Morwen stood wearily before the grand staircase dominating the ground floor of the home belonging to the Princes of Dol Amroth. Adan had left her at the door to seek Prince Thengel. Before bringing her things in, he had asked if she wished to send any message to the prince, but she had declined. Instead, she had asked him not to discuss anything he had witnessed in Imloth Melui of her cousin's behavior. Not that Adan or Prince Thengel wouldn't be discrete, but it only took one unobserved servant or an overheard conversation in the street to start rumors. She hoped to keep the story away from the tongue-waggers as long as possible. Not that anyone would pay attention to the name of Morwen of Lossarnach, but Halmir was known in the city. That and the nature of the situation were bound to arouse interest and she wished more than anything to keep her family from that kind of exposure.

Now, the servant who answered the door had gone in search of his master and she had refused his offer to show her into the drawing room. She imagined herself tracking in all the dirt from the road into her cousin's fine room and grinding it into the upholstery wherever she sat. It wouldn't do. Besides, the thought of sitting made her bruised legs and backside throb. Though, come to think of it, they were throbbing anyway. What difference would it make? She was just looking about for a chair when she heard someone on the stairs. Echoes of footsteps grew louder with each turn of the banister until she saw a tall fellow rapidly turn the corner and come into view, skipping steps as he went along. She lifted her chin and rose to her full height as soon as she saw him. Yes, she had run away from Halmir with her tail between her legs, but she didn't intend to look like she had.

"Ye gods, Morwen!"

Adrahil paused midway down the steps then adopted a slower, statelier stride. He looked well, if greatly concerned by seeing her. In studying his face she could see echoes of her father's and it gave her both pain and pleasure. They had the same expressive gray eyes, narrow nose and a diamond-shaped jaw. His black hair swept his shoulders. He had cut it since his marriage, she reflected. If Adrahil could be accused of any vanity, it was with his hair and he had always worn it long.

"Did you come by yourself?" he called. "Where's Beldir?"

"In bed with a broken leg," she told him. "My traveling companion has gone to seek his own lodgings."

"Who?"

"A man called Adan."

"Who?"

"Adan," she shouted. When Adrahil looked concerned, she added, "Can't we talk at the bottom of the stair? I hate shouting."

When Adrahil reached the floor he embraced his cousin. Morwen tried to stand tall and stoic, but once she felt the warm security of his arms, any pretense of that kind melted away. She leaned into him.

"Why, Morwen, what is the matter?" he asked into her hair. "We received your letter yesterday, but it raised more questions than answers. Thank the Valar it wasn't delayed another day or you might have missed us altogether."

Morwen pushed away from him, blinking some betraying fragment out of her eye. "Missed you?"

"Yes. We were supposed to leave for Dol Amroth today."

She looked so alarmed that he hugged her again. "Nevermind. A little delay won't matter. It's good to see you, besides. I regret that Aranel and I missed the cherry trees this year."

"I'm getting dirt all over your clothes," she murmured into his chest.

"Lossarnach dirt, as you know, never hurt anyone," he said stoutly. That made Morwen laugh quietly. "Come along, you're dead on your feet. Aranel says you're to wash, eat, sleep, and then we will discuss your letter - exactly in that order. Never mind about your bag. Dineth will bring it up."

Morwen allowed herself to be led upstairs by her cousin, relieved to have his arm to lean on. Her legs were in revolt, unaccustomed as they were to such a long ride. They had also forgotten the long, steep stairs that were the staple of Minas Tirith's townhouses.

"Where is Aranel?" she asked when they reached a landing.

"In her rooms." He glanced around, and then lowered his voice. "She had another attack in her lungs this morning so on the whole I think it's better we didn't sail first thing."

"Is it very bad?" Morwen asked.

"It can be," he said gravely. "One never knows when an attack will begin and then it knocks her off her feet completely, sometimes for days. The worst is trying not to panic when her breathing becomes a struggle." He paused and a grim expression darkened his face. "On second thought, the worst is when her mother hovers about. I swear the woman only makes Aranel more anxious when she tries to nurse her. That won't be the case in Dol Amroth, for she certainly won't be invited as long as I can help it."

"And the healers? Do their opinions coincide with yours?"

"Aranel's an old friend of theirs," he said dryly. "Frankly, I think they don't know what they're doing. One suggested she drink honey with a paste made from…no, I won't tell you. It's too disgusting. But the sea air will do her good, of that I'm certain. Minas Tirith may be dry, but Dol Amroth doesn't have half the dust."

