Morwen had no solid memory of the walk down through the orchard to the house, just an impression of Thengel on one side and Wynflaed on the other. Everything else dissolved into shadows in the back of her mind.
No one noticed at first, when she slipped through the hall doors. From the looks of it, the household had just finished the evening meal. Morwen saw Gildis directing the kitchen girls with the removal of what looked like an enormous feast. There were stacks of platters, the remains of a roast pig, piecrusts, broken bread, soup tureens, and bottles of wine strewn about the tables.
Thengel stepped around her. He gave a nod toward Guthere across the hall where the rider stood apart from Halmir's men. His expression of relief at seeing Thengel was tempered by disgust at his surroundings.
Morwen picked Halmir out from the crowd, lounging in her father's chair - her chair - by the fireplace. She couldn't spot Hundor anywhere.
"Morwen, you needn't stand on the threshold like a stranger," Halmir drawled." He looked unconcerned to see her back and a delighted leering grin spread over his face. "Come in. My house is your house."
Morwen took a convulsive step toward her cousin, fingers curling into fists, but Thengel hooked his hand around her elbow and pulled her to his side.
"Where are you going?" he murmured.
"I'm going to cut his heart out with a trowel."
Thengel gave her a sidelong glance. "Nobody dies today," he whispered in her ear. "Leave that kind of justice for the Steward."
"Why?" Morwen's voice dripped with acid and she flashed so hot a glare in his direction that he let go of her arm. "Whose side are you on?"
"Yours, of course," he murmured tersely. "Don't be foolish. In case you haven't noticed, we're still outnumbered."
She made a sound deep in her throat that was drowned out by the sound of Beleg and his friends slouching into the hall by the help of Thurstan and Gladhon. Halmir grimaced at the noxious odor they brought with them.
Teitherion came in last, loaded down with Morwen and Thengel's baggage. Thengel snatched them away from the artist, who looked glad to be rid of the weight. He tugging down the short end of the tunic, which barely covered, is long, knobby legs when he noticed Gildis nearby.
"So, it's true," Halmir said. "You've undermined my authority by releasing these men. They're awaiting justice."
"Justice, is it?" Thengel called out. "Locking up good men with disregard to natural law and then leaving them in such a state of filth and ill-feeding they can barely stand on their own? After what you've done, it would behoove you to get out of the lady's way."
Halmir rose, frowning, and stepped toward them. Morwen stared with distaste at the indentation in the cushion that Halmir had left behind in her father's chair.
"Why, what have I done except exercise my authority as regent?" he asked with a flimsy wave of his pale hand that reminded her of a dying bird. "Forgive me, I forgot to ask if you had a pleasant journey," Halmir said cheerfully, as he leaned against the hearth. "You know if you wished to travel to Minas Tirith, you might have asked me, Morwen, as your kinsman and the one with your interests nearest to heart."
Morwen's mouth went dry. His cloying solicitude contrasted with the brutality of his axemen broke something in her mind. What was wrong with her? She felt chilled and her thoughts seemed to fly away from her. She couldn't answer him.
"Sounds like good reasons to leave you behind," Thengel muttered loudly enough for all to hear. Someone from Halmir's side snickered then was viciously hushed by his friends.
Halmir's eyebrows arched as he observed the Prince with distaste. "Oh? What business did you have traveling with an unwed woman?"
"My own," Thengel replied.
Halmir fingers kneaded the air as if he longed to form them into fists but knew it would ruin his attempt to appear nonchalant. "Enlighten me."
Ignoring Halmir, Thengel addressed the crowd. "You lot, it's time to clear out. Your comrades whom you've abused are sick and in need of care and you're in the way. Outside. Now."
"Any man who obeys this impudent foreigner will share the same fate as Beleg's rebels," Halmir threatened.
The men hesitated, weighing whether Halmir's threat or Prince Thengel's authority would bite them the worst if disobeyed. More than one eye noticed the White Tree embossed on Thengel's chest and the allusion to his deputation under Ecthelion.
