“Better a month of scrubbing a smelly carriage than a month where we've been. Show me all of the soap you have, for once I’d prefer to smell like some kind of fancy man.”  

Rolf walked across, deliberately deviating from the paved path so that he stepped through the grass. With every step he seemed livelier, though his footsteps were a little browner than they had been. 

He allowed himself to be led into the cellar, and was almost surprised to find that there was in fact hot water in a tub. Quite hot indeed, it steamed the air in the immediate area. With very little regard for modesty, Rolf stripped his meager clothes and plunged into the tub. He almost immediately dunked his head and scrubbed at his scalp, reaching off to the side where he'd seen a bar of soap. 

Soon he was being rushed out so someone else could take their turn. He dried himself, and wrung out his hair, running his fingers through it to get the worst of the tangles out. He felt scoured and raw, but in a strangely good way. If he was going to be unwashed, he had his own preferences for what exactly he was dirty [i]with[/i], and now he could start from scratch.