Thengel stepped out into the light of day, heart pumping with elation. He had permission to interfere on Morwen's behalf. He had…

What did he actually have?

He deflated before he reached the White Tree. Nothing had materially changed since he entered the Steward's hall. This only, he now had a guarantee that Turgon would turn a blind eye to whatever Thengel chose to do. Within reason. How was he supposed to face Morwen with the news that the Steward wouldn't challenge Halmir's actions and the only consolation he had to offer was his promise to help?

Help how? Persuade the lord from persuading the lady. Fine. But how to persuade five score other men at the same time? It always came back to numbers. Could he arrive with five score of his own men? Sure. Yet he doubted Turgon would ignore a small-scale invasion of Lossarnach and what would be the end result? A few bloody noses would be the result at best, along with the attention of the entire country drawn to Imloth Melui. At worst? A full out brawl would ensue with more than one broken head and the Steward's extreme displeasure. And it would give the acting Lord of Lossarnach a legal complaint against him. It didn't seem worth the risk just to oust two weevils from the bran.

At the bottom of the citadel gate, Thengel looked right and left. One way would take him to the house of the Princes of Dol Amroth where Morwen no doubt waited for news. He could imagine the sorrow on her face as he explained the situation.

Thengel didn't consider himself a coward, per se, but he took the other way.

…

He walked the city till the noon bells turned him at last toward home. Hunger and the realization that nothing would come to him in the crowded streets were the main inducement. Inspiration, in its aggravating manner, would come once he'd turned his mind away from the matter.

Wynflaed sat polishing her knives alone in the library when Thengel arrived home. She looked up when he entered.

"You're covered in dust. Where've you been?" she muttered, eyeing his good clothes with distaste.

"I'm just back from the citadel. Sort of. I went for a walk."

Wynflaed grunted in reply.

"What happened to you?" he asked. She had a bandage around her forearm.

"Oswin distracted me during sparring practice yesterday. Ecthelion paid me out for a similar mistake he made a few weeks ago." She looked up. "That master from the Archives was here looking for you while you were out."

Thengel blinked, trying to recall if he'd made an appointment that he'd forgotten about. "Pengoloth?"

She nodded.

Thengel sat down but quickly stood up again. He looked out the window, but didn't know why. He felt unfocused and not himself. It didn't help that Wynflaed had chosen to scrutinize him in that way of hers.

"I forgot about him. He's selling me a painting," he explained.

"A painting. See, I knew it wasn't important, so I told him to go away." She stabbed the air with her knife in the direction of the courtyard.

Thengel frowned at her. "You dismissed a master of the Archives like an errand boy?"

She shrugged. "He smelled bad. I didn't want him sitting around all morning."

"It's only varnish," he said dryly, already mentally constructing the lengthy letter of apology he'd have to write later. "And you're getting oil all over the table."

Wynflaed glanced down at the mess she'd made. "That's what tables are for."

"Not a good table like that," he said half-heartedly.

"If it was a bad table, I wouldn't use it."

He sighed. "Nevermind, Wynflaed."

Thengel paced up and down the room, forgetting about his sister and Pengoloth. He should have gone straight to Adrahil's where he knew Morwen was waiting for news, but he didn't know what to tell her. There wasn't any sense in confirming the Steward's stance if he didn't have anything else to offer by way of a concrete plan. It was like making the oath of Eorl without any weapons to give it teeth.

"You have too much energy," Wynflaed grumbled. "Go for a ride."

"I can't. I need to think."

Wynflaed grimaced. "How unpleasant for you." She watched him tread the length of the room a few times, then said, "You had business in the citadel?"

Thengel nodded. "With the Steward, yes."

She surveyed him through hooded eyes. "Was Oswin there too?"

The skin on the back of his neck suddenly began to crawl and he stopped pacing. Why would he be with Oswin when Thengel's clear mode of operation was to avoid his uncle.

"No, why?"

Wynflaed shrugged carelessly, but her lips were thin and her frown unusually severe. She was naturally cross as long as he could remember, but this felt different. Then he wanted to kick himself for not noticing sooner. Since when had Wynflaed ever sat around the library alone since he arrived? Never.

"What's the matter?" he said. "You aren't with Idhren and you aren't with Oswin."

"So?"

He walked around the couch to face her. "So, what's going on?"

She wiped her oily fingers on a cloth before throwing it back down on the table. "We've had a difference of opinion."

"Is that all?" he snorted. "Oswin and I always have differences of opinion."

Wynflaed scowled at him.

"All right. Tell me."

"I quit." She smiled grimly and his skin crawled again.

"You…quit." He regarded her silently, looking for a hint that she was teasing him. She returned the scrutiny. "Oh. You mean with your little project? So I'm not to be married off to the likes of Lady Iarwen?"

