A hearth’s rosy glow warms the smial, cooking meals and toasting bread and woolen mittens with equal care.
The sun’s warm kiss is a sweet treat to the back whether harvesting a summer’s bounty, sunning on a riverbank or walking down the lane.
But there’d be death there too, the fury of a raging blaze, licking at hands and faces and leaving dark sooty smudges as it consumes both home and body with complete disregard.
Fire is the nightmare of a howling cry as both monster and master die at Orodruin.