Prince Thengel dropped her hand.
"Thank you," he said grimly.
Morwen had the impression that he felt slightly less pleased to see her now than he had a few seconds ago.
"My birthday passed a few days ago," he said, gazing at some point over her head. "How did you hear about it?"
"Guthere told me. He had some very interesting things to say about you, in fact."
"Hm."
His eyes narrowed as if assessing for damage, which gave him a stern aspect. Couples brushing past them on their way off the dance floor cast curious glances their way. This reminded Morwen that they were standing in a very public place. While most of the people here might not recognize Morwen of Lossarnach, not so with Prince Thengel. She wondered if anyone else noticed the abrupt manner of their reunion?
Lord Daeron had crept away, but Morwen couldn't see where. She regretted he hadn't put up any kind of objection to Prince Thengel cutting in. They must not raise sturdy fellows in Lebennin, she reflected.
Prince Thengel also noticed the crowd parting around them and the eyes turned in their direction. He turned so that his back faced the onlookers. Morwen felt his fingers on her elbow.
"It's hot in here. Why don't we find something to drink near the windows? Then we can talk."
Like Lord Daeron, she didn't raise any objections, so he led her toward the banqueting room. They entered through an open archway into a room swarming with activity. Those disinclined to dance were either loading their plates or already seated and filling themselves on wine and the best delicacies available in Minas Tirith. The sideboards bowed under the weight of the platters of meat, fine white breads, towers of fruit (hothouse fare this time of year, no doubt), and sweets. Each platter seemed to flow into the others so that she could barely distinguish one dish from the other.
Morwen gaped at the opulence. Her Lossemeren spread paled in comparison and she had always taken so much pride in her family's hospitality. For a moment she felt mortified. And yet, she reflected, no one ever left her home hungry and nothing went to waste. She doubted that the latter would be the case tonight.
"What is it?" he asked. "Are you hungry?"
Morwen shook her head. "I would need an army of Hareths to prepare all this," she said. "One is enough for my household. Although Guthere has shown a surprising knack for cookery."
Prince Thengel found a passing servant handing out glasses of wine and snagged two of them. They moved toward one of the open floor-length windows letting in the cooling evening air. Morwen took a sip of her wine, but put it down. It reminded her of the wine they shared at Lossemeren.
"So Guthere's found his way to the kitchen? Typical. How's he getting on?" Prince Thengel asked, using the formal tone she hadn't heard since he first arrived at Bar-en-Ferin.
"He's certainly progressing," was all she would tell him about just how well Guthere got on. After all, should she tell him about Hareth or let Guthere take care of his own affairs?
"Ready to come home?"
"Em," Morwen mumbled, looking away, "I don't think he would say so."
"I don't blame him," he said, then he took a rather long sip of wine. "I'd rather be in Lossarnach just now."
His words plucked at her like a child abusing a harp string. "Are you in need of another distraction, then?" she said sharply.
Two women standing nearby glanced over. Morwen caught one of them and something in her expression must have acted as a warning. The woman towed her friend to the other side of the room.
Thengel lowered his glass. "Pardon?"
Morwen felt she had wasted her bravado on the eavesdropping women. She looked down and found it was far harder to speak plainly than she thought it would be now that the moment had come. But she needed to address her concerns.
"Don't be angry with Guthere, Prince Thengel," she said with a low but firm voice, so that no one else would benefit from overhearing her. "He accidentally told me that you came to Lossarnach out of convenience to get away from your uncle and his plans for your welfare."
Something glinted in Prince Thengel's eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. But the expression didn't disappear quickly enough to escape her notice. Morwen braced herself.
"My welfare?" he said coolly. "What does Guthere know about that?"
"That's for you to judge," she replied. "But I must say that I take a dim view of someone who would pretend to grieve with a family so that he can avoid unpleasant business at home."
Thengel fell silent for a long moment while her words sunk in. The breeze coming in from the window teased Morwen's hair like cool fingers and billowed her skirts around her ankles. She focused on the sensation while he gathered himself for a reply.
"Hardang was my friend," he said reprovingly. "You think that because the timing worked out in my favor that I was pretending?"
"I don't want to think that at all, yet you didn't exactly dash off to Arnach."
He drew a line on the floor with the tip of his boot. "No," he said slowly. "In hindsight, I should have."
She couldn't tell if hearing him admit it made her angrier or not. Irrationally, she wanted him to deny it and to supply an acceptable excuse. She didn't want to think of him as a man who could behave dishonorably toward his friends. That what her cousins were for, after all.
"Then why didn't you?"
He looked up at her. "Believe me, I've regretted not riding straight to Arnach. We had nothing but trouble. First Teitherion and his goats, losing the horses, then Guthere." He exhaled in frustration. "At first we didn't know if Guthere would make it past the operation. Then you invited me to stay for the festival while Guthere mended. Halmir and Hundor were coming anyway." He looked at her strangely. "I said I regretted not riding straight to Arnach, but truthfully, it wasn't a hard choice to stay in Imloth Melui."
Morwen remembered that she had indeed invited him and used the pretext of her cousins' arrival to encourage him to accept it. Her righteous anger ebbed. Besides, would Ferneth have accepted Thengel as her guest without Halmir and Hundor at home? Ferneth wouldn't even see them.
"It has been a long time since I've stayed anywhere that filled me with such contentment," he continued. "I enjoyed our conversations."
Morwen stared. "You did?"
"Didn't you?"
"Of course! But I wasn't pretending."
He frowned. "Neither was I. Why would you think that?"
Morwen crossed her arms, then decided it made her feel like an angry fishwife, so she let them fall by her side. "I suppose you would find anything more pleasant than what awaited you here." At least, according to Guthere.
Prince Thengel eyes strained upward at the gilded leaves molded into the vaulted ceiling. "For Valar's sake, yes, but that doesn't mean it wasn't genuine."
