"Go, you idiot. I've got her."

Wynflaed's voice sounded far away. Morwen felt herself being transferred from one set of arms to another and then eased to the grass. Her eyes were open but insensible as of one part of her brain told her something went wrong and the other warned her she would be fine as long as she did not look down.

Wynflaed crouched beside where she lay half reclined against something. Then all view of the sward disappeared as she and Wynflaed were enclosed. Slowly Morwen recognized the enclosure for what it was, skirts. The uproar of the crowd pounded in her ears, muffled by the women standing around her.

Morwen felt wet. In a concerted effort to ignore the intrusion in her side, her mind focused on one thing, the growing moisture of her skin and her clothes, like she had stepped from the bath and dressed with out drying off. She hated that feeling. She reached for her side as if to tear away the offending fabric, but a hand stopped her.

"Don't touch it," Wynflaed said sternly. "Look at me, Morwen. Hold still. Right? This won't hurt me a bit."

Morwen tried to figure out why that sounded wrong as she focused on Wynflaed's glacial eyes. Then she felt terrible, pinching pain, like her skin was caught between two glass shards, pulling. Morwen bit her cheek, groaning as the pain went on and on. She tried to move away from it but something pinned her in place. Her arms, legs, and shoulders tensed till they were hard as bricks, anticipating more pain. Though it felt like an age, only a mere few seconds passed before Wynflaed cast something away that glinted briefly in the sun before landing out of sight. Nanneth appeared on Morwen's other side and pressed something to her hip.

A shout went up from the onlookers, punctuated here and there with gasps.

"What happened?" she hissed through her teeth.

"Hush. Take this." Nanneth held a bottle to her lips. "Go on, open your mouth."

Lukewarm liquid ran sluggishly down Morwen's throat. When it hit her stomach, she began to feel sick. Her head lolled backward and she didn't see Nanneth lift the rag away to inspect the wound. As a fog seemed to roll forward in Morwen's brain, the orchard fell deadly silent. Even her blood seemed to stop flowing and her heart stop beating so she could hear the emptiness.

Wynflaed leaned over her, still as a statue as she listened. At last she nodded at something Morwen couldn't see. Then one by one the birds began to sing again.

"Well, it's over now anyway," Wynflaed muttered. "That potion should be kicking in, shouldn't it? Cenhelm, carry her down the hill. These people have had enough entertainment for one day."

Morwen felt her prop rising from the ground, bringing her up with him. Cenhelm had held her upright the entire time.

"All right, my lady?" she heard him murmur.

Morwen nodded against his shoulder. His beard scratched her forehead. She still felt pain, but from far away, as if someone had thrown it across the room. Then the world started to spin and she fell asleep.

…

Ferneth ordered Halmir's grave to be dug in the woods off the property he had destroyed. Thirsty for more spectacle, all the onlookers had gone to witness the burial. All but Thengel. Whether Ferneth realized it or not, her decision had given him the opportunity to slip away quietly.

He returned to the house alone, stopping in his rooms long enough to strip out of his bloodied clothes, wash, and put on a fresh tunic and trousers. His hands didn't seem to want to obey him and he dropped his tunic twice before he got it over his head. What was the matter with him? No one would question the justice of his actions. Even Turgon wouldn't fault him once he learned the facts. And Thengel had killed before, many times in his career. Hadn't he anticipated the moment when he could pay out Morwen's cousin for the grief he had caused her?

The house felt vacant when he left the study to seek her out. Most of the people were still out with Ferneth, except for the women who had accompanied Morwen. When he knocked on her door, it opened a crack, revealing a milky, gray eye. Then it snicked shut again, almost catching the tip of his nose.

He sat down on the floor across from the door and waited. After a minute or two, Wynflaed slipped from the room and joined him in the passage, sliding down the wall to sit next to him.

"Your ears must be burning."

"What?"

"There's a half a dozen women in that room right now all speculating about you and Morwen. That's a nice show you gave them today. Half of them are disappointed and the other half are ever hopeful."

"At least someone enjoyed it," he muttered.

