A Consolation of Princes
Chapter 8: An Abandonment of Ships

Once on the street, Gaeron charged toward the circle gate with the urgency of a long overdue cavalry. Morwen had to skip to keep up with him. She soon grew breathless but he failed to notice. He only slowed down once they reached the sixth circle and had to pass the house leased by Tathren's parents. They saw no signs of any of the family. Ornate shutters were drawn against the weather — and possibly Gaeron. After that, he trudged on like a man bent under a heavy load. Morwen felt sorry for him yet relieved for her legs and lungs.

They passed Húnil's lodgings. Thengel's home stood only a few more doors down. Beyond that, Morwen could see the roof of the stables and the gate of the citadel. It surprised her how often she had passed his home without realizing it.

Gaeron finally noticed Morwen lagging when they reached Thengel's gate. He offered his arm as they crossed the courtyard and then ushered her to stand in front of the door just beyond the reach of the dripping gutter while he rang the bell. Before long, a servant opened the door to them. The boy indicated that his lord was at home, but up in the attics. If they would wait a moment, he would retrieve his master as quickly as possible.

In the absence of any other servants, Morwen allowed Gaeron to peel her wet cloak from her shoulders and deposit it along with his on a dusty stand nearby. She felt glad it would take a moment before Thengel could join them, as it would allow her to catch her breath.

Morwen observed their surroundings with curiosity. She thought she once understood Thengel's motivation for spending hours at their home. But in light of last year's letter and the state of the ancient pile he called home, she saw light.

"Is it always like this?" Morwen asked her brother.

"Hm? Like what?"

"Empty."

"Oh. Yes. Thengel's what you'd call threadbare."

Gaeron wandered down the passage a little, noticing the open door to the front room. "Well, this is a right mess," he observed as he poked his head inside. "More so than usual, anyway. What happened?"

"Thengel's been renovating. Didn't you know?"

Gaeron shook his head then stepped into the space a little more to look around. "What does he want so many shelves for?" she heard him wonder to himself. "Even Father's library wouldn't fill them all."

Morwen almost joined him but the sound of descending footsteps began to echo through the stairwell. Thengel appeared around the final bend in the staircase followed by the boy. The sleeves of Thengel's plain linen tunic were rolled up past his elbows and he hadn't finished buttoning the facing below the collar, making him look very much at home. And very handsome, she admitted to herself.

"Morwen?" Thengel gave her a warm but confused smile. "This is a surprise. I received your — er, your father's note, but..." Then he froze on the stair and stared in the direction of the sitting room. "Gaeron, what are you doing in the city?"

"Hullo, Thengel," Gaeron replied dourly as he ducked back into the passage. "You seem well."

"Never better. You, on the other hand…tell me what's the matter."

"How do you know anything's the matter?" Gaeron asked.

"You came to see me while you should be on your honeymoon."

Thengel descended the remaining steps and the two friends met in the middle of the front hall, clasping wrists. Gaeron didn't let go, seeming inclined to drag Thengel along with him toward the sitting room.

"Too true. I do want to speak to you in private. It's pressing."

"Of course," Thengel answered, eyebrows dipping in concern at his friend's urgency, "But are you going to leave your sister to fend for herself?"

Gaeron blinked at Morwen. She could tell by the set of his jaw that he'd returned to his earlier sentiment that she would only be in the way.

"Is it really something she can't hear?" Thengel asked.

"I've heard him already," Morwen answered for her brother. "Gaeron doesn't want me to hear you giving him the same advice that I did."

"Now, Mora —" Gaeron began.

"I'm happy to wait here in the front hall," Morwen told them stoutly. The smile she gave them contained a footnote: And I know I'll find everything out eventually. "Don't trouble yourself on my account. My sketchbook will occupy me."

Gaeron looked her up and down. "Where do you have a notebook?"

"In my pocket." She pointed at her knee.

"You're what?"

Thengel intervened before Morwen could launch into a technical description of Húnil-inspired dress patterns. "I can't allow that. There's nowhere to sit, for one thing. Let me send for Sadril."

Thengel nodded at the boy, who disappeared down the passage. He barely had time to return before a door in the back of the house could be heard opening and closing again. Shortly after, an iron-haired woman appeared from the back passage.

"Morwen, this is my housekeeper." He turned to the older woman. "Sadril, show Lady Morwen the progress on the upper floors while I speak to her brother."

Morwen's eyes lit up. Finally! She had been so curious ever since Húnil had mentioned the project. Although Sadril seemed a little surprised by Morwen's presence, the woman calmly agreed to serve as an attendant to the young lady in her master's absence.

