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Morwen knew that her grip on the child sitting on her lap was too tight, but Rían did not struggle. The little girl had not stopped crying since the healer had pronounced Mendis gone - a high, constant sound, as thin and weak as Rían herself had grown. Though they had been in Dor-lómin for over a month now, Morwen’s cousin still sometimes refused to eat, and in recent weeks Morwen’s mother had not had the energy to cajole her.
Just hours ago, Mendis had joined them at the evening meal for the first time in more than a week, walking to the hall with Hareth’s help and smiling wanly as she sat at the lady’s side. But by the time the meal was over her face had turned gray and her breathing labored. They had helped her to bed and Hareth had sent for a healer, but before long Morwen’s mother had slipped into a heavy sleep from which she would not wake. A few hours later her shallow breathing had stopped, and the room had quietly emptied until only Morwen and Rían were left.
One of the women had tried to take Rían to bed when the healer arrived, but the child had held on to Morwen so stubbornly that the others, busy tending to Mendis, had quickly given up. By now Rían had stopped clinging; she merely sat with her head resting limply on Morwen’s shoulder and cried while Morwen clung to her instead.
Her early attempts to comfort her cousin had quickly subsided; now she simply rocked the child back and forth gently, barely aware of what she was doing. Morwen had fixed all of her attention on her mother’s face. Mendis looked even more sick and weary in death, her cheeks hollow and her eyes sunken in her thin face, bearing little resemblance to the beautiful, confident woman Morwen remembered.
Something had kept her mother going all this time, some force of will that had given her the strength to lead them after Emeldir’s death and through her own illness. Morwen had hardly noticed that her mother was sick until after her betrothal to Húrin was negotiated and their people settled. But now, without that spark of strength that had allowed her to smile even when she was confined to her bed, Mendis looked old and frail and almost unrecognizable.
Morwen squeezed her eyes shut and tried to drive the image of her mother’s face from her mind. She would not let herself cry in front of her cousin.
The door opened slowly, and Morwen nearly jumped, her eyes snapping open. She knew she should not have been so shocked - they were hardly going to leave her and Rían alone in this room forever - but still she dreaded having to speak to anyone else right now. She did not know what she would say.
Lady Hareth entered the room quietly, a dark shawl now draped over the pale blue dress she had been wearing all day. She had the small stature typical of her people (Morwen already stood a few inches taller than her future mother-in-law), and wore her brown hair braided around her head. Her usual cheerful smile was gone, replaced by a calm solemnity that was only slightly undermined by the redness of her eyes.
Morwen stared at her, unable to make a sound as Hareth gently pried her arms away and took Rían from her. The little girl did not protest; instead she wrapped her arms around Hareth’s neck, clinging as desperately as she had to Morwen earlier in the day. With a strange mixture of emptiness and relief, Morwen watched as the woman stroked Rían’s hair and murmured gently to her, heard her cousin’s sobs growing softer and finally stopping altogether.
With the child calm, Hareth looked back at Morwen, who had not moved from her chair and continued to stare at her without speaking.
“Morwen,” Hareth said gently, “I am taking Rían to bed. Would you like to stay here for now?”
Morwen nodded once, her hands clenched in her lap now that she had nothing to hold.
“Would you like me to send one of the women to sit with you?”
She shook her head, more emphatically this time. Hareth nodded.
“Very well.” The lady turned and left the room, moving slowly and quietly to avoid disturbing the child who had fallen asleep in her arms.
The room felt dark and empty now, and colder now that Rían was not there to share body heat with her. Morwen shivered, wrapping her arms tightly around her upper body and drawing her feet up onto the chair. Now she was alone with her mother...no. She was alone.
She had no idea how much time had passed, or if any time had passed at all. All Morwen knew was that the door creaked open once more and Hareth was there, draping a blanket around her shoulders before pulling up another chair to sit beside her. Without speaking, she placed an arm gently around Morwen’s shoulders, and when the girl did not object she drew Morwen closer to her, encircling her with both arms.
The sensation brought on a vivid flood of memories, of nights spent by the fire in her grandfather’s hall, secure in her mother’s warm embrace as they both listened to Aunt Andreth’s stories or Uncle Belegund’s fiddle playing. It was too much for Morwen, and the sobs broke from her like a rainstorm, each one wrenched from somewhere deep within her. She tried to hold them back at first, but it proved impossible, and for the first time in months she simply gave in and let herself cry until she had no tears left.
And Hareth was there, holding her steady and saying nothing even after her crying stopped. She stroked Morwen’s hair soothingly, as though she were just a child like Rían, and did not ask her if she wished to leave Mendis’s side. Instead she let Morwen stay where she was, leaning against Hareth with her eyes closed and the blanket wrapped tightly around her, until she drifted off to sleep.