Wynflaed squinted at him. "You look tired."

He rested his head against the wood paneling. "I am tired." Then he asked, "how is she?"

"She's asleep," Wynflaed told him. "It's only a scratch. More or less."

Thengel knew what Wynflaed considered a scratch. Most people gave more consideration to a paper cut than she gave to a nip from a sword. But he believed her.

He half wished he'd known it at the time. Maybe he would have kept his head? But he hadn't. Instead, he'd watched with blank surprise as she fell. Then he'd gone into a blind rage. He'd wanted to take a piece out of Halmir for such a long time, it hadn't taken much for the old hotspur to turn up.

"Was it as satisfying as you hoped?" Wynflaed asked.

Thengel rubbed his eyes in slow circles, knowing what she meant. "No."

Wynflaed shook her head. "Huh. No satisfaction in revenge and you won't even take what you came for. Poor you."

"Not now, Wyn."

The rays from the westering sun grew longer as they streamed in through the window at the end of the passage, catching on dust motes. Thengel watched them dancing. He wished the day would end.

"I guess it's for the best, letting Morwen off the hook."

Thengel glanced at her. "Guess? Don't you know it?"

She shrugged. "I figured you made up your mind to keep her, so your change of heart is a little surprising. That's all."

Keeping Morwen. Leave it to Wynflaed to make it sound like acquiring a stray dog. But then, she'd never taken Morwen seriously as a contender for the queenship of Rohan.

"I can't," he answered. "After this, I don't think she'll look at me."

What would Morwen think of him now that he'd killed her kinsman, even one as filthy as Halmir? She's practically pleaded for him before the duel and people were odd about family, even members they didn't like. That, on top of giving up the plantation he'd just won for her? Not a chance. Idhren had warned him as much.

"You weren't wrong, Thengel. About dicing up Halmir, I mean." She muttered under her breath, "you've been wrong about plenty of other things."

He looked at his sister in surprise. "Never thought I'd hear that from you."

"Halmir wanted blood. Whether it was Morwen's or Ferneth's, who can say? You couldn't give him another chance to do harm, so no regrets."

"Let's hope Morwen sees it that way."

"Give her some credit," Wynflaed groused. "Besides, if you hadn't done for Halmir, I would've."

He choked. "You?"

"I told you I'd watch out for her."

"So why didn't you when you had the chance?"

Wynflaed tried to look modest. "Well, I wasn't going to steal your moment."

"Wynflaed, you have been stealing my moments ever since we were kids. Everything I ever did you had to do better."

"I can't help it if I'm more talented than you and that Father likes me the best," she sniffed.

"False. Father likes Fritha best."

"Only because she never talks back to him," Wynflaed growled.

"And she married the husband he picked out for her, unlike you."

"Fritha is the worst."

Thengel grinned, but it quickly evaporated. "It's Oswin's attention we were really competing for. Wasn't it?"

"True. But it may come as a surprise to you, brother mine, that I occasionally exercise good judgment over competition."

Thengel studied her for a moment. "You were more worried about Morwen than revenge, that's why you left Halmir to me," he said. "You haven't changed your mind about her have you?"

Wynflaed shrugged.

Then he saw light. "You're the one who keeps putting the horn back on the mantelpiece."

"That's right," she answered with a defiant tilt of her head.

"Why? You never supported the match."

"I wanted to see her throw it at you again."

"Wyn."

Wynflaed cut the air with her hand. "Look, it's not about the match. Halmir had to know the House of Eorl was watching over this place. We may not have a lot to be proud of, but I'm not going to let some skimpy Gondorian run roughshod over our own."

"Our own?" He looked at her for a long while until she grew annoyed.

"What?" she snapped.

He shrugged. "Nothing. Just trying to figure you out."

"There's nothing to see here, Thengel. Move along."

"Same here."

Wynflaed snorted. "Yeah, I know. That's why you're hunched on the floor in front of her room like an anxious hen. So, what will you do now?"

Thengel shrugged as his fingers ghosted over an uneven blemish in the floorboard. "Search for Hundor. He has to answer for his deeds too."

