When Morwen woke again, she cracked her crusted eyes and saw Wynflaed across the bedroom throwing things into her pack.

"Mmph." She yawned. "What time is it?"

Wynflaed turned and cocked her head to the side as she observed her friend. "After breakfast some time tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"From when you were last with us, yes. You can thank Nanneth for that. Personally, I think she's a witch."

"A witch?"

"It's not a criticism. Anyone who can carve a hole in someone's skull is all right with me."

Morwen suspected that Wynflaed had started rambling for her sake. She didn't remember much past the orchard, but she had dreamed about the skin on her hip. It felt tight and sore in the dream, which unfortunately hadn't stopped upon waking. She lifted the covers and pulled up her thin shift to reveal a line of dark stitches just above her hip bone toward her back. The trimmed yellow ends of catgut made her think of spider legs. Her bile rose. Shouldn't she be better about wounds after Guthere's surgery?

"At least you got off easily," Wynflaed said, checking out the stitches with a practical eye. "If you had been facing him, that would be a different story. Nanneth says the bone stopped the knife from doing you any real harm. Now Halmir, he wasn't so lucky."

Morwen tucked the shift back down around her thighs and scooted back against the pile of pillows. She looked away as she asked, "What happened?"

Wynflaed sat in Morwen's chair. "Halmir wore the one knife on his belt, I'm guessing, to lull Axantur with obvious contraband to remove from the outset so he wouldn't check for more."

While everyone had watched the spectacle of Prince Thengel denying his right to Morwen's hand, Halmir must have slipped the knife from its hiding place and taken aim.

"I'm not surprised he had a plan if the duel didn't work out in his favor. Being a sore loser, he took it out on you. At least, we think he meant you, but Ferneth stood right next to you and Thengel had injured Halmir's throwing arm during the duel."

"But after that, you told Thengel to go? I remember that."

"And he did go," Wynflaed answered blandly. "Morwen, your cousin is dead."

Silence reigned. Morwen sank deep into the pillows. "But the terms of the duel…"

"Were forfeited after Halmir yielded. Besides, you were never his opponent. First, Halmir found his sword again while we were distracted with you. But that worked out because, being armed, it allowed Thengel to cut off Halmir's hand…what? Thengel promised he would if Halmir ever used it to harm another woman. He had to keep his word, but he couldn't fight an unarmed man. This way he pinned Halmir to the ground without impunity."

And in the end, Beldir had predicated the outcome.

Wynflaed's stern eyes searched Morwen's for a reaction. But at the news of Halmir's death, Morwen felt…nothing. Only time would tell them what this meant for their family, but in this moment, the weight of his existence had simply vanished. But then another worry surfaced.

"But what will the consequences be for Thengel?" Morwen asked.

"Nothing. Ferneth agreed his actions were justified. She won't accuse him of murder and they still haven't found Hundor. Who else around would bother to accuse Thengel, unless you do?"

Morwen shook her head. "I won't. I'm just relieved he won't have any legal fallout on top of everything else. Is Ferneth still here?"

"Oh, yes. Thengel gave her the library bedroom. Your other houseguests were still picking up after themselves or helping search for the scab."

"What about the women?" Morwen didn't have to do any math to know that they had long since reached capacity at Bar-en-Ferin.

"Your neighbors took them all in for the night. But I think they're leaving today."

Morwen shook her head. "Everything's all organized without me."

"Don't sulk. You got to have the most fun, apart from Thengel."

"Fun!"

Wynflaed rose from her seat and stretched. "Sure. Everyone's going to remember Morwen Steelsheen bravely taking a knife…even a paltry little one…in the side."

If Wynflaed thought of that as fun, she didn't want to know more about her friend's hobbies. And there was that nickname again. It seemed to be catching on.

"What's the difference between a little knife and a large one?" Morwen muttered, not liking Wynflaed's disparaging tone. "It hurts the same."

Wynflaed smirked. "Don't look so sour. The size of the knife has grown with several retellings. Oh, and you've had a string of well-wishers I've had to shoo away too. Look, Guthere brought you flowers."

