Thengel sliced through another sliver of roasted fowl. His plate was covered in a layer of mince. Very fine, nearly a paste. He found the repetitive motion of cutting the meat soothing. A technique his uncle Oswin had first taught him as a boy whenever Fengel King plagued him. Not that it had worked in his full-blooded youth, but age had curbed his impulses somewhat. At least, it tempered his annoyance thanks to the jaw-rattling of Lady Morwen's cousins.

Béma, grant him patience and other work for his knife. The dishes lining the table were bare.

"The victuals are about gone everywhere," Thengel overheard Hareth whisper in Morwen's ear. "There's still some wine about, though."

"Tell Beldir and the boys to start packing away the tables, then," Morwen murmured back.

Hareth nodded and climbed down the back of the dais the same way she'd come up. Guests had already began to mill around, roving from table to table to greet a neighbor or suggest a walk through the marked pathways beneath the white and pink canopy. Thengel watched with half-interest until one of the men in the livery of Lossarnach approached the dais. He walked with a pronounced limp, little aided over the springy, uneven turf by a walking stick.

A genuine smile broke over Thengel's face as he clasped the man by the wrist.

"Well met, my friend."

"Greetings, Lord Thengel." The soldier bowed in Morwen's direction. "Greetings, my lady."

"Lady Morwen, this is Beleg. One of Hardang's best."

"Not so or else things might have gone otherwise," Beleg said gravely. "The filth got me in one of their dirty iron jaws and that was that." He motioned with his hands, resembling a bear trap snapping shut.

"I'm sorry to see you were injured," she said smoothly, though her cheeks looked paler. "I did not realize those creatures used such devices."

Beleg took a deep breath, as if to begin an explanation, but Thengel cleared his throat. "Not often, my lady," was all Thengel would say. A cherry festival wasn't the place for a lecture on goblin warcraft.

Beleg said graciously, "You have my thanks for this splendid feast. I have long wished to see Imloth Melui with my own eyes."

Morwen inclined her head graciously. "You are welcome, Beleg. I hope it is worth the long journey."

"Oh, certainly." Turning back to Thengel, he said, "Some of the lads were hoping you'd join them for a glass of wine. My lady won't mind if we steal away an old comrade?"

"Of course not."

Morwen's smile didn't quite meet her eyes. Thengel hesitated. He wanted to leave the dais and the tension behind him, but that meant leaving his hostess alone to be bullied by her cousins. Béma, he hated bullies.

Then his first memory of Morwen was of a young, imperious woman treading toward him across the length of her hall. In a moment's clarity, he realized she could probably defend herself quite well and maybe his presence hindered it. She would be polite to her relations in his presence, after all. Alone, she could let the claws come out. So he thanked Morwen and followed Beleg to the place where a host of familiar campaigners had joined his guard.

…

"Was that all the food?" Hundor asked, looking askance at the empty platters.

Morwen squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled. "There are five score more mouths this year, Hundor. Uninvited, I might add. I can't help it if all the foods ran out within the first hour."

Hundor pushed his empty plate away and grabbed a ewer. "I'm going to look for more wine."

Left alone with Halmir, Morwen didn't bother to keep the conversation going. She found her eyes trailing over the faces, strange and familiar, until they found Prince Thengel in the crowd. Maybe twenty dark-haired men of Lossarnach piled around him, some standing, some overflowing the benches. A bright spot in the group revealed the garlanded chair where Guthere had fallen asleep.

The conversation seemed to flow between Prince Thengel and Beleg. The faces of the men were serious, intent on whatever the prince had to say. She wondered what that might be? Remembering past skirmishes maybe? Did soldiers like to talk about battles or was that too grim? She had no idea and felt half-tempted to join them just to find out.

"Do they use bear traps?" she asked Halmir suddenly, thinking of Beleg's injury. "The orcs, I mean."

"How should I know?" Halmir said.

She turned surprised gray eyes on him. "Well, you've studied, haven't you?" It wasn't as though his father had attended to Hardang's training alone.

Halmir sneered. "It hasn't come up in my lectures. Besides, why would someone like you need to know what orcs do? I don't expect Lord Ecthelion will be recruiting women any time soon."

"I'm only curious. But since we're on the subject of your studies," Morwen said with deep intonation. "I'm surprised by your sudden interest in Bar-en-Ferin. After all, I expect you'll be returning to Minas Tirith soon."

"No, I intend to remain in Lossarnach indefinitely." He sat up straighter. "I'm the head of the family now."

"That's a gloomy thought," Morwen murmured under her breath.