"It doesn't need dust," Morwen replied, "with all that sand."

A humbled grin spread over Adrahil's face. "No, I guess not."

"Won't Aranel miss her family?"

Adrahil sighed forcefully. "It will be a much needed break. I'm very fond of Lord Belehir and Lady Rian, but in their hearts she is still the Keeper of the Key's daughter and should be fully at their disposal whenever they want her. They like to forget that she is a princess of Dol Amroth and my wife. We can't stay in Minas Tirith forever." He passed a hand over his face as he spoke.

"In other words, you want to be left alone," she said sympathetically.

"Exactly, my girl." He smiled at her. "Aranel's mother was eager enough to leave us alone while I courted her, but now she's a daily fixture in this house. Remember, Morwen, a newlywed can never see too little of his in-laws."

"Or any of one's relations," she replied. "Present company excepted."

"Thank you!" Adrahil laughed.

"Can't you give Lady Rian a hint that you want to be left alone?"

"Short of bolting the door, you mean? She would only come in through the kitchen or undermine the pantry." His mirth evaporated. "Morwen, about your letter. Why didn't you write to me before this got out of hand? You know I'm always at your service."

Morwen gripped the banister till her knuckles turned white. "I thought I could handle Halmir on his own." She frowned deeply. "I can't always come running to you when there's trouble."

"But now?"

"But now he's revealed a scheme that will ruin the house and me along with it."

Adrahil sober gray eyes studied her. "Because he wants to marry you?"

"Because he borrowed a large sum of money and indebted himself to his friends."

Adrahil whistled. "That never ends badly."

Morwen gave him a pleading look.

"Sorry. We'll talk more on that later. Here's Dineth again to take care of you."

He passed her on to the charge of Aranel's maid. Though she knew the house very well, she allowed herself to be led around to the bath where she could clear away the memory of the road.

…

Morwen awoke the next day having never seen Aranel or Adrahil after her bath. The mixture of a full day's riding, chronic poor sleep since Halmir's arrival, and oppressed spirits had combined to keep her in bed from the moment she laid her head down for a brief rest. No one disturbed her and so she awoke with fresh morning light on her face, much earlier than usual without the obstruction of the beloved valley walls of Imloth Melui.

Morwen rolled onto her back and hugged one of the many pillows to her chest. The mattress seemed to drag her downward toward more sleep, but she yawned and fought it off. She never lounged like this at home. By now she would be catching up with Beldir to begin the work of the day. The wind would be in her hair and she'd have a horsefly bite on her arm. The dogs would be scaring off the birds and squirrels. And then she'd have to rescue Gundor from one of his blunders. Morwen smiled for as long as she could before Halmir appeared on the edge of her imagination to spoil it.

The change in scenery had already begun its magical transformation on her mind, even if it couldn't entirely eliminate the dread she felt. She never thought she would feel happier to leave Lossarnach. The oppressive air in the valley since Halmir and Hundor's arrival seemed to slip from her shoulders like a suffocating mantle as the road stretched onward. She could remember her home the way it had been, but never for very long.

She would be in her orchard right now if Adan hadn't put himself forward as an accomplice. They'd left the house before dawn with only Hareth and Gildis to see them off, and a hasty note from Nanneth.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. A few of Halmir's men were awake and sitting around a little fire. They had observed all of Adan's movements and no doubt reported it. Her chest squeezed painfully around her rapidly beating heart, restricting her breath as she wondered what Halmir was doing right this moment without her presence to check him.

She breathed deeply for several minutes without much effect. The anxiety Halmir provoked would do her more harm over the long run, she knew, than the actuality of his threats. His bullying, his disregard, his foolishness, his caprice would always cause her pain and weariness long after she got used to Bar-en-Ferin being leveled and rebuilt to suit his fancy. She had to extricate herself from Halmir one way or another, and for that she would need help.

Adrahil remained her last hope.

…

Her first opportunity to speak to her cousins came after breakfast. They were seated in Aranel's chambers where Morwen had unfolded all the events of the past several weeks.

Aranel looked wan the way a woman does in a painting. Her illness looked beatific and her weakness accentuated dreamy, dark eyes and sorrowful lips. Next to this woman, Morwen felt like a red-faced farm girl. Aranel was Adrahil's age, Morwen knew, and her father was the highest official in Minas Tirith under the Steward, and here they were chatting away in her dressing room like it was a matter of state.

