The Pearl (Elearah Chronicles) - First Chapters

Chapter 3: A Restorative Bath

Elearah dismissed the helper when the tub was full of steaming water. She couldn´t wait to have her bath. Private bathtubs were not traditionally found in inns, but you could ask for one when you rented a room with a stove. It was usually a rounded basin made out of wood, clamped together with metal rings.

Elie had prepared her bath carefully. It was a purification ritual for her. The soap, the towel and the oils lay aligned on a stool. Her clean clothes rested on the kang.

She had carefully chosen the oils for the occasion— sandalwood, rose and bergamot. Sandalwood for the aching muscles and to thin the veil to Spirit, rose because she felt feminine today and wanted to embrace it, bergamot for restoration and renewal. She had sensed Mika´s wave of arousal at the time she chose her oils, and that inspired her.

“You should cut that cord, you know?” a well-known voice commented.

“What cord?” she asked feigning innocence. As answer, drops of icy water splashed her face.

“Don´t do that!” she complained.

“Don´t play games with me!” 

Elearah frowned. “Well, I like him. I don´t want to cut that cord. Sometimes I would appreciate having some privacy…”

“I´m sorry, it will never happen again, promise,” Pearl tried to sooth Elearah, remorsefully. “Actually, I like him too.”

Elie smiled and took the lavender soap. “We will need to make more soap…” Her voice trailed off while she sat in the hot water.

She enjoyed her bath, pouring water over her head and shoulders with a jar and giggling like a little girl. She could barely fit in the tub, but it didn´t matter. She was clean, which was such a blessing.  When the water cooled, she climbed out of the basin and applied the oils.

Elearah lifted her arms and wiggled her body to let the ample tunic fall into place. It was plain and white, down to her ankles. She covered it with a deep green wool arisaid and fastened a soft leather belt at her waist. It was almost an identity statement. Ever since she had seen the obelisk, she had felt uneasy. Tonight she needed the warm company of her ancestors around her. Her muddy boots were resting by the door. She put on a second pair, identical twin of the grimy ones, but clean. They were sheepskin boots, soft and sturdy.

Elie was born in the North East of the southern continent—home of the water tribes, a hot place with many wetlands. The tunic was typical for women in her village. The arisaid was an addition from the years she spent in the Blue Mountains. It was embroidered in red with many of the mystic symbols of her people, the endless knot designs that told their tale of rebirth and purpose, of cycles and nature.  

“Do you think he likes me?” Elearah braided part of her hair to keep it out of her face, leaving the rest to fall free on her back as a wild curtain of honey brown curls.

“Oh, yes... His emotions peak every time you are close. And sometimes when he is alone...” Both girls giggled.

“How do I look?” Elearah asked Pearl, looking into a small speculum mirror, one of her most beloved treasures.

“Beautiful,” her friend answered.