The steam curled upwards, carrying the scent of minerals and the faintest hint of distant pine. The hot spring, nestled within a secluded glade, was a haven of tranquility, far removed from the ceaseless worries of Lindon and the ever-present threat of Mordor. Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor, sank deeper into the soothing waters, the heat easing the tension from his long limbs and the weight of responsibility from his shoulders.

For a time, he simply floated, letting the warmth seep into his very bones, the gentle lapping of the water against the smooth, moss-covered rocks the only sound. His usually sharp, vigilant eyes were closed, his long, golden hair fanning out around his head like a halo. He allowed himself a rare moment of respite, the endless calculations and strategies fading into the background.

A sigh escaped him, a sound of profound contentment. The heat, the quiet, the sheer absence of urgency… it was a balm he seldom allowed himself to experience. His thoughts drifted, less to the looming darkness, and more to the memory of sunlight on the shores of Valinor, a time when the world was young and free from shadow.

The warmth was becoming almost too pleasant, a heavy languor settling over him. His head, resting against the smooth, sloped rock at the edge of the spring, began to feel heavier. The sounds of the forest, the rustling of leaves, the distant call of a bird, seemed to soften, to fade…

Then, a subtle shift. A slight, almost imperceptible slide. The angle of the rock… his head… a sudden coolness against his ear.

His eyes snapped open, wide and startled. The world swam back into focus. For a heart-stopping moment, he was half-submerged, the water lapping at his chin, the memory of Valinor replaced by the very real sensation of near-drowning. He pushed himself upright, a surge of adrenaline chasing away the last vestiges of his sleepiness.

He sat there for a long moment, catching his breath, the lingering warmth now tinged with a faint unease. A rueful smile touched his lips. "Even kings," he murmured to himself, the sound barely audible above the gentle rush of the spring, "cannot truly escape the burdens they carry. Even in the deepest peace, the world finds a way to remind us of its relentless demands."