She swallowed the last mouthful of wine in her cup, then listlessly returned the empty cup to the table. A breeze blew soft petals onto the cloth. One petal, a soft white tear, landed in the cup. Morwen smiled as it soaked up a drop of the dark wine, feeling oddly cheered by the veins of new color spreading along the petal. She would get up soon and mingle with her neighbors the way her father had done. Maybe she would dance?

Morwen scooted her chair backward to get out from the table, but Halmir's voice stopped her.

"By the by, what do you make of this guest of yours?"

"What do you mean?"

Halmir lazily tapped his knife on the table. "Do you find him agreeable?"

"I notice you don't," she evaded.

Halmir sniffed. "He thinks that because he's a prince he can lord it over others. But what can you expect from a man with a reputation for rebellion and spleen."

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you heard about him?" Halmir smiled beneath an arched brow. "What he did?"

Morwen uncomfortably recalled the walk to Anarion's well. "He told me something of his history."

"Did he?" Halmir asked archly. "And what did he have to say?"

"You can hardly expect me to divulge a private conversation."

"I'm not asking you to gossip, Morwen. But how else will you know if he told the truth?"

Morwen's face burned. "I have no reason to suspect that he lied."

Halmir laughed unpleasantly. "Morwen, you can't take strangers at their word, especially given what his motives might be."

"What motives?"

Halmir stabbed the air with the knife. "For staying here, of course."

"He needed help for his wounded guard," she told him. "He never had any intention of staying at Bar-en-Ferin. I doubt he ever knew about it before they arrived."

"So he says."

"I saw the wound myself. Guthere was gravely injured."

"Perhaps." Then he gave her a calculating look. "Do you honestly believe he didn't know a thing about Imloth Melui when he arrived? I'm sure Hardang mentioned his young, unprotected cousin at some point."

"Unprotected?" Morwen scoffed.

"Would you like me to say orphan?" Halmir retorted. Morwen gaped at him, stung. "At least, it doesn't hurt to be wary of those who tell their own tales. In fact, I'm not comfortable with you being alone here with him. Adrahil would agree to the unsuitability of this arrangement."

Morwen opened her mouth to protest, but Halmir silenced her with a wave of his hand.

"I care about you, Morwen. Of course I'm concerned," he said, as if divining her thoughts.

"In the twenty years of my life, you have never expressed concern before now, so forgive me for being surprised."

After an uncomfortable pause, he turned fully in her direction, staring her down with eyes she was surprised to find looked vaguely tearful. "How can you say that?"

Why was he going to cry? Why? She was the orphan, after all. Morwen wanted to throw a spoon at him for calling her that. The word felt impersonal and pathetic. It wasn't the sort of word one threw at someone casually.

"Halmir, where was this concern last year when my father died?" she challenged. "Adrahil rode down immediately to be with me while you stayed behind in Minas Tirith. "

"Someone had to wait with the body," he retorted.

"Yes, and from what I heard, it was Adrahil's steward."

Halmir looked temporarily trumped. He drank his wine. "Everyone knows Hardang and Adrahil were your favorites. I can't help it if you haven't noticed me," he said sadly. "I had hoped one day you would count me a friend the way you did Adrahil…but I suppose it's foolish…"

Morwen blinked, then pressed a hand to her throat. "You think I excluded you?"

"I may not have Adrahil's easy way," he said with a toss of his curls, "but I've only ever wanted to be friends with you."

Morwen scraped all her childhood memories together trying to find any shred of evidence that corroborated with this stunning revelation. She couldn't think of a single instance.

"I've tried lately to show you that, but you've rebuffed my efforts." He jerked one of his cuffs straighter around his wrist, directing Morwen's attention toward the blinding yellow roses.

The cloth. Stars. Maybe she should have appeased him and turned it into a table runner or something rather than send it back.

Morwen sighed. "I am sorry if I've hurt your feelings, Halmir, but I never realized you wanted to be friends."

"Never realized? I am honestly shocked," he went on, "I suppose it's too much to hope now that you might overcome your prejudices."

Prejudices? Morwen pinched the bridge of her nose as the conversation spiraled downward. Halmir's actions and words confounded and confused her. How had he managed to turn the tables on her?

"There's a simple way to start if we're to be friends," she said. "First, I don't need you to worry about me, the orchard, or about my guests. I don't need help and Prince Thengel has proven himself to be honorable and courteous." Then to drive the point home, she added. "Two of his men are helping in the orchard, in fact."

Halmir jumped in his seat. "What? How long?"

"Only a few days. Prince Thengel himself offered to lend a hand, which of course I couldn't allow. But they were a wonderful help after the storm." Morwen warmed just thinking about it. "I only wish they would stay on indefinitely."