Once the men disappeared, Morwen turned expectantly toward the housekeeper who had been busy observing her, in turn. The woman's expression could only be described as skeptical.

"You could stay and eavesdrop," Sadril offered. "I won't give you away."

Morwen laughed. "Thank you. But I'd much rather explore."

"Then this way, please. You may wish to hike up your skirts. It's very dusty where we're going. It's impossible to keep up with it. Fortunately," she said dryly, "The workmen have left for the day, so you won't be troubled by the cacophony."

Morwen gripped her skirts, careful to keep them from sweeping the steps as she followed Sadril. She felt pity for the woman. Having the house turned upside down had to be a trial for the staff. And if the workers had already left for the day, then they must have come very early.

"So, you are Lady Morwen," the housekeeper began as they climbed the stairs. "It's nice to put a face to Master Gaeron's sister. Excuse me for speaking freely, but your work is famous in this household."

"My…work?" Had Thengel told his housekeeper about her role in finding him a wife? She had sort of thought that was private between them. And her mother.

"Oh yes, there's a whole gallery of your sketches from over the years. My master had them framed but they had to be stored for the renovation."

"Theng—er, Lord Thengel framed them?" Even Morwen hadn't bothered to do that with her work. In fact, the ones she didn't burn tended to lay around in odd places growing dogeared.

"Oh yes. Does that surprise you?"

"Yes."

"Why? Your talent has certainly improved over the years. Cook and I prefer your pencil sketches to the oils, if I may say so." She grinned impishly. "The lines have more bite. We especially admire the way you've captured our master's hair. Such a unique color. He's a bit sensitive about it. It's always amusing to watch him struggle between praising your skill and the utter chagrin of seeing himself represented in a humorous manner. He says you're incurably irreverent. But he's known you so long that the admiration always wins out in the end."

Morwen laughed, though she blushed at this little insight into Thengel's private remarks about her. She began to see why Sadril spoke so frankly since he didn't hesitate to discuss his opinions of Morwen's caricatures with the staff.

"He is sensitive about his hair." Then she admitted, "I didn't know he kept any of my sketches."

Sadril glanced over her shoulder. "Certainly. As I've said, he's quite proud of them."

Thengel had never told Morwen that. In fact, she always assumed that after a little amusement — or mortification — he'd destroyed them like Gaeron always did. Morwen wondered if she shouldn't have burnt the ones from the wedding.

"I thought we'd start at the top of the house and work our way downstairs if you like, ma'am. Perhaps the gentlemen will have completed their conversation. Then my master can finish the tour himself on the floor with the principal work. He's taken a keen interest in every detail so far and it will be nice for him to be able to engage in a little boasting."

Morwen glanced around the first-floor passage as they wound upward on the stairs. Dust motes danced in the dim light filtering in from open doorways. The bare floor lay covered in dust, too. Crates lined one wall and a large box had been broken down but not yet taken away.

"This project seems like it's greatly disrupting the household," Morwen reflected.

"That's putting it mildly," Sadril breathed. "But the work was gravely needed. The house had stood empty for a very long time before my master purchased it. And that was a long time ago too. With his status in the country so uncertain, I think he never thought too much about improving it."

"Why the change of heart?" Morwen asked, curious for more morsels of insight into Thengel. "After all, he's only getting nearer to having to return to Rohan every year."

"Well," Sadril drawled, "I believe it may signal a certain happy event for him."

Morwen nodded. "Yes, he does seem happy about improved indoor plumbing."

Sadril gave her an odd look. "Yes," she said slowly. "But I meant that I believe he may soon choose to finally marry once the house returns to order."

Morwen missed a step and clutched at the banister. "Was that his intention when he started the project?"

Sadril turned back to Morwen from the upper steps. "Oh, he wouldn't confide that to his housekeeper but we can read between the lines." She gave Morwen a conspiratorial grin and a wink. "What man who has lived in a house for twenty years with little interest in its upkeep suddenly developed a keen interest in property value?"

"I know," Morwen exclaimed. "It seemed like a flimsy explanation to me, too." Then she asked, "When did he start planning all this?"

"Oh. It's hard to tell. I first heard about it a little more than a year ago. He had to communicate with the architects all the way from the port, so it developed slowly until he returned to the city a few months ago to supervise the project."

A year ago! Morwen began to cough a little. She had to clear her throat. Such a dusty house.

"Here we are. Now, this floor used to have a series of smaller rooms for family or guests," Sadril explained. "It's hard to know. The blueprints in the Archive are so old they're practically dust. Now, if my lady will just step through to the room on the east side of the floor I believe will serve as a nursery—"

"Nursery?" Morwen parroted.