"That's right," she drawled. "You're off the hook as far as I'm concerned. Die alone and heirless for all I care."

Thengel blinked. "Really. I guess you're tired of Idhren leading you around in circles."

Wynflaed surprised him by spitting. "Nobody's going in circles anymore," she said bitterly. "They've scented blood."

Thengel crossed his arms as she managed to destroy whatever relief he felt about her giving up her appointed task. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it."

Thengel's stomach turned sour as he remembered Turgon mentioning rumors. He sat down across from Wynflaed in the armchair. "I went to the Steward on behalf of an acquaintance today," he told her, following that inkling. "A young woman I met in Lossarnach who needs my help. Her name is Morwen." He frowned. "Why would you think Oswin would be there with me in that meeting?"

Wynflaed frowned in a vague way and focused on her knife. If she polished it any more, it would become invisible.

"Does Oswin know about this young woman? Wynflaed."

Wynflaed gave in. "Know about her? He met her. Yesterday. He and Cenhelm. He's possessed — Oswin, not Cenhelm. Once he found out everything he needed to know, he and Idhren wrapped up your future all nice and tidy."

"He decided that overnight?"

"Oswin doesn't beat about the bush. He's desperate to get you a queen and heir before he dies."

"How did that happen?" he groused. "How did Oswin connect her with me to begin with? I've mentioned her to no one except Ecthelion, who probably has no memory of it."

"I don't know!" Wynflaed snapped. "Cenhelm, probably. You both stayed in the girl's home, didn't you?"

"Cenhelm." Thengel rubbed his eyes and swore. "What a mess."

"For once I agree with you." Wynflaed glowered.

He peeked at her from between his fingers. "You do?"

She didn't reply.

"Why? Why did you quit?"

Wynflaed stabbed the air with her knife. "Because it's foolish. She could be my daughter if Idhren's description is true."

"Idhren!" He forgot that he had introduced her to Morwen. And then Turgon's words came back to him. Idhren had been very busy since the feast.

"Yes. Oswin grilled her for information as soon as he could. And I must say the Mark doesn't need a child bride for a queen."

Thengel felt his hackles rising. "Morwen isn't a child, Wynflaed, and she's as capable of filling that roll as any other woman in Gondor."

"Then you're determined to have her? Pigtails and milk teeth and all?"

"Wynflaed." He ground his eyes with his fingers. "I didn't say that. You don't know her and you shouldn't speak ill of her, that's all."

"I don't like it." Then she said, "If you're determined not to have her—"

"For gods sake, Wynflaed, I am not determined either way. Stop putting words in my mouth."

"Then either way, Oswin's going to make a mess of things between you if you don't be careful," she told him. "Look, I don't want to see you saddled to a woman you don't want and I certainly don't want an infant for a queen. I hope I don't have to warn you to stay away from her?"

He regarded Wynflaed solemnly. "Morwen's in trouble, Wynflaed, and I promised to help her. Gods." He cringed. "Turgon must be in on it too. Men are freer outside, my foot."

"See?" Wynflaed cried. "It's already out of hand. Listen to me and for once could you not rush in for the rescue. Leave it alone before we're all stuck with her."

Stuck with Morwen? He wanted to shake Wynflaed. "I can't."

"No. Of course not." Wynflaed rolled her eyes. "You're so valiant," she said like it was a dirty word. "What's her problem that you can't leave alone?"

He told her as much as he could, beginning with Hardang and his family through the facts Morwen had confided in him in Idhren's garden.

"This Halmir wants to marry her too?" Wynflaed said dully.

"Yes," he said distractedly, not noticing the look of alarm on her face when he answered. "But why, Wynflaed? He has the money he needs to go forward with the project and the power to remove her from the land. Why doesn't he just do it outright? What am I missing?"

"A brain," she muttered. "Let him marry her and then you'll be off the hook."

Thengel ignored her. "If Bar-en-Ferin is rightfully Halmir's, what's to stop him from pushing Morwen out and taking it? Why does he need her to marry him? As far as I can tell he'd only reclaim land for his nephew."

Wynflaed stared ahead with an indifferent air. Then her head drooped to one side as if she just noticed Thengel's fireplace for the first time.

"The new lord of Lossarnach is a baby?"

"Yes, that's why Halmir's acting as regent."

She squinted at him. "But who has the baby?"

Thengel stared back at her. "What?"

"Thengel, who has the baby?"

He stilled, trying to understand the question behind the question. And then he saw light. Who has the Lord of Lossarnach?

"Wyn, you're a marvel." He got up and kissed her roughly on the cheek.

"Get off!" Then she said, "Wait, what did I do?"

