Mormerildes stayed tucked firmly between the crevices of the barrels, banking on the darker lighting of the cellars to keep her hidden. Her knees were pulled up to her chest in a sitting fetal position, and she had clearly been hiding away and indulging herself in the wine, although it likely had not been for long, as only two empty bottles were at her feet thus far. It was doubtful she would hear anyone approach.
Footsteps echoed through the cellar and quickly reached her ears. Through the archway, battered and bruised, came the shape of an elf.
"Thought I'd find you here," Cedmon said, leaning on one of the pillars. He gave a tired smile, then winced as the cut on his lower lip stung.
The bottle she was holding drops out of her hand immediately; the movement was guilty, remorseful even, as she turned to look at him as if this was not the first time she had been snuck upon. It did not shatter, but it did crack before rolling slightly away from them. As her eyes blearily study his face, she sobers up (or at least surprise overtakes the drunkenness for a moment).
"Cedmon...!" Mormerildes exclaims, and her voice is strained. "What are you doing here? I told you not to come!"
He shrugs, rigidly and stiffly.
"You didn't really think I'd let you do this alone? Besides, I'm not very good at following instructions." Cedmon says, then leaning onto the barrel behind him. "How is he?"
Her entire posture sinks, out of guilt for feeling it was her fault that he'd come all this way, and for the fact that he found her in such a state. She winces and won't look at him, her eyes staying firmly on the far side of the room.
"Not... well. They cannot do much more until they identify what the poison is."
He nods, saddened.
"Got any more of that?" Cedmon asks, pointing towards the cracked bottle. He didn't say much more, choosing instead to glance at her a few times, placing his hand onto hers. After a while, he continues, albeit in a raspy and broken voice. "He'll pull through."
Mor finally looks over at him as she hands him the bottle, and her face falls even more.
"You're hurt. What happened?"
Cedmon waved a hand at her, then took a swing of the bottle.
"Ah, just a little trouble on the road, nothing to worry about. How are you holding up?" He asks, turning to look at her, his eyes wary and worried.
She did not answer that question immediately, sweeping aside the empty bottles. "Fine. I just needed a break from the bedside."
"I understand." He stops, pondering for a moment. "I see now that perhaps I should have stayed. I do not wish to make you feel guilty, nor to burden you."
"No, I..." she begins, before taking a shaky breath. She no doubt reeked of wine. "I am... glad you are here, even if it was my intention for you not to come. I trust you to make your own decisions."
He smiled at her, then wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "Told you, I'm not that good with instructions." Cedmon sighed, then kissed her on the head. "I'll be there, whenever you need me. Perhaps next time save us both the trouble and wake me up?"
She closes her eyes in a wince, relaxing against his shoulder. "I knew you did not want to return."
"I did not, but I want to be with you." He says, looking lost at the ceiling. "And I was bound to come back, at one point or another."
She pulls away from him slightly. "And now I have brought you here before you were ready," she mutters, taking a hesitant gulp from the cracked bottle.
"Mormerildes, you might be older, but I am still capable of making my own damn decisions. Besides, what was I supposed to do? Leave you to do this on your own?" He tilted his head, looking at her, worried. "Please, don't shut me away, not now."
She flinches as if his statement was a physical affliction, and she lowers the bottle from her lips. "...I'm not pushing you away," she insisted, her words slightly drawled out.
"I... I simply meant to say I'm here. You're scared, and I know that. And you feel guilty, I know that. And I know that you turtle up and try to bear the pain, alone. That's why I came. We carry everything together now, ring promised." Cedmon smiled, then crept his hand a little closer to hers.
Mor allows him to take her hand, and she thinks on his words silently for several minutes before she speaks. "...I'm.. not... handling this... well."
"I know." He said then scuttled closer to her. Cedmon stood silent for a while, then spoke up. "What does a turtle carpenter make?"
The absurdity of the question causes Mor to stop trying to drink herself into a stupor for a brief second and look to him in confusion.
"Shelves. He makes... shelves." He giggled at his own hilarity. Mor offers a small smile.
"When did the first dwarf walk the surface of the world? Durin' the first age." Cedmon now could barely contain his laughter, squeezing her hand harder. "Oh my, I'm hilarious..."
She chuckles a little bit. "Stop... they're not that funny..."
"They got you to chuckle!" He said, embracing her once again. "You look very cold, let me help."
"I don't feel cold," she murmurs, but she does not protest the embrace. The action, though, did cause the other bottles she'd hidden away to come loose.
