Morwen sat in the window overlooking the courtyard, waiting. The afternoon sun filtered through the clouds, scattering pretty patterns of light and shadow over the stone. She wanted to appreciate the view more than she did, but her thoughts kept wandering beyond the sitting room and Angelimir's courtyard.

Aranel had lent her yarn and some needles so at least her hands were busy, though her heart wasn't in it. She hadn't knitted anything since the last of the freezing rain in January. It felt odd to spend so many days together with nothing more strenuous to do than dress fittings or walk in circles around the back garden.

"I don't think you should grip the needles quite so hard," Morwen heard Aranel say. Her cousin's wife was seated at a small table near the window making lists for her housekeeper while Adrahil wrote letters at his desk.

Morwen glanced down at the beginning of a shawl. Her knuckles were white and the tips of her fingers red. She relaxed and looked at the sad, curling piece. The tension looked far too tight and somewhere in the pattern she had forgotten an increase. Or two. She exhaled and dropped the whole thing in her lap.

"Didn't Prince Thengel tell you when he thought he might speak to the Steward?" Aranel asked.

"No," she answered. "I forgot to ask him."

"Adrahil, why don't we invite Prince Thengel for dinner?"

Morwen sat up straighter. "Would you?"

Adrahil looked up from his letter. "If that would please you."

"It would," Aranel said. "We can all learn more from him then. In the meantime Morwen won't have to glue herself to the window waiting for him to turn up."

Morwen blushed. Was it so obvious? The footman spared her from the scrutiny of her cousins by entering with a letters for Adrahil. He received the stack waiting to be sent out and withdrew. Adrahil handed a few to Aranel, then broke the seal on a small note and opened it. His eyes popped in his head.

"Don't bother with the menu just yet, Aranel. The Steward's chamberlain has summoned me. He wants me to come immediately." He grinned at Morwen. "See, not so hopeless."

"Is that Prince Thengel's doing?" Aranel asked.

"I don't know, but now it looks like we can act for ourselves without Prince Thengel's help," Adrahil said as he rose to leave. "I should be back before supper, hopefully bearing good new."

"Or any news," Aranel added.

…

When Adrahil left them alone, Aranel finished her writing and spoke to her housekeeper. Morwen had given up any pretense of working on her project. She spent a minute or two ripping out the stitches of her strangled project, which felt more satisfying than she had anticipated. When the city bells rang the hour, she exchanged a glance with Aranel.

"So, we're to learn the verdict soon. I'm glad the Steward asked to see Adrahil directly. Why don't you and I enjoy the sun in the garden until he comes home?"

More circles in the garden, Morwen thought, missing the many trails around her home. But she laid aside the yarn and needles to follow Aranel out of the room.

They were stopped in the passage by the same footman, this time announcing the arrival of Lady Idhren.

…

Lady Idhren kissed Aranel on the cheek. "Forgive me, I'm calling so late in the day."

"Morwen and I were just going into the garden," Aranel told her before Idhren could ensconce herself inside the sitting room. "Won't you join us?"

"A garden. How refreshing," Idhren answered.

Morwen guarded her expression, remembering the forlorn state of the Steward's own sunken garden behind the palace.

"Ah, and Morwen," said Idhren, turning the force of her gaze on Morwen so that she felt as if a weight had settled on her shoulders. She allowed Idhren to also kiss her cheek.

Idhren murmured, "I almost didn't recognize you again. Such a beautiful dress you wore to the feast. I hope the water didn't damage it."

Water? Aranel mouthed from behind Idhren's back.

"The dress looked completely unaffected, but thank you for your concern," Morwen replied, careful not to look at Aranel again.

Idhren smiled slightly. "Well, these things have a way of showing themselves later."

They certainly did, Morwen agreed. And she knew she would have to give Aranel a second telling of that night with a few more details included this time. Not that she felt she had conducted herself poorly on the night of the feast, in her opinion, but she hadn't left the feast in the same state in which she had arrived.

