April 2943

A sliver of sunlight sneaking in through the gaps in the curtains caught Thengel in the eye, waking him. He turned over, surprised by the pressure against his back. Morwen lay on her side, half curled in on herself, her face obscured by the pillow and her dark hair. Her knees, which had pressed into his lower back, now pressed into his stomach as he reached out and brushed the tangles away from her cheek.

He never considered himself a late riser, but he quickly learned that sharing a bed with Morwen often meant waking up alone. She'd disappear before sunrise, leaving a little hollow in the mattress for a draft to fill. He didn't mind if she chose to linger this morning, but he knew she would mind quite a bit.

Lately Morwen seemed more tired than usual and he'd taken to waking up before her. Probably the work in the orchard and the extra projects from the Houses of Healing were catching up with her as the spring weather improved and the daylight hours increased. Last night had run long with entertaining the wedding guests who had arrived.

"Morwen," he whispered. "Wake up. It's the big day."

She mumbled into the pillows, but didn't stir otherwise.

"I didn't catch what you said."

"Gildis…leave my brows…"

Thengel glanced at over her shoulder at the wall in case an interpretation might manifest there. It didn't. He laced his fingers through hers.

"Sorry, love, I still missed it."

Slowly, with concentrated effort, Morwen cracked open one eyelid. He smiled encouragingly at her. She glowered.

"Good morning."

"Mmph."

Thengel leaned over and kissed her, pressing her from her side onto her back, deeper into the mattress. He enjoyed not having to track her down in the orchard if he wanted to give her a good morning kiss while the dogs barked at him.

Morwen's fingers laced into the hair on the back of his neck as slowly she responded to him. After a moment, he rolled back on his side, choosing a piece of her hair that had fallen over her breast to twine around his finger.

"I don't want to get up," she mumbled blindly.

"I know, Morwen, but then you'll miss the wedding. We can't disappoint everyone when they've come all this way for it," he reasoned.

"Mm hm." But she closed her eyes again and settled deeper into the pillow.

"Morwen…" he smoothed his hand along the sheets draped over her waist, resting his palm on her hip. She shivered and pulled the sheet up to her throat. "We'll be disgraced if we don't turn up for the wedding."

"Whose idea was this anyway?" she grumbled.

"Yours," he answered. "I told Guthere just to throw Hareth over the saddle and go. You wanted to give her a proper Lossemeren send off."

Fortunately, she hadn't demanded the same for herself. He'd married her in February in Merethrond at Turgon's and Oswin's insistence and then spent the month in Minas Tirith when she wasn't much needed in the orchard.

She yawned. "It's very unkind of you to remind me of that when I'm so sleepy."

"If you wake up, you won't be sleepy."

Morwen made another disgruntled sound. He decided to attack her weakest flank. It was for her own good, after all. He'd rather lounge around with her all morning too, but they had a duty.

"Come on, Steelsheen. For Guthere."

Morwen opened both eyes. "Oh fine," she sighed. "Poor man." She threw off the covers and sat up, finally noticing the streams of light on the bedclothes.

"It's past sun up!" she cried, shaking off the last remnants of drowsiness.

Thengel chuckled. "I knew you'd catch on eventually."

She slid off her side of the bed, scrambling to her feet. "I'm late! Beldir will have all the tables loaded up but I'm not even dressed."

No, she wasn't, Thengel observed with complacence.

Her gray eyes upbraided him. "You let me sleep in again."

"Hm?"

In a dark recess of Thengel's mind, he recognized that he was being falsely accused, but in truth, he hadn't been listening closely at all. Morwen gave him a look as she threw on a robe she found on the floor. She flung open their bedroom door and found Gildis standing on the library side with her arm poised to knock. The housekeeper managed to look at the bed without actually seeing anything. Thengel wondered how she managed it.

"Ah, my lady, I've come to clean you up, but eh…"

"Don't mind me," he told her, sitting up with the sheets carefully arranged around his naked waist. "I'm getting up too."

Gildis picked her way gingerly to Morwen's dressing closet so she was out of Thengel's view. Morwen followed her, trailing the ties of her robe on the ground behind her, leaving the closet door ajar.

"Gildis, how could you let me sleep so late?"

Thengel shook his head, just imagining the look of long suffering on the housekeeper's face. He and Gildis had spent the last two months dancing around each other in their respective and disparate roles in Morwen's bedchamber. Gildis hadn't quite gotten used to finding him there since he'd moved in at the beginning of March. She tended not to come now unless Morwen called for her. Always adjustments.