"And you need to let off some steam."

He nodded.

"Don't you think you should rest first before you go raking the valley?"

"Nope." That's the last thing he wanted, more time to think.

"What happens after?"

"After what?"

Wynflaed rolled her eyes. "After you don't find Hundor because he's long gone but you need to delay so you can be sure Morwen's all right even though I've told you she is?"

Thengel got up and dusted himself off. "Then I return to Minas Tirith and you and Oswin go home."

Wynflaed stared up at him. "Home? Well, Oswin might have something to say about that. You see, I haven't exactly fulfilled my role here in Gondor, have I?"

"There's nothing more for you to do for me, Wynflaed," he muttered as he offered her a hand up.

"Just so long as we understand each other."

"I think we do."

"Fine."

…

Thengel called off the search for Hundor at sundown the next day, leading his party as they groped back up the greenway toward the chaos of the great house. It was well past midnight and the darkest part of the night when they returned, but all around the lawn still buzzed with frenetic energy. Without Halmir, the men of Arnach seemed scattered and nerves ran high. With the help of torchlight, they were busy cleaning up camp under Beldir's direction. He wouldn't allow them a rest till every bent blade of grass was unbent.

After leaving Rochagar comfortable in his stall, Thengel made his way to Morwen's doors. He had his gear in hand and meant to slip quietly through the doors to whatever bed was open with this current wave of guests, but he paused on the threshold, uncertain of what he would find. He had murdered Morwen's kinsmen, not quite in cold blood, but all the same.

He caught Beldir watching him from his perch on the wall encircling the well. The scarecrow nodded once in greeting. Thengel returned the gesture, knowing they shared fellow feelings where it concerned Halmir. Then his lips formed a grim line and then he let himself inside.

...

Thengel met Ferneth pacing with the baby as he stepped inside the hall. He paused. For a moment, he had mistaken her for Morwen. They had the same lithe figure and flowing black hair. The bundle in her arms should have been a clue, but his brain was tired. Out of sight of the men and women from Arnach, Ferneth seemed to diminish a little, looking younger and less authoritative.

"Good morning, Prince Thengel. You're up early…or going to bed very late," she murmured.

Thengel laid his things on Morwen's broad table as he approached her. "So are you."

She smiled dryly as she swayed with the baby. "Yes, but I'm following someone else's schedule." Then she said, more solemnly, "You don't have any news for me then?"

Thengel bowed his head. "None. But we'll find him. My guess is he left the valley straight away and will try to conceal himself near Pelargir."

Ferneth frowned. "You think so? How much of that money will he squander before anyone catches him, I wonder?" She shook her head. "I'll let Lord Daeron's advisors pursuit it at their expense, if they wish. For myself, I'm none too eager to have him in my sights again."

"I can understand that sentiment."

Ferneth glanced around the hall, as if deciding to take advantage of the unexpected privacy. "Prince Thengel, I realize you're exhausted, but I'd like to have a word with you regarding Morwen before we're interrupted."

He bowed slightly, but his clenched jaw gave away what he felt. She regarded him with intelligent eyes.

"Morwen will be fine, you know. Nothing Nanneth couldn't patch up."

"So my sister told me," he said.

"Come, don't look so grave. It isn't your fault."

He didn't answer. "I shouldn't have turned my back on him."

Ferneth crossed to the hearth. Forlong had fallen asleep again and her arms were tired. She sat in one of the armchairs that had belonged to Morwen's parents and bunched a cushion beneath her elbow to better prop her arm beneath the baby's weight. Then she leaned back with a sigh.

"If we're going to be possessive about blame, I should take my share of it."

That startled Thengel out of his silence. "Your share?"

"Yes. Let's be fair," she continued. "I knew my brothers-in-law were attending the festival and it felt like a relief to know they would be out of the way for a while. But that Halmir would do this? I see now I erred when I went into isolation. It has allowed much mischief to take place."

"This is a bitter time for you, Lady Ferneth, and no one would blame you."

"No? Who knows how long this would have gone on if not for your rather explicit instructions to make my presence felt here."

