Welcome to the Lonely Mountain

He had the house to himself, and probably for a couple of days. It was one of his favourite luxuries and he intended to make the most of it because it didn’t happen often. He started off by whipping up a loaf banana bread and boiling the kettle for a pot of earl grey. Whilst the loaf was in the oven he put his brand new sheets on the bed then ran himself a bath. Clouds of steam filled the bathroom, which was lit only by the flicker of several candles. He dropped a bar of sweet smelling goodness into the hot water and the scent of raspberries and vanilla mixed with the burnt caramel from one of the candles and the smell of banana-y goodness wafting in from the kitchen. He gingerly stepped into the tub, one foot at a time, and slowly lowered himself into the bubbles allowing his body to adjust to the heat. He could just hear the music playing from his bedroom at the far end of the house. He lay back and closed his eyes. He hadn’t allowed himself this pleasure in well over a month; he’d been giving his new tattoo, a dragon on his lower right abdomen, time to heal. He ran a hand over it and smiled to himself with satisfaction. His thoughts went to his bed. He’d be in there alone, as he had been for the past month or more. He wished things could be different, but they couldn’t. You can’t change people by wishing. Undateable. Sigh.

Welcome to the Lonely Mountain

(It’s Smaug from The Hobbit, in case you were interested).

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