Morwen failed to notice a look of mortification spread over Halmir's face. Surely that was the look of a man who finally realized the difference between the sort of help she needed and wanted versus the silly notions he had offered.

"You would like that, would you? Has the prince expressed a similar wish?"

"Not really. Though he hasn't set a date for his departure and his men seem content to let Guthere heal as much as possible before leaving."

Halmir's eyes narrowed, losing that moist aspect that had appalled Morwen. "I see," he said.

"I certainly hope so," she said optimistically as she rose. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to light the lanterns before it's too dark to find them in the branches." She swallowed, hoping for a conciliatory tack, "But I will think about what you've said and perhaps try to make an effort to…to get along with you better."

Halmir was too lost in thought to hear her. A worried crease marred the skin between his brows and he absentmindedly twiddled one of his waxed curls between his fingers.

…

When Thengel and Beleg arrived at the trestle table, he could scarcely move for the sea of hands reaching out to grasp his own. His guard formed a semi-circle at the end of the table. Cenhelm and Thurstan flanking a snoring Guthere. He nodded at Cenhelm who had given him a worried look when he caught his eye.

Thengel waved his hand in a semi-circle, indicating the swath of ground below the cherry trees. "I don't recognize most of these men who have come with you."

"You wouldn't," Beleg told him as he handed Thengel a cup of wine from their supply. "Most have never left the fief."

"Or the farm," another soldier standing behind Guthere piped in darkly. Adan, Thengel recalled. His head looked misshapen where an ear had been hacked or bitten off. "But Lord Halmir trussed them up in uniform anyway. As if these boys were trained and all."

"Not trained?" Thurstan parroted, aghast. "What's their use, then?"

Guthere snorted, waking himself up. He blinked blearily at the crowd.

"No, these are a bunch of toy soldiers," Beleg muttered, "To be lined up on display, then forgotten. We've had no word about returning to the border."

Thengel glanced at the table. He noticed Lord Hundor leaving it. Halmir and Morwen were engaged in spotty conversation, but he didn't see any sign that she was in distress.

"Why would Halmir dress up farm lads in soldiers' garb?" Thengel asked. After all, as Beleg had suggested, and Thengel knew, the lordling had made his intentions to avoid Ithilien clear.

"Well, that's more than we know."

"You've never been to this feast?" Thengel asked Beleg. When the guard nodded, he continued, "But do you know if this was customary to bring a company of armed men?"

Beleg's forehead wrinkled. "No, usually only Lord Hardang and his brothers were invited, and then Lady Ferneth once they were married. A few guards went along, of course."

"So, this is unusual for you?"

"What isn't nowadays?" said Adan. "It tell you, life at the garth has taken a strange turn since Lord Hardang fell."

"What do you mean?" Cenhelm asked.

"Well, it's like this. Lord Hardang died, but he's got this new baby boy whom he never laid eyes on. Rightfully, little Forlong's the new lord," said Beleg. "Is he not?"

"But he's an infant," another soldier chimed in.

"Right. So Lord Halmir comes back from Minas Tirith," Beleg's voice dropped to a low rumble, "and he starts strutting around the garth like he's one of the sea kings. Well, we've been waiting for Lady Ferneth to come around and set him down a peg, only she hasn't."

Thengel asked, "Would you say that's odd behavior for your mistress?"

"Yes," said Adan. "That's exactly what we can't understand. She's a bear normally. In a fight, I'd say Lord Hardang would've chosen her for a second over any man."

"A bear, hmm?" Thengel tried to recall if Hardang ever used that descriptor for his wife.

"Sure. Within the first fortnight of her marriage, she had the garth cowed, Halmir and Hundor included." Adan leaned into the table and murmured so quietly everyone had to lean in to hear. "Some say she's the reason Halmir took a scholarly bent and rode off to Minas Tirith.

"We haven't seen her since Forlong's name day. Only a few of the people she brought from her father's household and the steward hear a word from her."

Cenhelm's eyebrows rose up to his hairline. "Not even Lord Halmir or his brother?"

Adan shrugged. "Not that we know of."

Thengel crossed his arms. "So Halmir has set himself up as regent. That's a lot of…responsibility."

"A baby can't lord it over a fief, can he?" said Beleg. "He won't be riding into Ithilien any time soon, neither. I guess Lord Halmir's next in line then until little Forlong comes of age."

"What about his mother?" Thengel suggested.

"Well, if she'd come out of hiding," Beleg said bitterly, "then I guess she'd deal for her son just as well."

"A woman can't run a fief." One soldier harrumphed.