"He's bluffing," Thengel told them.
Halmir would've flayed Thengel alive with his eyes, if possible. "I want that man arrested."
Thengel surprised them all by laughing, a carefree sound that rang in the rafters. "By all means, arrest me. Turgon will find that very interesting."
"Prince Thengel!" Cenhelm rebuked.
Impotent, Halmir flushed and glowered, but couldn't do anything against such a visible symbol of power. He fled from the hall down the passage shouting for Hundor. Morwen stared after him, nerveless and empty. One by one the men from Arnach began to drift toward the doors, the pleasantness and glut of the feast greatly diminished now that the real mistress of the house had arrived. Those with a scrap of conscience left that wasn't befuddled by wine left first. Her cousin's soldiers parted around her and none would meet her eyes.
When the hall was clear, Gildis and Hareth both returned from the kitchen. "What should we do now?" Gildis asked Thengel.
Morwen blinked stupidly. Why would Gildis ask Thengel? And yet, she felt as if she were standing on the outside of the hall, looking in. Her body wouldn't respond to her.
"These men need a wash and some food," he told Gildis and Hareth.
"What about Lord Halmir and his ruffians?" Hareth asked.
"Take care of the sick first. We'll worry about the others later."
"Yes, my lord."
"Guthere, Cenhelm, with me. Wynflaed, stay with Morwen, will you?" she heard Thengel order.
Morwen watched Thengel leave the hall for the study. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Come on. Sit down before you fall down." Wynflaed pushed her into the chair beside the fireplace that Halmir had vacated.
"I'm fine," she managed to say.
"No, you're in shock or something like it."
Morwen slowly raised her eyes to meet Wynflaed's. The shieldmaiden looked less than impressed. Morwen ducked her head.
"I'm sorry."
Wynflaed's eyes rolled. "Shut up."
She found a blanket and threw it over Morwen's shoulders. "First, warm up. Then drink, then eat, then move," she ordered, her voice brusque. "You'll be fine — and the sooner the better. These men are worse off than you and need help."
A mug of tea materialized in Morwen's hands as Hareth passed by. She pretended not to notice the despondent look on the cook's face. While Morwen sipped her drink, Gundor slipped inside and started to help carry in hot water and rags for the wounded to bathe with. Hareth and Gildis brought out scraps from Halmir's meal. Slowly she began to revive and to notice.
Gildis stopped to press her into taking a piece of bread spread with honey.
"That's the last of that, so you had better eat it up," Gildis told her.
"Thank you." Then she asked, "Where's Ioneth?"
The housekeeper's expression twisted. "When the men moved into the house we sent her back to her parents and told her not to come back."
"Did any of them harm you?"
Gildis glowered. "Harm two mean old women like us? Not on your life." She snorted and her disdain did more to revive Morwen than the food and drink. "They've taken to persecuting Gundor, though. Thank goodness for Guthere. He's helping give that boy a backbone."
Was he? Nobody ever paid Gundor any mind, except for her. And what good had she done? Morwen reproached herself. She already felt Wynflaed's contempt. How could she sit by while her household vigilantly held against the breach caused by Halmir?
"What are you doing?" Gildis asked as Morwen shrugged off the blanket and stood up.
"Helping. Bring me some water."
…
Cenhelm caught up to Thengel in the passage. He didn't have to look to know that is guard didn't approve of anything that had just occurred.
"Yes, Cenhelm?" he asked when he heard a sigh.
"Do you think it was wise to bait Lord Halmir?"
"Bait him? I only reminded him that the crown prince of Rohan has diplomatic immunity and that any attempt to injure me would rain down fire on his head. He seemed to accept the suggestion."
"For now," Cenhelm groused, "but men forget to fear fire after a time."
Thengel shrugged. "So? We'll keep it fresh in his memory, then."
Cenhelm jaw worked as if he was chewing on the words he wanted to say, but needed to swallow instead. Then he muttered, "I wish we'd never come here."