"Because I've been cornered by Princess Wynflaed again," he heard her complain to Morwen while he sought out his own clothes. "She says she'll feel more at home if we could get the chimney to smoke inside her room."

Morwen's laughter drifted out to him from the closet.

Speaking of adjustments, he thought grimly, he'd have to get used to once again living under the same roof with his sister, upon Morwen's insistence. What she expected to learn about being queen from a shieldmaiden, he didn't know. Wynflaed hardly counted as a cultural expert. Morwen would do better to shadow Idhren, but his wife hadn't warmed to the idea for some reason.

Thengel crossed to the wardrobe and found the outfit appointed for him yesterday by authorities on the matter. He had the tunic over his head just as a sound of revolt set his teeth on edge.

"Gildis, I can't wear that dress now," Morwen protested. "I have to help set up."

"You are not carrying tables, Princess Morwen."

It was the new story now. Everyone had an opinion about what sort of princess Morwen ought to be. Sensing the argument would expand to require him to choose sides sooner rather than later, Thengel snatched his boots and his comb and then tiptoed toward the library. He had a different duty that morning and he couldn't delay it to settle disputes.

...

Thengel arrived in the orchard with Wynflaed, Cenhelm and Thurstan at his heels. They parted ways in the crowd. He found Morwen already assembled with their guests, who were waiting in front of the dais for the ceremony to begin.

She spoke to Adrahil and Aranel with her back toward the gate, so it was that Idhren, standing apart from the rest, who saw Thengel first and gave him one of her characteristic knowing smiles. He nodded toward her and Ecthelion before stepping next to his own wife.

Gildis had chosen for Morwen to wear a white gown that rested low on her shoulders, trimmed with gold. Abandoning knots and braids for one day, her dark hair spilled down her back in waves. A pale gold circlet rested on her brow, styled similar to the one he now wore for the occasion. Wedding gifts from Rohan.

Thengel's fingers brushed Morwen's bare arm where the sleeves split and she turned to him with a smile, looking tall and fair and grey-eyed. And his. Thengel felt a familiar tug in his belly and began to mentally calculate the time it would take to honorably discharge their duties as host and hostess and then sneak off on their own.

Morwen must have recognized the look in his eyes, for her own began to dance in a teasing way. "There you are."

Thengel glanced between his wife and her cousins. After a brief pause, he shook hands with Adrahil. They had not properly spoken since the regrettable dispute held outside of a certain stable and in the hearing of a certain servant. Although all the Dol Amroth clan had been present at their wedding in February, the flurry of activity and the multitude of guests had not allowed either of the princes to patch things up.

"My cousins were just telling me how they've born their banishment to Dol Amroth over the last half year." She tapped her lips with her fingers to partially obscure an otherwise irrepressible grin.

Thengel fixed his expression into something appropriately curious.

"And how have you born it?" he asked.

Adrahil scowled half-heartedly. "I suppose we survived."

Aranel embraced her husband's arm with a laugh. She looked sun-kissed and healthier than Thengel could ever remember. "We've had a wonderful time with Adrahil's family. He's just sore that Turgon's plans succeeded at his expense."

Adrahil looked askance at his wife. "My dear, I am never sore."

Aranel winked at Morwen, her co-conspirator.

"Well, we're both glad to have you this year for Lossemeren. Aren't we, Thengel?"

As Turgon's plans had worked in his favor, though he didn't exactly think his foster father deserved to claim the achievement, he agreed that he did feel glad to meet his new cousins again. It might take a little time for things to thaw between Prince Adrahil and himself, but he felt confident that they would.

After a nod of acknowledgement to his new cousins, he led Morwen a little away from the crowd, choosing a cherry tree to shelter under.

"So, did you win this morning or did Gildis?" he asked.

Morwen frowned. "Gildis. Tables are beneath me now, so I'm told. I've been entertaining our guests, instead. Thengel," she bit her lip, "Gildis thinks I must behave a certain way as a princess and future queen. But her way of thinking and mine do not coincide. Which of us is right, do you think?"

"You must decide that for yourself. I'm not fool enough to try to tell you what to do."

"Yes, I noticed you slithered out." She glanced curiously into his face. "Where have you been all morning?"

Thengel shrugged. "Out and about."

Morwen watched him with open suspicion. "All right. Be vague. No doubt I'll find out soon enough."

He bowed his head. "No doubt."

Morwen touched the ends of his hair that swept forward over his shoulder. A displaced petal drifted to the ground. The gentle way her fingers combed his hair sent an interesting sensation from his scalp down the back of his neck and on to rest of his body.

"Your hair is much longer," she mused. "I didn't notice how much till I saw Ecthelion again. There's no hiding it under your helmet now." She smirked. "Like Teitherion's painting."

