[Lyra Greenleaf]

The behaviour of the heir's hound came as a blessed relief to Morwen. The atmosphere in the dining room was so tense it seemed almost as though the royal family could cut it as they cut their food. The King and his brother might talk normally enough, and the little boy would be as insensitive and brutish as all young boys but nothing could disguise the Queen's silence.

The Queen herself was eating and drinking little, and Morwen's duties left her plently of time to observe.In truth observance meant little more than gazing at the King and remembering. He had aged, of course, but there were hints enough of the youth he had been. Morwen stared and remembered, turning it almost into a game with herself to see how much she could take before it actually managed to give her pain.

It took very little. Bitterness had kept those ancient feelings of love, and later of loss, very close to the surface while twisting them into hate for the Queen. In times of introspection she could acknowledgethe unfounded nature of her hatred, but it made little difference.
Much good has her royal marriage done her, Morwen thought, suppressing a sardonic smile.

*****************************

Caeran was drawn from his study of a large wall tapestry by the sounds of Eärnil's door slamming.

But the dinner should not yet be finished! he thought anxiously, calculating the number of minutes that had passed since the hour had been called. Dread visions of assassins concealing themselves under the bed or behind the door while he neglected his duties crowded his head and he rushed back down the corridor.

As he reached the door he saw Megilwë back out and heard the click of the lock. Caeran turned a questioning face on his fellow guard.
"The hound misbehaved, and the lad followed him." Megilwë said shortly, shaking his head fondly. Caeran returned his indulgent smile and took up his position outside the door, vowing as usual to be more attentive at all times.