Sadril looked a little sheepish except for her eyes which reflected a rebellious glint. "Of course, that's a conjecture." She folded her hands together. "Forgive me, I should have mentioned that you'll be receiving the unauthorized tour. My master may have other ideas for these rooms."

But they'd be wrong, Sadril's tone suggested.

"I'm looking forward to it," Morwen laughed. Thengel had strategized poorly by setting her loose with his housekeeper. It felt like getting the unauthorized explanation of him, as well. "What makes you think that this is a nursery?"

"I've had enough placements in my time to recognize a nursery when I see one."

She gave Morwen another knowing look. Morwen found she enjoyed Sadril. Instead of pointing out her youth and ignorance, the housekeeper seemed inclined to speak woman to woman.

Sadril pointed to the far end of the space to a doorway. "There's a bedroom and sitting area at the back for a nursemaid with a connecting door to this one."

Morwen stepped deeper into the space feeling a little odd. She had to agree with Sadril's assessment. It was certainly arranged like a nursery. On one side of the room, little cupboards and shelves had been built into the wall. None of them came any higher than her hips. The plaster had yet to be painted and the floors were covered in a thick layer of dust. Bricks lay piled up on the exterior wall where a mason would eventually complete a hearth around the raised fireplace that would be difficult for little ones to crawl or stumble into.

Morwen left a trail behind her as she crossed the floor to look out the windows flanking the fireplace, which also could have benefited from a bucket of soapy water and a rag. Her fingers twitched to draw pictures on the glazing. The crown of an ancient poplar filled the view, providing gentle green shade (Morwen imagined when the sun happened to show itself) and filtered out the view of the city walls and rooftops. A well-appointed, peaceful room.

"The windows are all new," Sadril added while Morwen lingered to admire the tree. "Very costly, glass being what it is. But then he's spent precious little of what he's earned over the years in bounty while stamping out corsair activity on the coast with Lord Ecthelion."

Morwen nodded mutely, reminded uncomfortably of Thengel's words about his post during the reception the night before. Thengel's financial success had never occurred to her before but it made sense that his time spent on the delta had been lucrative. Glazed windows were a newer fashion in the city. Most houses only employed shutters and then only in foul weather like today. Glazed windows largely represented status. It suggested that a future king lived here. Morwen so seldomly thought of him that way except to tease him. This reminded her that she had better try to remember it…even if she was incurably irreverent.

"If my lady will follow me, the other principal room on this floor used to be two guest bedrooms. As Lord Thengel is rarely at home, they were hardly used. They knocked down a wall to expand the room here. If I'm not mistaken the enlarged room is either meant to be a large second library…or a school and playroom, depending on how one chooses to interpret it."

Morwen smiled at the half-complete bookcases and cupboards and Sadril's less-than-subtle aspirations for the space…and her master. Sadril seemed to be wishing a rather large family on Thengel. The space certainly did provide ample room for many children to enjoy themselves if the weather didn't permit going into the garden. The green space lay several stories down within view of the windows. She also noted with satisfaction that although the outer wall faced west, this room also benefited from a south-facing window that would help boost the lighting in the morning while the sun still climbed its path along the spine of Mindolluin toward the sea.

"I imagine that this room gets lovely light," she remarked.

"Now it will, yes. And good fresh air which is necessary for healthy children," Sadril opined, "But then, I grew up on a farm on the Pelennor, not cooped up in the city. I'm hardly impartial."

Morwen nodded, sharing a similar prejudice. "I grew up in Lossarnach and understand you perfectly."

Sadril smiled. "Would my lady like to see the next floor?"

Morwen nodded, following her guide to the stairs, listening to the list of changes that had been made. This floor had originally contained seven rooms, four of which were bedrooms, with combined dressing areas and a water closet. Now the number dropped down to five.

"I heard from Lord Thengel that a bathtub's been installed," Morwen broached, hinting that she might like to start there.

"Did my master call it a tub?" Sadril harrumphed. "Modest man. You could stick a tree in it and call it the Court Fountain."

This forthright speech startled Morwen into a laugh. "That would explain why he had a wall knocked out. It's any wonder they could get it into the house."

"Egregious I name it," Sadril continued. "It'll require a battery of servants to fill or empty the thing if the so-called plumbing fails. And I can tell you that he hasn't got the manpower to drain a lake."

Morwen felt a little surprised by the overt censure from the housekeeper, but she could understand Sadril's point of view. Before now she hadn't thought that Thengel had an egregious bone in his body. What had gotten into him?

"Would you say that the purchase is a little out of character for him?" Morwen asked.