Thengel pursed his lips. "Like an uncouth northern horseherd," he answered dryly. "Word reached me that my sense of taste was under question by high authorities on the matter."

"Mm," she hummed primly. "Your mother had words for you, did she?"

Thengel rolled his eyes. "Hello, son. I mistook you for a Gondorian page boy."

Morwen bit her cheek to avoid laughing, but failed. "I'm certain your mother said she missed you first," she quipped. "I may not have understood her words, but I understood her tone perfectly."

"Perhaps." He didn't say anything more, but kissed her hand. It better expressed what he felt about Morwen's wedding gift to himself.

Morwen had accepted Oswin's suggestion of a Rohirric handfasting rather than the exchange of rings traditional for the high houses of Gondor. She had also allowed him to set the date six months earlier than a traditional Gondorian engagement. And to name the place: Minas Tirith rather than Lossarnach.

If the wedding took place in Gondor, which it must given the groom's status as an exile, the handfasting would at least send the message home that the bride intended to consider herself as one of the Rohirrim in manner. But Morwen had managed to leverage even that in an affair Thengel would always think of as the conspiracy of queens. Oswin could have his way in certain matters, but he had to concede a few victories too.

Despite strong recommendations against such an undertaking, she had demanded that Thengel's mother be present at their wedding. Moreover, Queen Wynlaf had conducted the handfasting herself, arriving in Minas Tirith with a familial storm raging behind her. Despite Fengel's blustering and paranoia, Oswin had managed to bring Thengel's mother and his sisters. Thengel had never seen his uncle so cowed.

The enormity of the request and the shock of its accomplishment still made Thengel's head swim when he thought of it. And he knew Fengel King would not soon forgive, let alone forget what he felt was an act of open rebellion. Oswin had suggested, though he avoided being explicit in front of his nephew, that Fengel had choice words for the sort of woman he suspected his new daughter-in-law to be.

For the best, Thengel thought. Anything his father had to say about Morwen would more than likely give him justification for breaking his exile, after all, and justifying all of Fengel's old fears.

Thengel reached out and plucked a white blossom that had landed in Morwen's hair, reminding him of when he had first seen her a year ago.

Morwen said, "Is there something you brought me here to tell me?"

"No," he answered. "Well, yes. Sort of."

Gently, he scooped his hand behind her head and she lifted her face to meet him. Her lips yielded to his and soon she was leaning against him for support.

Gildis coughed somewhere behind them and reluctantly they parted.

"It is time. You're both wanted at the dais."

...

Thengel met a flushed but tidy Guthere at the foot of the dais. His ruddy hair had grown over the scarred tissue of his scalp but had been combed back in a rakish manner so that a little of the scar could be seen. He had a new suit of clothes for his wedding day and he more than once gave an unsubtle tug to the collar while avoiding the gaze of all the Lossemeren guests in front of him. When he shifted on his heels, his boots squeaked, startling him. No doubt he ardently wished he had also thrown Hareth over a horse's back and rode off with her rather than face all these people.

Thengel had to glance down at his own boots to hide his laughter. Not that he hadn't been subjected to a fit of nerves on his own wedding day, but he hadn't expected this red giant of a man to be as jumpy as a spring hare. He glanced at Morwen to see if she had also noticed Guthere's fidgeting from where she stood on the groom's other side where she would perform Hareth's bridal blessing. Wisely, she chose to avoid her husband's eyes to maintain her own composure.

Then suddenly a fiddle began to play down by the gate where the bride would enter. They straightened into a triptych of anticipation. Guthere turned white as a sheet. Morwen reached out an squeezed his arm.

The fiddler led the procession. Ioneth followed immediately with a gaggle of Nanneth's grandchildren, the bridesmaid and the flower girls. Petals scattered over the grass with aggressive enthusiasm. They ran out halfway to the dais.

And then came Hareth, pink of cheek and frizzy of hair, stumping toward the dais in a dress that could have maintained all the sails of Prince Angelimir's flagship. She gripped a bouquet of wildflowers with the same determination that she used with a rolling pin. This was a bride who would be married.

The fiddler stepped up to the groom and sawed out the end of his tune with so much enthusiasm that Thengel half feared the groom would bolt. But the song ended with Hareth hot on its heels so that Thengel could just hear Guthere gulp air as Hareth thrust the half broken bouquet at Ioneth. The girl took them and then herded the little girls off to the side with their empty baskets. Thengel almost lost his composure again when he noticed, as Hareth held out her chubby hands for her groom to take, that they were still covered in flour dust.

