Work Text:
Aerin’s fingers interlocking with her own brings Morwen out of her thoughts. They are standing close enough now that she feels the other’s hair brushing against what skin is exposed along her neck. She looks down to the fingers, paler and smaller than her own, and then to the younger woman’s face, marveling silently, not for the first time, at the expressive features that were now quirked in a look recognizable as concern. “There is no need to worry for me,” Morwen says sternly, though softly, before Aerin can voice whatever has come to her mind. She doubts the words will be heeded for long but she speaks with her usual finality and so the matter is, for the moment, dropped. She even receives a small albeit skeptical nod. It is you I worry for The thought lingers for a moment in the slight tilt of her head and the way her eyes move quickly over the other’s smaller frame. Morwen does not speak this aloud. Worry will do no good. Worry will not bring them aid or nourishment. It will not glaze over the bubble of dread that she will feel when Aerin must leave what is not a place of safety but is the closest they can manage to one.
Later, Aerin rests with her head on Morwen’s shoulder. It is only the lines of worry and exhaustion upon the younger woman’s face that allows her this, Morwen considers.
...
“You should not have come.” Morwen opens the door and beckons the younger woman forward. Aerin all but rolls her eyes at the greeting but it is agitated, restless rather than disrespectful.
“I waited until all were asleep or senseless. I took the horse of a servant so none of the lords shall miss theirs.” She spoke the word lords with a bitterness Morwen has rarely heard from her, “Might I at least reap the sparse freedoms it brings me to act a willing slave?”
“You might.”
“Have any been back?”
“Not since that man first rode here. But I know, or I fear, that they chance brief glimpses more often.”
“You fear wisely,” Aerin admits, “From what I have heard.”
Morwen will not coax further from her. Aerin would not hide from her any information that might aid them and Morwen cannot fairly demand more when she keeps back so much herself.
“They do not know of your daughter. And they do not know Túrin is gone. They still fear you as a witch. I hear them..” Morwen is again certain that this sentence is left unfinished as the younger woman decides that what she has heard is best left unsaid.
Aerin allows her discomfort to fade before finishing, “But I do not think it likely they shall return.” Yet of course being the unspoken finishing, “They fear you.”
Morwen sets down the belt she had been mending, suddenly agitated.
And when they deem it unwise to allow the Witchwife as she knows they call her, of the true lord to remain walking free? Breathing? Fear shall not stay their hands nor their blades.
She does not speak these words but Aerin must see their meaning in part on her face
Aerin did not fear Morwen, had never been afraid to speak plainly to her and that is why the slight widening of her eyes, the twitch of her lip brings more of a weight to Morwen than words could. Perhaps she is merely distraught, there is after all much happening.
“I am sorry,” the younger woman says quietly, “I do not mean to dismiss your plight.” Morwen rarely allows herself to feel the guilt she does now. The sincerity in Aerin’s words is genuine and Morwen thinks that had they been spoken in bitter mockery, it might have been easier to take.
“I know you do not,” her voice softens, “Aerin, I know you do not think lightly of such. I should not bring future worries to you when it is you who are trapped in this present evil.”
Niënor was crying again, a strong, healthy wail that should be cause for relief.
The crying stops as it often does at night, Aerin’s head rests on Morwen’s shoulder. Soon, she thinks, she will have to rouse her. It is unwise for her to linger here, the trouble they would face if discovered would be catastrophic for both her and Morwen’s household.
...
Their fingers are interlinked, hand resting upon the cold hearth. There was no wood to spare for each room in the home and the chill was not yet so great to risk venturing out for more. Yet the need would arise soon enough. Morwen disliked to go far from her home but it was her alone who had the strength to take the axe that had been Sador’s to the smaller trees. Perhaps her daughter would one day gain it but that would come in ten years or more. If ever it did.
Aerin for her part looks more closely at their hands.
Morwen’s hands are calloused. She is not unused to this in theory. A lifetime spent atop horses, tying knots and pulling rope leads meant her own hands were far from smooth and she preferred them that way. But the change was stark in Morwen.
“How long can you risk before you must return?”
It is a question she asks every time they sit together. The circumstances vary only slightly and both know that a precise time is useless. But still it must be asked. Aerin squeezes the other woman’s hand almost painfully as she thinks on the question
“Not long. There is a meeting tonight though I must say I am unclear if my presence or conspicuous absence is what is required of me. But regardless, I must not be seen returning from anywhere with such an audience.”
“If you are caught?”
“I will be beaten.”
“For aiding the enemy.”
“I am not stupid enough to let them catch me bringing this to you specifically. You are dear to me, Morwen but I would gladly sacrifice your reputation further by condemning you as an elfwitch to avoid that charge. I have grown much as a liar.” Her smile is a wry, bitter one Morwen had known only briefly in the days, years before the Lamentation but might be among the rare smiles to ever cross the familiar face now
“As well you should,” said Morwen with the strange calm of a sky threatening storms, “We are, whatever else we suffer, removed from them. You are not.” There is a small pause. Aerin seems to sway gently before leaning forward to kiss her on her cheek, her lighter hair falling over Morwen’s eyes. It is a familiar gesture though Morwen does not understand why her grim acknowledgment warrants the affection
She does not truly believe Aerin would speak against her even out of self preservation. Self preservation does not seem to run in the blood of those she loves
...
