Unconquered by Rhapsody

Unconquered

"As I told you, they waited for Nienor to be weaned off and I could easily be away from home for a night. From what I have come to understand now, is that Aerin tried her best to stall this moment and I am grateful for what she did. I know that I was watched, for Brodda did not want me to run off as my kinswoman Rían did.  What they did not understand is the pain of loss: I would never have wandered off in the wild carrying a babe beneath my heart. To lose one to the unknown death and sending the other off to here for a better life was more than enough I was willing to bear.

Aerin had no chance to warn me for this: I only realised this when I entered his newly built hall and saw her. Her last attempt to help me in secret had come at a price: she carried her arm in a sling and did not look at me. You must understand, Melian, Húrin and I did discuss this outcome, he instructed me to leave our homeland the moment their loss was known, but we both did not know that I was expecting our third child. It changed everything for me.

Laws are silent in times of war: I had seen it before when Dorthonion fell and we barely could make it to Fingon’s lands. Orcs are brutal, a woman might survive a rape, but I saw… that some who were not quick enough being torn apart by those creatures. I wondered for long why Brodda left me alone, why he or his men never came to claim my son. I saw how many mothers were separated from their children – even at a young age. Young girls were being wedded off to men thrice their age. Ah yes, the incomers brought along their camp followers: some higher ranking their spouses or sisters. They were simply unwilling to share and turned to those who lived here. They were given our lands by Him, so why not claim the women and children that came along with it? 'To the victor go the spoils.' Is it not?

My turn had finally come. I was still young, quite able to bring forth many children. The summons to appear before the high board came soon. So, as I was forced to kneel in front of Brodda and his men, none dared to claim me as their rightful loot. Apparently none of them wanted to take a witch to their warm beds." Morwen fell silent and met Melian’s eyes. "I never quite understood why they thought I was one of our wise women who would come close to their interpretation of a witch. Surely I was taught by a few, but it soon became clear that my path would be different."

"I can only guess, Morwen. Perhaps the deeds of your husband ignited the spark of fear inside them. You carry yourself proudly, fey even. And perhaps they do talk well of the woman who stands behind Húrin the mighty." Melian answered thoughtfully, remembering what Mablung told her upon his return from the Nírnaeth Arnoediad. "I once stood beside my kin, Uinen, who showed me how a small and tiny fish called the puffer fish would puff itself up to twice its size to look more intimidating so that it deems to be a threat. This posturing often is enough to cower those they do fear, a woman even. Someone who they cannot fight without legitimate reason and from what I know they could not leave either. The easiest way is the name calling, trying to isolate you."

"The isolation of my own kin weighed down on me, that much is true." Morwen admitted and stretched her legs. "None the women I knew dared to help me when Nienor came into this world. There was not much Sador was willing to do, besides helping me at the end. He was distressed when he heard how I named my youngest."

"She was yours to name," the Queen concluded, "then there was someone who dared to take the witch on."

"Just not someone, an equal.’’  Morwen answered thoughtfully and rubbed her knees.

"An equal, you mean…"

"Yes, one could consider her to be of my station."

Melian sat back in surprise, working out the details in her head. "I do not understand. I thought the swarthy men arrived with no women of their own."

"There were camp followers. Others did not dare to leave their spouse at home, fearful of adultery. Others insisted on journeying with their husbands, taking their vow to Melkor together. It is not unheard of, it was just not enough for all. They earnt and boasted their moniker 'the incomers' proudly." She shuddered, remembering the first raids and the brutality unleashed upon many of the women. "I was spared of much, at first."

"She. Who was she?"

Morwen fell silent and sighed, “Acca, sister of Brodda and wife of Lorgan, the new chief of all the Incomers. She would occasionally visit her brother who had been given the lands that were once mine.” Meeting her hostess’ eyes, she continued. “Lorgan was cunning, his people were more hunters than farmers and he forced Brodda to become very inventive for our grounds were not easy to grow upon. The best lands Lorgan had claimed for himself, tossing a scrap to his brother-in-law, no love was lost between them for Acca was a peace weaver and the initial feud between them was never properly settled. Acca was… a beauty: brown eyes, a sallow skin and like me with dark long hair. What she lacked in height she made up with her sharp tongue. She and Lorgan were quite a match.

