Lonely Night

Sobbing woke Morwen deep in the Nénimë night. The lamp had burned low and the tavern was quiet. No one else seemed to be awake. Well after midnight then, she thought rising. Dropping her flannel shift over her head, she worked into the arms while crossing to the door. The timeworn planks of the floor were frigid underfoot and Morwen paused to find slippers before poking her head into the corridor. Cattycorner to her own room, a faint light guttered into the hallway. Scarlet.

Morwen didn’t bother knocking and opened the door quietly. Framed by the window and lit faintly by a candle the girl could have been a portrait of Nienna, wrapped in a grey wool blanket speckled with tears. Morwen had spent many nights like this herself as a girl, so she would not trouble the lass for an explanation. Instead, she stepped quietly toward the bed and flipped back several layers of covers.

No blood. That’s a good sign, she thought, stripping the bed down to the ticking and dropping the used linen in a heap on the floor.

“You don’t have to do that.” Scarlet’s voice didn’t sound like her own, much lower and more hoarse than her usual gentle purr.

“Someone does. You’ll never sleep with his smell in your sheets. I’ll be back.”

The linen closet was emptied and refilled daily by the women of the Dragon’s Hoard, who were expected to wash their own sheets. Responsibility shifted between them all a week at a time, though somehow the newest hires always seemed to end up on their knees at a washtub more than the others. This week was Morwen’s turn, but hard work that didn’t involve a grunting man was something she welcomed.

I really am getting too old for this, she thought, depositing the dirty sheets in a large basket on the closet floor and pulling clean linen from an upper shelf.

Back in Scarlet’s room again, the younger woman tried to help remake the bed, but Morwen waved her away. She worked faster on her own and they both knew it. By the time the task was finished, Scarlet’s sobs had slowed to a few quiet hiccups and the occasional sniffle. Crossing the hall again Morwen rummaged through her night table drawer and went back to Scarlet’s room a third time carrying a small glass phial. While the girl watched, Morwen sprinkled the pillow lightly with lavender water, effectively erasing the last trace of Scarlet’s recent companion. Sealing the bottle again, she sat on the bed and looked at the girl, thinking.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No! Never. Gram would never hurt me.”

Something about the way Scarlet said the name caught Morwen’s attention. “You love him?”

“It sounds even worse when someone else says it,” she replied with fresh tears, sitting on the bed with a plop. She was coltish, thin in the athletic way of women younger than twenty, all limbs and sad blue eyes. With the white blonde of her hair curling softly around her head, Morwen thought the king’s niece was not the only lily of the Mark, though she would never say so aloud. Gram, a farrier from the village, apparently thought so too. At least, Morwen thought the tall, stammering young man she’d noticed in the tavern was Gram. She could be wrong.

“He’s the farrier? Dark eyes? Thin enough to slip through a keyhole without taking off his winter clothes?”

“He’s all muscle,” Scarlet retorted. “Every inch of him like iron.”

She’s in it deep.

“Isn’t that rather dangerous considering his occupation? Doesn’t he melt?”

“Only afterwards,” Scarlet joked with a smirk, the earthiness of her sense of humor finally emerging again.

“And he likes you well enough,” Morwen said reaching for a blanket for her own shoulders.

“But I can’t... not now.”

“It’s not too late for you to leave,” Morwen began, but Scarlet cut her off.

“Yes it is. I can’t go to him like I am.”

Uh-oh.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how, exactly is that?” Morwen said scooting back against the headboard and stretching her legs atop the covers. Scarlet’s sobs shook the bed, and several minutes passed with no sound other than her ragged breathing and the occasional creak or groan from the building.

“Pregnant,” she whispered finally, her face hidden by a curtain of silver blonde.

“Oh sweetie,” Morwen murmured, leaning forward to take the girl in her arms. For a while they merely sat, rocking gently in the flickering candlelight until it seemed Scarlet had no tears left.

“How long have you known?” Morwen asked against her gleaming hair.

“A month. My last courses came in Ringarë.”

“You may not be-”

“I feel sick in the mornings, and around food. My feet swell. Gram thinks I’ve… gotten bigger. Up top.”

All early signs of pregnancy. The girl was probably right. Dread settled in Morwen’s gut. It was a shame that this was happening to her now, so soon after she started. She was too young for it, not hardened enough by the strain of their job to have learned callousness. Like a lily, she was easily crushed, still fresh and sweet.

“There is a tea. I will make you some. If you drink it four times a day three or four days in a row, it will bring your courses. They will be painful and it tastes terrible at first, but it will… solve the problem.”

“I don’t want to solve it!” Scarlet yelped sitting up, then dropped to a whisper. “I don’t want to get rid of it! It’s his, I can’t do that.”

“You don’t know it’s his,” Morwen said gently.

“He’s been here almost every night since Yule. It has to be his!”