"Well, I'm glad to see you again," Guthere said, shuffling up behind them. "Is that really Princess Wynflaed? I couldn't believe my eyes when you all turned up in the hall."
"In the hall!" Thengel rounded on him. "And just why weren't you in the barn?"
The accusation hung in the air. Guthere gaped at Thengel, stunned by his sudden vehemence.
"W-what?"
Thengel's eyes narrowed with contempt as his temper flared. He gripped Guthere by the front of his collar. "How did you escape being thrown in with the rest of them? Or were you enjoying Halmir's benevolence too?" At Morwen's expense, no less. The idea galled him.
Guthere complexion turned deadly pale. "Not I!"
Thengel pushed him away as if touching a diseased thing. "So, you're a coward then. Too afraid to step in. Is that it?"
"But, Prince Thengel," Guthere argued, his temper beginning to rise. "My head's not set all the way yet. One knock from them and I'd be as good as useless."
"Better useless than a coward."
Guthere fell silent, stunned by the epithet.
"Now, Prince Thengel, think about what you're saying," Cenhelm warned. Unfortunately, his interjection only gave Guthere the time he needed to register a response.
"I'm not a coward or a fool," he croaked. "No one's left to look after Lady Morwen's folk and Beldir's no good with his busted leg. If I kept my head down, it's for them - Hareth and Gildis and Gundor. I'll be dead before Halmir lays a finger on any of them."
Cenhelm shouldered his way between the two men, his hand gripping both men by the shoulder. "Lord Halmir would split his sides laughing if he could see us now. He probably hears us, if he's still in the house." Cenhelm spat on the floor between them, then released Guthere to focus on his charge. "You know Guthere Guthnodson better than to doubt his courage, my Prince. In fact, I wish you'd take a straw from his bale instead of letting your temper cloud your judgment. You were cool enough back in the hall. What could he do? Is it Guthere who's angered you or Halmir? Picking on your own men won't help you protect Lady Morwen from that lordling you've incensed just now. "
Thengel shrugged off Cenhelm's hand. The three of them stood in a tableau, breathing heavily as their tempers cooled. As usual, the old warrior could see straight when Thengel couldn't. If he was hot tempered, Halmir caused it. Relenting, Thengel held out his hand to Guthere.
Guthere blinked at it without understanding. "My lord?"
"My accusation was unjust, Guthere," he said with a tone very much altered. "I know you are neither a coward nor a fool. Pardon me."
Guthere looked surprised that a prince of Fengel's line would apologize to him. But he shook Thengel's hand and seemed pleased to be on good terms again.
"Come in here. I want a word with both of you." Thengel threw open the study door, but Cenhelm didn't allow him to enter. The guard scanned the room before going in, then stepped out of the way for Thengel.
"Thank you, Cenhelm," Thengel said dryly.
Halmir had taken up camp here in his absence. Piles of books lay about the place. Empty cups and dishes with stale bread and greasy cheese had attracted flies that came in through an open window. A young man lay face down on the sofa. He looked up at them, groggy with wine.
"This is Lord Halmir's room—" he began to complain before Cenhelm heaved him upright by the arms and dragged him out into the passage.
Meanwhile, Thengel approached the desk and found the blueprints that Morwen had spoken of buried beneath the detritus. Careful not to spill anything on Lord Randir's things, he shimmied out the papers and glanced them over.
"What's been going on?" he asked Guthere.
"You saw for yourself. Halmir had axes brought up and gave his orders for the trees, but not before Beleg and the others raised a stink. I thought he'd use those axes on them, but he had 'em rounded up like hogs and put away."
"Halmir left you alone, though?" Cenhelm asked. "That does surprise me. I thought as the Prince's man you'd be first."
Guthere touched the bandage around his head. "They aren't afraid of me. But his men are all over the house now and I had to give up the room Lady Morwen gave me. I've been, eh, bunking upstairs with Morwen's people."