Though she barely knew Morwen, Aranel had placed herself next to her and took her hand in a motherly fashion. She could feel every callus and scrape on Morwen's hands and fingers, but never said a word about them. Morwen liked her already.

The prince and his wife had been discussing the matter between them while Morwen's tired mind wandered in and out of the conversation. Each word seemed like an added steel band around her heart that constricted as time went by so she distracted herself with other things.

"But I thought the land legally belonged to Randir," Morwen heard Aranel say while she was thinking about her callouses. "Didn't Hador give it to him?"

"No. Hador is Morwen's grandfather. Her great uncle Hathol, Halgemir's heir and Halmir's grandfather, leased the land to Randir through Hirwen."

"Which one is Halgemir again?" Aranel pressed delicate fingers to her temple as the names rolled on. If the names weren't already so familiar to Morwen, she might have done the same. The naming conventions on her mother's side could baffle even the Wise.

"If Randir owned the land, Hathol's line would lose the rents and valuable property," Adrahil droned on. "He wouldn't allow Imloth Melui to go outside the family."

"But Hirwen was Hathol's niece." She looked expressively at Morwen. "It is still in the family."

Adrahil scratched his jaw while he thought.

"A niece doesn't have the same…er, rights, as a son or even a nephew, Aranel," Adrahil pointed out. "If Hirwen had been his nephew, the estate would have remained inside the family. Hador had to consider the possibility that down the line one of his heirs might have more than one son to provide for and he couldn't give it away to a woman who, by marriage, would belong to another family. If Morwen inherited the land from Hirwen, the land would fall away from Hathol's line and belong in name to Randir's line."

"The Princes of Belfalas, you mean?" she asked.

Adrahil nodded. Morwen wanted to sink into the floor. She hadn't considered any this and began to deeply regret the vague terms of her hold on Bar-en-Ferin. Had her parents anticipated any trouble, she might have been spared - either from the fond attachment to a home she believed to be permanent, or else to have had it safeguarded for her through a binding contract.

Aranel leaned forward in her seat as she continued to question Adrahil, although she looked as tired as Morwen felt. She was new to the family and didn't know all the intricacies. Morwen could be considered a distant relation, and her connection to Adrahil took some explaining. Her closeness to him owed entirely to her father's insistence on maintaining contact with any relation he could dig up, no matter how obscure. He had been a prolific correspondent.

Then, it nearly took a scholar-like tenacity to untangle her mother's line, if only for the irritating habit of naming descendants with those beginning with the letter H. Ferneth finally broke that tradition with the birth of her son, Forlong. But then, Hardang hadn't been present at his son's birth to gainsay Ferneth, had he?

Now, as Aranel tried to puzzle out the situation and understand everyone's position in the event, something in her face made Morwen think of an owl, perhaps the way her dark eyes focused on her husband's face, and her head turned slightly to the side as she spoke. Given Aranel's position in life, she had a taste for the sort of situation Morwen had landed herself in. It made Aranel a good choice for the wife of a prince. Morwen didn't envy her.

"Then Randir ought to have taken Hirwen's line as his own," Aranel concluded. "If only to guarantee Morwen's claim on the property."

Morwen looked at her cousin's wife, startled by the idea.

Adrahil shot Morwen a glance before answering, "Randir descended from princes of Belfalas - it would have been unconscionable to dissolve his own connection for…"

"An inferior family," Morwen finished.

Adrahil looked hurt. "I don't mean that, Morwen. You know how highly your father valued his Dol Amroth connections. I would never sneer at the house of Lossarnach myself."

"I know. I'm betraying my own feelings at the moment."

While Hardang was alive she had something to be proud of. Now she saw only a low sort of meanness in her mother's relations. And while there was nothing pompous about Randir, he had always tended to his familial pride, which had always been his motivator and his object of study. It framed his life in the way the orchard had framed her mother's.

"What I don't understand," Aranel continued, steering the conversation back to the main, "is that Hardang didn't seem to think he needed Imloth Melui to provide for his brothers. So why should Halmir reclaim it now? Morwen's father passed away a year ago - and Hirwen…" she lowered her voice. "It's been years from what you've told me."

"Hardang didn't yet have an heir, leaving Halmir as next in line, and for one reason or another honored the lease rather than exercise his right to absorb the land under his own or Halmir's management," Adrahil reasoned. "Hardang, I suppose, felt a moral obligation to Morwen. Only a beast would take a farm away from a tenant in good standing. Of course, the tribute received from Imloth Melui is no small matter, which Halmir might have been less willing to pay out to his brother. Isn't that right, Morwen?" He went on before she could reply. "As for Halmir, he had no choice but to obey his brother while he lived."

