The feast was going as her father's feasts usually did, which meant that most everyone lower than the high table was having a marvelous drunken time and everyone at the high table was having a miserable drunken time.
That was not entirely fair. The councilors were having a miserable drunken time. Morwinyon and Legolas were having a miserable sober time, because he said he was too irritated with the dwarves to drink. Morwinyon could not classify what sort of time Thranduil was having, sober or otherwise.
"Your wine will not disappear if you stare at it," Legolas said.
Morwinyon took a sip and made a face. She was not opposed to wine on principle, but in actual practice she had never managed to enjoy the taste. Her father's steward plucked the cup from her hand and took a long pull from it as Legolas handed over the water pitcher.
"I am going to need more of this," Inwiel said. "Your father always gets maudlin after these things, I do not know why he continues to put them on."
"Joy and happiness," Legolas said, straight-faced, as Morwinyon poured herself a cup of water. "I am never maudlin after these things."
"Liar," Inwiel retorted, and took another gulp of wine.
Near the head of one of the long tables, Tauriel looked up at the siblings and raised her eyebrows. Morwinyon waved, but Legolas looked away with a tiny frown.
"Has father said something to you about Tauriel?" Morwinyon asked.
He gave her a startled look. "What would he say to me of Tauriel?"
Before she could think of what to say, a guard hurried in to whisper in Tauriel's ear. She shot to her feet and strode out, jerking her head at a few of the less inebriated guards around her. Legolas was immediately distracted.
"Something to do with the dwarves," he said, standing.
"An escape?" Inwiel asked, putting aside her wine.
Morwinyon stood too. If she apprehended the dwarves – did she want to apprehend the dwarves? Fíli had been interesting. Then again, if they escaped and killed Smaug, her chance at glory died a fiery death. No doubt they would head straight to the Lonely Mountain and –
"Do not go looking for them, Morwinyon," Legolas ordered, and left before she could reply yea or nay.
Inwiel, wise to the tricks of her liege-lord's daughter (or perhaps just wise to the tricks of daughters: she did have two), caught Morwinyon's sleeve. "Promise me you will not try anything stupid."
"Define stupid," Morwinyon said absently. The dwarves would go to the Lonely Mountain, no doubt clearing out danger in their wake. Would that path be safe enough for an elf girl alone? How long would it take her to fetch her weapons and armor? Did she have time to pack food? Was foraging on the way there feasible?
"Do not try to stop them," Inwiel clarified. "Promise me."
"I promise not to try and stop the dwarves," Morwinyon said.
There had been many fewer guards on the doors and hallways than usual as Morwinyon slipped through them, which made sneaking through the halls even easier than usual. The main gates gave her some pause: she had never tried to leave her father's halls without permission before. She was trying to decide whether she would need a distraction or if she could walk out on the weight of her rank alone (doubtful, but possible) when Tauriel arrived, geared as if for a long patrol.
"You are going out alone, Tauriel?" one of the guards asked.
Tauriel clapped him on the shoulder as she walked by. "I move faster alone."
"Save a few orcs for us," the other guard called after her. "You know my wife appreciates it when I smell of battle!"
Morwinyon knew for a fact that Cevendis, the baker-wife of this particular guard, did not appreciate it when Súliel smelled of battle, because she had heard Cevendis scolding her about it on multiple occasions. Sometimes other people's humor escaped her. She appreciated it now, however, since Tauriel's departure and the resulting ribbing between the guards allowed her to scale one of the many roots twining the gateway and drop to the ground out of sight to one side.
She was out. It was not too late to go back, not even too late to go back without being discovered. In the distance Tauriel disappeared into the trees.
Morwinyon hurried to follow.
Tauriel followed the river, occasionally switching sides to make sure she did not miss the dwarves' exit. Morwinyon took note of when her friend stopped to look at things and did so as well, testing herself to see if she could remember her lessons in tracking. She was proud of herself on that score, at least. She was less proud of the way she could not help but flinch at nearly every sound she heard. Every time she went back a little ways to investigate.
Logically she knew that if a sound was louder than the river it was likely not someone attempting stealth, but how was she to hear sounds quieter than the river? Once again she circled back and around, though this time it was due partly to the bare, rocky shore Tauriel stopped on. There was nowhere to hide there, and Morwinyon had not decided how to declare her presence or if she should declare it at all.