"I prefer to think of it as a suggestion," he said humbly.

She gave him a sharp look. "Well, either way, it's better to do a thing yourself, so you were correct to send for me. Thought to be frank, I didn't know if Halmir would acknowledge my authority."

"It appears you have regained any ground you might have lost when you went into mourning," Thengel observed. "And then some."

Ferneth shot a contemptuous glance at the air, perhaps imagining her brothers-in-law. "It wasn't for nothing that Hardang made me his wife. My brothers-in-law seem to have forgotten that." She sighed painfully. "Then again, so had I for a little while."

"I'm sorry," he answered.

Ferneth's shoulders bunched like a ruffled chicken. "Well, don't be. That's life. We can only move forward as best we may. You've rid me of one brother who would have been a thorn in my side every day until Forlong comes of age. As for Hundor, he may find yet that I have a preference for sturdy boots and a swift kick. If he ever turns up, that is."

A smile tugged at the corner of Thengel's mouth, despite himself. "I pity your enemies and count anyone fortunate who calls you his friend."

"You certainly may." She smiled tiredly. "I like clever, courageous people."

"The credit for cleverness belongs to Morwen. She thought up bringing their families here."

Ferneth smiled dryly. "I'm glad it turned out in the end. There's the added benefit that I have been allowed me to observe my cousin's champion. Though I confess I'm surprised by how that turned out."

Thengel crossed his arms.

Ferneth eyed the foreign-looking horn on the mantelpiece. "Sit down, Prince Thengel," she ordered suddenly. "I don't like it when people hover."

Thengel obeyed with unusual meekness, but then, he felt quite tired too.

"I'm puzzled by something," Ferneth told him.

"What's that?"

"During the duel you struck me as a man far from indifferent to my cousin."

Thengel grasped the chair arms. Again he said nothing.

"Tell me, why won't you make good on your right to Morwen's hand?" she asked. "That was part of the bargain, wasn't it, as her champion?"

"My conscience wouldn't allow it," he said. "And I think it would not profit."

Ferneth glanced at him knowingly. "No, I suppose not yet. Morwen will have to think it was her idea. Stubborn through and through. She gets that from her mother's side."

Morwen was that, but then, Thengel thought most people had a stubborn streak. He certainly did. Then he asked, "what must she think is her idea exactly?"

"Giving her hand to a prince, of course. Perhaps that's why you so nobly withdrew?" Ferneth waited patiently.

"Why? What is your interest in my motivations?"

"A princess is a nice thing to have in the family. Halmir wasn't the only one with plans for our cousin."

A shadow fell over Thengel's countenance. "You must be a woman of remarkable vision if you could see that from Arnach."

"My family was always clear-sighted." She looked into his face, causing him to wonder if he hadn't worn his feelings as close to the vest as he believed. "Ever since the letters, I've longed to observe my cousin's champion. And now that I have, answer me this…just how long have you been in love with Morwen?"

"What makes you think that I am?"

Ferneth pursed her lips before answering. "Either you are completely distracted by love or strongly lacking in courtesy. As the Steward's foster son, I'd like to reject the latter. After all, you never did make it to Arnach to deliver your condolences, and I have been sitting with you this half hour at least without a word about Hardang."

Thengel glanced down at his hands. "Lady Ferneth, I'm ashamed…"

"Yes, yes. But what about Morwen?"

He blinked. "What about her?"

"What do you intend to do about her?"

"Me? I have not right to do anything."

"Nonsense. That didn't stop you from challenging my brother-in-law and sending me rather explicit instructions to take him in hand, if you recall. While I admired your grand gesture yesterday, I think we both know better. You may have given her hand back, but what about her heart?"

Thengel rubbed his eyes, not particularly enjoying the way Ferneth set him on his toes. "Morwen is young and proud. She wants autonomy," he observed.

"Marriage doesn't have to be a fetter," Ferneth countered. "Mine wasn't."

"What about Bar-en-Ferin? I can't stay here forever," he said, echoing Halmir.

"A minor detail."