"Then can't Halmir be happy with Arnach?"

At last Morwen spoke. "I think I might understand it better now than I did at first. You see, Hardang's wife Ferneth gave birth to a son not a week after we received the news of his death. Halmir is no longer the next in line for the fiefdom…and there is Hundor to consider."

Adrahil pressed his fingers into his eyes. "There's nothing worse than a plague of disenfranchised sons to consider." He glanced at Aranel as if to note the matter between them. Then he said, "Halmir will settle for Bar-en-Ferin if he can't have Arnach."

"Why doesn't Halmir just take the plantation, if it's his right?" Aranel asked. "Why does he insist you marry him? Have you ever considered Halmir before now?"

Morwen cringed. "As a husband? Stars, no. Why should I? I haven't considered anyone."

Her cousins stared at her with identical expressions of incredulity. Morwen fleetingly wondered if that's what happened to married people.

"Morwen," said Aranel. "Be serious. You haven't thought about marriage at all?"

"Very little," she answered.

Certainly not in personal terms. Marriage happened to other people. She had grown up in a happy home and had arrived at the threshold of adulthood with a vocation and a purpose. Her romantic inclinations were more vague compared to girls who might wish to escape less fortunate domestic situations. The miller's many daughters came to mind.

She had her hands full with the orchard, yes, but she had also been grappling with the loss of a parent and learning to be independent. And there was another aspect to consider - the limited population of Imloth Melui. Whom could she marry? Her choices were beekeepers and woodcutters. Who else? Beldir? Gundor? Most of her neighbors worked for her at some time during the year. While she didn't think that made her in any way superior to anyone, still, the young men treated her with diffidence. No. Marriage was a distant prospect and something she probably would have left to her father and his web of contacts had he lived longer.

"Well, I'd say it's time to look at it as necessary. The truth is," Adrahil spoke with a gentle but firm voice. He wasn't going to honey the truth, but he didn't want to crush her feelings. "Tenants have no guarantee of succession of leased land except by the will of their lord. Hardang honored your claim to hold Bar-en-Ferin after your father, but that was by his good will. The estate is in jeopardy unless you secure your own claim - and defend it."

Adrahil's words had a restorative effect on Morwen. She felt awake for the first time and not a little angry. "And how am I to do that?"

"You might buy the land. If he won't sell, however, then there is one other way and he has already presented it to you," said Adrahil grimly.

"I feel sick," said Morwen into her hands. "All I want is my household and my orchards in order and a carrier sending my fruit to market. And don't tell me Halmir comes as a suitor," she added, holding her palm up when Adrahil and Aranel both tried to speak. "Lovers don't bring a small army to pay court."

Aranel looked hurt. "Adrahil didn't mean you should marry Halmir. Of course you can't marry him. He's amoral. But you have to face facts. Unless Hardang's family continues to recognize the verbal agreement between Hador—"

"—Hathol."

"Yes…and Randir, you will be out of a household and an income. You will have to marry. Really, Morwen, there could be worse fates."

Morwen felt a cold sweat all over her just thinking about it. She had everything she ever wanted. Not only were they going to take it away, but they wanted her to be happy with second best!

"Can nothing truly be done?" She looked pleadingly at Adrahil. "What about the Steward's court?"

Adrahil hesitated. "We can try it, but I'm afraid Turgon interferes as little as possible with the lords' rulings within their own fiefs. Certainly not in a case like this when the lord is acting within his rights."

"But he isn't the Lord of Lossarnach, only the regent. Surely this is a special case."

"I'll arrange to meet with Turgon as soon as may be," Adrahil promised. "But I…I don't want you to depend too greatly on it. We can bring the case before the Steward's court, but you have little to go on and he will not be willing to interfere."

"Isn't that his duty as steward?" she asked.

Adrahil gave her a look that wasn't condescending so much as brotherly frustration at her stupidity. "The Steward defends the realm against outer enemies and maintains the interests of the throne. He wouldn't risk the anger of the barons, my father included, who will rightly begin to fear further encroachment on their affairs."

Morwen clutched the chair as a wave of loss swept over her. She hadn't realized how strongly she depended on Adrahil to present a solution. Hearing the doubt in his voice left her nearly breathless with desperation.

"Then it is hopeless," she said, feeling like the floor had fallen out from under her. Her mind reeled. "What am I going to do?"

