Idal smirked again. “You just said you were going to the bathhouse, correct? Let me come with you.”
“Hoping there’s nobody else in there,” Hador grumbled. “Where are the others?”
“Uland, Alderic, and my mother are working in the fields. On my way, I saw Gildis in the village selling food. Raeburn and my father are still behind—they told me they’d leave the camp in a few days. The others may be outside with Uland,” answered Idal. “Let me fetch my things, and I’ll follow you.”
The bathhouse, as predicted by Idal, was indeed empty. Each farm had its own, not far from the main house. In each house lived two families who shared farmland. Other than the bathhouse, a small cabin stood not far from either the barn or stables. It was used in times of conflict when alone time was necessary, or when taking care of animals required human presence nearby.
Hador and Idal washed thoroughly before entering the hot room, as custom dictated. The fire was already burning in the stove. Idal threw water on rocks. They hissed. Smoke filled the room.
“It’s a good thing we have a chimney,” said Idal as she sat next to Hador on the lowest platform. “The smoke can’t choke us.”
Hador hummed and rested his back against the wall. Idal followed his motion.
The afternoon sun illuminated the room. Its rays, as gold as their hair, pierced through the window. Smoke danced above their head.
It was strange, mused Hador. Idal and he had never been close. She was five years his elder. As warriors, they trained together for six months every year. The other six, Idal was a shepherd and a farmer; Hador, a hunter. They went their ways and hardly crossed paths. Yet Hador held Idal in high regard. There was an unspoken understanding between the two that Hador cherished. Their friendship was dear to him.
Idal’s shoulder was pressed against his. Hador felt a tremor in his chest. He inhaled deeply to chase the sensation away.
“I heard you’ve been here for a week,” said Idal, “to conceive an heir with Gildis.”
Hador stared at the wall in front of him. “Hopefully, she is with child,” he mumbled after a moment.
His friend frowned. “Doesn’t that make you happy? You are fulfilling your duty before leaving for Hithlum.” Seeing that the man was tight-lipped, Idal pressed the matter: “What is it? Do you not feel proud for leading by example? It is an honour that you, the son of Elvira and Hathol, are sent to the king of the Exiles to study their ways.”
Hador brought his knees to his chest and crossed his arms around his legs. “Gildis told me the same. How can I be a provider for my child if I’m far in some Elvish fortress? I don’t like it.”
“Alderic accepted to raise the child as his. Besides, my mother will not leave the responsibility fall on Gildis and Alderic’s shoulders alone.”
“So what? I accepted to conceive a child by duty. It’s still a life I wish to honour by being there for it,” Hador shook his head.
Idal pushed wet strands of hair away from his eyes. “It’s a life you are honouring by going to the Elves as a Gift. Moreover, your presence there will serve as a reminder that we are the ones who took them under our wing to protect them from our enemies. You are honouring our people by maintaining a relationship of collaboration.”
“What if they don’t understand our customs? What if they don’t get why I’m there and think I’m a foolish man who wants to be an interpreter?” Hador sighed.
“They will understand because you’ll be there to teach them the importance of your role in external affairs.” Idal rubbed her companion’s arm. “Exiles may not be adapted to our world, but they aren’t as stupid as they look.”
“You say this because you fell for one of them when you were younger,” Hador’s voice had a cynical ring to it without being mean.
Idal smacked his forearm. “Hey! I was twelve! Young and impressionable! It’s not my fault black hair is a rarity here, and Exiles are black-haired bastards. It’s even less my fault there was war, and my father brought two of them home to shelter them!”
“Gildis has dark hair. Does that mean you’re in love with her?” the man teased.
“Gildis doesn’t count. She’s the daughter of two Bëorian war captives.”
“That’s hardly an argument. Her hair stands out from the crowd because it’s dark. You admitted to being smitten by the black locks of an Exile.”
“Gildis is also a woman,” groaned Idal. “You’re impossible.”
“And proud to be. If that’s what it takes for the Exiles of Hithlum to send me back home, then…”
“Be patient. You will return after two or three years.”
Hador rested his head on Idal’s. He was not yet gone and already missed the comforting warmth of her bathhouse.
Title: The Bathhhouse
Text type/format: Not fixed length
Source/Fandom: The Silmarillion
Characters: Hador, Gildis, Original Characters
Rating: General
Word count: 984 words
Summary: Hador shares a talk with his friend Idal.
Author's notes: Prompt: February 2024 - gift or gift-giving.
This story takes place in my Hador & Fingolfin verse that I'm writing in a disorganised manner. There'll be a cohesive fic one day. For now, we can thank Himring's prompts for getting me going!
Idal is Hador's friend and a warrior. She is the daughter of Ethelde. Uland and Raeburn are her brothers. Alderic is Gildis' partner, and the couple lives with Ethelde's family.
In my worldbuilding, the people of Marach, when setting an alliance with new estates or kingdoms, send them a Gift. A Gift is a person that has been selected to spend a few years, two or three on average, to study their new political partner. The new politic partner, in exchange, must treat the Gift well. If they don't, the alliance is broken, and the people of Marach may launch an attack as a consequence. They are war-like, in accordance to canon. In my story, they are a mix of semi-sedentary and semi-nomadic, depending on the clan and location (same for North Sindar. It will be relevant at some point in the story, but I'm not decided on the details yet). So far, the people of Marach are the only ones in Beleriand to have domesticated the horse. Cattle is also domesticated by them and Bëorians. There's no cattle in Valinor and the few horses are wild. In Beleriand and Valinor, domesticated farmstock are goats, sheeps, pigs, goose and chickens. Elves don't domesticate horse and cattle because they're big animals and it scares them.