Morwen decided she wanted her wine after all. She hadn't desired to quarrel with Prince Thengel in the middle of Merethrond, yet she couldn't bring herself to pretend nothing was wrong until a more appropriate moment presented itself. Still, it didn't feel satisfying. Now she just felt confused.
"Listen," he said. "After the festival it became apparent that I needed to return to Minas Tirith. I am selfish, Lady Morwen, and I have left many important things undone, including paying my respects to Ferneth. As for the rest, my uncle is here to help me remedy that."
A chill ran through Morwen. She'd felt so irritated with him for using her family that she'd forgotten the reason behind it.
"Are you unwell?" he asked, his brow darkening with concern. "You look a little pale."
"I valued Hardang, Lady Morwen. I should have shown it in a more honorable way."
Morwen looked at him in surprise. She didn't know what she had expected from the confrontation, but she realized now it hadn't been a confession. She had grown too used to treating with Halmir who was never wrong and refused to be called out.
"I'm sorry," he added.
Something warmed in her chest. If his admission gave her pain, his apology acted as a balm. It was exactly what she needed to hear. No challenge remained in his eyes. They looked soft and expectant. Her instincts told her to trust what she saw.
"Thank you," she said, giving him a natural smile.
His brows furrowed. "What for?"
"For admitting you were wrong." Valar knew if a few other men in her family would do the same then her life would feel a lot smoother right now.
"Then you forgive me?"
"It was a careless way to behave," she said plainly, "but I don't think you meant any harm."
The skin around his eyes creased as he gave her an answering smile. "I hope not."
…
While they were talking, the music started again in the next room. Morwen could see through the open arch that the couples were regrouping on the floor. Some of the diners abandoned their half finished plates to wander toward the music.
"You and I never danced at Lossemeren, Lady Morwen."
"No, I was a little busy at the time," she said crisply, not thanking him for reminding her of that moment.
He drained the rest of his drink, then said, "I never asked if you spilled that wine on purpose?"
"Did you give Halmir a wetting on purpose?"
Thengel grinned, then his smiled faded. "It's a shame you weren't able to enjoy the festival the way you should have. How are you enjoying this evening so far? Better?"
"It's improving," she began, but then decided to poke at him once more. "Though I seem to have misplaced my dance partner."
Prince Thengel stared at the bottom of his empty wine glass. "Hm. Who was he?"
"Lord Daeron of Lamedon. Do you know him?"
Prince Thengel shrugged. "Pleasant fellow?"
She smiled, remembering their conversation about her father's poetry. "Yes, I thought so."
"Hm."
They seemed destined for awkward silences. She had promised Adrahil to enjoy the evening, but she was failing dismally. Morwen scraped her brains for something to say to steer the conversation to brighter things, but the harder she tried, the less she could think of. They had managed one hurdle, but now she felt they were coming to another one.
His eyes focused on something in the through the doorway into the hall and she felt his body tense next to hers. He reached for her arm.
Morwen didn't know what to expect from what she saw of the Prince's expression. Maybe Halmir had materialized or a rabid dog? Or Lady Rían? Whatever it was, he looked like a cornered animal.
But it was Adrahil who appeared on the threshold of the dining room. At first her cousin looked worried as if he thought Morwen had disappeared on his watch. When their eyes met, a relieved smile replaced the worry.
"Oh, you've found Prince Thengel. Good evening."
Thengel inclined his head. "Prince Adrahil."
"I saw Daeron wandering around like a lost dog and I wondered — but never mind."
She felt guilt like worms in her stomach. They really hadn't been polite to Lord Daeron. Did he look like a lost dog? She would have to apologize to him when next they met.
While she stewed over her behavior, Prince Thengel's hand on her arm became a matter of scrutiny for Adrahil. They both looked at Adrahil who's concerned eyes traveled between them like a pendulum. He seemed to be compiling information for future processing.
"Listen, Morwen, I have to take Aranel home. The air's too close in here tonight. She's starting to feel unwell again."
Morwen felt the worms of guilt wriggling again. They were here tonight because of her. All of Aranel's anxieties for tonight centered on Morwen's enjoyment and now she was unwell.
"Will she be all right?"
"Yes, yes. We'll go before it turns into an attack. Listen, Lady Rían has agreed to look after you, if you wish to stay for supper," he said, misinterpreting their reason for being in the dining room. "Aranel is adamant that this doesn't spoil your evening." He seemed to be measuring the space between the Prince and his cousin while questioning the wisdom of Aranel's determination. "Erm, but if you want to come home now…"
Prince Thengel noticed that too. "Lady Morwen was just filling me in on events since I left my guard in her care," he said stoically. Then his eyes twitched back to the ballroom.
Adrahil's expression smoothed into an impressive blank. "Oh, well, good. I imagine you have a lot to catch up on."
"Yes," Morwen agreed.
Adrahil seemed reluctant to leave. Morwen sensed that he wanted her to come home with them now, but had probably been forced to promise Aranel that he wouldn't suggest any such thing. They stood in a triangle of awkward silence while Adrahil decided what to do with himself.
"Aranel is waiting for you," Morwen pointed out eventually. "And Prince Thengel has just reminding me that we never danced at Lossemeren."
Adrahil blinked. Had she really just dismissed him? Morwen wondered where the gumption had come from. She was about to apologize, but Adrahil seemed to have finally made up his mind.
"Yes, Aranel is waiting – and Prince Thengel, it seems, is waiting too. Very well. But, listen, Morwen, don't wander too far from Lady Rían," he said. "Good night." He inclined his head to Prince Thengel.
Once Adrahil disappeared into the crowd, Thengel lost his wine glass and murmured, "follow me."
"But they are dancing in the other direction," she told him as he steered her around.
"Exactly."