"I'm sorry, Morwen." Adrahil truly was, but he wasn't going to lie to her. She hated and appreciated him for it. "While you're here, I think it will be best for you to consider the possibility that you will either have to marry Halmir to keep Bar-en-Ferin, or you will have to make a fresh start somewhere else. I'm not entirely sure what your financial prospects are, but I can help you learn what you can afford to do."

Could she purchase a small home in Imloth Melui? But how would she earn a living? And could she bear to live within sight of the eaves of her former home? Where else could she go?

"Come with us to Dol Amroth for the summer," Aranel invited, as if reading her mind. "The change in scenery might provide you with inspiration."

Morwen shook her head. "I can't leave now. I shouldn't have left at all. In a little while we'll be up to our ears in fruit and preparing for market. Then there's the apples in the fall…" A pang ran through her chest. If Halmir would just be patient and allow her one more autumn, then maybe she could consider walking away. Then she could at least prove to herself that she had done it. If she could run Bar-en-Ferin, she could run any household. It had already ceased to feel like home, but she hadn't proved herself yet.

When she made signs of rising, Adrahil stopped her.

"There is one point in your story I'd like to go back to," he continued slowly. "What is Prince Thengel's interest in all this?"

"Prince Thengel?" Morwen blinked at him, surprised by the change in direction.

"I learned before your arrival that Prince Thengel had been in Lossarnach and I've heard you mention him now several times in your narrative. I had no idea that you knew him."

Aranel looked at Morwen with interest. "How is he involved in all this?"

"Oh," said Morwen tiredly as she slumped back into her seat. "He isn't involved at all. His guard wants to marry my cook."

Adrahil and Aranel exchanged glances.

"Pardon?" Adrahil asked.

"They were my guests, the prince and all this men."

"Your guest at Bar-en-Ferin?"

"Well, yes." He couldn't be her guest anywhere else.

"How did that happen?"

"An accident with a fallen tree brought them to me." She saw their confused expressions and sighed. "Prince Thengel fought alongside Hardang in Ithilien, as you know. He came to pay his respects in Arnach, but didn't make it there because of the accident."

Adrahil scratched his head. "But how did they come to be in Imloth Melui in the first place? It's completely out of the way of Arnach."

"I don't know. A shortcut to venison," Morwen said tartly, her shoulders drooping. Ashamed as she was to discover that his attempted visit was only a means of escaping less pleasant business in Minas Tirith, she wasn't going to blacken his name to her cousins. It felt painful enough for her to know it and for some indefinable reason she felt protective of his reputation.

"Venison?" Adrahil parroted. "He went out of his way to hunt?"

"Don't ask me to explain the actions of princes," Morwen mumbled. "I grow fruit."

"Well, nevermind that," said Aranel with a determined, steely look in her eyes. "You're here now. Adrahil will see what can be done with the Steward - and I dare say I can recruit my father. But that will take time. You could be here for a fortnight before he can see Turgon, especially with all the to-do going on with those ambassadors from the north. In the meantime we will make sure that you are so amused you won't think for two minutes about Halmir or Hundor, or whoever they are." That sounded vaguely like a threat to Morwen, but Aranel seemed cheered up by the thought. "There's to be a feast - Adrahil, I completely forgot about it because we were supposed to be gone already! I'll write to Lady Idhren today to let her know that we will attend after all. What a fine thing for Morwen!"

Adrahil and Morwen gave each other mirrored looks of confusion.

"How so?" he asked.

"I dare say she's never been to a feast at Merethrond. They are quite rare these days." She rounded on Morwen, saying, "There will be dancing and interesting people to look at. It will be worth it just to see the place lit up. We can introduce you to the Steward," she added hastily when Morwen began to look alarmed. "Which we may not be able to do before hand. It will only help you gain his favor."

Morwen considered this. "That is a good point." Then her countenance clouded over. "But I won't really know anyone."

Aranel studied her husband while she thought over who would be there. She brightened again. "Prince Thengel will be there, I don't doubt, and you know him!" Aranel gave a little laugh. "Why, you'll practically be related once your cook marries his guard."

Morwen's color changed several times, which her cousins noted with interest. Of course, Aranel was only joking, but it was somewhat true. They wouldn't be related, but they would have a connection. Would Guthere quit his post to stay with Hareth? She would have to explain this development to the Prince.

Very quietly Morwen said, "I don't have a dress." Not after she had dumped wine down the front of it.

An angelic smile suffused Aranel's face. "My dear, I can fix that. Leave everything to me…and my mother."