Later she told me how she heard of the witch of Dor-Lómin and how this rumour intrigued her. She stood beside her brother when I was led into his hall to be brought before them. ‘What to do with you, Morwen the witch?’ He boasted then in front of all his men as he stood mighty upon his high board. I was forced to kneel before him; I felt the spearhead in my neck, forcing me to look down. It seemed a small price to pay then. I sat there motionless, not making much sense of the fierce debate that followed in that hall. Many men spat at me, some kicked straw towards me and I patiently waited, hoping that Aerin would be of some influence of him.

I tried to shield off my thoughts in the tumult around me, and I did not sense her approach until I felt cool fingers brushing my neck and a smooth voice washed over me, followed by a firm yank of my hair. ‘Ah. The witch of Dor-Lómin.’ Her accent was thick and I could tell that there was an edge to her words. ‘This is what you fear?’ She mocked her brother’s men openly. ‘I think that I want to claim my spoils of war, brother mine. Give me this so-called witch and I shall see to it that your poor men will not have to be afraid of her.’”

Feeling unsure if she should continue, Morwen studied her nails. “This is how we met and first laid eyes upon each other. I did not understand her, but the telling look in her cold eyes said enough. Even I was claimed now, left to the mercy of an Incomer.”

“Judging from what I had seen earlier, there was not much mercy bestowed upon you,” The Queen answered as she rose to her feet to move a piece on the board.

“It was not always that bad.” She answered quickly; surprised that she felt this urge to protect her mistress. “The first years she was utterly content by parading me around during the nights she did spend with her brother and men. All I had to do was sit at her feet on the dais and watch how the evening meal ended up in debauchery.”

The memories of these horrors brought a lump to her throat. “I, eh…” Rising to her feet, Morwen stood up from the table and walked towards one of the basins. As she scooped up some water with her hands hoping to still the shaking, she hoped that it would pass soon if she would only calm herself. One by one, she tried to quiet the scenes that raced through her mind: the pain and debasement of so many youth, the death of some when too many had taken their turn… Nevertheless these memories would not be subdued.

“They considered us as lower beings, these strawheads who were only good enough to work on the lands then during the evening and night for their pleasure. So many were kept as cattle in his hall: all rights were denied to them. I know my kinswoman tried her best and I was all too keenly aware how lucky I was to be trotted around like a priced broodmare. I behaved, did what was asked of me.”

She turned to face Melian and found the tall lady sitting her chair still: her back upright, but oh her eyes! How could they still reflect such peace? “You wanted to know. I shall spare you the details that do not belong in a fine court like this.”

Melian’s expression changed and she rose to walk towards her guest. “My daughter had told me some of the horrors she saw in Morgoth’s court. I think… I somehow expected that these tribes would have been more civilised.”

“They cannot be compared to our Houses, your highness.” Morwen murmured. “Yes, there was some refinement as you have seen.”

“What changed then? You did not get that from simply being paraded around.”

“Nienor flowered. She became of age to wed and Lorgan became interested in her. Tales of her beauty had reached him and I became desperate, knowing that he wanted her as his. I could not stand the thought of her being taken against her will by that brute. Aerin could no longer aid me, Acca could as his wife. As long as I was willing to become her courtesan, she would do anything in her power to dissuade him.”

“And she was successful.”

Morwen sighed and started to feel restless. She wondered what Thingol’s queen would say if she enjoyed most of it, except for the nights when Acca was in a foul mood. For her daughter’s sake she submitted to her lady’s darkest whims, even if it would mean that the days after she was not able to tolerate any kind of fabric upon her back. “Yes she was. Very muchly so.”

“Forgive me for asking this, but I must know…” Melian started to formulate a question, but Morwen suspected what she wanted to know.

“No never. It was strange at first, like I said some still had some refinement and pride in them. Acca took pride in teaching me these arts and I have always been grateful that it never went beyond her chambers. I suspect that even she felt unsure how her clan would react if she took pleasure in being with another woman.”

Melian nodded and motioned her to sit down. “And for you?”

“I love my husband still. Both arts can complement the other.” She answered immediately, hoping that Melian would leave it at this. “It is love.”