Morwen looked in the direction that the Prince had been watching. She could see a golden head bobbing through the crowd toward them. But then she lost sight of it as he ushered her out one of the open windows.
…
The terrace behind Merethrond was full of men and women enjoying wine and conversation. Light spilled out from the hall onto the white stone, supplemented here and there by tall, circular braziers formed to look like suns. The couples seemed to avoid the light, leaning into the shadows to whisper to one another.
Silence descended like a brick when Prince Thengel appeared. Nobody recognized Morwen as someone of interest, apparently, for the drone of conversation started all over again in a few seconds once they had looked over the Prince's companion and couldn't place her.
Prince Thengel considered the different directions of the stairs leading down from the terrace into the gardens. Then he looked back into the dining room. She tried to see what he was looking at.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Hm?"
"Whoever you're avoiding? Is it your fiancé?"
"My what?" he cried.
The voices ceased again. Morwen grimaced. They were drawing no small amount of notice from the guests nearest them who found the Prince and this unfamiliar woman more interesting than whatever they had to say to one another.
"Guthere said…"
"Hang Guthere and his loose tongue," he growled. "Wait, what did he say?"
"He said your uncle was bringing you a wife?" Morwen had the feeling, based on his reaction, that Guthere was either very mistaken or very correct.
Prince Thengel reached for the hair at the back of his neck and began to abuse it. "I really will give him another knock on the head," he muttered.
"Guthere won't mind. He likes Bar-en-Ferin. Quite attached, you might say."
Prince Thengel's lips curled sourly. "Lady Morwen, do me a favor and try to forget whatever it is that Guthere's been telling you. He should have kept his mouth shut."
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "You mean he's wrong?"
"I mean it's not his place to discuss my affairs," he said impatiently.
"I think he believed he only shared facts that were common knowledge."
"Well, it wouldn't be common knowledge if people had the sense to hold their tongues," he groused.
He had said it louder than he meant to, for now people were openly staring again. Prince Thengel cast a jaundiced eye over the crowd. Several more couples spilled out of the hall behind them, seeking the cooler air and sheltering alcoves, so he offered Morwen his arm.
"Please, come into the garden. We can talk there."
She looked back at the glass doors, ignoring his arm. "What about Lady Rían?"
"What about her?" he asked, puzzled.
Morwen wondered if he selectively deaf. Hadn't he heard Adrahil?
"Lady Rían is supposed to keep an eye on me," she reminded him.
Thengel gave her an arch look. "You are the Lady of Imloth Melui. Do you need her to keep an eye on you?"
Morwen gaped as an invisible barb hit her square in the center of her pride. Something like steel glinted in her eyes. From the satisfied expression on his face, the Prince knew he'd made a hit.
Did she need the likes of Lady Rían to safeguard her character or curtail her movements? Of course not! What had gotten into her? The Prince's challenge made her seem like a meek little mouse.
Fueled by annoyance, she sailed past him to the nearest staircase and began her descent into the shadows, far from Lady Rían's view. Behind the roar of blood in her ears, she heard Prince Thengel's footsteps following. Her objective brain told her that she had allowed him to provoke her into behaving exactly the way he'd meant her to. She decided to consider the implications later after the indignation burned off.
…
Morwen reached the gravel walk at the bottom of the stairs and realized she didn't know which way to go. Three paths disappeared into the dark beneath tall hedges. One couple passed her by and entered the middle way. The path on the far right seemed to follow the line of the terrace and of all the three looked the best lit. While she deliberated, Prince Thengel caught up with her.
"You look annoyed," he observed.
"I feel annoyed."
"Sorry," he said, though she didn't think he looked one jot repentant. "Here, take the left path. There's a quiet corner that way."
They walked under the stars in silence. The breeze cut the heat seeping from the stone all around them. They could hear other couples' voices barely muffled by the tall hedges, but they couldn't see them.
"I had no idea there were gardens behind Merethrond until Aranel told me," she said when she felt she'd been silent long enough.
"You didn't spend much time exploring Minas Tirith when you were growing up?"
"No. Do they let many children wander into the citadel?"
"I guess not. I sometimes take my position in the Steward's house for granted."
"You lived with the Steward?"
"Yes, for a few years." He added lightly, "When Ecthelion married I started to feel like I was getting underfoot."
"I suppose you were." Then she said, "You must know all the secrets of the citadel."
"A few. Didn't your father ever take you around when he visited Turgon?"
"Rarely. I was always either stuck in a fruit stall with my mother or else playing in the garden behind Prince Angelimir's home. My father never took me anywhere with him, because he didn't think I could sit still."
"Was that justified?"
"Well," she drawled. "There's a pond in the gardens of the Houses of Healing. I used to find it quite refreshing, which might have violated the Warden's views of appropriate behavior. The incident left an impression on my father."
"Surely you were very young when that happened."
"Yes. When I was old enough to help in the orchard I only traveled with them to meet our cousins. Then when my mother died I stopped going for a few years. It wasn't a loss to me." A shadow passed over her face. "Although maybe if I had traveled more, I might find this present situation easier."
She fell into a gloomy silence.
"You've had bad news, I see," he said. "The morning I left you sounded optimistic that Halmir would pack up camp. But he hasn't."
"No."
"He means you harm, doesn't he?"
He looked her in the eyes and she found it hard not to turn away or fabricate an answer. The memory of Halmir's hands around her wrists caused her to shiver. How could he make her feel like this all the way from Lossarnach?
"What did Adan tell you?" she asked.
"He only told me anything concerning himself." When she looked troubled, he added, "And I have to say I take a dim view of not being thought trustworthy. Why on earth would you tell Adan to keep secrets?"
Her hand fluttered in the air. "This whole situation is teaching me to be more wary. I didn't want any rumors circulating if someone overheard."