A jug of cenedril graced the table under the window and Morwen smiled despite herself. She remembered doing the same for him. How clannish those men had seemed in the beginning. Thengel had stubbornly chosen to sleep in a chair with his legs propped up on a quilt rack when she'd pressed him to accept a bedroom and leave Guthere in her household's care. And now? That only reminded her of where they had left off.

Why had she been so slow to realize what was happening to her heart?

"What's the matter?"

Morwen shook her head.

"Your side?"

"No. Well, yes. But it's my head." Morwen leaned forward to cradle her head in her hands and to avoid Wynflaed's scrutiny. After all, Morwen realized with a pang, that they were now diametrically opposed where it concerned her brother's future. Wynflaed thought she was a poor fit for Thengel's wife…and so, apparently, did Thengel. "It feels like I'm swimming in treacle. What did Nanneth give me?"

Wynflaed shrugged and hefted her pack onto the table. "Some potion. I've got more here, if you want it."

"No. It muddles my head — and my stomach."

"Suit yourself," she said as she closed the top flap on her pack, "but you may regret it in a few hours."

"Ask me again then."

"Can't."

Morwen glanced up at her. "Why? What are you doing?"

"Packing up," Wynflaed muttered. "So, have you decided what you're going to do now that you're free?"

"Free?"

"Sure. We're leaving and so are the Arnach folk. You'll be free of houseguests by suppertime."

"Now?" Morwen rolled out of bed and swayed on her feet. Wynflaed caught her again.

"Whoa. Steady. Yes. At least, we are. I don't know about Ferneth's people. Thengel's been barking at us to get a move on since sun up."

"But I haven't seen Thengel yet," cried. "Isn't he going to say goodbye?"

Wynflaed shrugged. "Who knows? He's in an odd mood."

Morwen swallowed. "Where is he?"

"Probably outside already. Wait! Don't you want to put some more clothes on first? No? Fine."

…

The yard was filled with wagons, women, children, and men preparing their gear to return to Arnach. But no matter how much she stood on tiptoe, she could not see around them to where her quarry lay.

She slipped through groups of people, avoiding elbows, and pretending not to hear anyone calling out her name. She made it out of the press of bodies and found Cenhelm, Thurstan, and Gladhon waiting with their horses in the road. Thurstan held the leads on the pack horse and Wynflaed's mount. They watched Morwen with speculative expressions. Then Cenhelm nodded toward the stable door. It was open. She slipped past them sure of whom she would find.

Which was nobody.

Heart racing, she slipped through the groom's door into the back lawn. Thengel stood inside the paddock, attaching his bags to Rochagar's saddle. The other horses stood dozing together in a loose knot beyond the weather break. He looked up as soon as he heard her coming. Morwen stood pale and uncertain with one hand on the fence to steady her.

"Thengel, where are you going?" she demanded.

Thengel turned. He gave her an odd look as he took in her disheveled hair and wrinkled shift. "Back to Minas Tirith," he said eventually. "Where else?"

"Now?"

He shrugged. "I've served my purpose. There's no reason for us to linger."

No reason? Morwen felt stung again. "But there's no hurry."

"I thought you'd be happy to have your house back to yourself," he answered as he turned back to his work.

Morwen didn't answer as she leaned into the fence. His indifference made her feel like she had lost her footing. From his behavior, she began to suspect that he thought of her only as a nuisance. Maybe that had always been in the case and she had missed it?

"Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" Morwen pressed on, despite her confusion, "when will I see you again?"

"That depends on whether or not you wish to see me," he replied gravely.

"Of course I do."

He looked up and his expression seemed clearer. "Really? After what happened?"

"Yes."

"Morwen, I killed your cousin."

"I know, Thengel. Just after he tried to kill me, if you recall. You gave him a merciful way to end the duel and he forfeited it. I trust your judgement."

"Well, that's new."