"I wouldn't say it's out of character for a romantic fool," Sadril sniffed. "It only shows that my master has some interesting hopes for this lady he's besotted with."

Morwen felt her throat grow warm. "Is there one?"

Thengel had denied it yesterday when he'd told her that women fled from his fate to return to Rohan. And he'd ordered the bathtub before she'd introduced the idea of marrying Húnil.

"There must be or he should have thrown his money into the Anduin instead and left the house alone." Then Sadril admitted, "He's never actually dropped a name to me."

"He hasn't to me either and I've been nosy enough to ask," Morwen confided in return. Thengel certainly would have told her if he had a woman in mind or else he wouldn't have allowed her to go chasing after wives for him.

"Hm." Sadril looked at her sideways.

"Shall we inspect the interesting plumbing?" Morwen suggested.

"It's enclosed. To be honest, the suite seems a bit cavern-like at the moment even with the tub," Sadril warned her. "It's not much to look at."

"I suppose once the furniture has been brought back, it'll feel more cohesive," Morwen mused. She found herself drifting toward the doorway.

"Lord Ecthelion's wife suggested he purchase several large rugs for that purpose," Sadril said with disapproval evident in the lines of her face. "Let's start with the smaller rooms. They have more personality."

And by personality, Morwen understood Sadril to mean easier to maintain.

Morwen reluctantly allowed herself to be led away. She tried to imagine the dusty, deserted spaces in full use as she inspected the smaller rooms with Sadril. They entered a lady's sitting room — or what Sadril supposed would be a lady's sitting room given its size and location relative to the main suite. A large window provided a view of part of the courtyard and the street as it curved, perfect for spying on one's neighbors and pedestrians. Morwen looked at the descending city circles with their stony roofs, the peppering of trees and vines that the city never seemed to have enough of. And below all of that, the Pelennor as it rolled down to the river and the Harlond. She felt the minute muscles around her eyes ease immediately at the sight of the green terraces and beyond that, the hazy impression of the forests and vales of Lossarnach. She imagined whoever eventually filled the role of Thengel's wife spending pleasant hours gazing out the window and thinking of home…that is…of the fine view.

"It faces south," Morwen observed. "Do you suppose that's still the fashion?" Or had Thengel chosen it for another purpose?

"It'll have to be," Sadril droned. "The room isn't moving no matter what that silly architect says."

Morwen laughed again, warming to Sadril with each irreverent remark. "Very sensible." Then she wondered, "What is the size of the staff?"

"Oh, there's me, Cook, and the boy."

"Is that all?" Morwen gasped, turning from the window. No wonder Sadril had been put out by the suggestion of adding more rugs to the house — and the threat of standing water. The housekeeper would view that suggestion through the lens of a woman who would have to do the extra cleaning.

Sadril nodded dourly.

"If Th…Lord Thengel intends to put these rooms to use, then he may need to increase his staff."

"Thank you, Lady Morwen," Sadril sighed. "I'll let him know you said so. He's heard me say it often enough to no avail."

"Heard you say what?" Thengel asked as he appeared in the doorway followed by Gaeron.

Morwen turned toward him with a smirk. "That you are short-staffed for the size of this house," she replied for Sadril. "And it's victimizing them all."

Thengel blinked at her. "Do you think so?"

"Yes, I do," she answered stoutly.

"Morwen." Gaeron scolded, "Is it any business of yours?"

Sadril excused herself then, giving Morwen an appreciative bob before disappearing down the back staircase.

"It's only me who lives here," Thengel said after Sadril disappeared.

"It looks like you may be thinking of a change, however," she pointed out.

Thengel began to look guarded. "Has Sadril exposed me?"

"She has definite ideas." Morwen cocked her head to the side. "But you'll have to be the judge if any of them are true." Then she added, "You could probably fit quite a few pens in the space upstairs. For all the cats."

"What's this about cats?" Gaeron asked.

Thengel regarded Morwen with a half-amused, half-exasperated frown. "Not what I had in mind for that floor."

Morwen glanced at her brother, taking pity on Thengel. "I'm only teasing. You'll likely have to build a kennel in the garden for that. Although, I particularly liked the convenience of the east room for providing an adjoined closet for the groomer. Though the lovely shade tree will be lost on the cats. They might prefer the full sun in the room across the passage."

"What groomer?" Gaeron said. "Thengel, just what are you getting into here?"

Thengel looked a little mutinous like he had during the disastrous dinner party, so Morwen intercepted her brother with a question.

"Have you received your advice?"

Gaeron nodded, standing beside Morwen to gaze out the window. Rainwater trickled down the glass in fat runnels. She glanced away from it to inspect her brother's profile.