"While I think caution is best, you know I would never spread tales."
"Honestly, Prince Thengel, I am reminded that I don't know you very well at all."
His brows knit together and he seemed unable to think of anything to say to that. They crunched their way over the gravel path, letting the curve of the hedges guide them. Though they did not meet anyone on their path, they often heard the murmurings of others on the other side of the juniper.
"Will Adan be all right?" Morwen asked after a time. "Halmir won't forget that he helped me."
"Don't worry about Adan." Prince Thengel kicked a stick out of their path. "He acted with his eyes open. Ecthelion has put him under my protection. If your cousin doesn't like it, he will have to complain to the Captain of the Tower of Guard. Somehow I doubt he'll feel tempted."
"Will he stay here with you, then?"
"Yes, until he returns to Ithilien, which is what he wants."
"Adan is lucky in his friends," Morwen observed. She felt buoyant with relief.
"He isn't the only one. I would like you to think of me as an ally in this. Won't you tell me what has happened since I left?"
"Here?" Morwen looked doubtfully at the hedges on either side. While it gave the illusion of privacy, she knew they could be heard all too easily.
"There's a quiet spot I know."
Thengel stopped suddenly, as if something over the hedge had caught his eye. The tension in his shoulders reminded her of a spooked cat. He twisted around, thinking.
"Are you all right?"
He ignored the question. "Follow me."
He led her swiftly down the path, then all but shoved her through a gap in the bushes that she hadn't noticed, which put them in a new lane in the garden.
"Sorry," he said. "I thought we should take this path." Thengel also looked back at the gap in the hedge and his face went slack. "This way."
Before she knew it, he had spun her into another narrow parting in the shrubbery and she found herself in a narrow sward that ended in the stone battlement encircling the citadel. Prince Thengel followed and together they huddled against the wall.
"What…"
"Shh. Wait."
Someone passed by along the hedge, but didn't see the gap that Thengel had ushered her through. She heard someone muttering in a foreign language, a woman's voice. It sounded like cursing, but it was hard to tell with Rohirric. From what little Guthere had managed to teach them, even a cheerful good morning sounded intimidating.
"Not a friend of yours?" she whispered.
"Friend? Béma, no. My sister."
Morwen stared at him. This far from the terrace the darkness made it hard to see his features well. "Your sister? Then why are we hiding?"
"Shh."
"If you shush me again I will be very cross," she hissed.
"Sorry."
They waited until the crunch of gravel faded completely away. She felt the tension drain from his shoulders and arms.
"That was close," he said, sounding pleased and relieved. "Wynflaed doesn't know the gardens like I do."
"Why are you avoiding your sister?" she asked.
He snorted, as if the answer should be obvious. "She isn't someone you want to meet."
Morwen pursed her lips, then said, "I think I can decide that for myself."
"Some other time, then," Thengel said, fishing into a small pouch hanging on his belt. "But fair warning."
"Why? What is she like?"
"For starters she has a sword named Cwealmbonda." He noticed her puzzled expression. "It translates to something like death-husband."
Morwen stared. Guthere hadn't told her anything about Prince Thengel's sister. "Why does she carry a sword?" Not that she didn't think a woman should carry a sword - she could see how it would be useful. Halmir might think differently about the way he treated her. But it wasn't the common practice in Gondor.
"Because she is a shieldmaiden and a zealot," he said sharply. "So, if you don't mind, I'd prefer a little peace this evening." He pulled out something that looked like a file from his pocket. Then he turned to face the vine-choked wall.
Morwen looked around the little alcove. It didn't appear to have any openings.
"What if she comes back? This is a dead end."
"Is it?" Thengel felt around the wall, pushing aside vines and kicking away stones. His fingers stilled suddenly and a look of expectation brightened his face. With a smart jerk the vines snapped. Falling away, they revealed a seam in the wall.
"Here we are."
He jimmied the device, a slim metal file from his pocket, into the seam. A scrape, a groan, and then a pop. A door scraped open by a mere inch. His fingers pulled it open, scudding over the gravel and weeds.
"Don't you dare show that to anyone in Imloth Melui," she said, thinking of her own garden wall.
"I swear." He grinned and put the file away. "Now in we go."
Morwen peeked around his shoulder to see what lay past the door. He gently nudged her through with his hand on her back. He followed behind, shutting the door. She was surprised to see that someone had built a trellis on the interior side so that the door looked like a fixed portion of the wall. The seam between the door and wall were concealed by climbing morning glories, now tightly closed against the evening.
"What is this place?" she asked.
Prince Thengel took a deep breath and looked about him with an affectionate expression.
"It's the garden behind the King's House - currently in the Steward's use." He pointed to a window nearest side of the house where it met the wall. Morwen noted that all the windows were dark, which meant no one would observe them here.
"I'd climb over the wall between these gardens and then slip away through Merethrond when I needed to escape for a little while. Turgon never used the hall much, so I could pass through undetected most of the time. Ecthelion found my climbing the wall and falling over the other side entertaining." He gave her a wry look. "Years later he admitted there was a door."
"Will Steward Turgon mind that you've broken into his garden?"
"I doubt it."
Morwen turned to view the prospect. They stood on the lip of a sunken garden. Little flagstone steps descended on four sides. Below, four rose beds were enclosed by double hedges, which had once been carefully trimmed into tight boxes. Each corner of the hedges was capped with rounded laurel trees. In the center, a marble fountain gurgled sluggishly. The hedge corners pointing toward the fountain were beveled and within each bevel, a large planter rested.
Morwen wandered down the lane nearest them. The hedges and laurels made her feel sheltered. It almost felt like wandering beneath her own trees at home. The square fountain with its ailing pump sat crumbling in the center surrounded by creeping weeds with tiny yellow flowers. The little garden looked beautiful in a forlorn sort of way. Morwen didn't like the stone city and it made her feel a little hopeful to see flora winning against the cold stone, even if it did mean the fountain was falling apart. It had probably been there since the house was built ages ago.