When they had seated themselves in the lawn furniture under the shade of an old fig tree, Idhren had managed to corner Morwen on the bench seat, leaving Aranel with the choice of any individual chair. A servant brought a decanter of a cool, light wine, which Aranel served around.

Idhren received her wine with thanks, but then angled her body so that Morwen felt they were having something of a private discussion.

"I'm so sorry I've neglected to make your acquaintance sooner. Naturally I've been very curious about you since the feast, given your connection to my husband's family and our dear friend Thengel."

"I'm sure we didn't expect you so soon," Aranel answered for Morwen. "Busy as you always are."

The lady nodded. "Very busy. But this is exactly the sort of thing I like," said Idhren. "Making new friends is always delightful to me. And you know the whole town is wondering about the unknown woman who Prince Thengel kept to himself the other night."

"The whole town?" Morwen asked weakly.

Lady Idhren's eyes took on a strange brilliance. "Of course! I've heard of nothing else since. Everyone wants to solve the mystery."

Morwen noticed Aranel shifting uncomfortably during this speech. That Idhren had exaggerated the details in her own mind, Morwen didn't doubt. And yet, both of her cousins had foiled any of her attempts to stir from the house all day. Was it true that she was a source of gossip? She tried to catch Aranel's eye, but her cousin was busy following the flight path of two swallows over the garden.

"What mystery?"

"Oh, who you are…"

"They must know I'm related to Adrahil. I was announced at the door."

Idhren waved her hand. "Yes, but what are you?"

"The whole town will be disappointed to find out that I'm just another farmer from Lossarnach," Morwen said as calmly as possible.

"Disappointed? Nothing could be more romantic than the pastoral."

Oh certainly, Morwen thought. Sweat and dirt and bee stings. Going to bed with a backache and then waking up with the same backache. Produce prices that haven't risen in an age while the cost of everything else goes up.

"Of course being noticed by someone like Thengel always raises a woman's allure."

Morwen felt there was an expected response, but she couldn't think of what it could be. She knew flattery when she heard it, but it wasn't the same as Halmir's. Idhren perhaps never intended for her to take it seriously. Yet, like Halmir, she might have been expected something in return?

"You're teasing me, Lady Idhren."

"On my honor, I speak nothing but the truth!" Idhren smiled again. "Thengel never did say how you met. I suppose you must have known him through Lord Hardang."

"No, we met by accident."

Idhren smirked at her glass. "I met my husband by accident."

Aranel turned her head just slightly away from Lady Idhren, which Morwen knew how to interpret now as disbelief.

"So it's true that you have a lovely orchard that you run all on your own."

"Did Prince Thengel tell you that?" Morwen asked.

"No, he told Ecthelion, which amounts to his telling me. It has been so long since Ecthelion and I have toured the fief. Perhaps we should do that this summer," she frowned, "if I can pull him away from Ithilien. An orchard is so interesting. Tell me about the fruit."

Morwen blinked at her. "The fruit?"

"Yes, the fruit. Any old kind." But before Morwen could start, she added, "I would love to see Imloth Melui in bloom. I know it's become a favorite with Thengel."

Morwen felt confusion welling up inside of her. She couldn't tell Idhren positively that she would be welcome as a guest, nor did she want to explain her problem with Halmir. Morwen had to entertain the truth that accepting any more guests at Bar-en-Ferin might be out of her power for good.

"Morwen may be joining us in Dol Amroth shortly," Aranel said calmly, saving Morwen from answering.

Idhren's expression crystalized. "Oh. So far away." Then she said to Aranel, "I hope your mother is well."

"My mother is always well, thank you."

"I'm so sorry to have missed your charming husband."

"He had business with the Steward this afternoon."

As Aranel spoke, an understanding seemed to pass between the two women. Morwen sensed it rather than knew it to be true, but by the slight deepening of the smile that was always ready on Lady Idhren's lips and the way Aranel's expression hardened when she mentioned the Steward, Morwen thought her instincts were correct.

Aranel rose abruptly. "Lady Idhren," she said, "Morwen and I will be dressing for dinner soon. Thank you for coming."