"Was it anything like mine?" she pressed.

"Speaking of cats, Mora," Gaeron intoned, watching the traffic on the street below. "Remember the saying about curiosity."

Morwen made a face at him.

Thengel cleared his throat. "Did Sadril complete the tour?"

"She showed me everything but the new suite." Then she added, "She did mention that you might want to brag about it but the tub worries her."

"The tub?" Thengel's expression pinched briefly. "What did she say?"

Morwen scanned the breadth of Sadril's opinions, taking in the fact of Gaeron's presence and the delicate state of Thengel's feelings for Húnil.

"She said it's egregious and that she's worried it will take an army to fill it if the new plumbing fails."

Thengel released the breath Morwen only just noticed that he'd been holding. "That's nonsense. It's coming from the roof and the drain…I'll show you." He said to Gaeron, "Are you equal to a brief tour? I'd appreciate an opinion from an impartial observer."

Morwen's heart skipped. She'd come with Gaeron for this specific purpose, feeling she would gain some valuable inside into Thengel. For example, the swift, nail-biting pace of modern courtship might be totally wasted on him to the extent that she felt justified in accusing him of laziness. However, it might possibly be said, if Sadril's opinions were credible, that he was the master of taking the long view. Either way, she hardly believed his bathing accouterment could be as vast as everyone reported it to be.

Gaeron leaned on the sill, still gazing out the window. "If Morwen wishes."

Whatever Thengel had told Gaeron had put him in a more solicitous mood, at least. Still, he sounded a bit indifferent for a man with the opportunity to see a so-called bridal suite and Thengel's enormous tub. Given his station in life, Morwen thought Gaeron would be more interested. It might give Gaeron some useful ideas. But then again…perhaps not.

Thengel gestured for Morwen to lead the way out of the room when Gaeron made a strangled sound in his throat. Morwen thought he had suddenly fallen ill, but he seemed well enough to leap away from the window and clamber out of the space and down the stairs. A few echoing moments later, the front door slamming reverberated all the way up to the first floor.

Morwen took her brother's place at the window, unlatching the pane so she could lean out. Rain lashed her face, but she leaned out farther. She heard Gaeron shout Tathren's name as he disappeared through the gate.
"Well, that explains it," she murmured.

"I half suspect he really came here to keep a watch out for her," she heard Thengel say somewhere from behind. "Please don't fall."

"I won't." Morwen pulled herself back inside. "And I think you're right."

She latched the window and then turned, dabbing water droplets from her forehead with the back of her sleeve. Since she'd sewn in pockets, she'd stopped wearing a purse on her belt. But she'd only thought to fill the pockets with her art supplies, which meant she'd forgotten a handkerchief. Thengel offered her a clean one. She reached for it and then realized when her hand met his that Gaeron's departure left just the two of them.

"I'm unescorted," she blurted out.

Dust that had been disturbed by Gaeron's precipitous exit danced in languid whorls between them in the half-light. Flimsy. Thin. A non-barrier. Morwen bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly conscious of the confusing things Thengel had said and done the evening before, along with the light Sadril had shed on his recent domestic decisions. It was easier to forget in Gaeron's presence, but he had gone.

"That is a hair-raising prospect. Hold on." Thengel stepped to the door, speaking softly to someone waiting on the other side. Morwen thought it must be the boy. She heard the softer footfalls of a young person running the length of the passage. Thengel turned back to her. "I think we'd better finish the tour another time."

Of course, Gaeron would disappear just before she got to see the infamous bathtub. Despite Thengel's words, she knew she'd never get another chance. But she didn't see a way around it. Without Gaeron in the house, it didn't seem wise to go snooping around Thengel's bedroom even if his servant went with her. In fact, it felt a bit like they were holding their breath all of a sudden. She wasn't used to feeling this way with Thengel.

A few very quiet moments later, Sadril reappeared. Thengel explained to the housekeeper that his other guest had been forced to make a precipitous departure and would she call a covered cart for Lady Morwen if her brother didn't return in a few minutes.

"I can walk home," Morwen insisted.

"It's raining harder now," Thengel likewise insisted as he gestured for Morwen to follow Sadril back to the ground floor. "Even if Gaeron does turn up again, you'll be soaked through before you reach the street."

"I'm made of sterner stuff than that, Thengel," she said dryly.

"I agree, but do you wish to risk the possibility of falling ill before tomorrow? It's the final day of our pact."