"Whose bunk?" Cenhelm asked with not a little acid in his tone.
"Eh," Guthere tugged the braided end of his mustache. Thengel felt stunned to see his warrior's face turn redder than it had since the first time Morwen had bent over his sick bed with that smile of hers, petting his hand so he'd take his medicine. "Well, look, I didn't want to give quarter to those runts, but someone has to protect the women. It's a matter of strategy."
Cenhelm gave Guthere a cutting glare, but the rider just shrugged his broad shoulders. He grinned under his beard.
"Well, now strategize a way to keep Halmir's thugs out of Morwen's house, will you? I want both of you to comb the place while Thurstan and Gladhon help in the hall. Anyone you find can sleep outside or in that befouled barn if they insist on staying in Imloth Melui."
"If they refuse to go?" Guthere asked.
"Persuade them however you think fit. I doubt they'll put up too much of a fight now the great man's out of sight."
Cenhelm crossed his arms. "What will you be doing?"
"Hand me my pack, there."
Cenhelm did so and Thengel fished around inside for something at the bottom. He laid the object on the desk.
"The Horn of Eorl," Cenhelm gasped as he touched his forehead. "Just what do you plan to do?"
Thengel gave Cenhelm an impatient look. "Do you not have orders?"
"Yes, my lord," Cenhelm answered with reluctant bow.
Guthere still stared at the horn and Thengel found it difficult to restrain his temper. "I trust your injury didn't damage your ears."
Cenhelm gripped Guthere's arm. "Come. Don't try to make sense of it. I've given up."
Thengel pretended not to hear. When finally alone, he sat down at Lord Randir's desk, took up a pen and some ink and paper once he could find any in the mess. Then he began to write. Sometimes when a sentence eluded him, he'd stop and stare absentmindedly at the horn until the right words came.
…
Cenhelm and Guthere returned to the hall to tell them that the rooms were clear. As many beds as could be found were given to the ill men, who were then told to remove their clothes for washing. Hareth and Gildis collected their things in large baskets and had them locked away in a shed till morning when they could be properly washed. At least it got the stench out of the house. Until then, Beleg and the others would have to robe themselves with sheets if they wanted to go out, as their belongings had long since been pilfered by Halmir's crew. Only Beldir had a spare set that hadn't been stolen.
While Hareth and Gildis were busy collecting clothes, Wynflaed had taken it upon herself to scrub and bind their raw wrists and ankles. And she did not make for a gentle nurse. The men's faces twisted with pent up groans, the next man in line fairly sweating with dread before she turned on him with a fresh rag. They'd run out of warm water, but not out of bodies in need of it, so Morwen took the buckets to the well.
The yard looked abandoned when she poked her head out from the kitchen door. A pale rectangle of light from a window lit up a patch of gravel, but all around it lay in darkness. She made sure the door didn't close all the way behind her as she picked her away toward the well near the vegetable patch. In the woods, a night bird cried out.
Morwen had just hooked the first bucket to the pulley when her skin began to crawl. She wasn't alone anymore.
"Who's there?" she asked.
Someone grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. The bucket splashed down into the well and she almost tripped over the second one lying next to the stone wall encircling the hole. Halmir glared down at her. She hadn't expected him to linger so near the house.
"Let go," she snapped. "What do you want?"
His grip on her arm only increased. "A little more respect from you, for one."
She spat in his face, remembering her trees. He raised his arm and she recoiled, but he only wiped the saliva from his face.
"So, that's how it's to be, is it? The last time we spoke, did I not ask if you wanted to be in my favor or out of it?" Then he pushed her. Her ankle rolled and she fell hard against the stone, bracing herself from sliding to the ground with her hands. The fall had snatched the air from her lungs and she struggled to speak.
"What is the matter with you?"
"Believe me, Morwen, this is only the beginning."
"How dare you threaten me," she hissed, attempting to rise. "After what you've done here, could you possibly fall any further?"
