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"Then we beseech him on your behalf." Degas ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "He must see reason. He must see that there is difference between granting Athanar Eorldom and granting him your husband's lands! Yes, in this instance now Eodwine - you - would be a landlord under Athanar's rule, but that is not the same as giving all of your things and the allegiance of your household to the man!"
Degas let Gleowyn graze on her own, reins draped over his pommel. She would not wander far.
"I know exactly how you feel though," he continued. "The man is insufferable. I would say it is like being around Father, except father would never have spoken to a woman - or even a little girl - with the same condescension Athanar directed at you. And he has the most galling way of making everything we say or do seem childish, simply by suggesting that it is. It's as if he can only see the reality he permits to exist! How to you speak reason to a man that prefers obedience to justice? He treats us like unruly children, never mind that he was lord by my age, just as I am. Never mind that his wife was with child at a younger age than you. Never mind that!"
Degas ranted now, because he would not let himself later, around anyone but Saeryn. He knew that here, in the outer fields, no one could hear him, no one was near enough to read his lips. And he did not betray his emotion with physical motion; they would not see his agitation from afar.
"I intend to summon Lin's brother Farahil. He is older than us, and he is the nephew of Imrahil. He is level-headed, and will be able to advise us. And unlike summoning Adragil, who is as loud as he is huge, Farahil's presence will not raise suspicion, since it is well known that he and I are close. There are marital matters that need to be discussed with Lin's family at any rate, and I would have needed to travel to Gondor. Two birds, sister. I'll make arrangements for my wedding, and we can see what Farahil thinks should be done about... about all this. And if he passes through Minas Tirith, he would bear news of your husband. Without a father or brother, Saery... I wish I was better placed to help you now. I wish I wasn't so..." He clenched his fists hard enough that his nails dug into his palms. "I can't fix it, Saer. I don't know how."
He realized he was shaking, and took a deep breath to try to calm himself. Had Eodwine known? Had he guessed this would happen when he asked Degas to protect Saeryn and their children as her dowry? Had he known even then that he was falling ill? But somebody would have noticed... If he had known, and never mentioned it... It would have been just like him, working through, not complaining, giving all of his time to others.
Degas was angry. If Eodwine had foreseen his own failing, he should have warned them. This could have been averted. Degas didn't know how, yet he was sure...
This was all wrong.
Every bit of it.
And he was helpless, being treated as a spoiled child.
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