"It doesn't look like anyone takes care of this place?"
Thengel shrugged. "Not since Ecthelion's mother died, I don't think. She loved this garden, but Turgon spends most of his time on the Steward's seat or in his tower."
"And Ecthelion's wife?"
"I think she prefers interiors."
"I can tell."
Tall foxgloves grew in each planter like points on a compass, but they seemed to Morwen to droop. She knelt down beside one and plunged her fingers into the dirt. The soil felt completely dry.
"How hard could it be to make sure the gardener isn't shirking his duties?" She held out her handful of dirt to show Thengel. "Look, it just crumbles away."
He gripped the underside of her wrist so that her hand rested on top of his palm and pulled her up. "Yes, I see." He looked close to laughing.
"Is there a shed nearby or a watering can?" she asked.
"No, not that I can see."
Morwen pulled her hand away. She rubbed the dirt between her fingers and saw the dark semi circles under her nails with chagrin. She wrinkled her nose.
"What is it?" he asked.
She showed him her dirty fingernails. "What will Lady Rían say?"
He laughed and produced a handkerchief for her. "Here, wash off in the fountain."
When she went to do so, she saw a tin cup abandoned at the bottom of the basin. She reached in and pulled it out, shaking off the water. Prince Thengel came up beside her.
"Found something?" he asked. "It looks like Denethor has been sneaking meals out here."
"Lord Ecthelion's son?"
Prince Thengel nodded. "There's a family campaign about his eating habits."
"Maybe they've been successful? This cup looks like it's been out here a while. But it will suit my purposes."
Morwen inspected the inside of the cup. Rust had had its way with it, but the overall structure looked sound. It would suffice. She filled the cup with water. But when she turned toward the nearest planter, she felt cold water running down her leg.
"There's a hole," Morwen gasped, holding the cup as far away from her body as possible a fitful flow of water arced downward. She turned the now empty cup over and examined the bottom with her fingertip. Rust had eaten thin cracks along the bottom edge that she hadn't seen in the dark.
"At least it isn't wine this time," Prince Thengel pointed out.
Trust him to remember that! She made a face, which he returned with a benign smile.
"Here, allow me." He took the cup in his own large palm, which covered most of the cracks. "You don't want to ruin your dress."
"It's only water," she scoffed.
He looked down at her, then away. "Mmm hmm."
While his back was turned, she looked down at her knees and she just barely stifled a gasp. The wet fabric was entirely transparent, clinging to her legs like a second yellow skin. She knew it was little better than a slip!
Morwen picked the wet fabric away from her legs and tried to fluff the skirt dry while Prince Thengel watered the flowers for her. It was a messy affair, despite his best efforts. By the time she felt satisfied that the flowers had enough to drink, his leggings looked little dryer than her dress.
"You know, I think most of it ended up in my shoes somehow." He put the cup down on the fountain edge and pointed down to the leather slippers. "Listen."
She did listen as he paced up the far side of the fountain. His footsteps had a decidedly squelchy sound.
"Sorry," she said. "I could have done it…." Then she remembered her dress.
"Never mind that. Let's talk while we dry out," he said.
It would have to be a long conversation, Morwen thought. She followed Thengel to a bench down one of the lanes. The backrest looked half hidden by vines. She leaned back against the foliage, not caring if every spider hiding there fell into her lap. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the green scent and felt her body relax. A garden felt so much pleasanter than the inside of a ballroom. From this prospect against the wall they directly faced the house. She counted the stories and the windows. Was this a peaceful home, she wondered?
"What has happened at Bar-en-Ferin since I left?"
"Well, we've had several fires," she said, "where the men camp."
"Fires." Prince Thengel leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He plucked one of the leaves from its vine and turned it over with his fingers. "Idiots. I'm glad you have Beldir's help."
"Beldir broke his leg two days before I left Lossarnach," she told him.
Prince Thengel's eyelids drooped. "What happened?" he asked in a low voice.
"He says he heard an animal rooting around on his roof the night before we were to leave to Minas Tirith. Beldir fell when he went up to look for damage."
"Has he had problems with animals in his roof before?"
"No."
"I see." He began to shred the leaf and let the pieces fall to the ground. "Halmir knew you were leaving?"
"Hundor did, so…yes."
She watched him vent his spleen on another leaf. After his third, she reached out and covered his hands. His grip on the poor leaf slackened and the last pieces fell. She let go.
Prince Thengel sat up straight again and adjusted himself on the bench so he could see her plainly. "What made you leave?"
Morwen pressed her fingers into her forehead. "Oh, it's a stupid muddle. Halmir's entangled himself and the estate. He borrowed money to turn the orchard into some sort of haven for fashionable city people and pitched it to his friends as an investment opportunity. I disliked his scheme before, but this is worse."
Prince Thengel winced. "How much?"
"A very great amount. I have no idea how he thinks he can repay his friends any time soon."
"What did Halmir give as security?"
"Me, I think."
He gave her a stern look. "What do you mean?"
"I worked it out, finally," she said, looking down at the white cenedril pattern on her lap. "If I married him he could do whatever he liked with Bar-en-Ferin without any resistance. I think it surprised him that I refused and the delay is making him nervous."
"You can always resist."
Morwen shook her head mournfully. "I don't have any right of succession to the estate. Adrahil says the agreement died with my parents. Even if I did marry Halmir, the law doesn't give a wife any leverage," she finished bleakly.
"Well, you aren't going to be his wife. So?"
"So, even now I can't keep up with Halmir. Every time I think it can't get worse, he surprises me. I don't want any of his friends thinking I am also responsible for paying back the loans."