When she returned, Legolas stood with Tauriel. Morwinyon had not heard him behind her at any point, unless one of those noises she had been paranoid about had, in fact, been someone, but he had not heard her ahead of him so she considered them even. She crouched behind the distant shrubbery to listen.
"Tell me, my friend," Tauriel was saying. "When did we let evil become stronger than us?"
Tauriel really was the best of them, Morwinyon thought fondly. Morwinyon just wanted to slay a dragon: Tauriel wanted to save the whole of Middle Earth.
Though Morwinyon supposed saving the whole of Middle Earth would be a feat worthy of her father's respect too.
She shook her head once, sharply, and that was her undoing.
"Show yourself!" Legolas called, bow drawn and aimed.
Tauriel put a hand on his arm. "Morwinyon," she said wearily. "Did you really need to follow us?"
Morwinyon sighed and stood. "I followed you," she said, just to keep the record straight. "Legolas had not left when I did."
Legolas was swearing fervently under his breath as he lowered his bow and spun to stalk furiously away.
"I am not incompetent," Morwinyon said in response to a particular line of invective, stung by criticism from this usually encouraging corner. "I hid my trail from you, did I not? And Tauriel did not see me until just then."
"Tauriel was distracted," Legolas retorted from the water's edge. "She was tracking someone else."
"So will the orcs," she pointed out. "Tauriel, tell him I can come."
"Tauriel, tell her she cannot," Legolas retorted.
Tauriel closed her eyes and looked to be questioning her life and choice of friendships. "Tracking and hiding are different than fighting and killing."
"I was trained the same as both of you," Morwinyon said. "It is no fault of mine that my father will not let me use that training."
"Exactly!" Legolas snapped. "Adar has expressly forbade you-"
"He has not," Morwinyon said. "Not in so many words. And you have a lot of nerve, telling me what Adar would order when here you are, disobeying orders he has actually given."
Tauriel winced. Legolas just looked angrier.
"I will not go back," Morwinyon said after several deep breaths. "You cannot make me."
That was, of course, incorrect. Either one could probably subdue her and drop her in front of her father without too much trouble. They would have to go with her, though, and she did not think either of them were willing to risk not being able to go back out again.
Tauriel and Legolas exchanged glances.
"Please?" Morwinyon asked.
Legolas sighed, deflating. "Adar is already going to kill me, I suppose."
"You will follow orders," Tauriel said. "It will be as if you are apprenticed to me. You will not leave my side unless I tell you otherwise, and if I tell you otherwise you will do as I tell you immediately. With no questions asked. Understood?"
Morwinyon nodded quickly.
"You are almost more trouble than you are worth," Legolas told her, but he came over and ruffled her hair.
Tauriel beckoned, and Morwinyon went to her. The older woman checked over the straps and ties of Morwinyon's armor, tightening one and loosening another, before pronouncing herself satisfied. Then, almost absently, she neatened Morwinyon's hair.
The gesture was a familiar one – she had done the same thing for over two centuries – and Morwinyon felt a brief swell of affection for the young woman who had never made her friend's little sister feel unwelcome, even when that little sister had followed her everywhere. Tauriel was not her mother, more like an extremely forgiving older sister, but Tauriel was what she had, and anyway Morwinyon did not think even Laeriel could have been a better scout.
"Where do you think the dwarves went?" Tauriel asked.
"I would have stayed in the water," Morwinyon said honestly. "Orcs cannot swim very well – but I am not sure, can dwarves?"
"Probably not," Legolas said.
"Do we know where they are going?" Tauriel asked, ignoring Legolas.
"Their mountain," Morwinyon replied, knowing Tauriel was leading her to the answer. "Do we go there?"
"We follow the orcs that follow the dwarves," Legolas said. "Probably they will catch up before they reach the mountain."
"And the dwarves have no provisions," Tauriel added. "Where will they go?"
Morwinyon knew something of Mirkwood's trade and economy from listening in on meetings, just as she knew geography from her atlases. "Laketown? If the humans will shelter dwarves who are clearly running from something."
"Men and dwarves will do nearabout anything for gold," Legolas said. It was a fact, the way he said it, and he did not seem bitter about it.
"So, Laketown."
"Yes," Tauriel said, sounding proud. It was silly to be proud that she was – she had practically given Morwinyon the answer – but Morwinyon could not help it.
Tauriel set off, and the prince and princess of Mirkwood followed her.