Thengel held up his hand, not about to tell the men of Arnach their own business. While they exchanged outlooks on the matter, he delved into his own thoughts. The conversation shifted to news about comrades who had sustained worse injuries and hadn't been picked to walk the long road to Imloth Melui. They ribbed Guthere for getting in the way of a tree when he'd made it out of Ithilien unscathed. The warrior chuckled and grimaced in turn, saying,

"Laugh all you want, boys, but the kitchen girls bring me all the food I can stomach and Lady Morwen herself shows up with flowers for my bedside. They tell me she even held my hand while the old crone knocked a hole in my skull. Didn't she, my lord?"

Thengel nodded. "She did." Well, for some of it. He almost smiled at how stubborn she'd been about staying for the surgery, yet so sickened by it.

"She crooned your name like the wee baby you are." Thurstan dug an elbow into Guthere's side. "Now whenever she comes by he turns red as a tomato."

Cenhelm cleared his throat. "Keep it respectful. For all you know she's standing behind you."

Guthere and Thurstan shared stricken glances before looking over their shoulders.

Thengel's eyes wandered back to the dais where he had last seen Morwen. Hundor had returned to the table. Halmir who was helping himself to more wine from a new ewer. Where had Morwen gone? Not that it mattered. It was her orchard, but he remembered how the crowd had made her uneasy.

"Any plans to return to Ithilien yourself, my lord?" Beleg asked, drawing Thengel's attention back to the table.

"If I had my way, I'd be there…" he meant to say now, but something checked him. He settled for, "Soon."

"We feel the same," said Beleg. "Better than sitting around while the moss grows over us, but our fearless leader doesn't feel the same."

Thengel clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll put in a word for you boys with Ecthelion when I see him next."

"May I ask when that might be?" said Adan, hopeful.

The chatter around the table stopped. Thengel's men sat stiff and silent.

Thengel cleared his throat. "Well, not for a little while longer. "

Beleg and Adan exchanged mutual looks of confusion. "Is Minas Tirith that bad in the spring?"

"Only for the prince," Cenhelm muttered.

Thengel rolled his eyes.

Then he noticed that the younger brother had deserted the dais again.

…

It was early yet to be lighting the lamps, but Morwen saw an opportunity to be alone and she snatched it. She had observed before that if one walked with purpose and an arm full of something, people tended not to interrupt. Guests melted out of her way without a word. Some nodded. Most scarcely seemed to notice the lady of the house, but then, there never had been much of a distinction between the lady and the serving women of Bar-en-Ferin.

Armed with a box of long matches, she'd skirted the perimeter of the marked grounds. Halfway through the round, she'd come across a lantern swinging in a breeze. The wick had fallen into the well at the bottom. Morwen had to get a ladder forgotten against the stone wall in order to bring the lantern down to where she could fish out the wick.

When she climbed halfway up the ladder to replace the lantern on its limb, her eyes fell upon a dreaded sight. A seeping layer of green and yellow gum staining the bark. The canker oozed where the branch had been removed. They'd been so preoccupied with the damage at the top of the slope, she hadn't spent enough time in the cherries. Botheration. Where was Beldir? She could see that the cut had not been clean enough, exposing the limb to disease. If the tools hadn't been cleaned between trimmings, the other trees might also have cankers. Beldir would know.

Morwen descended the ladder, barely mindful of the long skirt she wore. Halfway down, she lost her footing on a rung. Heart in her throat, she slid the rest of the way, landing in someone's arms before both landed on the grass

The arm pinned under her waist wore a black cuff.

"Hundor," she sputtered. A confused moment passed as they tried to untangle limbs. "What were you doing sneaking up behind me?"

"Lucky for you, I did. Ow— mind your elbows."

When she turned to face him, she noted the high color on his cheeks. But then, hers felt rather hot as well. She pushed herself off the ground, though the unyielding fabric of her bodice made it difficult. Hundor busied himself swiping off grass and cherry blossoms from his stark garb.

"Look, I came to say you'd better follow—"

"Have you seen Beldir?" Morwen interrupted.

Hundor blinked. "No, but…"

"I need to find him. Look, do you think these leaves look a little too yellow?" She made him look upward.

"I don't know…"

"Not there. Just on this branch?"

"Morwen, would you listen? It's important."

He sounded nearly sincere, but then, the last time Morwen believed him she'd nearly landed in Anorian's bottomless well.

"So is this if I don't take care of it."

"It's about the orchard, you know."

Morwen held up her hands. "Hundor, if we are to maintain the peace, speak no more to me of improvements or guests."