"You didn't sign anything," he assured her. "They can't touch you."
"But what will they do to Halmir if he can't pay them back? Could they take Bar-en-Ferin?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself," he said. "Let's first find out if Halmir has any claim to the estate."
Morwen sighed angrily. "I told you that I don't, so—"
"Even if you don't, does that automatically mean that Halmir does?"
"Adrahil believes that there isn't any legal basis to stop Halmir from claiming Bar-en-Ferin in Forlong's name."
The Prince regarded that last roadblock with a sour frown. But when he spoke, his tone was gentle.
"May I ask what you plan to do if Halmir follows through with his threats? Where would you go if he did claim the land?"
Plan? Morwen hadn't had any time to plan, only to avoid. Halmir kept her on her toes, kept her household in chaos, robbed her even of the peace she had taken for granted under her roof. She pulled the frazzled strands of consciousness still left to her and tried to envision the next step. Minas Tirith had been her next step, but she couldn't dodge Halmir forever. Eventually he would lose patience and there would be a bathing house where her apple trees once stood.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I had hoped to meet the Steward tonight and make arrangements for an audience, but he didn't come." She kicked at a stray pebble beneath the bench. "I've wasted three days with nothing accomplished. Adrahil thinks that with the deputies from Lake-town still in the city it could be several more weeks before we can put my case forward."
"I see. The events in Rhovanion this winter have disrupted many things."
She looked at him. "What do you mean?"
Prince Thengel looked like he had to swallow around a rock in his throat. "After the Battle of Five Armies, orcs and wolves were scattered all over wilderland. Some we now know made for the remaining hidey-holes in Mordor. Many of them, well…"
"Slipped into Ithilien," she finished, closing her eyes.
"Yes."
"The orcs that ambushed and killed my cousin were from Rhovanion?"
"Frár told us they came from as far as the Mount Gundabad and many followed Thorin Oakenshield's expedition from the Misty Mountains."
This news felt like a blow to her gut. Morwen covered her mouth and took deep breaths through her nose. No one in Ithilien, not even Captain Ecthelion, could have known till it was too late. How could they prepare for the onslaught? An onslaught with reverberations, which even now they felt beneath the shade of Imloth Melui.
"How did the orcs know the Dwarves were making for Erebor to reclaim their treasure?"
Prince Thengel stirred next to her. "That is a question that has disturbed the councils of the wise and one that I am unable to answer."
Oh Hardang. Morwen felt, by turns, numb and heartsick. They hadn't had a warning. Not a rumor. And the consequences for Ferneth, and Forlong, and yes, even herself, were great.
"I never would have thought," she murmured, "that some unknown Dwarves returning to their home in a far away mountain would mean that I would have to leave mine."
Prince Thengel mulled over something in his mind. In the gathering dark, it was difficult to see exactly what he might be thinking. His arms were crossed as if he were holding in some inner struggle from her view.
"What is it?" she asked gently.
"I," he looked at her, almost pleadingly, "I'm sorry I couldn't protect Hardang."
Morwen didn't know what it felt like to fight alongside someone and then to lose that person. She wasn't a warrior. Guilt she could imagine, but she knew better than to claim she understood what he felt as a survivor. When she recalled how she had earlier accused him of not truly grieving for Hardang, she felt ashamed.
"I know you are," she told him. "But nobody blames you."
"Nobody?" He half laughed, a bitter sound.
"I don't and I don't think you should blame yourself either."
He looked down at her. "If we were better prepared, Hardang would be alive and you wouldn't be in this mess with Halmir."
"Is there any profit in thinking in ifs?" she gently reproved. "It certainly won't help me against Halmir now. Nothing will if the Steward can't."
Prince Thengel stretched his legs out and studied the tips of his shoes. "Do you have an appointment with him?"
"No. Adrahil hasn't applied to his clerk yet."
"If Adrahil plans to go that route, it will take weeks. How would it be if I put a word in with the Steward instead?"
"Can you?" she asked, turning on the bench to see him better. Their knees brushed together.
"With your permission, yes. Turgon is like a father to me," he said with the first hint of a smile since he mentioned the orcs. "No visiting hours required."
Morwen thought about it from several different angles. She didn't feel entirely comfortable engaging the Prince to act for her. And yet, if her connection to him as a friend gave her any leverage with the Steward that she couldn't get from Adrahil, why not take advantage of such an offer? Would her father think it prudent? She didn't know. And he wasn't here to advise her anymore.
"I wouldn't want you to abuse your relationship with Turgon," she said at last. "But I confess it would make me very happy if you did speak to him. Thank you, Prince Thengel."
"Thengel will do."
Morwen held out her hand to him. He took it. "Morwen, then," she said.
A light appeared in one of the upper windows of the mansion and they each looked up, squinting.
"That would be Denethor getting ready for bed, I think," he told her.
"Should we go back? Lady Rían might be wondering where I've gone." Before Thengel could provoke her on that point again, she hastily added, "I wouldn't want to distress her for doing Adrahil a favor - whether I needed it or not."
"Fair enough."
Thengel rose and grimaced against the clammy dampness in his shoes. They squished with each step toward the hidden door.
"It's not a dignified sound, is it?" he reflected.
Morwen shook her head.
He squared his shoulders. "Nothing for it, but onward."
…
They passed a few more lingering couples hiding in the hedges who barely masked their surprise at Morwen's damp gown and Thengel's squashing feet. When the terrace came into view, they disturbed a couple that had been whispering on a bench. The couple stared as Thengel squelched past.
"Good evening," he drawled. "Nice night."
The couple just stared. Morwen tried not to laugh but by the time they entered Merethrond, neither of them were in a state of composure.
They entered the hall and were immediately met by a tall, elegant woman watching out the windows with her arms folded. With the noise of the remaining guests, the sounds of Thengel's shoes didn't reach her until they were before her. Her eyes darted down and she flinched with each gurgle and squish of the leather.