Before either Morwen or Idhren could follow Aranel's example and rise, the footman crossed the garden toward them. Bowing, he announced that Prince Thengel and Princess Wynflaed had asked to be admitted. Lady Idhren's smile wavered as she put down her cup.

…

Thengel appeared first, followed by a fair-haired woman, somewhat shorter in stature. They stopped on the small terrace and Thengel whispered something to her. The princess turned her back to them and they seemed to be studying one of Aranel's potted myrtles. Although Morwen couldn't see her face, the stiff ridge of her shoulders spoke of a disagreement occurring between the two. The footman stood nearby, waiting with barely concealed interest in the exchange.

Thengel left his sister to regard the planter on her own. Idhren rose and greeted him in unison with Aranel. They gave one another bemused looks. Idhren apologized by smirking. Morwen found herself struggling to her feet after them, almost hiding herself behind Idhren. Where she had been impatient for news, she now found that she heartily wished to put off the final verdict. When their eyes met he gave her a slight smile.

Thengel bowed to them. "Forgive my sister and I for disturbing your afternoon, Princess Aranel."

Aranel assured him that they were both very welcome, while casting a glance toward the terrace, wondering when Wynflaed would join them. "I don't believe Morwen or I have had the opportunity to meet her before now. Will she be joining us?"

"Yes, she's coming," he said blandly.

Wynflaed crossed the garden looking dour. Morwen studied her with great interest. Brother and sister had similar eyes, but Wynflaed had an upturned nose and a slant to her mouth that didn't inspire confidence, say, if one met her in a deserted courtyard. She had a dressing over her forearm that peeked out from her sleeve. Wounds must be a matter of course on a cultural level, Morwen thought, reminded of Guthere.

"Hello, dear Wynflaed," Idhren said. "I missed you this morning when you didn't come. Whatever kept you?"

The slant of Wynflaed's lips deepened and her muscles seemed to bunch the way a tomcat's would when another cat crosses its territory. Morwen felt the tension and stepped forward.

"Is it true, Princess Wynflaed, that you have a sword called death-husband?" Morwen asked to deflect attention from Idhren.

Wynflaed's gaze snapped to Morwen, as if surprised to discover her there. If Idhren's had been a weight on Morwen's shoulders, Wynflaed's felt more like a razor. It only required a light touch to the skin to know that one should proceed with caution.

"Wyn, this is Lady Morwen."

Wynflaed's eyelids drooped slightly and Morwen felt the release from the razor's edge. "I am pleased to meet you, Princess Wynflaed."

Wynflaed clasped Morwen by the wrist, an odd greeting to Morwen's mind, but she found she liked it. Except that the shieldmaiden didn't seem inclined to let go. Morwen glanced down at their wrists and noticed that Princess Wynflaed's hands were mottled and a little greasy. A nasty blood blister had formed on one of Wynflaed's fingers and her knuckles looked swollen. Working hands.

Wynflaed said something Morwen didn't quite hear. "Pardon?"

"Westu lȳtling hal."

Morwen recognized the form of greeting from her conversations with Guthere, but some of it puzzled her. She caught Thengel glaring at Wynflaed.

"So you are the one," Wynflaed said.

Morwen blinked and withdrew her hand. "The one…?"

"The one Oswin spoke of, she means," Thengel interjected. "Wynflaed said you met him yesterday."

"Oh yes," Morwen replied. "Did Marshal Oswin mention what I told him regarding Guthere?"

Thengel looked at Wynflaed, then back to Morwen. "No."

"Oh. Nevermind," she murmured. Then to Wynflaed she said, "Thengel told me a little about you, as well. It is true you are a shieldmaiden?"

"When the Marshal has no other use for me, yes," Wynflaed answered sternly.

"Have you given up your task, then?" Idhren asked, indicating the dressing beneath the sleeve.

Wynflaed bared her teeth in what might have been a smile. "Yes. The fight calls to me now."

Idhren sat down.

Morwen looked to Thengel for a clue to the subtext. She knew that Wynflaed had come to help Marshal Oswin find a wife for Thengel, but it sounded like Wynflaed had felt the task dissatisfying. For Thengel's sake, Morwen felt relieved. Perhaps they were prepared to leave him alone, after all.