He tilted his head to the side, looking at the bottles that now rolled down the hall. "You had quite the plan, I see."
"...I did not intend for you to see that."
"I saw nothing." He answered, then drew her closer. The pain, it seemed, had begun to fade away from him. "I have to ask something of you, though."
"What is it?" She replies quietly.
"Next time, please, do wake me. The road was rather dull, without you." He said, jestingly, before scratching the top of her head. "I will need someplace to sleep, though. I am afraid the House of Amalthian is no longer welcoming to me."
She snorts softly. "I cannot offer you a bed that I do not even have. Mother and I have been taking rotations at Father's side. I don't think I've slept since.." she trails off, not wanting to worry him. "Well, I sleep in-between."
He thinks for a moment. "I know this is a heavy question to ask, but what attacked him? What illness befell him?" Cedmon looked at her softly. "Perhaps I can help."
She frowns. "They say... 'twas likely something lurking in Dol Guldur. Ethiron was not frightened by such a place, and would routinely chase foes out of Eryn Galen all the way back. I feared it may catch up with him someday, but..."
His eyes narrowed. "I'll need to find a bowyer, then."
Mor glares at him immediately. "No. You will not go out after whatever it was."
"You and I both know that whatever got him lurks within those ruins. The King will not spare men to venture there, not now that the woods are under siege. I, however, hold no oath to him." He looked back at her, his eyes now lit up. "I fear that is the only way."
"No!" She snaps, her anger burning and likely fueled by the wine. "I may be losing my father, but I will NOT lose you, too!"
"And what am I to do? To watch you waste? To see Ethiron perish while our kinsmen are at war?" He returned fire, then glared back at her. "You need to stay here. They need you, both of them."
"You cannot go! I cannot lose both of you!" She begs, trying to stand.
He crouched down to her, then placed a hand on her cheek. "I will return, I promise you that. I will lose neither of us, Mor. But I cannot stand by and watch you suffer.”
But she grabs his hand with both of her own, her gaze panicked. "Don't go, please. Please don't go. Just stay here."
He pulled back his hood, helping her stand. "Mor... I... I need to do something. Please, I cannot stand by idly as you grind and drink yourself to death."
She winces, not letting go of his hand. "I... I, fine. Fine, I will stop drinking. Just don't go. Promise me you won't go."
Cedmon places his forehead against hers, wincing. "And what of your father? This might be our only chance."
"And what if you come back in the same state? What then?!"
"Then at least we've tried something." He sighs. "I do not trust our kin with his recovery. I know you fear to lose me as well, but if it's truly something out of Dol Guldur, then that is where the only answer lays."
She buries her head against his shoulder and begins to sob, clinging to the fabric of his cloak and his hand. "D-don't.. please don't go..."
Cedmon embraced her, patting the back of her head. "Alright, I'll stay, love, I'll stay."
She continues to cry, although at this point it may be the stress of everything hitting her at once.
He holds her, shushing as she wept. "You know I would never leave you. I am simply trying to help."
"B-but I can't help you," she gasps sharply. "A-and what i-if you don't come b-back? C-can I take t-that risk?"
He lifted her head with his finger, then looks at her keenly. "Mor, I would not do this lightly, not unless I was certain I can return." Cedmon smiled at her, trying to instill a sense of confidence in her. "I only ask that you trust me."
She winces, tears still leaking out of her eyes. Mormerildes sniffles, desperately trying to pull herself together. "V-very well... if you feel this is.. something that you must do. I... guess I can't stop you."
Cedmon brushed her cheek, then gave her a light kiss on lips. "I shall return, five days from now, with an answer, or without. But do not despair. Look from me, from the southern gate, upon the dawn of the fifth day." He kissed her on the forehead. "Stay strong...beloved."
"You ask too much of me," she says quietly, not letting go of his hand. "But I will watch."
He lingered with her, for a while. His hand still clutched hers. "I will not make the same mistake others did. You are far too worthy to leave." Ced smiled, playfully touching her chin. "Keep a stiff upper lip, we'll make this work."
She nods slowly, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "You have to come back. You do not have a choice."
"I shall, for I am far too scared of facing your wrath." He brushes her cheek, then looks at her, smiling. "I have to go now."
She looks frightened but nods once more. "I... will return to my father's side.. for now."
Ced holds her for a moment, before kissing her. "Do take good care of him, ring-promised."