"Of course. It's so stupid! Even Turgon seemed surprised to hear that Halmir was acting regent. That right would go first to Ferneth as the child's mother, if she doesn't forfeit to a male relative. Perhaps she has? Until we know for certain, there's a chance for Morwen."

"A small one based on a technicality," Wynflaed pointed out.

"I don't think so," he said confidently. "Look, Halmir needed to think of his income now that he's no longer his brother's heir. He probably saw the success of the orchard and thought Morwen an easy target. With Ferneth convalescing who's to stop him? But Halmir must fear the possibility that Ferneth will assert her rights to act as regent and block his plans eventually, which is why he needs Morwen to cooperate."

"Why would she care if this Halmir or this Morwen has the orchard?"

"I think because Hardang honored the agreement between Morwen's parents and his own father while he lived. Ferneth presumably would as well, in Forlong's name." Thengel paused while his mind assembled more of the pieces. "With the marriage in place, Ferneth's hands are tied. She can't remove Halmir without also removing Morwen and breaking the pact."

Wynflaed made a sour face. "Cunning fellow."

"Not too cunning if he thought Morwen would be biddable. He doesn't know what she's made of." Thengel crossed his arm, feeling satisfied in his mind about this particular piece of the puzzle until Wynflaed ruined it for him.

"He sounds just like Father, you know."

Thengel growled in disgust. "You think so?"

"Which means he won't be in a good mood if his plan isn't working out."

Thengel's shoulders tightened as this new observation sunk in. "No, he won't be best pleased."

No doubt Halmir didn't reckon on Morwen digging in her heels. He must be growing desperate as time runs out. Ferneth's distress will pass eventually and then she'll look to the matters of the fief and discover what her slimy brother-in-law had tried to do.

"Who knows what mischief he's been up to in Morwen's absence?"

Wynflaed looked grim. "I suppose you're going to tell this Morwen your latest inspiration?"

"I have to," he said. "If he is like Father, as you say, he's probably plotting a way to punish her and the less time he has to do it in the better. We've delayed our return too long as it is."

"You aren't going to Lossarnach?"

He looked at her in surprise. "Of course I am."

"What?" Wynflaed cried. "That's the last thing you should do. Oswin will hug himself!"

"Someone has to get rid of Halmir."

"Leave it, Thengel. Let that Ferneth woman take care of it — or Morwen's other cousins. Idhren says she's related to Prince Adrahil. That's the proper person to do it."

"But there's still the hundred axemen to contend with, Wynflaed. Remember? Ferneth might be in the right, but she and Morwen will still be outnumbered."

"What business is it of yours? Hey!"

But he had walked out of the room. Wynflaed beat the couch with her fists then slumped against the cushions. She tossed her knife on the table.

Then he rushed back in. Wynflaed sat up. He scanned the tables and shelves before setting his eyes on the case housing the Horn of Eorl. He grabbed it.

"What do you want with that?" she asked. "If Oswin sees you with it you're done for."

Thengel made a face at her. "I don't know yet. I'm thinking."

"You don't have a plan?"

He pocketed the box. "I'm sure one will come to me," he said, "in the fullness of time."

"Oh good, hair-brain. Very assuring."

"I'll…fight fire with fire."

"Thengel, that doesn't actually put out a fire. It just means more fire!"

"Exactly."

"What?"

Ignoring her, he disappeared through the door again.

"Hey there!" She jumped up after him. "Where are you going?"

"The training fields!" he shouted from the passage.

"First sensible thing you've said all day," she muttered. Then she scrambled from the room, shoving the knives into her belt. "Wait, I'm coming with you!"

Thengel held the door. "No, you're not."

"Stop me." She squeezed past him, outside.

Thengel stalked beside her until they were out of the courtyard. "Did Oswin tell you to follow me around?"

"I told you, we've parted ways."

She may have parted from Oswin, but that didn't mean she had switched her allegiance to Thengel.

"Then why are you coming?"

Wynflaed sneered at an oncoming passerby who foolishly chose to stare at them. He changed sides of the road. "I'm bored," she answered. "Besides, you owe me for enlightening you."

"Fine," he said grudgingly. She did have a point. "Stay out of trouble and don't menace any of Lady Aranel's household."

"Are we going to Lady Aranel's household? I thought we were going to the training fields."

"Yes. After I've told my guard where we're going."

"Good. I want a look at this Morwen of Lossarnach. I haven't interacted with a child since Fritha's daughters grew up. I wonder if I'll scare her away?"

"Wynflaed."

She clawed an X over her heart. "I swear on the graves of Folcred and Fastred not to menace anyone who doesn't deserve it."

"That isn't what I said," he groused.

"That's as good as you're going to get."

…

AN: Sorry it's a short chapter. Hopefully I'll be on a more regular posting schedule now that summer's about done.