[Imladris]

Gorby

Leaving Anston to his ale, I trudged up the stairs and flopped myself down upon the bed. Sleep did not come to me and as a chill entered the room I decided that I might as well put a fire on. Apparently Nob had been in here already for there was already a glimmering mass of orange embers with varying shades of read. Clambering down to my knees I leaned over, picked up the leather bellows that was hanging beside the stone fire place and carefully blew. Sparks flew upwards at the swish of the bellows and the flames leaped around the crumbling log with renewed life. Warmth radiated from the fire and began to warm my numbed fingers. Edging my self closer to the hearth, I tried to figure out how close I could get to the fire and still endure the heat.

It always surprised me that the heat could become so intense when just a few inches away it felt so pleasant and comfortable. My toes crawled forward, and I bit my lip to stifle the scorching pain. The last time I was near a fireplace I had made it an inch away from the dancing flames: maybe this time I’d break a record.

Almost there. A little more. My foot stopped voluntarily and I willed it to go forward. A spark landed upon my foot and I jumped, patting it out furiously. The cool air felt delightfully relieving after the baking my foot had submitted to. Inspecting my foot, I discovered that a few of my woolen hairs had been singed, but nothing too serious.

Climbing back into bed (leaving the covers off since I was streaming with sweat) and thought of the mission. Full of trouble, no doubt, as Falco said, but a little danger was good, too, I supposed. It was much easier to be cheerful about things when you didn’t do anything stupid, like trying to see how close to a fire your foot could go. I don’t know why I continue to do it: every time I get burned I think that my intelligence has just been lowered a notch. But I do it anyway: stupidly. Doderic and Lily were right: I am a hopeless cause.