“But what about the other nights or the nights there were more than one?” Morwen insisted. “Child, you can’t assume.”

“It has to be his. It just has to be,” she mourned, crying again. After a moment she continued. “I don’t want rid of it. I just… I just want him!”

Morwen sighed and reached for the girl again. How the child had any tears left, she did not know. “If it’s his, and he fancies you, would he marry you? Take you away from here?”

“He’ll never believe it’s his. I’m a…” Scarlet stopped, biting her lip, then buried her face in Morwen’s shoulder again.

“Say it,” Morwen demanded, shaking her slightly.

“I’m a whore,” she whispered, tears seeping through Morwen’s shift.

“Aye, and he knows that, else why would he be here? If you won’t be rid of it you must tell him. Perhaps it will be the opportunity he needs to make a decision.”

“Do you think he might? Have me anyway?”

Looking down into Scarlet’s watery gaze, Morwen’s resolve wavered. It would be cruel to dash that hope, and yet in all likelihood it would be dashed, painfully, and long after the tea would work safely and other measures were needed. But looking at the proud and strong-willed girl studying her so innocently, more childlike than Morwen had ever seen her, was simply too much. She could not bring herself to be that cruel.

“It is possible,” though not probable, lamb, she added in her head. “You will never know until you ask him.”

“I’m afraid to. I know it sounds silly, if I love him I should be able to talk to him about anything, shouldn’t I? And I think he loves me. I know he doesn’t go to any other taverns, he told me so a few days ago, and I’m the only one he sees here. And, there’s something odd, something strange in how he looks at me sometimes. Like he’s hungry, but more than that. Like he’s staring at a great beautiful sword or, or a stallion running full gallop across the plains, like he sees something precious.”

Oh child. This will hurt.

“Then maybe he does, but sitting here speculating will do nothing to make it so. Do you intend to tell him?”

“Yes,” Scarlet replied after a moment’s thought. “I will. The next time I see him.”

“Will you take the tea anyway? Just in case? I’m not telling you to drink it,” Morwen continued in a rush when Scarlet stiffened in her arms. “The tea will not be safe to use after three months or so. If the worst should happen-”

“I won’t need it,” Scarlet insisted. “I’m keeping it anyway, even if he won’t have me. It’s mine too.”

Ai Valar, give me strength.

“You would do that? Have a child with no father, brand yourself a whore for the rest of your days, and doom that babe to a life like this? Here, or in a worse place, washing dishes and filling cups from dawn till midnight, and fending off the ones that like their entertainment young? Or worse yet, forced to give in to those customers so that you can both eat the next day?”

The grim picture Morwen painted shook Scarlet, but the doubt didn’t last long.

“I’ll just… do something else. Become a maid somewhere. Take in washing.”

“How will you do that with a bastard on your hip? Scarlet, this is your last chance to get out with no outward sign. If you take the tea and leave, now, all that will remain of this life will be your memories, regardless of whether Gram will have you or not. Think about it.”

“What do you know?” Scarlet snapped, pulling away. “You think you’ve got all the answers, that you’re so much smarter than I am. But you’re not me!”

Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Morwen knew getting angry wouldn’t help. Nothing would. Except.

“You’re right,” Morwen said. “I’m not you. And I’m not in love. Never have been that I recall.” At the note of melancholy in her voice, Scarlet looked up and was surprised to see Morwen’s eyes full of tears, focused on something only she could see.

“But my oldest child would be fifteen next month if I’d made this same choice differently. And the second would be twelve come summer and the third- the third would have just turned four… if they’d even lived this long.”

At Scarlet’s shocked gasp, Morwen straightened her spine, blinking to clear her eyes. “I know what I’m suggesting, Scarlet. I don’t do it lightly, and I won’t speak of it again. Your mind is yours to make up, and I know I won’t change it, but whatever you decide, you have a painful road ahead. The shortest path, I think, is that which leads to freedom. You decide which one to take. Goodnight.”

Standing up stiffly, Morwen laid her blanket around Scarlet’s narrow shoulders and started toward the door. Just before she reached it, the younger woman spoke.

“Thank you. For the sheets. And the lavender water. I don’t think I said it before.”

“You’re welcome. Goodnight.”

Morwen closed the door as softly as possible, keeping her tread light so Scarlet would not know how quickly she returned to her room and shut the door. She had sworn not to think of it again, to never speak of it here and ruin her fresh start with pain that should be left in the past. And one cold, lonely night- one cold lonely child- had shattered that oath completely. Cursing herself, Morwen dropped back into a bed that smelled of someone else’s husband and tried to sleep, or at least not cry loudly enough to wake the others. Somehow, she had the feeling that Scarlet did the same. She also had the feeling that this would not be the last night she spent imagining what might have been, if her life, her choices, had been different.