A contemptuous, sly twisted over Hundor's face. Whatever original motive had led him to seek her, vanished. She hadn't given him the attention he wanted, then snapped at him, so now he was going to make it difficult in order to sooth his own nerves. Hundor was always predictable. Morwen sighed.

"I promise that isn't my immediate purpose," he said casualy as he picked off an invisible cherry blossom. "Just thought I'd mention Halmir's had too much to drink."

She gave him a sharp look. "So?"

"Well, he's a blabber when he's drunk, you know."

Morwen didn't follow Hundor's line of reasoning. She gripped the side of the ladder, ready to mount again to inspect her sick tree. "I'm not responsible for Halmir's behavior," was all she said.

"No, but it is your dais and they are your guests." Hundor shrugged. The corner of his lip lifted with hidden knowledge. "Halmir could say anything."

Morwen let go of her held on the ladder. "What is he saying?"

Hundor shrugged again. Morwen bit back an aggravated retort, all too familiar with her cousin. Hundor must have his games and if that meant feigning ignorance to draw it out, so be it.

"Oh very well," she groused. "Lead the way."

…

Halmir perched on the lip of the dais, refilling his cup with the rich red wine sent by Adrahil. His cheeks were apple red, and the aura gleaming around his eyes as they swept the crowd made Morwen cringe.

He cleared his throat. A few people turned to look, saw only a man deep in his cups and so gave their attention back to their neighbors.

Morwen approached the dais slowly, Hundor trailing behind in her shadow.

"Halmir."

He looked down at her. "Oh, Hundor found you. Hiding in the trees, I told him. Look, I have poured you a drink." He pointed vaguely toward her cup.

"I've had enough wine for today," Morwen answered, "and so have you, I think."

With his free hand, Halmir swatted at stray curls that had fallen over his shoulder. "No." He looked down at his glass. "Well, it's beside the point, anyway."

She mounted the first step. "Why don't you come on a walk with Hundor and me?" She felt like a parent trying to talk a small child down from a tree after it had climbed too high. "I'll just help you down, shall I?"

"Help me?" Halmir laughed. He sounded surprisingly sober. "Morwen, I came to help you."

"What do you mean?" she asked dryly, feeling like the day had begun to repeat itself.

"I'm going to take care of you. Someone's got to." Halmir sidled down the length of the dais toward the center, away from Morwen.

Hundor tapped her on the shoulder. He whispered, "There he goes."

"Halmir!" she called. The nearest guests stared at her. "It's nothing…nothing to see…" she told them. When Halmir still didn't acknowledge her, she followed after him.

Then, calling on the attention of the revelers, he said, "Yes, I have come for a purpose," as if to bolster himself. He poured himself another very generous helping of wine.

"I love this part," Hundor crooned. "It's always entertaining after his…how many cups was it?" He began ticking off the amount of wine on his fingers.

Alarmed, Morwen snatched the glass out of Halmir's hand. The stem felt slick with sweat and the wine sloshed out over Morwen's hand, trickling like red vines down her wrist.

"Pardon, neighbors," Halmir called, "your attention please!"

"Halmir, don't you dare!" Morwen hissed.

…

"What's that grand mop of hair up to?" Cenhelm asked. He tapped on Thengel's shoulder and pointed toward the dais.

"Who?" Thengel glanced up just as Lady Morwen, looking quite white, snatched a cup out of her cousin's hand.

"Listen, everyone," Halmir shouted. "Listen!"

Oh, Béma, Thengel cringed.

The voices petered out the way the hissing and snapping of oil in a frying pan fizzled out when removed from heat. The dancers were the last to fall quiet. Everyone turned toward the dais, blank or bemused expressions on their faces. They were used to one speech at the feast. Two seemed gratuitous.

Halmir's over-bright gaze swept the upturned faces of his audience with satisfaction. "Today is more than a feast day. It is a celebration of the renewal of spring, but also of unity and goodwill. And I flatter myself…"

Halmir seemed only then to notice that the wine glass had disappeared from his hand. The lordling stared at his empty fingers stupidly.

"Looks stewed," Thurstan observed.

Yes, Halmir did look like he'd partaken of a little too much wine. Even from a distance, Halmir's eyes had an over-bright eagerness, collared below by reddened cheeks. Thengel rose slowly from the bench, considering whether or not to tackle him or wait to see if someone closer with any sense would do it first. But then Halmir found his train of thought again.

"Er…I flatter myself that this noble household and that of Arnach will be be united all the more, for today I declare my intention to make your lady my fief…er, wife."

Oh boy! Thanks to Thanwen, Gythja, Lia, and Anna for critters.