A Consolation of Princes
Chapter 10: A supplication of sweethearts, part 1
Morwen gave up jogging and walked blindly toward the stables. How it happened that she arrived there without being crushed by a cart or offending numerous people by walking into them, she couldn't later recall. In fact, she had no memory of how she made it from Húnil's residence to the stables in one piece. She'd been too abstracted trying to decide how to explain her failure to Thengel and whether or not she should give any credit to anything Húnil had said about his feelings.
In the end, she decided that Húnil had made an understandable assumption after misinterpreting Thengel's intimacy with the entire family. Other people undoubtedly treated him with better deference and ceremony, with less real familiarity. Morwen could excuse her new friend for confusing her interactions with Thengel as something more than a common attachment. After all, Morwen in her folly had made the same mistake two years ago.
The stables looked deserted as Morwen entered its shadows. Anyone with business abroad had already collected their mounts by this time in the morning and the staff had disappeared to enjoy either a late breakfast or an early midday meal and some gossip. So Morwen found Thengel in the tack area with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, saddling her horse by himself.
Thengel looked relaxed as he worked by rote and murmured endearments to Vanyaroco, who was indeed a good lad. The horse had grown a little harder of hearing over the years and his ears followed the sound of Thengel's voice rather than picking up on her footfalls. The endless stream of flattery might also have accounted for the keen interest. Vanyaroco's flea-bitten coat gleamed under Thengel's care but showed that the gentle-hearted gray had swiftly become an elder statesman in the stables. Morwen had been riding him forever, it seemed, and Thengel knew her palfrey as well as she did. Or perhaps better.
Thengel seemed content amidst the dust motes and the sunlight filtering through the high windows. Her heart squeezed a little. She had always liked him best just like this. The first time that she knew she loved him in a way that felt different from how she loved Gaeron had been in the horse barn back home in Lossarnach. She'd never told anyone. At the time, she could barely acknowledge it herself.
Baranroch, Thengel's mount, had been saddled already and waited in his own crossties. The handsome young bay noticed Morwen first, his ears swiveling in her direction. After making sure to show off his impressive crest to her by means of arching his neck and tossing his mane in a becoming fashion, he then huffed a little as if to complain that her mount had hogged Thengel's attention long enough. That he wanted her to remedy this posthaste, she had no doubt. He pawed the floor as she approached. Thengel issued a sharp command in Rohirric to check the stallion's impatient behavior.
Thengel glanced up as she drew nearer. He smiled and his eyes were warm, the way they had been yesterday when the two of them had talked on his staircase. Then he looked down the passage beyond her, noting the absence of Húnil. Puzzlement replaced the warmth. A hint of something else appeared there too, which reminded her of dancing with him the other night.
"You're alone."
"Only me," she answered.
Morwen gripped the bar of a stall door. Thengel's light surcoat hung from a nail nearby. She felt sorry to see how much work he'd already put into readying the horses. At least now that she had arrived, she could help him undo it all.
Thengel glanced at her again and then away as if to gauge from her tone and expression just exactly what she meant by arriving on her own.
"Will Húnil be joining us soon?" he asked as he concentrated on securing a strap. "Morning's getting on."
Morwen shook her head, avoiding his gaze when he looked up at her. She cringed inwardly. Some time or other she would have to explain what had occurred within Húnil's lodgings, but she hoped maybe he wouldn't inquire too minutely. The beverage Húnil had pressed her to take had worn some of the edge off of the encounter but hadn't diminished it completely.
"Ah." He continued to adjust the girth. Satisfied, he patted Vanyaroco's neck. "Are you ready to go then?"
Confusion made Morwen look him in the eye finally. "We're still keeping the engagement?"
"Why not?"
"For what purpose?" Morwen thought she should probably go help Gaeron win back his wife. The thought made her wince. What a foolish mess she'd made of everything for Gaeron and for Thengel. And, well, for herself. Only Serion seemed to have come out on top…literally.
Thengel wiped his hands on a rag he'd moistened from a water jug before joining her at one of the beams. He cupped her face in his hands. Morwen blinked up at him in surprise. His hands felt warm on her skin. She almost wanted to close her eyes, except then she'd miss the look in his.