"If you'll excuse us, Lady Aranel, I would like to have a word alone with Morwen regarding Bar-en-Ferin."

Aranel cast a quick look at Idhren. "Of course." Then she smiled politely at Wynflaed and offered her some wine.

Wynflaed sat stiffly in a chair across from Idhren. Three very different women in one small garden, Morwen felt a little stab of curiosity to know what they would do and say as Thengel drew her away from the fig tree. He led her to a laurel near the gate that led from the garden into the courtyard.

Morwen cast a glance over her shoulder. "So that's your sister."

Thengel frowned. "Yes."

"You and Wynflaed look similar," she observed.

"All of us take after my mother, Wynflaed especially," he replied. "Except maybe in manner."

"What is it that Wynflaed said to me?"

"It was a greeting. Be welcome, little one."

Morwen stared. "Little one? I'm taller than she is."

"It's an endearment." He didn't quite meet her eye.

Was it? Morwen wondered. "Your uncle is a gallant man," she continued.

"Just how did you manage to run into Oswin anyway?" he asked.

"I saw Cenhelm in the street." She cringed, remembering her conversation with Lord Daeron. "And he introduced us. The Marshal insisted on walking me home."

"He frogmarched you to your door, you mean," Thengel muttered.

Morwen tried to squash a grin, but Thengel's description had been rather accurate. "Perhaps," she said politely. "But it wasn't unwelcome." Thengel looked like he doubted her judgment. "It allowed me to dodge an unwelcome acquaintance."

Thengel's expression darkened. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I discovered at least one source of Halmir's finances. Very awkward."

"Who?"

"My dance partner at the feast, Lord Daeron. Do you remember him?"

"No," Thengel said abruptly.

It didn't surprise Morwen. He certainly hadn't seemed to notice Daeron on the dance floor when he cut in. "He's a friend of Halmir's."

"How did you find this out?"

"Halmir made him privy to his personal hopes for my household. Lord Daeron was keen for news of my cousin's project and scrupled to ask me all about it."

"He knows all of Halmir's plans?"

Morwen nodded. "Every last detail."

Thengel rested his arm on a low tree branch as if it were a mantelpiece. He regarded her solemnly. "You told Daeron it's out of the question."

"Naturally."

"What did he do?"

"He didn't do anything, per se, but his feelings were plain. He's none too pleased with Halmir."

"Daeron didn't harass you, did he?"

"No. He's not a bad sort of person, but he should be more discerning in his friends. Perhaps now he will be." She frowned. "Although, maybe I'm wrong. Halmir may succeed after all. What do you think?"

Thengel looked away. "I'm sorry, Morwen," he said gravely. "There isn't anything the Steward's court can do."

Morwen listen to this news with nerveless detachment. "Oh," was all she said.

"I'm sorry that's not the news you wanted," he began.

"I'm resigned," she said tiredly.

"Resigned?" he said with surprise.

"Adrahil never had high hopes of succeeding with the Steward. They've convinced me to seek other possibilities."

"What are those?"

"Well, Adrahil and Aranel have asked me to come to Dol Amroth."

"Dol Amroth! Will you?" he asked incredulously.

"It's a possibility." She hugged her arms to her chest. "Eventually. When I've sorted things at Bar-en-Ferin as much as I can."

Thengel considered the towers rising from the citadel in the distance, just visible over the lip of the walls. "What about Minas Tirith?"

Morwen wrinkled her nose in distaste. "What about it?"

"Surely you could live here as well as you could in Belfalas," he objected.

"What would I do here? I've never liked the city," she told him. "At least in Belfalas I can be of use to my father's family."

"But Dol Amroth is so far from Lossarnach. You may not feel at home there."

Then she asked him, "Have you ever been to Dol Amroth?"

Thengel nodded. "Yes. Two or three times while I was stationed at Pelargir years ago. I made the journey over the sea with Prince Angelimir. It is a beautiful place." He added, "But it is clear on the other side of Gondor, Morwen. Far from Lossarnach and your friends."

