In You Everything Sank by Agelast

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Chapter 1

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Aerin came in the kitchens from the driving cold of the courtyard, coughing and stomping and her nose streaming, and froze when she noticed that everyone’s eyes were on her. Her mother looked like she wanted to cry, and her father looked like he wanted to laugh. Her brothers and sisters share their parents’ expressions, mixed together.

His lordship smiled and his bride looked at her, a circlet of spring flowers in her black hair. The flowers, Aerin knew, came from the hothouses that the Elves had left behind. Most of space was now given over to herbs and vegetables, plants that all could use, but still there was still a corner for white snow-drops and daffodils and bright purple crocuses.

Morwen favored the hothouses, Aerin knew, and the flowers looked as if they had found a mate in their fragile beauty. Elfsheen, Eledhwen, they called her and not without reason -- she was as lovely as an elf-maiden, but mortal, and with a mortal bloom that even the fairest of the Fair Folk could not touch.

This was the first time Aerin had seen her close.

“My lord, my lady,” Aerin said, bobbing up and down in an awkward curtsey. She studied the floor intently, as if the worn floorboards hide the secret to living through this moment.

“Aerin,” Morwen said, and Aerin felt a warm touch against her burning cheek. Aerin looked up, half-hopeful and half-already flinching away.

“Thank you,” Morwen said.

Astonished, Aerin said, “For what, my lady?”

Saying nothing, Morwen bent close and kissed her cheek. So softly that Aerin thought she might have imagined it, Morwen said, “For your sincerity.”

She left Aerin breathless and wide-eyed and already in half-love.

*

“I don’t know why they would pick you when there are a dozen more likely girls who would serve, gladly,” Midhwen said loudly. “I think she just pities you, that’s all.”

Aerin’s temper flared anew but she took a breath, then two, and said nothing. She concentrated on keeping her stitches neat and even. Her cousin talked on, but Aerin had much to distract her.

None had been more surprised than Aerin herself when the news had come that she would be one of Lady Morwen’s ladies-in-waiting. Her mother had wept at the news and then ordered Aerin to go improve her sewing before she was to start.

Midhwen had come to Aerin’s rooms, she said, to congratulate her.

“I am sure you are right,” Aerin said at last, when she was sure that her anger had passed. “But she did not pick someone else. She picked me and I am glad to serve her.”

Midhwen snorted loudly and said, “Everyone knows Lady Morwen is a cold one. You will not be happy serving her.”

With as much calm as she could manage, Aerin said, “Well, we shall see.”

*

In the next few months, Aerin learned as much as she wished to know about Morwen. When she woke, how she like she liked to put up her hair, what she liked to eat, when she liked to do her sewing, and the intensity of quiet and patience that followed her decisions. She was not unkind, as Aerin had half-feared, and if she expected the most from the people around her, she also did not spare herself.

When Aerin was called home to help with the harvest, she saw to her surprise, that Morwen, too, was coming with her, clothed in a simple work dress. She did not even have a hat to save her pale skin.

“Oh no, my lady, you mustn’t,” Aerin said, flustered. “What would Lord Húrin say to see you like this?”

Morwen laughed, a rare treat. “He knows I am no delicate Elvish lady. I helped during sheep-shearing time in Ladros -- I learned it when when I was young, though I have not yet done in a long while. Come with me and see that I do no wrong.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Aerin said. “But please, do wear a hat!”

She did that, and after a long, long day under the hot sun, Aerin brought her a jug of cool water. Morwen gave her thanks, took off her hat and drank. Aerin found to her shame that she could not take her eyes away from the way Morwen’s white throat worked as she swallowed, and how the water dripped down to her breasts.

Oh, oh, what was she doing? Aerin could feel her mother’s despair. No wonder no man wanted to marry her, if she looked at other women like that! But, a sneaky little voice countered, Morwen wasn’t any other woman, she was Aerin’s lady, and it was Aerin’s duty to serve -- nay, to love her.

“My dear, you must have some water too,” Morwen said, handing the jug back to Aerin. “You are quite flushed.”

*

Aerin met Rían a few months after coming into Morwen’s service. The girl -- for she was a girl still, only thirteen at most, was lovely, and dreamy, lost in a world of her own. Often, Aerin would find her in a quiet corner, wrapped in one of Morwen’s shawls, an open book and a cat as her only companions.

Everyone handled Rían as if she was made of glass, everyone, that was, except Morwen. Aerin knew that the two kinswomen had come across the mountains together -- rumor said their hands had been almost frozen together, they held on to each other so tightly -- but it did not seem to her that they were especially close.

Once, Aerin was coming up the stairs with large basket full of fresh linens for her lady’s bedchamber, when she bumped into Rían. Aerin could not help but yelp in surprise, but Rían streaked past her, her face wet with tears. Aerin gathered up her load and walked into the room Rían had just quit with a mounting sense of trepidation.