"If it must be so." He leaned over her, forcing her to press against the wall again. "I took the orchard. What makes you think I can't do the same to you?"
"You forget yourself, Halmir. I'm not alone."
"At the moment, you are very much alone." He gripped her chin roughly with his clammy hand. "It's a pity to wreck a beauty like you, but then, it seems you've already wasted yourself with that northern pig."
Understanding broke over her like a gust of air. Something in her rose up as if from a deep well in order to resist him. Stop this, she thought. Her hand crept down the stone wall until she felt the rough wood of the bucket. She gripped the handle and blindly swung it in an arc over her head.
Halmir grabbed her wrist mid-swing and squeezed it till it. For a long moment they wrestled for control over the direction of the bucket and his grip increased until it felt like the bones would snap. She cried out. The bucket dropped from her bloodless fingers, bumping to the ground.
In a trice, he spun her around to crush her back against his chest, covering her mouth with one hand, the other arm holding her like a vice as he lifted her by the waist as if he meant to drag her off into the woods. His knees bruised the back of her legs as the tips of her toes scrambled for purchase.
Then suddenly she fell beside the bucket. Morwen rolled to sit on her backside, facing Halmir's next attack, ready to kick him if she had to. But silver streaked across Halmir's throat and he stood over her as if paralyzed by the short blade that had materialized out of nowhere. A pale hand gripped the bone handle. Morwen fixated on one of the fingers. A blood blister.
"What's this?" Wynflaed asked. The top of her head was barely visible past Halmir's shoulder, but her reach was long and she forced him to bend backward till she cradled his head on her shoulder like she might a lover's. Her eyes looked black in the night, dim and unfocused as a shark's. "Not a bully, eh?"
Halmir's breath came out with a strangled wheeze.
"Speaking of pigs, ever seen one bleed?" She flattened the blade against his windpipe. "You have a pig-based economy here, so I expect you've seen a barnyard in butchering season. Just pools and pools of blood. Pretty, in a jewel tone sort of way. Not that I fancy jewels myself. Do you fancy jewels?"
Halmir gurgled again until she turned the blade edge on him once more.
"Now, do I need to stick you like a pig or are you going to give Lady Morwen some peace? Consider carefully."
Halmir gurgled.
"Sorry, I couldn't hear that." A thin, dark line appeared on his throat. "Do you mean to say you won't leave her alone?"
A sob escape his lips as a drop of blood carved a thin path down his neck, disappearing inside his collar.
"Oh, I see. Well, let that be a lesson to you."
The blade disappeared. Halmir shot away from her like a stone released from a sling. Morwen watched in fascinated horror as he disappeared into the night. Wynflaed held out her hand to help Morwen up.
"How did you…" she asked between gasps.
"You took too long. I figured you'd fallen in the well." Wynflaed frowned. "That would've been better for you than what he had planned. Watch yourself with that one." She sheathed the knife. "Men have short memories and if he has to have you, he'll conjure more bad ideas to make it happen."
Morwen rubbed her wrist where he'd bruised it. "Thank you."
"Forget it," she said gruffly. "I only did it because his talk bores me to distraction."
Morwen didn't believe her, but her nonchalance somehow helped Morwen to calm. Slowly, she bent to pick up the second bucket, then she reeled in the first, handing it to Wynflaed to carry into the house. But Wynflaed remained by her side until Morwen completed her task.
"You won't tell anyone what happened, will you?" Morwen asked as they carried the buckets toward the house.
Wynflaed look at her out of the corner of her eyes. "Why, what happened?"
Morwen squeezed her eyes shut. "Nothing. Well, almost nothing. I'd just prefer if no one found out what Halmir tried to do."
"Suit yourself."
…
Inside the kitchen, Gildis accosted them.
"Well, my lady, you're a sight for sore eyes, though I can't exactly say looking at you in that state makes them feel any less sore."