"Morwen, I'm going to tell you…" his head cocked to the side. "Have you been drinking? I smell alcohol."
She nodded against his palms. "Húnil gave me something strong. She thought I needed bolstering."
"Bolstering for what?" His eyes roved over her. "You're flushed."
"Yes. I'd definitely say that's from drink and not because you're pinching my face between your palms in this interesting manner on a warm day." She tried to swallow. "Is there a reason for this?"
"Yes," he answered. "I need you to sharpen your ears for a moment."
"Don't you think they're already an exaggerated shape without all that?" she asked dryly.
He squashed a smile before looking her solemnly in the eye. "Listen carefully, please. The only woman I wanted to see today was you. So as far as I'm concerned, the plans haven't changed except for the better."
"But…" She stared at him before frowning suspiciously. "You aren't even a little sorry about Húnil?"
A corner of his mouth turned upward. "My own one, I have had the advantage of more than a decade-long acquaintance with Húnil, even before she became the cat enthusiast that she is now. While I respect her and understand her to be an excellent steward of Ecthelion's interests in Lebennin, she is not the lady that I'm seeking."
Morwen drooped against him a little. "But she fit the list perfectly," she murmured dejectedly, nearly forgetting her promise not to resent him for disliking her pick for a wife.
"Your list," he pointed out. "Is it possible that I might have one of my own?"
She gave him a wry look as she squeezed her face out from between his hands. "It either didn't exist until recently or else it's so unwieldy that after nearly thirty-seven summers, you still haven't found a match. Which is it, I wonder?"
"You can pretend to be ignorant if you like," he remarked as he retrieved his coat to put it back on.
"Am I'm pretending?" Morwen mumbled. Then she asked, "Have you considered that now you have to start all over again from scratch? I won't be much help from Imloth Melui unless you want a woodcutter's daughter."
"We never started from scratch."
"What do you mean? I didn't go off a directory of suitable women when I discovered Húnil," she grumbled. "It required serious investigation at Lady Renneth's gathering."
"Serious investigation?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. Such as squashing onto sofas to ask invasive questions — don't forget the theft of a dish of goose liver to build rapport. Not to mention the serious ire I'd raised with my mother — and then suffering through my father's complete abandonment of rational discourse so that the two of you could meet."
Add to all that, the effort spent arranging romantic outings that never went according to plan, enduring criticism from her brother, and then having to deliver bad news to her favorite person in the whole world. The thought of all that effort landing in the lap of Serion instead of Thengel nearly made her contemplate strangling both of them.
"You've made a valiant effort, Morwen, which I don't mean to diminish," he allowed. "But we're not working with a blank canvas, as you might say."
Morwen crossed her arms. "Are you suggesting that you've got someone in mind after all the work I've done?" she demanded.
Thengel paused, turning to her. "Do I still need to spell it out for you?"
Morwen glanced away. "Ah…"
Thengel paced back to her side, leaning one shoulder against the stall wall. She waited to see if he would touch her again, but he didn't. However, something on the end of her nose seemed to fascinate him, because his eyes lingered down that way.
"Because you see, I have a theory, Morwen, that you know very well what I mean somewhere in that energetic mind of yours." He met her gaze again, his eyes like the blue sea glass she had collected on the beaches surrounding Dol Amroth as a girl. Morwen felt swallowed by them. "And that you got a nice woman like Húnil involved to force me to admit it before my time."
A smile surprised Morwen before she could squash it. But squash it, she did. Along with the inconvenient ray of hope that managed to work itself free from the dark recess where she'd stashed it for so long. It made no sense to her to feel this way when all of her recent plans for Thengel had come to ruin and after he had rejected her a year ago.
Morwen held up three fingers as she tamped down the irrational workings of her own heart. "I swear on Galador's ears that I fully intended to succeed in finding you a wife." She faltered here. "Only, I now realize it would never have worked with Húnil."
Thengel shook his head and went back to clean up the tack area. "What brought you to that inevitable conclusion?" he asked.
