Season drabbles for Morwen or well, drabbles might be a bit generous, these are just a few scenes living rent free in my brain that I’m getting out and will hopefully embellish later
send me a character and a season and I’ll write a ficlet. Or just a character and I’ll do all four to six (basic temperate climate seasons plus the other two named in both Quenya and Sindarin) Heck, send me a non temperate climate season and I’ll try my best! I did not do the elven named seasons for Morwen.
Some of them involve the headcanons I talked about on theseposts, not necessary to read, I just like to link things to organize Also involves my headcanon that Aerin is the family horse girl (gender neutral, Húrin is the second one).
CW: children displaced after war and violence, aftermath of war and violence, briefly implied sexism and othering, unintentional but still harmful emotional neglect like what’s mentioned here, medical trauma housekeeping note at the end
Winter
The healers of Brethil do not like her. They see only her wounds and that she, half taken by the delirium of fever and grief, will not allow them near her. Of course, she is barely twelve, is in no state to stop them and what is it she wants to stop? Foolish, reckless, stupidchild. She is held down by her legs and shoulders so she lies on her stomach, her clothes and hair cut away so the burn wounds beneath can be properly washed. She had struggled against them until she realized that no amount of thrashing or crying would change anything. Morwen hated herself for ever thinking it would. It was then that the pain from the wounds suddenly intensified and then faded away with something, everything else. Morwen remembers the cool rough wood of the table beneath her as she went limp, the winter storm raging beyond the fragile doors of the healer’s house.
Spring She shares a cramped corner with Rían, the younger girl all skinny limbs and sharp joints that curl against her, prodding the newly placed bandages on her side. Morwen had spent nearly an evening soothing her cousin to sleep while the adults had largely ignored them and ignored or forgotten that Morwen does not yet know how to soothe Rían in the timely fashion they require. So, she does not wake her despite her own discomfort. Perhaps she will fall asleep to the rain outside, the rain that has broken through the frozen ground so their clothes hung to dry will soon be ruined. Morwen has not yet gotten used to how wet everything now is, the leaves and grass, the ground, their few possessions they have since gathered since their arrival. They are no longer in Ladros and will never be again.
Summer
The summers here are humid and damp. Morwen has lingered for some time by the well because it lies in a shaded grove and shade is rare among the open plains of Dor-lómin. A man and woman waiting beside the well on the outskirts of the village stare openly at her. There was a grace period perhaps where she could plausibly believe their staring was simply because she was a strange child new among their people. But years have passed since the time this might have been their excuse. Their surprise, alarm even at her returned cold indifference (even after they have only just spoken of her in such a way to imply that indifference would be expected) is a barbed satisfaction as she hears their words, collects them with the water she has been sent for.
Their occasional praise of her beauty feels as a poison, cold and alien in the late day heat.
Autumn “You are going to die!” Húrin cries in a sing-song warning and it is this that nearly throws Aerin off her routine as she laughs, her head back and eyes momentarily closed. She regains her balance however and lands gracefully. Morwen watches the exchange with a mild amusement. The worst of the summer has passed and the air is cool and bright. Leaves scatter along the ground, falling beneath the feet of Aerin as she offers her eager horse a baked treat in thanks and wanders over to sit beside them.
(I hope these are ok! I had to fight myself to not overdo the Summer entry. I think a lot about that stuff and part of my just sort of wanted to list adjectives Morwen had been named, both good and bad but that probably would be a waste of time.
Housekeeping note: I’ve been talking a lot in DMs with one or two people about my two longer dark fics about Morwen, I’ve avoided talking about them too much here because unlike the Angband stuff, they’re a lot less fantastically dark and more just…dark in a realistic way (which honestly is the general atmosphere to me of The Narn but that’s an entirely different story). I still think my two fics have FUN or intriguing and fantastical elements, they just honestly are harder to tag/warn for if that makes sense? ANYWAYS rambling aside I’m always happy to discuss them and other stuff that’s mostly in my brain and drafts and not here with others in DMs
@mangez-peches-art, I was delighted to be assigned to be your gifter! I absolutely love your art of Húrin, Morwen and Túrin.
Here are some softer family moments contained in drabbles mostly set at night! I thought you could choose one or two that I can make into a full piece! I hope these are ok, softer things are still not my usual area <3
Minimal content warnings, a rarity for my fiction! The third snippet deals with Morwen’s nightmares of the Dagor Bragollach but nothing violent described
After marrying Húrin of the House of Marach, Morwen bore him three children: Túrin Turambar, who was the Prince of Dor-lómin and a hero of the First Age, Lalaith, who died young, and Nienor Níniel, who was put under an enchantment by the Dragon Glaurung.
“Morwen was dark-haired and tall, and for the light of her glance and the beauty of her face men called her Eledhwen, the Elven-fair; but she was somewhat stern of mood and proud. The sorrows of the House of Bëor saddened her heart; for she came as an exile to Dor-lómin from Dorthonion after the ruin of the Bragollach.”