When the two had joined hands, Beldir pushed a reluctant Gundor forward who fiddled nervously with his pockets. He dropped the rings three times before they ever made it onto anyone's fingers. They fell and rolled every which way in the grass, which meant Thengel lost a private bet to Beldir, who knew the boy would bungle his one wedding duty.

The rings, once found, were exchanged and the blessings delivered and the principle parties kissed. Then the bride and the groom opened the feast and were made to endure several speeches and toasts so that both of them glowed scarlet in the face.

Everyone forgot the wedding couple once the food appeared. Unlike the previous year, the crowd was so plentiful and lively that Thengel couldn't find a seat, let alone standing room near his wife. So he drifted, eating and drinking whatever anyone might spare him, while making conversation.

When the victuals were all accounted for and stomachs patted, the hired players cracked open their instrument cases. Music flowed in the orchard. Thurstan, Gladhon, and even Cenhelm wrangled Hareth into a dance before her new husband had so much as a chance to tap his toe alongside hers.

Morwen materialized and took the opportunity to steal a reel with Guthere, who blushed deeply until he could hand his future queen off to the one he felt to be her rightful partner.

Thengel had his turn with Morwen, but with an unmasked smirk, she traded partners halfway through the reel with Hareth. What a difference, he thought, from last year when Morwen had been unsure and mortified. Thengel could hear his wife laughing at both his and Hareth's expressions of shock as she spun away from him in Cenhelm's arms.

Then it was Hareth's turn to blush and fuss until the reel ended and she could return the prince to his rightful partner. Wherever she was. Thengel had meant to have a few words with his wife after her teasing, but she wasn't to be found.

...

Thengel found his friends instead. Idhren had ensconced herself in a sheltered area away from the dancing with Ferneth. They sat on a blanket together, doting on one another's children, the rotund Forlong and Idhren's delicate newborn twin daughters. Two nursemaids hovered in the background, ready to take over whenever Idhren raised a finger.

"What a handsome little boy. So charming," he heard Idhren say.

"Thank you," Ferneth replied.

Idhren held up the eldest of the twins so that Forlong could gape and blow bubbles at her. "Say hello to the Lord of Lossarnach, darling," she cooed as she gently waved the infant's hand.

When Thengel approached, Ferneth greeted him, then excused herself to change her son's soiled nappy. He sat down on the edge of the blanket and reached for one of the babies.

"Alliances are formed so young nowadays," he teased.

Idhren smirked. "Alliances are like sharks, my dear. If they stop swimming they die."

He held one baby and she held another. She shooed the nurses away so she could talk to him with a modicum of privacy.

"I'm sorry Denethor couldn't come," he said.

"Oh, nonsense. He's spending all his time with his grandfather in that drafty tower. He's probably rejoicing that he doesn't have to spar with his father for a whole week."

They both looked in the direction of the Captain of Gondor. He and Prince Adrahil were engaged in conversation over something Ecthelion was carving into the dirt with a stick. A map of the coast, in all probability, Thengel thought.

"Has he gotten over the shock yet?" Thengel asked.

Idhren tilted her head in that way of hers. "Which shock? That I gave him twins at my age or that you actually managed to marry?"

Thengel grinned in answer. "I'm a little surprised by the twins, myself."

"Oh, as for that, it winds down to luck." Then she said, "I've long imagined our children playing together, did you know that?"

The baby stirred in his arms and he rocked her to keep her from crying. "There will be some time before that happens."

Idhren gave him an odd look. "Darling, are you so sure?"

He shrugged. "Oswin's in a rush, I know. I keep burning his letters before Morwen can see them. The pressure would only upset her. We want to take our time."

"Time?" Idhren coughed to smother a laugh, then burst into peals when she saw his bruised expression. Both babies startled, but fell back asleep.

Thengel looked sulky. "Why not? Look at how many years there are between Denethor and the twins."

Idhren looked down her nose at him. "Yes, but I don't think our method would appeal to a newlywed. What precautions have you taken?"

Precautions? He blinked. Her tone ruffled his feelings. "Morwen's focusing on her collaboration with the Houses right now and restoring the orchard that Halmir damaged," he reasoned. "She's not ready."

"Oh, my friend. Poor you. Your life never does follow expectation." Idhren tossed her head, looking superior. "That's up to nature to decide, you'll find. Or fortitude, though I doubt you have any of the latter from what I've witnessed so far." He waited for her to pronounce doom. "I have a feeling, Thengel, that she's run out of time."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be obtuse."

"You can't know."

Idhren looked away. "I can feel it in my bones and I am never wrong."