"I see you've found a charming partner without my help," she said, addressing the prince. "Did you fish her out of the fountains?" she asked, looking them up and down.
"Not quite," Thengel answered. "Morwen, have you met Idhren?"
Idhren! This was the woman that Lady Rían had been complaining about earlier, though Morwen wondered how she could have dared. Her father would have described Idhren as resplendent and probably the closest thing that Minas Tirith had seen to a queen in generations.
Lady Idhren gave Morwen a cool smile. "We have not had that pleasure. Morwen of…?"
"Morwen of Lossarnach," he answered. "Let me present the Lady of the Tower of Guard."
Morwen had never heard of any such person, but she sounded important. "Oh."
Idhren raised an eyebrow. "My dear," she said to Morwen, "that's just his way of saying I'm Ecthelion's wife."
She held out her hand and Morwen politely squeezed Idhren's fingers, before realizing with horror that her own fingernails still had dirt under them despite the water. Idhren saw them, she could tell. In fact, she felt that somehow Idhren could see a great many things about Morwen within a short space of time. It unnerved her to feel scrutinized and cataloged in mere seconds.
"Lossarnach. How interesting. I suppose you met this spring." Idhren turned to Thengel, "Darling, you didn't tell me you had such a lovely friend."
There was some veiled meaning behind Idhren's words, but Morwen didn't quite know what that was. She hoped they could politely dismiss themselves from her. Something about the lady's cool playfulness baffled Morwen.
"Where are you staying, Lady Morwen? I shall have to come visit you."
"I—"
"Have you seen Lady Rían?" Thengel asked, interrupting. "Morwen is in her charge."
Idhren let her head fall back and she laughed, as if she found Lady Rían a great source of amusement. "Why, yes, I have. A good deal too much this evening."
"Where is she?" Morwen asked.
"Quite gone."
"Gone? But Adrahil spoke to her about me."
"She must have forgotten. It's fortunate I found you," Idhren told her. "She left with her husband, citing a headache and that she had to make sure her daughter didn't die in the street."
Morwen went pale. "Aranel—"
"Is fine, I'm sure." She reached forward and squeezed Morwen's arm with a slim, white hand. "Prince Adrahil would never let her die on the curb. He'd at least tuck her into bed first. I always found him to be a conscientious young man."
Thengel had been listening to his friend with a cool, bland expression, but now he looked stern. "Idhren, don't tease. Morwen is their cousin."
"Poor creature. Don't mind me." Idhren waved her hand as if to dismiss her earlier teasing. "Lady Rían is an alarmist. I'm sure all the Princess needed was fresh air."
Morwen turned to Thengel. "Lady Rían and Lord Belehir were going to see me home."
"That can be easily remedied." Idhren surprised Morwen greatly by tucking her arm through hers and began to usher her toward the staircase. Thengel followed behind after a few seconds of puzzlement.
Idhren led her right through the middle of the dance floor. Instead of causing a collision and among the dancers, to Morwen's amazement the whole floor seemed accutely aware of Lady Idhren and anticipated her movement. They parted for her and her charge like the mist making way for the sun.
"I would offer you my protection, Lady Morwen," she said confidentially, "but I can't abandon the guests. You look so tired. Doesn't she, Thengel? You will have to take her yourself."
They stopped at the foot of the staircase where she had entered Merethrond with Adrahil and Aranel. How much time had elapsed since then?
"What about Wynflaed?" he asked, looking around the room.
"Wynflaed could accompany you, too," Idhren answered, "but I've sent her home with Rurik since she couldn't find you earlier. She's such an odd woman. One would think the pleasures of a ball were completely lost on her."
Morwen observed an interesting change come over Thengel's countenance. He looked like a man who had just felt the earth shaking beneath his feet.
"With Rurik?" he repeated. "King Bard's deputy?"
Idhren smiled, Morwen thought, or at least she was showing teeth. "With Rurik, etc., etc."
"By herself? Idhren, you realize my sister is a…"
"She's a shieldmaiden, as everyone keeps telling me. That's why I arranged it. Rurik might learn a thing or two." Idhren smirked. "I certainly hope so. Now, get along and don't keep this pretty young lady waiting."
"But…"
"Offer her your arm, you oaf. She's drooping. Now go." Idhren herded them up the stairs. They were parted at the top. "Thengel," Morwen heard Idhren whisper. "If I were you, I'd take the long way around."
"Don't be foolish," he muttered. "I know what you're thinking but —"
"Good. I hate to be obscure," she replied. "Good night, Lady Morwen. There are more fountains on the way out. I'll visit you when I can!"
Idhren retreated down the staircase. She was met by Lord Ecthelion, who glanced up at them with a puzzled (and mildly threatening, thanks to his scar) expression. He seemed to want to speak to Thengel, but was led off by his wife toward the few remaining figures still dancing.
"What was she talking about?" Morwen asked as she watched husband and wife retreat.
"Idhren? Nothing of consequence," he said hastily.
"Are you worried about your sister?" she asked.
"Béma, no," he said, looking surprised. "I'm worried about Rurik."
…
When they passed into the cool evening air, Morwen exhaled with relief. Then she wrinkled her nose.
"Do I look like I'm drooping? I don't feel like I am."
"No, you look beautiful," he said with the distracted air of someone trying to have two or three thoughts all at the same time.
The evening felt hot again. "Have you been friends with Lady Idhren long?"
"Ages. She was one of the first friends I had when I arrived in Minas Tirith."
"She is a very fine woman."
"She is certainly that," he said warmly. "You'd be good friends."
Morwen frowned. "I don't know. We don't seem to be in the same league."
He looked at her oddly, his mind focusing again on the present. "Why do you say that?"