As a warrior known for his strength, it's in Hador's benefit that he sires children (either sons or daughters. Women of the people of Marach are respected. They manage and administrate internal affairs; men administrate external affairs. So, Hador doesn't wish to have a son over a daughter unlike the Ñoldor and Bëorians). Idal does not want to give birth: she's scared pregnancy will take away her strength and stamina. It's Gildis who volunteered to be the mother of Hador's first child. She and Alderic hope to conceive children of their own one day, too.
Hador inspected the braccae. All their small defects had been carefully repaired; they were as good as new. Satisfied, he folded them and put them next to his sewing kit on the wooden chest. The scent of cedar perfumed the room.
“Ethelde!” he said loudly, almost screaming. He walked toward the other room. “The braccae are done! I’m going to the bathhouse. I’ll see you la-… You’re not Ethelde.”
The figure smirked. “No. I’m her daughter.”
“Idal.”
Idal rose from the bunk bed. She grasped Hador’s forearms. “It’s been a while,” she said.
He scoffed, “As if. We met a week ago at the camp.”
“We only greeted each other. The sun hadn’t had time to change position in the sky, and you were already gone.”
Reluctantly, Hador had no choice but to agree. “I left early to come here,” he explained. “To fulfill my duty.”
“I know,” Idal smirked again. “You just said you were going to the bathhouse, correct? Let me come with you.”
“Hoping there’s nobody else in there,” Hador grumbled. “Where are the others?”
“Uland, Alderic, and my mother are working in the fields. On my way, I saw Gildis in the village selling food. Raeburn and my father are still behind—they told me they’d leave the camp in a few days. The others may be outside with Uland,” answered Idal. “Let me fetch my things, and I’ll follow you.”
The bathhouse, as predicted by Idal, was indeed empty. Each farm had its own, not far from the main house. In each house lived two families who shared farmland. Other than the bathhouse, a small cabin stood not far from either the barn or stables. It was used in times of conflict when alone time was necessary, or when taking care of animals required human presence nearby.
Hador and Idal washed thoroughly before entering the hot room, as custom dictated. The fire was already burning in the stove. Idal threw water on rocks. They hissed. Smoke filled the room.
“It’s a good thing we have a chimney,” said Idal as she sat next to Hador on the lowest platform. “The smoke can’t choke us.”
Hador hummed and rested his back against the wall. Idal followed his motion.
The afternoon sun illuminated the room. Its rays, as gold as their hair, pierced through the window. Smoke danced above their head.
It was strange, mused Hador. Idal and he had never been close. She was five years his elder. As warriors, they trained together for six months every year. The other six, Idal was a shepherd and a farmer; Hador, a hunter. They went their ways and hardly crossed paths. Yet Hador held Idal in high regard. There was an unspoken understanding between the two that Hador cherished. Their friendship was dear to him.
Idal’s shoulder was pressed against his. Hador felt a tremor in his chest. He inhaled deeply to chase the sensation away.
“I heard you’ve been here for a week,” said Idal, “to conceive an heir with Gildis.”
Hador stared at the wall in front of him. “Hopefully, she is with child,” he mumbled after a moment.
His friend frowned. “Doesn’t that make you happy? You are fulfilling your duty before leaving for Hithlum.” Seeing that the man was tight-lipped, Idal pressed the matter: “What is it? Do you not feel proud for leading by example? It is an honour that you, the son of Elvira and Hathol, are sent to the king of the Exiles to study their ways.”
Hador brought his knees to his chest and crossed his arms around his legs. “Gildis told me the same. How can I be a provider for my child if I’m far in some Elvish fortress? I don’t like it.”
“Alderic accepted to raise the child as his. Besides, my mother will not leave the responsibility fall on Gildis and Alderic’s shoulders alone.”
“So what? I accepted to conceive a child by duty. It’s still a life I wish to honour by being there for it,” Hador shook his head.
Idal pushed wet strands of hair away from his eyes. “It’s a life you are honouring by going to the Elves as a Gift. Moreover, your presence there will serve as a reminder that we are the ones who took them under our wing to protect them from our enemies. You are honouring our people by maintaining a relationship of collaboration.”
“What if they don’t understand our customs? What if they don’t get why I’m there and think I’m a foolish man who wants to be an interpreter?” Hador sighed.
“They will understand because you’ll be there to teach them the importance of your role in external affairs.” Idal rubbed her companion’s arm. “Exiles may not be adapted to our world, but they aren’t as stupid as they look.”
“You say this because you fell for one of them when you were younger,” Hador’s voice had a cynical ring to it without being mean.
Idal smacked his forearm. “Hey! I was twelve! Young and impressionable! It’s not my fault black hair is a rarity here, and Exiles are black-haired bastards. It’s even less my fault there was war, and my father brought two of them home to shelter them!”
“Gildis has dark hair. Does that mean you’re in love with her?” the man teased.
“Gildis doesn’t count. She’s the daughter of two Bëorian war captives.”
“That’s hardly an argument. Her hair stands out from the crowd because it’s dark. You admitted to being smitten by the black locks of an Exile.”
“Gildis is also a woman,” groaned Idal. “You’re impossible.”
“And proud to be. If that’s what it takes for the Exiles of Hithlum to send me back home, then…”
“Be patient. You will return after two or three years.”
Hador rested his head on Idal’s. He was not yet gone and already missed the comforting warmth of her bathhouse.