She found Morwen looking out the window, as still and remote as tower. Aerin took care to work quickly and quietly, but before she left, she heard Morwen speak.

Aerin turned and asked, “Did you say something, my lady?”

“Aerin, do you think I am cruel?”

"My lady --” Aerin turned and saw that Morwen was looking at her, eyes dry but subtly beseeching. It shocked Aerin to see her lady so -- vulnerable, and yet -- still! Through the surface softness, she saw the iron still. “I do not think you are cruel. You are strong, my lady. I hope, with all my heart that someday I can be as strong as you.”

She had taken a step toward Morwen, no, she had taken two, she was with Morwen now, and it seemed only natural to put her arms around Morwen’s waist.

For a moment, Morwen bent her head so as to rest on Aerin’s shoulder. Aerin could scarce breathe at her own daring, to touch her lady and not be rebuffed. Morwen raised her head, looked at her, despair having given way to curiosity.

Carefully, knowing her next move mattered, Aerin rose to her tip-toes and pressed a kiss on Morwen’s forehead. Shyly, as she pulled away, Aerin said, “I think you are the kindest, most gracious lady to have ever lived.”

“Oh my dear girl,” Morwen said. “We live in a poor world, indeed, if I am the kindest lady in it.”

Aerin flushed but would not concede defeat.

*

And then Lord Húrin returned from Eithel Sirion, the new Lord of Dor-lómin after Lord Galdor’s death. The celebrations for his coming of age and coming into his title were understandably muted -- there were as many grave faces as there were glad ones. But still, the whole household exploded with activity with the young lord’s arrival. There was so much to be done, so much to be taken care of that Aerin hardly had time to think, much less do anything like resent the loss of Morwen's time and attention. After all, Húrin was her kinsman too, and Aerin had a great deal of respect for him. He was kind, and always ready with a joke and a laugh. He was a good man.

And he made Morwen happy, and wasn’t that the most important thing?

*

The winter of Morwen’s first confinement seemed the longest in Aerin’s life. The snow fell fast and thick, and in many mornings, fog would roll in, carrying with it flakes of snow, so the air itself seemed frozen, glittering in the weak light.

According to the healers, Morwen was in fine condition. She was young, and hale. Her child would be too -- rumor had her carrying a boy, though some said that the auguries were mixed. The child was sure to have an interesting future, the prediction went on to say.

Aerin sighed and tried not to roll her eyes at the silliness of the gossips, or the guesses of fortune-tellers. Instead, as tradition would have it, she gave them bread and cheese and sent them on their way.

At the very end of the day, she would tread lightly up the stairs and peek into the darkness of Morwen’s room, waiting for a sign. Soon, she would hear Morwen’s voice, low and soft, bidding her to come inside. They would lie together under the blankets and talk quietly until Morwen fell asleep. At first, Aerin had taken care to wait until Morwen was indeed sleeping, and then tip-toe away to her own bed. But as the nights grew longer and colder, Aerin found herself staying longer and longer until at last, she woke one day, with her face hidden in the crook of Morwen’s neck.

Aerin lay still for moment, content.

*

It was a brilliant summer day after the winter in which Túrin had turned one. He scowled at the flower that Aerin dangled in front of his face, before trying to grab it with a chubby hand. Aerin picked him up, squirming, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

“Feeeh!” Túrin said, looking aggrieved.

“Oh, Aerin, do not tease him so,” Morwen said, coming up to them, holding a large basketful of flowers. She set them down and took Túrin into her arms. The little boy seemed to calm in his mother’s arms and Aerin said nothing, content to admire the touching scene.

Morwen graced her with a smile. “Do you not wish to marry, my dear? Have children of your own?”

“I never will,” Aerin said, without thinking. She blushed at Morwen’s raised eyebrow. “My father cannot afford a proper dowry, anyway.”

“You know that Húrin and I would provide you with an ample dowry,” Morwen said, sitting down on the tussocky grass with more grace than Aerin would have thought possible. “It is the least we could do.”

“I know,” Aerin said, and marveling at how simple it was to say. She did know. The last year alone had broken down almost every wall between them, there seemed to be little need for formality now. She had seen Morwen in the dead of night, knocking softly at her door, fearful and unable to say why. They had sat vigil over Túrin’s bedside, until dawn, sunlight and safety. Feeling a little braver now, she said, “In fact, I do not think I will be the sort to marry anyhow. I do not relish the thought of it. I prefer the company of women.”

“Who does not?” Morwen said with a slight smile. But then she grew serious. “But I know of what you speak.”

“You do?” Aerin said, half-afraid.

“Yes,” Morwen said. “And now I promise you, Aerin of the House of Hador, as long as I am Lady here, you will be my heart’s companion, and will never need to marry.”

Aerin blinked back tears that threatened to fall. A little blindly, she grasped Morwen’s hand and bent down to kiss it.