Morwen swallowed a hasty response. All right, she had questioned his his judgment, but didn't he realize that was more out of fear for his safety? Maybe his men followed him without question (though she suspected Cenhelm didn't withhold his opinions) but she wasn't one of his soldiers. Lately he'd become more provoking than Wynflaed!

Then she added as an afterthought, "You have to come back. There's still Guthere."

His expression darkened instantly and she wondered what she had said wrong. "Yes, there's still Guthere."

He turned away from her to concentrate on checking over the saddle and gear one last time. Morwen watched him in silence, feeling unsure and unable to read the reason for his mood. He had just defeated Halmir, but she couldn't tell the fact by looking at him. Any other bystander might suspect he had lost!

Morwen tried a different tack. "Look, I'm sorry about our quarrel. You were right, after all."

"About what?"

"About Ferneth and about the duel. So thank you. I should have said it before and I'm sorry I didn't."

He gave her a sharp look. "Thank you?" he parroted with surprise. "You were hurt because I was careless after the duel and you say thank you?"

"Blame for that rests on Halmir and Halmir alone. Don't shoulder something that isn't yours. The fact is, I couldn't have saved Bar-en-Ferin on my own and for that I thank you." She held out her hand through the fence. "Don't leave without shaking hands."

"My hands are a mess, Morwen."

"When have I ever cared about that? Don't be discourteous when I've just admitted I was wrong," she chided.

Thengel paused, pursing his lips and seemed to be adjusting his emotions to appear neutral. He wiped his hands on his tunic and then shook hers with little grace. But she held on when he tried to free his.

"When will you come back?"

"To pick up Guthere?"

Morwen rolled her eyes. "Hang Guthere, it's because I want you to," she growled.

His expression relaxed. "Oh, very well. Soon. Whenever I can."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes."

Morwen let go of his hand, satisfied that if she didn't like this outcome, at least they would see each other again. "I'll be in Minas Tirith this summer," she told him, "for the markets once the fruit starts coming in earnest."

"I will likely be in Ithilien."

Her heart guttered. "Fighting?"

Now that she had seen him fight, even with such a poor specimen as Halmir, she knew that she shouldn't feel as troubled for him as she did. But the feeling didn't go away.

Thengel shook his head. "Ecthelion plans to recruit Lossarnach men under his own banner and he wants my help settling them. It won't be for long. I'm not supposed to do any fighting until I've—"

"Until what?" He had been under orders not to fight and he had done it anyway on her behalf. She felt tempted to hit him again! She had little faith that he'd keep his nose out of trouble in Ithilien.

He shrugged as he started to lead Rochagar toward the gate. "It doesn't matter. Excuse me."

Morwen opened the gate for him, then shut it again when he passed through.

"Goodbye, Thengel."

He studied her face, considering something. Then he surprised her by scooping his hand behind her neck and kissed her on the forehead. "Goodbye, Steelsheen."

Morwen remained fixed to the spot, watching him lead Rochagar toward the mounted men and now Wynflaed waiting for him. Before he rode out of sight, he raised his hand in farewell. It was the hand he'd used to give back her own.

Morwen leaned against the gate long after they were gone. She felt a nudge on her back. Strawberry huffed, hanging his head over the fence to demand attention. Silently she stroked his muzzle. The gelding's entire coat shone with careful grooming. This wasn't the normal result of Gundor's work. Had Thengel brushed Strawberry too after Rochagar this morning despite their argument?

The answer seemed to drift down to her like a feather, a light touch on her forehead.

…

Morwen drifted back into the hall. The door to the library stood half-open. Ferneth was there, nursing Forlong. The mother glanced up from her child and blinked once in surprise at her cousin's state of dress.

"How are you feeling, Morwen?"

Morwen rubbed her forehead, trying to discern which feelings Ferneth meant. "I've made Prince Thengel angry. He seemed in an awful hurry to leave. He wasn't going to wait to say goodbye."

"Angry? No, of course not." Ferneth said, "You've just frightened him a little, that's all."

Morwen blinked stupidly. "What?"

