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Aerin was flushed and laughing on Morwen's lap, just leaning in for another kiss, when the all-too-familiar sound of a horn not far away could be heard, and her face went from laughter to deathly pale and still in a moment.
"Brodda!" she said, grinding the name out grimly. "Void take him, the vile beast has returned a day before I thought to see him." She moved off of Morwen's lap, turning to hunt for her clothes, but Morwen grasped her by the wrist and turned her back again.
"Must you go now?" she said. "What excuses will your servants give for your absence, when they see him?"
"'Your wife, my lord, bears alms to the poor,'" Aerin quoted in the Easterling accent of Brodda's chief steward. "It's not so far from the truth, and Brodda accepts that, for he knows that if I did not do what I do, one of these days our people, too close to starvation as it is, would rise up against him, and that's trouble too much for his liking." She smiled and moved back to Morwen's side, caressing her hair. "Of course they do not tell him that one of the houses I come to is that of the infamous Witch of Dor-lómin, but then, there are many things too dear between us to reveal to a beast like him." She punctuated her statement by leaning in and kissing Morwen thoroughly, winding her fingers into her hair. "Do you know, I think I'll stay for a little while longer."
Morwen drew her down into the bed, peppering kisses all over her neck and shoulders. "Surely an absence of an hour or two will go unremarked on."
"Surely," Aerin agreed. "And if he does question me, I can always start talking about my 'womanly troubles'!" She laughed and pulled Morwen up for a hard kiss. "Little does he know the only 'womanly troubles' I am generally concerned about involve the troubling fact that I cannot always be with the particular woman who I love above all else."
Morwen pressed Aerin down into the bed, pushing her thigh between Aerin's legs. Aerin groaned softly. "Ah, yes, like that," she whispered. "Oh, it's so good with you, so good, this secret love, my consolation in my darkest nights, my joy that keeps me steady and strong by day." Her eyes were very bright, and she put her arms around Morwen's neck, clinging to her as they slid against each other.
Aerin liked to talk throughout their lovemaking, until her words became wrenched gasps and moans, while Morwen was often silent, biting her lips to prevent noises from escaping, eyes fluttering shut and then opening again to look at Aerin's golden beauty. So it proved now, and Aerin gasped out words of adoration and praise, snatches of love poetry half-remembered, interspersed with soft moans and pleas of "harder!" and "faster!" until they both were overwhelmed and drowning in sensation.
And Morwen, who was usually so quiet, bent to Aerin's ear, just on the brink of their mutual pleasure, and whispered softly one word: "Mine".
Aerin tumbled head over heels at that word, caught in waves of pleasure, breathless, too lost to think or speak. It seemed like long moments before she got her breath back again, even enough to reply in panting gasps: "Yours. Never his. Always and only, yours."
Morwen kissed her shoulder softly, and they lay together for a few minutes, snatched and secret, in the late afternoon of a cold autumn day in Dor-lómin.