"I know."

He let go of the branch and crossed his arms. "Well, don't decide anything definitely. Halmir hasn't succeeded just yet."

"It's only a matter of time," she said sharply.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Listen, Morwen, I believe we've been looking for the answer to the wrong question and I have an idea."

Her eyes brightened. "You have?"

"Sort of. It's coming together. Would you allow me to return with you to Imloth Melui?"

"Why, what do you have in mind?"

"I'll tell you when I can. Right now, just trust me."

"Prince Thengel—"

"Just Thengel, remember?" he said.

Morwen swallowed. "Thengel. It isn't that I'm ungrateful, but it's a complex situation. I can't ask you to do more than you have done already. Adrahil promised to travel with me and if he can't come to terms with Halmir, I'm going with them to Dol Amroth."

They regarded one another quietly until Thengel broke the silence.

"Forgive me, but I think my way would be better."

"Forgive me, but I doubt it."

He arched a brow, "Is that a challenge?"

"This isn't a game," she reminded him, "it's my life."

Thengel sobered. "I know and I'm sorry."

"Thank you, but I can see my course." Morwen stared mournfully ahead along the garden. "In fact, if Guthere has mended enough to ride, I think it would be best for him to return to you."

"You aren't without allies, Morwen. Halmir doesn't control the estate yet. I promised to help."

"And you have," she said. "By talking to the Steward."

"But there's one more thing to try. Until then, don't think too definitely about Dol Amroth."

Morwen ducked her head to hide the confusion she felt. She could sense the hope he wanted to extend to her, but hope was a double-edged sword. She wanted to accept it, but for the conviction that doing so would be like taking out credit to postpone the day of disappointment.

He held out his hand. "Wasn't it Erendil who said of The Faithful to Gil-Galad, 'we are not the ones who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who have faith and are saved'?"*

Morwen made a face. "Before Sauron slew him at the foot of Mount Doom?"

Thengel blinked. "Well, yes, but that's not the point. He didn't give up even after the Downfall and not in the face of Sauron's armies. Gondor wouldn't be here today if he hadn't tried."

She didn't have an answer for that.

"Halmir can't be worse than the Dark Lord."

"You'll be his guest," she warned.

"That remains to be seen." Thengel smiled. "One last effort."

It was odd, she thought, how he should care at all whether he had helped her or not. She recalled the morning in the orchard when he had read to them from that book of Northern epic poetry. He had been a stranger then and they hadn't seemed to understand one another. Now she could sometimes puzzle out what he was thinking just by the way the skin around his eyes crinkled. Even if she didn't know his entire story, she could at least recognize his moods.

Right now she recognized a person who did not like to yield a task unfinished. By unfinished, he would mean a task that hadn't answered his expectations. She admired his tenacity, but at this point she just wanted to end the whole affair with whatever dignity she had left. As much as she hated to surrender, the only way to rebuild her life would be to quit this one.

But what would giving in say about her spirit? Would she admire herself for slinking off to Dol Amroth in the wake of her cousins, to live from their open hands? What would he think of her? And did it matter to her?

Somehow she found that it did. Like Wynflaed, would she let the fight call to her?

"Oh, why not." Morwen took his hand and shook it. "Might as well give Halmir as much trouble as we can."

His expression lit with pride and she felt answered for any amount of foolishness she had just agreed to.

…

"How soon can you be ready to leave?" Thengel asked.

"Leave? Who's leaving?"

Morwen startled and withdrew her hand from Thengel's. They both turned to find Adrahil coming toward them. He had entered silently through the back gate, which was now hanging slightly ajar.

"Adrahil, you're home," Morwen said stupidly.

Adrahil bowed stiffly toward Prince Thengel, then he regarded Morwen. "Yes, I'm home. Now, what's this about leaving?"

"We are discussing plans to return to Lossarnach," Thengel answered for her.

Adrahil gave him a tight-lipped smile that didn't quite turn up at the corners. "I see," he said grimly.

In other men, Morwen might suppose that he was vaguely irritated by something. In Adrahil this demeanor bordered on outrage.

