Title: Merely Players

Characters: Morwen, Húrin, Saeleth (OC)

Prompt: 008. I'm finding my own words, my own little stage; my own epic drama, my own scripted page

Summary: 'All the world's a stage…' Morwen, soon to play the greatest role of her life, seeks a quiet moment with Húrin away from their audience.

Author's Notes: Title, summary and the fic in general were inspired by the speech in As You Like It: 'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players…'. I myself prefer the Macbeth stage imagery, which is closer to what happens to the characters (ie. very little good). All the characters belong to Tolkien, even Saeleth. I just gave her a name. Unfinished Tales has Turin born in the year 463 of the First Age, the year that Beren first met Luthien in Neldoreth. His actual birthday isn't specified, but he was born in Gwaeron (early spring - either March or September, depending on your hemisphere.)


Húrin found her in the garden. Midwinter had come and gone, and the weeks of snow had turned into weeks of rain and sleet, but he could not truly call this season spring. He had thought that her pregnancy would make his wife keep close to the hearth, but Morwen seemed to enjoy the cold. Húrin was looking forward to spring, but as he admitted to himself, there were other reasons apart from warmer weather for that…

He had been worried that Morwen was sitting outside alone, and would be far away from help if she hurt herself, but as he came closer he saw that Saeleth was sitting with her. The two of them had been talking quietly together, but looked up as they heard his footsteps on the path. Saeleth smiled and excused herself as he approached, leaving the lord of Dor-lómin and his wife alone in the garden.

'What are you doing out here?' he asked Morwen, moving to sit beside her.

'Enjoying the first fine day we've had for more than a week.'

Húrin glanced at the sky. Despite the brightness of the day, there were clouds gathering on the horizon. 'I think it's going to rain again soon. Do you want to go inside?'

'I suppose so. It's very warm and stuffy in there, though.' Húrin helped her stand up, and they began to walk back to the house. Seeing her look back at the bench where they had been sitting, Húrin paused and asked her if something was wrong.

Morwen wondered how to answer that question best. 'Nothing, really. It's just all the people inside the house. I never seem to be alone.'

Húrin frowned. 'Have they been troubling you?'

'No,' Morwen said quickly. Did he think that she had no control over her servants? When he didn't answer, she continued, 'It's the way they look at me, or the way they don't look at me. They look at this,' and she gestured to the curve of her stomach. It seemed that every person in the household was fixated on her visibly swollen stomach, as they waited for her child to be born. The onset of winter had at least given her an excuse to wear thicker shawls and cloaks that hid her stomach, but spring, and the birth of her child, was not so far away. 'I don't understand it. There are other women who are having children, and they smile at them. But they look at me as though I can change the world.'

'Perhaps, to them, you can.' Húrin pulled her as close as her pregnancy would allow, so that they stood with their feet almost touching. 'We all have our parts to play. I'm the one who protects lives, but you're the one who lets them live – the one who shows them that they don't have to be afraid of the world. You're the one that gives them hope.'

'This child gives them hope,' Morwen murmured, but before he could correct her, she went on, 'but where he goes, I must go, for now at least. And our audience is expecting us.' She started to walk again.

'Will you be all right?' Húrin asked her quietly as she hesitated for a moment in front of the doors.

Morwen smiled and shook her head. 'If I am not, they won't see it. I'm a better actor than that.' And together they entered the hall, and stepped back onto the stage of the world.