Morwen couldn't argue with that so she didn't try. Choosing between a drenching in the street or staying sensibly dry with Thengel required little thought. They found themselves at the bottom of the staircase again, waiting in the front hall. Sadril disappeared with the boy to see about hiring a cart. Morwen remained on the bottom steps while Thengel paced to the door, glanced out at the rain, then returned to lean against the railing next to her. Gaeron had yet to materialize. Morwen saw that he'd left without his cloak as it still hung from the rack. She tried to take that in a hopeful light that her brother had reunited with Tathren and that they were talking it out — or that they at least had the courtesy to let him in from the rain.

"I'd invite you into the sitting room," Thengel told her after another moment of standing around. "But all of the furniture's in storage except for some sawhorses and an old door I'm using as a desk."

"Never mind that." Then she said, "This project still has quite a ways to go, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Thengel agreed, casting a dissatisfied eye over the place. "I thought I had more time."

"More time before what?"

Thengel didn't seem to hear her question. "May I offer you something to drink while we wait?"

Morwen shook her head. "No, thank you."

When the minutes dragged on with no sign of her brother, Morwen began to feel the effects of rushing to Thengel's home and then immediately climbing several stories. She brushed the dust from the step as best she could, then sat down to wait — either for her brother or the cart. The latter seemed more likely. She glanced around the stairwell and at the vantage point through the banister. Then she grinned up at Thengel.

"Consider the trend set," she declared.

His eyebrows puckered. "Trend?"

"You are officially entertaining a guest on the stairs."

Thengel returned her smile while simultaneously looking ill-used as he most likely remembered their conversation from that terrible dinner. "I wish you'd come to visit before I went to the effort of rearranging the drawing room, then."

"I would have if you'd invited me," she pointed out.

His smile grew into a smirk. "It's hard to do when I have no one else's stationary at hand but my own. Your mother would not have allowed you to receive a letter from me."

Morwen shook her head at his lack of imagination. "You could have gifted Sadril with a set of papers."

Thengel grinned. "You're too clever for your own good, Morwen."

"Thank you," she said regally. "I'm always happy to share my cleverness with my dear friend Thengel."

"Too late, as it happens." He shrugged. "The whole project seems like a waste since it's outmoded before it's ever been used."

"Oh, but think of all the poor, backward people who still appoint their furniture east instead of west," Morwen soothed. "You wouldn't want to get too far ahead of them. We'll keep staircase entertainment between ourselves."

"Thank you. That raises my spirits."

She pressed her hand against her lower back. "I can't say it's comfortable."

"We'll need to employ cushions, I expect."

She nodded. "You will. I thought a runner might do the trick, but I wouldn't mention it to Sadril. The thought of all that brushing would leave her catatonic."

Speaking of which, Sadril had completely disappeared without any sign of returning. She and Thengel regarded one another.

"I think I had better get home without waiting for my brother. It looks like either Gaeron forgot me or Tangon's killed him in a duel."

"I'll accompany you," Thengel told her. "The cart should be here soon."

Morwen shook her head. "You'd better not. Then I'll have to explain to my parents that my unsteady brother deserted me at your house. Mother has had enough ruin to contemplate since early this morning."

Thengel reached over the banister to squeeze her shoulder. "Gaeron isn't ruined and neither are you. This will pass." Then he asked, "Where's that sense of triumph from a few days ago? All your wit and sparkle?"

Morwen stared wanly ahead and tried to remember how she had worded her little speech about blueprints and building material, but she couldn't. Too bad. It was almost clever. She didn't deserve wit and sparkle.

"It shriveled up," she finally admitted, "in the face of defeat."

Thengel crossed his arms where they leaned on the banister. "Defeat? With your gifts? Impossible."

Normally she would have enjoyed the teasing but now she felt foolish. "Thengel, I think I might be cursed."

His expression of mild curiosity shifted to consternation. "Cursed? That's nonsense."

Morwen clasped her hands together. "It isn't. You see before you a woman humbled by circumstance."

To his credit, Thengel squashed a grin. Less to his credit, he failed to squash it before she noticed.

"Smirk all you want, Thengel," she grumbled. "Look at Gaeron and Tathren. I made the match and now it's falling to pieces."

"Morwen, you aren't cursed," he insisted. "You simply give yourself too much credit."

Morwen stifled a snort. "Oh, is that all?"

"You may have introduced Gaeron to Tathren," he told her. "But no amount of your so-called talent could have induced them to join their lives together if they hadn't wished it of their own free will."

"But how would they have known what they wished without a little push from me?" she countered.

Thengel gave her an ironic look. "The same way lovers have found one another for life ages of Middle-earth without any assistance from Morwen of Lossarnach, believe it or not."

"Notice how many of those turned out miserably."