"Your prince and I had a conversation yesterday, but nevermind. Sit down. Put on my wrap before you freeze. Did you go out like that?"

"Yes," Morwen answered carelessly. She felt tapped out on embarrassment at the moment.

"Well, it's a nice parting gift, I suppose," Ferneth remarked dryly. "Something for him to remember you by."

Morwen gingerly lowering herself into the seat and accepting the soft wrap anyway. The wound on her side felt tight and it throbbed with each move she made as Nanneth's medicine wore off. It was odd how such a cut, so small in proportion to her whole body, could cast an aura of pain all around her. If she moved just so, it tweaked the wound and took her breath away.

"What were you talking to Thengel about?" she asked after the initial pangs subsided.

"You." Ferneth answered frankly. "He's a bit high-handed, this prince of yours. He practically ordered me to take Halmir in hand."

"Yes, he is high-handed," Morwen agreed. "But he isn't my prince."

Ferneth gazed at her. But instead of asking what she wanted to ask, she said, "Would you like to hold Forlong?"

Morwen grunted as the weight of the snoring baby dropped in her arms. She held him against her chest and marveled at the way he looked so much like Hardang and then with the slightest change in expression, seemed all Ferneth. The baby blinked drowsily then tried to suckle, startling Morwen in his single-minded effort to feed. Little good that she would do for him! Ferneth laughed quietly at her when she shifted him higher in her arms. The movement sent pain rippling down her side.

"Babies are terrible opportunists," Ferneth mused as Forlong mewed pathetically before drifting off again.

"He's heavier than he looks," Morwen said with half a groan. And he looked hefty already, she thought. His cheeks alone were the size of a ripe apple each. Red honeysaps, to be precise.

Ferneth sighed a little sadly and tucked the blanket under the baby's multiple chins. "Just like his father. Completely solid. When we were first married I felt certain Hardang would crush me to death in bed."

That was a picture Morwen did not want circulating through her mind, so she steered the conversation back to the present. "I do wish I had asked you to come sooner."

Ferneth did not agree. "Halmir needed the set down and you needed a champion. If Prince Thengel could see to both then all the better. It spared me the effort. All I had to do was stroll across the lawn," she quipped. Then her tone fell. "I am ashamed to say I knew so little about what Halmir had done that without your letters it might have continued for quite some time."

"Who knows how long it would have gone on without Prince Thengel." Morwen shivered, wondering if Halmir ever suspected it would be the last thing he'd ever done. The reality that he had died just the day before in her very orchard hadn't yet managed to sink in. She changed the subject. "How did you get all the women here?"

"Wagons," Ferneth answered. "It was simple enough to discover which of the women had men here. Before your courier they were already coming to the garth to complain about the absences. When they told me the men had followed Halmir to your festival, I should have been warier. But I have not been in an especially good frame of mind of late."

"It's true, then, that Hardang recognized you as Forlong's regent."

"It is. Hardang never was insufferably patriarchal, unlike some."

Morwen paced with the child when he started to fuss. "I believed Halmir when he said he was acting for Hardang — for Forlong." She squeezed her eyes shut as if in pain. "It never occurred to me that he was lying about his authority."

"Lucky for you that Prince Thengel is less trusting of people who tell their own tales." Then Ferneth added, "It's lucky for you that he took an interest. In fact, I'm very curious to know how you've managed to lose both your suitors in one day."

Morwen's head dipped down, studying the baby with keen interest. "Neither of them ever truly were my suitors. Halmir only wanted the property and Thengel was only pretending."

"Was he? That's a shame."

Something like laughter in Ferneth's tone made Morwen glance up again. "Do you like Prince Thengel?" she asked.

"Yes," Ferneth answered firmly. "I do. He reminds me of Hardang."

Morwen's cheek puckered as if she were biting it. She said nothing.