Morwen glanced down at herself. The scuffle with Halmir had turned a small tear from the orchard into a rent that split the skirt from knee to hem.
"We've given every bed and ever rug to those poor men." Gildis told them as she took a bucket from Morwen, eyeing her companion, noting everything from the leggings, the tunic that only went down to the lady's knees, and the lovely bone handle sticking out from the sheath on her belt. "There's nowhere for eh…for…"
"Gildis, this is Princess Wynflaed, Thengel's sister."
"Prince Thengel's sister?" Gildis parroted.
"That's what I said."
"Not exactly," Gildis sniffed. "Well, forgive me, Princess, but I've nowhere to put you up for the night."
Wynflaed set the bucket down on the table. "I'll sleep on rugs in the hall, just as well."
Gildis lifted her chin. "They're occupied," she cleared her throat, "by men."
"That suits me fine." Wynflaed gave Gildis her slanted grin. "Just like base camp."
Gildis clucked her tongue.
"It's all right, Gildis. Wynflaed will share my room." Then she asked, "Where's Thengel and the others?"
"Prince Thengel let himself back into Lord Randir's rooms. Most of them will pile in there too. They're talking amongst themselves in the hall just now."
"What's left to do?"
"Nothing Hareth and I can't manage on our own. The men all have their beds and won't stir any more until their clothes are clean and dry. I threatened to show them what I can do with a poker if I saw them streaking through the house with nothing but their skins." She sighed. "So, you couldn't get Prince Adrahil to come, then?"
Morwen rubbed her wrist. "No, Gildis. He had to return to Dol Amroth."
"Well. We were all counting on him." Gildis shook her head. "Go to bed, my lady. You're shivering. It's been a terrible day. We're all sorry you had to come back to this. I guess it's only going to get worse."
Morwen reached for the older woman. "Don't give up, Gildis. The tide may turn yet, that's what Adrahil would say." She thought of the way Wynflaed had sent Halmir sprinting and her own spirits began to rise. "We have our friends with us now."
She didn't notice the look of surprise on Wynflaed's face.
…
The letter took longer than Thengel thought it would. When he finished, he blotted the paper and folded it. Then he rolled up the plans along with the note. The documents disappeared into a leather wallet he found in the drawer, where they would wait for the opportune moment.
He heard the door open. Wynflaed poked her head inside, saw him there, and let herself in. She closed the door and leaned on it.
"Cenhelm says you assaulted Guthere."
He glanced up. "I lost my temper."
"You? I don't believe it."
"Shut up, please. I'm not in the mood for sarcasm."
She crossed to an armchair and made herself comfortable.
"Well? What do you want?" he finally asked.
"I want to know what your plan is for that girl. You'd better have one."
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have."
She waved her hand. "Which is?"
"Unfolding," Thengel answered coolly, "or it will be."
Wynflaed approached the desk and lifted the horn from the pile it rested on.
"So, you did bring Eorl's horn. Is that part of it?"
Thengel looked up at the horn in her hand. "Why? What's it to you?"
Wynflaed shrugged and put it back. "I never could stomach watching a fox closing in on a baby rabbit."
"Don't tell me you care."
Wynflaed glared at him. "Listen, I never said I stopped the fox, did I?"
He considered her for a moment. "You haven't become friends with Morwen, by an chance?"
"Friends?" Wynflaed scoffed. "I've got a list as long as the South Road of reasons to convince Oswin to forget about Morwen. But the child needs help and here we are. I don't have to like her — and I don't — but women should look out for one another. So, as long as I'm here, I'll stick to her better than you can."
"Thank you," he said, strangely affected. "Don't underestimate her, Wyn. There's steel in her yet."
Wynflaed snorted as she turned her back on him and made her way to the door. "She's running out of time to show it."
"Where are you going?"
"To sleep. In a real bed, mind," she muttered. "Look how soft I'm growing."
"Not too soft," he warned, "Halmir's still out there."
Wynflaed didn't answer. She growled.