Thengel glanced down momentarily and grinned before saying, "Morwen, the only power you truly possess is a thorough knowledge of your brother's tastes with a little assistance from time and geography." Then he added, with a look that suggested both chagrin and admiration, "And a lion's share of confidence, seemingly."

Morwen exhaled. "That's an unromantic point of view. You make it sounds as if my method's nothing more than making educated guesses at large banquets."

"Understand, my girl, that's exactly what I mean." Thengel came around the banister to sit next to her, heedless of the dust. "Under this light, you couldn't be responsible for a quarrel between your brother and sister-in-law. Newlyweds argue all the time."

Morwen made a face at that.

"It's as guaranteed as a downpour in Nínui and completely natural when two people suddenly join their lives together," he finished.

Despite his blunt assessment of her character and total dismissal of her gifts, Morwen somehow felt gratified. It had been a long time since she'd confided in Thengel like this. No pretenses. Easeful even when occasionally too direct in an unflattering way toward her. At least two years had passed she deemed, or perhaps longer, since she had really confided in him. Back when her misguided feelings had altered into something new and interesting and more than a little fluttery, she'd stopped. The silly torch Gaeron had mentioned had gotten in the way and then Thengel had disappeared down the river. What did Thengel say the previous night? She wore levity like a cloak. Certainly, nowadays that felt safer. But like Gaeron, she needed a confidant and she missed Thengel.

"He spoke very rudely to her," she said, studying Thengel's expression, wondering if he was right not to view Gaeron's situation as a disaster or if he simply wished to soothe her feelings.

Thengel picked up a piece of chipped plaster from the step and tossed it into the corner of the stairwell where other scraps had congregated. "I expect Gaeron's learned a valuable lesson in that regard."

"Maybe." But Morwen knew better. "It's been very uncomfortable at home, I can tell you."

He looked at her with concern. "How so?"

Morwen bit the inside of her cheek while she considered what to tell him. "You say I'm not responsible for their falling out. Fine." She hugged her arms around her knees as if warding off a draught. "But Gaeron still wants me to choose sides. But as my new sister, Tathren deserves some loyalty, too. I can honestly say that when he related some of the things he'd spoken to her I could understand her point of view far better than his."

"You told him so?"

Morwen nodded.

"Béma save you." Thengel bumped her shoulder with his, making her meet his eyes again. "And how did you manage that conversation without getting tossed out of a window? I could use some advice."

Morwen almost smiled. She leaned against his arm. It felt reassuringly sturdy. "We were outside already. That helped."

"Ah." He gave her a crooked smile, then said, "No fear, Morwen. They'll come around. It's decent weather for a dramatic apology. He should stand under Tathren's window getting a good soaking, preferably while reciting poetry. Don't you think? You're the expert."

"It sounds like a perfect way to catch an unnecessary cold," Morwen sniffed, making him chuckle. "Do you think Gaeron will apologize, dramatically or otherwise? He's a bit of a blockhead. And I'm certain he hasn't memorized any poetry."

"Perhaps he'll develop a gift for spontaneous recitation. Stranger things have happened." Then more seriously, Thengel said, "To answer your question, I believe he will own up to his mistakes. Beneath the ego and bluster, he loves Tathren and he knows that he's behaved like a rare idiot — and he's had enough time for that knowledge to sink in."

"What if Tathren's really made up her mind to leave him?"

Thengel thought about that. "Well, I don't know Tathren as well as I do Gaeron but I doubt she feels truly eager to live under her father's roof for good. She perhaps needed to send Gaeron a clear message he could understand about what sort of treatment she expects. You know how words tend to bounce off of him."

"Bounce? They disintegrate." Morwen wrinkled her nose as she considered Thengel's point of view. "He does seem more impressed by action." She glanced at him. "How did you grow so wise?"

"Maturity and experience," he answered deadpan, frowning at the stairs. "When Ecthelion first married I stood in for his punching bag a few times, too."

This illustrated the part that she had found difficult to articulate. It felt a little like Gaeron had chosen to vent his spleen at her rather than at the source of his upset — himself.

"It doesn't last," Thengel assured her. "They'll be like the stones that the river smoothed down over time."

"Stones may be smooth but they're still hard-headed," she replied, surprising him into a grin.

"That should be a proverb," Thengel teased. Then more soberly, he said, "Little collisions are bound to happen. It's how you choose to navigate them that matters. Gaeron dug in his heels and Tathren chose flight." He paused, considering something. "I can tell you from experience that the combination only prolongs the discord rather than resolves it."

At first, Morwen thought that Thengel meant Ecthelion again, but then understanding dawned on her. "You mean how things remain unresolved with your father?"