"What's the matter?" Morwen asked him.

"Come with me, both of you," he told them, taking Morwen's arm. "There's something we all need to discuss."

They crossed the garden together, Morwen towed by Adrahil, with Thengel lagging behind. She had the odd sensation that her cousin was dragging her from Prince Thengel rather than toward the three ladies. She shrugged off that thought as nonsense.

Aranel's smile faltered when she saw Adrahil's face. "How is the Steward today?" She nodded slightly toward Idhren, a warning.

"Very well," said Adrahil bitterly. "Never better."

Idhren rose, slow and stately. "I was just taking my leave. So sorry to duck out just as you've arrived, Prince Adrahil. Thengel, Wynflaed, will you join me?"

Adrahil held his hand up. "No, I think they need to hear what I'm about to relate."

Idhren held her ground.

"There's no need for us to delay you, my lady," Adrahil said.

Idhren nodded stoically and allowed Aranel to walk with her to the gate. When Aranel returned, they all sat down and waited for Adrahil.

"And what did the Steward want?" Aranel asked. She touched his arm. "And should we be troubling our guests with it?"

"Certainly. It concerns them closely. As to the Steward, I have good news and bad news," Adrahil said without his characteristic good humor.

"I already know the bad news," Morwen replied hastily, hoping to spare him. "Prince Thengel told me himself."

Adrahil gave Thengel a jaundiced look. "Not all of it, I believe." He leaned forward. "Morwen, I'm afraid I have to cancel our Lossarnach scheme. Aranel and I have to return to Dol Amroth on the Steward's behalf immediately." Aranel made a small sound, but quickly muffled it. "Be that as it may, I will make other arrangements for you. The good news is that Lord Belehir has agreed to take my place."

"Lord Belehir," Morwen parroted.

"You've already arranged it with Father?" Aranel asked.

"Yes."

"I wish you had arranged it with me first, Adrahil," Morwen told him frankly.

Adrahil looked surprised. "We don't have the luxury of time, Morwen. And I thought it would be one less thing for you to worry about."

Aranel folded her hands in her lap and looked unconvinced. "Father would certainly keep Morwen safe on the road. But, Adrahil, he is a very busy man - and very politic. What use will he be to Morwen where Halmir is concerned? You really had better go. Surely Lord Turgon will allow you to delay for a family matter."

"If that were possible, my dear, I would have arranged it. Lord Turgon is especially adamant in this case."

"Forgive me, Adrahil, but there's no need to involve Aranel's father. Thengel has agreed to travel with me," Morwen reminded him.

Thengel stood off to the side of the furniture like a piece of forgotten statuary, listening to the conversation with a stony expression. As of yet it seemed unclear what Adrahil deemed so necessary for him to hear and Morwen wondered at it. When she said his name he smiled at her.

Adrahil clenched his jaw as if something unpleasant had been confirmed in his mind. "I'm sure your intentions are good, Prince Thengel, and I'm sure we're all grateful for your help in this matter. We won't put you out of your way, however."

Morwen glanced at Thengel and thought she understood his expression.

"It's no trouble," Thengel told them. "The arrangements have already been made. My men and I can leave at a moment's notice."

Morwen felt a spark of surprise. Had he arranged all that before even asking her? He certainly liked taking matters into his own hands too!

"That's all very well, Prince Thengel." Adrahil seemed to be screwing himself up to have a serious talk with a man who was, if not his superior, then certainly an equal. Adrahil had to be delicate without losing his meaning. He rounded on Morwen instead. "You're exhausted from the distress you're under and perhaps you haven't considered all the options. Prince Thengel must have his own business to see to, especially with his family here from Rohan. Consider the suitability, Morwen. How would it look for you to travel alone with him?"

"I'm coming too, if that's any comfort."

Everyone turned to Wynflaed who had been listening with her eyes closed, and by all, seemed to be asleep. Her eyes were open now and taking in Prince Adrahil's measure. Adrahil returned the scrutiny with growing irritation, while Thengel stared at his sister with something like distress. The corners of her lips curled upward slightly.