"I'm a little surprised you never moved into these rooms after your father's passing," Ferneth admitted, looking around her. Nothing remained in the study to remind them of either Halmir or Thengel, except for a stack of books on the desk that the prince had forgotten to put away before abdicating the space to Ferneth. Randir's death poems, a history of Númenor, and the book of northern tales. "This is the master suite, isn't it?"

Morwen nodded. "I've always thought of the study and bedroom as belonging to my parents. At first I didn't want to change anything, in case it rubbed off any reminder of my father." A sound issued from her throat, half choking, half laughter. "But after this spring, nothing's the same anymore. I guess there's little memory left to hurt."

"You'll make other memories. That's what I tell myself, at least. You've done well with Bar-en-Ferin," Ferneth continued. "Very well. You're a true credit to Hirwen. That should have taught Halmir a lesson."

Morwen recalled Halmir's description of Ferneth — a decorative cushion with no say in the matter of Bar-en-Ferin. He certainly had underestimated the women in his family. She shivered, thinking of how he had tried to dispose of her. Now he would never have another opportunity to harm either of them.

"However," Ferneth said heavily. "You don't seem at all relieved to have Bar-en-Ferin back and to be rid of Halmir."

"My head hasn't sufficiently wrapped around it yet. Yesterday at this time, he was still alive…and now he's not. I am relieved to have my home — only, Ferneth, I made the mistake of becoming too attached to something I could lose. I won't do that again," she said firmly.

Ferneth's head dipped to one side as she regarded the younger woman. "Lose? Morwen, I'm not here to refute your tenancy."

"But would you consider selling the property?"

Ferneth's expression smoothed so that Morwen couldn't tell what she was thinking. "You held your own, Morwen. You won't lose your home so easily again and we will draft a proper lease. But I cannot sell the plantation if Hardang wouldn't."

Morwen nodded, as if she expected that answer. "Thank you, actually."

Ferneth looked at her with surprise. "Thank you? What do you mean? I thought you would be upset."

Morwen smiled a little to herself. "Upset? No. It simplifies another choice." She grew thoughtful and gently rocked the child. "I always pictured myself living alone here."

"Let me give you one piece of unsolicited advice — I'm getting quite good at it," Ferneth said with a dry smile, "just because you can do it alone, doesn't mean you have to."

"You mean marry?" Morwen asked.

"If you wish," said Ferneth. She tapped the arms of her chair. "I think we have the same candidate in mind and if I were you, I'd take the lead."

Morwen would have protested, only she felt it was hardly worth it. Ferneth and Adrahil, she realized, had seen light long before she had, at least where Morwen was concerned. She had her doubts about Thengel.

"Ferneth, Thengel only used that suitor business as a pretext to gull Halmir."

"Was it a pretext? Or did he mean for you to think it was?"

"Well…" Morwen fell silent. Just how many disguises could Thengel wear at once? "You think he might care for me? He never said so." In fact, he'd only been severely grumpy!

"Oh Morwen, I think he has. Maybe not in so many words, but can you blame him? What sort of encouragement have you given?"

Morwen's heart began to race and she rocked the baby with more energy. "Before yesterday I didn't know that I wanted to encourage him!"

There were inklings, she could see that now, but her head found out last.

Ferneth smiled. "There, you see? Even a warrior used to facing goblins needs a little extra courage to show his true feelings if he suspects they aren't returned. Did he seem a little prickly when you saw him this morning?"

"Prickly! He behaved like he hated the sight of me."

"That's promising."

Morwen stared at Ferneth, wondering if her cousin was a little touched in the head.

Ferneth laughed. "Trust me. A little effort on your part and everything will turn out just fine."

"He's going back to Ithilien," Morwen murmured.

Ferneth winced, just barely. Morwen knew what that place had cost her cousin.

"You will have to decide what you want, Morwen. Prince Thengel will always have an Ithilien to ride toward, in Gondor…and in Rohan. No amount of romance will make that easy for you. But you have time to make up your mind. I suspect whatever his feelings are toward you, they won't change overmuch in the waiting. Think about it, then take matters into your own hands." Then she smiled. "In fact, make that your life's rule and you should do all right."