Thengel nodded. Morwen felt gratified again. He very seldom offered up information about his relationship with King Fengel. So much so that she often forgot to properly think of him as an heir to a throne, including when she drew his picture. He carried himself like a man who had one day sprouted from the ground like a tree…independent of anyone until he'd come to Gondor. She threaded her arm through his, feeling pleased by the little glimpse of himself that he'd decided to share with her.

"In your case, you ran to Gondor."

"Fortune provided me with somewhere to go," he answered, patting her hand where it rested on his arm. "Turgon could have sent me packing after a month but he chose to make me a member of his household instead. Not every young person in difficult circumstances has a net in place to catch them as I did."

A safety net. Morwen hadn't considered that Thengel's situation might have been very different. She'd taken his presence for granted because he'd always been there. The thought that he might have returned to Rohan to suffer under his father, along with the conclusion that they never would have met, made her eyes and throat burn. But as grateful as she felt that he had remained in Gondor, one question lingered.

"I can tell that Gaeron misses his wife and wants this separation to end. But Tathren has her parents if she wishes to dissolve the marriage. You've been able to stay in Gondor. But do you ever miss Fengel? Do you think he wants to reconcile?"

Thengel looked grave as he smoothed his thumb over her knuckles in an absentminded way. "We have a saying in the Mark, Ða ne sacað þe ætsamne ne beoð."

"What does it mean?"

"They do not quarrel who are not together." Thengel laughed bitterly. "If Fengel wishes for different circumstances, he's concealed it."

"But you?"

He looked down his nose at her. "How could I miss an old grease pot like him when I have you to keep my head spinning?"

Morwen felt the unusual sensation of a blush. "Thengel, be serious."

He relented with a sigh. "Truthfully, Morwen, I miss the man I wish my father would be with almost an ache — if that isn't completely nonsensical," he said self-consciously. "Now, the man that he is, well, that man brings out a side of me that makes Gaeron look like the picture of sense and serenity."

Morwen studied his face which looked bleak. "I can't imagine that at all."

Thengel's expression turned from grave to grim. "No? Well, it's true, I'm afraid. You…probably would not have liked me very much had you met me then."

"Are you certain that you aren't giving yourself too much credit?" she teased, throwing his words back at him. "Provide me with an instance."

Thengel considered any number of instances, judging by his silence. Then he said, "This unpleasant side tends to make its appearance when someone tries to take what is mine."

Morwen stared at him. "Well, you kept it well hidden last night."

"No, I didn't."

"There wasn't a speck of possessiveness when Serion snatched Húnil out from under you," Morwen argued. "You left her completely undefended."

Something flickered in his eyes. "Serion knows where I stand."

Morwen rested her cheek on the hand that wasn't captured in his. "Well, it went over my head."

"I can see that," Thengel sighed.

Sadril caught them after a time, still murmuring together on the stairs in this fashion. She announced herself by clearing her throat. Thengel stopped drawing circles on the back of Morwen's hand with his thumb but he didn't let it go.

"The covered cart is here, my lord," she announced with a clipped tone. "Shall I accompany Lady Morwen or…?" Her eyes swiveled between them.

Morwen nodded as she withdraw her arm from Thengel's. He helped her rise.

"I enjoyed the tour, Sadril." She thanked the housekeeper as she dusted off the back of her dress. "Too bad we couldn't finish it. I would have loved to hear your remarks on the final room. Know that I'll continue to fight for better staffing. Your master understands that I am always working on his behalf so he won't mind being pestered by me."

Sadril helped Morwen with her cloak. "Thank you, my lady, but he can be stubborn."

"I can hear you both," Thengel warned.

Morwen grinned at Sadril, ignoring him. "Then I'll pester his wife."

"Huh," Thengel scoffed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"If he can get one," Sadril replied.

"I'll work on that, too," Morwen assured the housekeeper. Then she held out her hand to Thengel in farewell. "Don't forget we have an engagement tomorrow."

That look came back from last night. "Understand, Morwen, I have no intention of forgetting our engagement."

Morwen felt buoyed by Thengel's tone. He sounded far from indifferent. As she drew up her hood and stepped out into the rain, she reflected that perhaps the delay to their outing had provided a blessing in disguise by giving him the space to understand his feelings after the lackluster performance at the reception. She decided to congratulate herself early for a job nearly well done.

Her only regret, and she tried to persuade herself that it was a little one, was that this was the last time she would get to play Thengel's confidant. After tomorrow, that would be Húnil's task.

AN: The Anglo-Saxon proverb comes from a collection of forty-six proverbs in Durham Cathedral, MS B. III. 32, where they appear in both English and Latin versions.