He followed Idhren's line of sight to see that Morwen had been cornered by Teitherion, who appeared to be pressing her to accept one of his nanny goats and its kids. She didn't look any different to his eyes and he wasn't about to accept some feminine skeletal agitation as proof. Morwen might believe that Idhren could speak a thing into existence, but he had never known her to possess such magic.

Thengel glanced back at Idhren. She watched him with a sardonic twist to her lips and the light of amusement in her eyes.

"Hmph."

...

Half the afternoon had burned away before Thengel found Morwen again. His morning's work revealed itself after his conversation with Idhren. Three horses, two for riding and one for gear, appeared at the orchard gate. Just short of actually throwing her over the saddle, Guthere whisked his bride away from the celebration to begin their honeymoon. Thengel's gift to the couple.

Afterward, Morwen moved between the trees like a shadow, lighting the lamps in solitude. Entrenched in her own thoughts, she never heard him approach. He caught her by the elbow in passing. She gasped.

"Thengel! You startled me."

He grinned. "What about another dance?"

She glanced at her feet as if they pained her. "I don't know."

Upon closer inspection, he had to agree with her. His thumb brushed over her cheek has he tilted her face upward for closer observation. "You look pale. Have you had anything to eat?" Between their guests, they hadn't ever seemed to get a chance to sit at the table together. Could he recall seeing her off her feet even once the whole day?

Morwen tried to mask a grimace. "I'm not hungry," she said tiredly.

"Something to drink, then."

"All right."

He found a forgotten bottle of wine and brought it back to her with a couple of glasses so she wouldn't be pressed into more conversations when he knew she needed a rest. After pouring out a glass for her, he took the tapers and finished lighting the last row of lamps. When he returned, she had finished her drink and seemed to be rallying.

"Are you sure you're well?"

Morwen shrugged. "The drink's helping, thank you. Lossemeren is a lot of work. I've been talking and talking and that wears me out more than carrying bushels of apples all day."

"Haven't you taken a rest at all?" he asked, feeling irritated with everyone all of a sudden for taking advantage of her hospitality. "Didn't anyone let you sit down and eat?"

Morwen tucked her hair behind her ears. "Don't blame them. I don't have an appetite for anything lately and there's so much to do. Don't look at me that way, Thengel. I'm resting now. Come, let's sit down somewhere out of the way."

Thengel chose a shaded plot against the wall where no one could be seen or heard. He draped his outer shirt on the ground for her to sit on so the grass and dirt wouldn't spoil her dress. When he sat down beside her, she leaned against his side. Instinctively, his arm wrapped around her waist.

"So, Guthere and Hareth are married and on their way to make mischief in Pelargir. I'm glad Oswin took my point of view on the matter," she congratulated herself.

Thengel snorted silently. Morwen had leveraged their betrothal for Guthere's benefit as well. Whatever she wanted, Oswin complied so long as she promised to turn up for their handfasting. Even to the last second, Oswin half expected her to bolt. Thengel gave her credit for knowing when to seize an opportunity. Though he didn't always agree with her choices.

"I've been thinking, Morwen," he told her. "When we have the chance, we should take a proper honeymoon too. Minas Tirith doesn't count."

He felt her smiling against his undershirt. "I agree. Where would you like to go?"

"We might see Dol Amroth."

Morwen nodded. "Adrahil has been talking of it. Angelimir will host us whenever we wish."

Thengel frowned. That meant formal functions when he simply wished to spend time with his wife. "Or maybe an out of the way place near Tarnost?"

"A honeymoon with the bears," she said gamely. "Salmon fishing in the Gilrain with our bare hands. Oh, we could bay at the full moon with the wolves. I can't wait."

Thengel laughed. "Or what about a cruise off the coast? We'll start from Pelargir. I'll show you were I fought pirates."

Morwen grimaced and he looked down at her. "Maybe no ships. The thought makes me feel a little queasy. All those…waves."

She did seem a little green. He kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer. Before long, she began to drowse. Thengel studied the blossoms falling overhead as a breeze stirred the trees. Some of the branches, he noticed, already had the beginnings of early cherries. How early was too early?

"Maybe it will have to be an anniversary trip some year," he mused.

"Hm."

"Morwen," he ventured, with a voice that sounded a little tinny to his own ears, "Idhren said a funny thing to me earlier."

"I'm sure she did, my own one," Morwen laughed softly. "Idhren always says very funny things. Isn't that how we got here in the first place?"

Well, Thengel liked to reserve a little credit for themselves. After all, they had done the falling in love. That was half the battle, especially for a hotspur and a steelsheen.