“Here.” Morwen finished the last braid, tied with a scrap of fabric, “You will need to take them out before you leave.” Aerin manages a small smile though her eyes are still bloodshot.
“I would never dream of running off with your fabric, Morwen.” The older woman does not smile but Aerin did not expect her too. She sighs and sits up, feeling with one hand the braids Morwen had spent an hour on. There is no mirror to look into and the windows are darkened by nightfall.
“When must you leave?” She wishes this little silence had not been broken.
“No one will notice the horse of one of the servants is missing until well into the morning.”
“And you yourself?”
Aerin shrugs, suddenly restless, brushing non existent dust from her skirt.
“They drink heavily these nights,” she says coolly, “If they notice me gone they might very well forget. But none saw me leave. I make certain of that.”
“I know you take every precaution.”
There was something unfinished there. If Morwen was biting back criticism or reproach out of pity the situation must be very grim indeed. Aerin almost smiled, an expression as bitter as the taste it left in her mouth.
Or perhaps it was not pity. Perhaps she was just as unwilling to continue their worry aloud.
If ever they followed me here
She has felt sick at the thought, telling herself it would not be her who led danger to Morwen’s door but here she was again, bringing that risk closer every time.
“Do you need more of these?” Morwen had walked to the hearth and taken down a box containing dried leaves. Aerin came out of her reverie.
“Not…not for me,” she says, “But I gave the last ones to Tinna and I do not think the need has passed.” Morwen nods and takes a handful of them, looking as severe…and weary…as ever.
“Thank you,” Aerin says, and then, “Will you undo these yourself?” A part of her feels unkind to ask her to undo her own work, even if she had only done it in the first place with this agreement. Morwen nods however and they resume their previous position. Aerin tries to enjoy the last bit of gentleness she will receive in some time. Morwen does not smile at her but still she is the only one who’s gaze is not a lingering threat. She doesn’t want it to end but it is not nearly so time consuming to undo braids than to make them and soon Morwen has finished again.
Aerin lies there as long as she can, head resting against Morwen’s leg, not wanting to sit up. She does though and turns to face her.
“Thank you,” says Aerin again and she offers the other a kiss on the cheek and a smile without so much bitterness. Morwen’s hand goes there momentarily as she stands by the door, brushing so briefly against Aerin’s before the younger woman has shut it quietly.
Morwen watches her leave, walking briskly to the tied horse she had stolen and climbing on easily, her cloak covering her to the darkness.
Neither sleep that night.
Aerin returns to her empty chambers and locks the doors, sitting on the mostly bare bed cross legged. Locks were a luxury here but still they were useless when those she wanted out had every key.
Morwen paces through the darkness of the first landing, checking each window before taking her seat in the kitchen where the dying embers will last until dawn.
...
Aerin sat alone in her sparse chambers again. She was bored and miserable here in the grey light of the small high window but the alternative was quite worse than boredom so here she would stay until the night came. The initial fear she had felt constantly had dimmed somewhat, or it had been replaced by something else
Aerin had realized early on that she was for the most part left alone when she played a meek, submissive victim. Brodda had little interest in her, at least not at the moment. For this she was glad, though she was left with the gnawing fear that he was to find a release for his cruelty elsewhere. She had heard the rumors of course, well before things had come to... this. And she saw injuries on the others, bruises and cuts she had suffered before herself and knew were not accidental.
Not to mention while Brodda might have been uninterested in the charade she had worn like a cloak, others were not so preferential in who they beat or worse.
Hunger too was a constant pain. She avoided the feasting hall whenever she could. The glimpses of what might be called information she could glean while sitting through the revelry were not worth the experience, not when there was nothing she could do with it. And she, along with the others, were barred from taking food outside of these occasions. This didn’t stop them of course, it could not have. But it made it significantly more difficult. And dangerous. When the choice was between the risk of a serious, often public, beating and another night of hollow empty pain, the latter was usually the easier option.
Aerin did listen whenever she could. Being overlooked, dismissed, had always been an infuriating experience but here it was a gift if a bleak one.
She had heard several times Morwen being mentioned, though rarely by name. Her heart had seemed to stop abruptly each time and she feared her apprehension would be seen in her frozen form. They still believed her to be dangerous, a witch in league with the hated elves. The idea might have been amusing, even charming if she wasn’t so terrified. It had been several weeks since she had seen Morwen last
It wasn’t a long journey by horse but it was long enough that she would have to plan it carefully. And steal a horse for the job.
She missed her horses as much as any of her loved ones though she worried less for them. They would be mostly left alone though treated far less gently than she would have liked when used. Aerin had not dared to use her own favorite, a copper mare called Gaerraun, on the few occasions she had risked a journey beyond the small village.
She would risk it again soon. Morwen had forbade her from this, threatened even to turn her away should she return. But Aerin could not remain here, she was granted (by will or ignorance) more freedom than most and had she not the duty to use this however she could? She did not think Morwen would truly turn her away though she had to acknowledge the other woman was not one for empty threats.