Thengel shook his head. Ferneth didn't know her younger cousin very well if she believed that. "Morwen won't think so. This isn't just about Bar-en-Ferin. This is about giving up Gondor and the life she knows."

"She can learn…"

"I've also killed a member of her family—"

"In defense of a young woman, as I've told you, it's completely justified. I'm not charging you with murder."

"And there is the difference in age," he added.

Ferneth laughed. "The difference in age is a trifle," she continued with so much humor that Thengel nearly thought she might be touched. "You have many years of vigor before you. Morwen has come of age. What else matters?"

He frowned skeptically. "Seventeen years difference is not a trifle for my people. Our years run shorter than yours. She would be a young widow, perhaps in a foreign land." He brooded over the thought. Then he said quietly, "And I deem she would not thank me for taking her from her home only to abandon her among a strange people. They are strange even to me now."

"I was six winters older than Hardang, yet I am a young widow. Nearness of age won't protect against that and there will be young widows until sickness and war cease and the world is healed," she murmured. "From what I can see, the world is only growing more dangerous."

"If that's the case, I can't see how she would welcome any consideration from me. What would she have to look forward to but pain?"

"That's all any of us have to look forward to," Ferneth murmured as she rocked the child, "but there are also blessings." Then she looked at him coolly. "Have you asked her, at least?"

"No!"

"Then how do you know she wouldn't welcome it?"

"She has made her feelings quite plain on that score."

"You've told her directly that you love her?"

"No," he repeated.

"Then come, Thengel Thrice-Renowned, where is your courage?"

Thengel glowered. "It's not a matter of courage. Someone has to be sensible. I won't put her in the position of having to choose between a life in Lossarnach and one with me, especially when I have a good guess what she wants."

"You can't know unless you ask her. The least you could do is offer her the truth."

They regarded one another in silence, the air charged with opposing wills.

"Prince Thengel, forgive me for being blunt considering this is the first time you and I have had a conversation of any depth, but I think I can give you the same advice my late husband would have given you. If you love Morwen, don't risk losing something precious over the gap of a few seasons. Think about it."

Thengel bowed his head, but said nothing.

The child in Ferneth's arms seemed to startle awake for a moment and she bounced him gently while watching the prince under her eyelashes as her words took effect. Thengel's countenance changed as rapidly between desire and uncertainty and fatalism as the weather on the plains in his homeland. His eyes were bright but he frowned deeply as if he dared not hope.

Lady Ferneth laid down her last card. "Morwen will have a home to return to in Lossarnach when that evil day comes - if she wants it still. I cannot promise Bar-en-Ferin to her descendants, but we will do what we can for her - and I'll put it in writing as part of her dowry. I'm sure I can scrape something together for her; in fact, I intend to. I'm afraid I owe her for what Halmir has done here."

Thengel remained silent and thoughtful, mulling over what Ferneth had said until Gladhon and Thurstan appeared to tell him the second search party had returned empty handed.

"It's only a matter of time before the other parties return, Prince Thengel. I doubt their news will be any different," Ferneth said.

"What are your orders, my lord?" Gladhon asked.

"Sleep, if you can find a place." His jaw worked as he came to a decision. "Tomorrow we're returning to Minas Tirith."

Twin looks of surprise crossed Ferneth and Gladhon's countenances. But the guard bowed and left to tell the others without questioning his decision and Ferneth would not until they were alone again. Knowing this, Thengel got up and bid her goodnight before Gladhon was out the door.

…

Ferneth's eyes followed Thengel out of the hall with gray displeasure. How is it that they both had eyes in their heads and yet they saw completely different things? And Ferneth trusted her eyes. She knew what she had seen pass over Morwen's face when the prince reneged. She also knew the difference between righteous anger and wrath born from love and fear. One brought a man to justice, the other removed enemies. Oh to have been a bird in Morwen's rafters to witness the events that had unfolded here in the past month. But even with that knowledge, she doubted her opinion would greatly alter.

"So, it's up to Morwen now," she murmured to herself. Then she gently pressed the baby to her breast and kissed his soft head.

…