"Well, that's settled," said Aranel.

"Hardly," Adrahil retorted, as Thengel exclaimed, "Absolutely not!"

But Morwen felt herself warming to the idea. Adrahil had a point. Prince Thengel would be taken away from his uncle and sister, which though he acted more than happy to put a few miles between them, she didn't quite believe it. Why shouldn't Princess Wynflaed come? The woman hadn't seen her brother in twenty years. Was it right for Morwen's problems to interrupt their time together? And it would answer Adrahil's doubts about propriety.

"I'm satisfied with the arrangement," Morwen told them. "Princess Wynflaed, I would be honored to host you at Bar-en-Ferin, while I can."

"Thank you, Lady Morwen." Wynflaed rose and rested her hand on her brother's shoulder. He seemed to swallow his objections, but only just.

"So be it," said Adrahil wearily. "We have much to discuss before you leave." He glanced sharply at Thengel. "By the by, when will that be?"

Morwen looked to Thengel too.

"I can be ready tomorrow morning," he told them.

"So can I." After all, hadn't she complained about the lack of action? "Tomorrow then."

Adrahil gave Thengel an unhappy look, then bent slightly at the waist. "Tomorrow then, Prince Thengel."

Morwen followed Adrahil's example. "I will expect you," she said. Then she turned to Wynflaed, "And you."

Thengel gave them a curt nod before making his way across the garden. Wynflaed ranged behind him. She stopped at the potted myrtle and stooped to take something out from under the branches. Morwen saw the sunlight flash off of something steel.

"Were those knives?" Aranel leaned over to murmur to Morwen.

"That's what I thought."

"You know, Morwen, I am almost jealous that we can't come with you," Aranel said. "It should be very interesting."

When their guests were long gone, Adrahil sat down in the chair beside his wife and kicked the table. Morwen startled.

"So the interview with Turgon didn't go well," Aranel said at last.

Adrahil clenched his fists. "Well! No, it didn't go well. Interfering, overbearing, scheming…ugh!"

Morwen exchanged concerned glances with Aranel. Adrahil rose from the chair and paced around the grouping of furniture. She had never seen her cousin lose his temper before and she didn't care for it.

"And how soon are we to leave?" Aranel asked calmly.

"Oh he's very generous," Adrahil nearly snarled. "A whole three days."

"Three days!" Aranel gasped. "What could possibly be so important?"

Adrahil looked at Morwen. "What indeed?" Then he gritted his teeth. "And just after I wrote to Father explaining it would be some weeks before we joined him. He's going to accuse me of being mercurial."

"Surely your father will understand when you explain the Steward's business," Aranel reassured him.

Adrahil looked sour. "Business. Oh, I'll tell Father exactly the nature of the Steward's business."

"What is it, anyway?" Aranel asked. "Has he declared open war on Umbar or something?"

Adrahil stopped abruptly as if pulled by a string. He straightened the cuff of his sleeve, studying it minutely. "I'm under strict instructions not to tell a soul what we discussed until I arrive at my father's door in Dol Amroth."

"Surely Morwen and I don't count," Aranel said.

"Especially you," he replied.

Morwen rose. "I won't tease you for an explanation, Adrahil. I don't much care for the Steward at the moment, or anything he has to say."

Adrahil's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. "You don't?" He laughed grimly. "You know, the poets say faith can move mountains," he said philosophically. "So does a pretty face in a young woman, apparently." He looked at her closely. "Bar-en-Ferin is nothing to what you could exchange it for."

"What do you mean?" Morwen asked, stung by his tone.

He considered her a moment before answering. "Shall I spell it out for you, cousin Morwen?"

"Adrahil, don't tease her," Aranel chided. "Lady Idhren's done enough of that for today."

Morwen rubbed the space between her brows as she became sensible to the throbbing in her head. "I probably wouldn't understand you anyway."

"You probably wouldn't like it if you did," Adrahil observed.

She felt certain he was right.

Thank you for reading!

*Actually, no, Thengel. Hebrews 10:39, but whateves.