Morwen blinked at him. Wasn't it obvious? "She's so stately and self-possessing. The room pivoted around her. Didn't you notice?"
Thengel smiled at that. "You know, when I first saw you, I thought the same thing."
"Me?" That didn't seem very likely, she thought.
"Sure. The whole room seemed to bend toward you. And you sailed in with flower blossoms falling behind you like the queen of Imloth Melui."
She sniffed. "There is no such person."
"No, but I was expecting someone more like Gildis, if you recall. You made a startling contrast."
"I forgot! I don't think poor Gildis ever will."
They laughed together and Morwen reflected that she liked this easy conversation much better than when she had first met him earlier in the evening. She felt thankful to be on good terms again.
They were soon in the middle of a crowd of revelers enjoying the fountain, ignoring the dead tree in the middle of it. Most of the candles in their little boats were extinguished. Thengel took Morwen's hand and led her through the press, using his broad shoulders to wedge a path for them.
"Your shoes must be uncomfortable," she said over the noise.
"Not bad."
"It was foolish, watering the plants like that. I guess we could have waited to talk to a servant. I don't know what came over me."
Thengel shrugged and said over his shoulder, "I said you were a champion. Whether it's keeping Beldir from flaying Gundor or saving thirsty flowers. Besides, you're at home with plants."
"I wish I was at home. At least until I remember that Halmir's waiting."
"Wait and see what the Steward will say," he reminded her. "Until then, don't waste too much time on Halmir. He doesn't deserve it."
…
The road to the Adrahil's townhome was crowded with departing revelers. Instead of enjoying a quiet walk, they were crushed nearly the whole way home and once they were out of the citadel, she could feel the gaze of many eyes upon them. She wondered if it was wise to allow Lady Idhren to arrange them, and she realized that's exactly what had happened. What was Idhren's motivation? Morwen shook herself. Too many people seemed to be too far ahead of her. That needed to change.
"What is the long way around?" she asked him, recalling what she had overheard. "I thought there was only one way through Minas Tirith."
Thengel looked suddenly vague. "It's an expression in the city."
"For what?"
"For taking one's time," he answered dryly.
"Oh. As if we could help it with all this foot traffic."
He looked at her and then away with a poorly suppressed smile. "Do you remember the day we walked to Anorian's well?"
"Yes," she said, puzzled by the change of subject. Perhaps it was natural that one walk would remind him of another such time.
"I would like to see the roses in bloom. We were too early before."
"Then you must come this summer," she faltered, "if I am still living there."
"You will be." Something in his tone caused her to look at him. It was the first note of optimism she had encountered in several weeks.
"You can't know that."
"Cheer up," he said. "Maybe Halmir has some legal clout, but I doubt a man like Halmir would make such a fuss if he felt as secure as he sounded."
Morwen stopped in her tracks and a pedestrian bumped into her from behind, knocking her against Thengel's side. His arm circled round her waist to keep her from falling. The man skittered around them, muttering under his breath.
"Sorry," she said, as she found her footing again. "You think there's something we're missing?"
"Possibly." He tucked her arm through his and they continued on.
Morwen brightened, then faltered. "But he's acting as regent. By the time Forlong grows up, it will be too late to reverse the decision. Halmir could decide to managed the estate himself until that time."
"Can he?"
Morwen shrugged helplessly. "Who's to stop him? There are five score of his men installed in my orchard and my lord Forlong can barely hold his own head up. We won't know what the child wants for another two years - and that will have more to do with food and a clean nappy."
He grinned at that. "That is the tricky part. But I think we can come up with a solution once we figure out what we're missing."
"We? Prince Thengel…"
"Thengel."
"Yes. You keep saying we as if this involves you. While you agreed to speak to the Steward, that's more than I have a right to expect."
"As you say, Halmir has an army. You will need help paying out your cousin and I owe you a favor." He gave her a clear-eyed smile.
"Are you serious?" she gasped.
"I knew Hardang. His brother is not honoring his memory," Thengel said gravely. "Where I come from, a man who steals from a woman, especially his own kinswoman, would have a reckoning on his hands."
"Technically, he isn't stealing anything," she pointed out.
"Your livelihood, he is."
That was true. "But why would you want to get involved in this headache? And don't say because of Guthere."
"Why not?"
"I'd be ashamed if you thought you owed me for helping an injured man."
"Then let's just say I know what it's like to live in the wake of a greedy relative." He looked down at his soggy shoes, then up again. "I wouldn't be here if someone hadn't intervened for me too. Trust me, we will think of something."
Morwen bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't know what Thengel could do when Adrahil couldn't think of anything. But he was at least willing to try and that's what she needed - any little sliver of hope. As for trust, what did she have to go on?
Morwen considered Hardang a man of good character and he had found Prince Thengel to be a worthy companion. There was the regard that Guthere and Cenhelm and the rest held for him, men under his power, who he could make happy or unhappy on a whim. Then there was his behavior as her guest. He hadn't done anything untoward. When she had confronted him about Hardang, he had owned his blame and apologized.
He was a man who could see his own faults and make amends. She admired that more than anything. Part of her mind whispered prudence, but her heart seemed already to know the answer. She would trust him, and either that trust would pay off or it wouldn't.
And if it did, she wondered for the first time what the cost might be. She looked up at his profile. Sensing her attention, he turned.
"We're almost to your gate," he told her. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," she answered. She thought she might be.
Thengel walked her to the gate and spoke to the porter who admitted them into the courtyard. His hand cupped her elbow as he steered her toward the imposing marble doors of the Prince of Dol Amroth's house. To her, it was the most familiar landmark in the city. Somehow standing there with the prince she had a different perspective. Or maybe she felt different. As they waited on the steps for the servant to attend the door, Morwen realized that there were more changes than she'd reckoned on since coming to Minas Tirith.