Morwen followed him a little, then planted herself next to one of the pillars framing the space. Vanyaroco leaned on the crossties to rest his cheek against her breast. She stroked his muzzle and let him snuffle her fingers until he decided he'd investigated her long enough.
"Well…I had only taken into account what your tastes might be and had forgotten that she might have other ideas…"
Morwen's voice faltered again when Thengel's head tipped backward. She paused, hanging onto scraps of her dignity while he barked with laughter at her expense, the ring of which echoed through the stables. She watched him hug himself until she felt he'd overextended his mirth.
Morwen crossed her arms. "I don't see what's so amusing."
"Morwen, you have the self-assurance of a queen," Thengel chuckled, wiping moisture from his eye. He gave her that same half-exasperated, half-amused look that always crossed his face whenever she drew his portrait in a humorous way. "Did it ever occur to you that people might not march to the beat of your drum simply because you'd decided to bang away at it?"
Morwen glowered. "I only wanted to help."
"A woman like Húnil hasn't been waiting around for a stripling like you to help her see the light of love," he pointed out.
"Shows what you know," Morwen retorted. "I played a central role in helping her see the light of love as you call it…and if you refer to me as stripling one more time I will brain you with that soft brush."
"Fengel will give you a knighthood if you do," he said, unimpressed by her vehemence.
Morwen decided to pocket that information for future use. Say, if Thengel continued to be so blunt with her. Or if she decided to give up matchmaking for what looked to be a much simpler vocation: serving Thengel's father.
Then Thengel asked, "In what way have you enlightened Húnil?"
"Well." She exhaled. "I introduced her to Ar-Pharazôn by accident."
Thengel frowned in confusion. "I should hope the man's still safely dead."
"Not the real one, Thengel. His avatar." Morwen tucked her hair behind her ear, turning away slightly as she confessed the whole. "How was I to know she would prefer Serion over you? It gives one serious doubts about her sense."
He flashed her a grin. "Is that what happened?"
"Yes." Morwen cupped her forehead with her hand, remembering but trying not to. "I found out this morning when I went to meet her. He got there first and I caught them in a Compromising Position."
"Floral arrangements?" he teased.
"No. Combs," Morwen answered weakly.
They fell silent for a moment while Thengel absorbed this new information. Morwen felt a little badly about exposing Húnil, but she knew she could count on Thengel not to go around telling tales. And, well, Morwen thought he ought to know the extent of Húnil's preference for his rival.
"Combs was it? No wonder you needed bolstering." Thengel gave her a speculating look. "Will you ever recover?"
Morwen's vision went a bit vague as she studied the rafters. Recover? Yes, absolutely. Forget? Not even a little. She didn't think she'd ever be able to look at Serion from behind the same way ever again.
"The encounter proved to be educational," she philosophized, "and perhaps illustrates that one cannot sit on other people's furniture."
Thengel ducked his head with a snort and accidentally dropped a brush. She thought she heard him mumble something in Rohirric as he stooped to pick it up.
"So it wasn't planned?" He picked straw out of the brush bristles and returned it to its spot on the wall. "Even after you pulled your Tathren stunt on her?"
Morwen pursed her lips. "It's very unkind of you to remind me of that. I'm surprised you remembered."
He glanced at her sideways. "I may have observed it happen."
Morwen felt a bolt of something pass through her. "Were you watching me?"
"I watched Serion watch you," he admitted. "To prevent further ankle injuries, you see. I figured shoving them together was part of your plan."
But Morwen hadn't orchestrated any of it. The two had collided while she stood by like a fool unable to divert them. No thanks to Thengel for that.
She made an impatient gesture with her hands. "He wasn't part of the plan at all. What would pushing them together accomplish?"
"I thought you wanted to make me jealous." He waved a comb in the air. "You know, to force me to shrug off this complacency you like to accuse me of."
"That was an accident," she asserted. Then her head tilted to the side as she considered it. "But that idea's not half bad. I wish I had thought of it." She squinted at him. "Did it work?"
"Never mind that, Morwen." Thengel looked sour. "Intentional or not, your evil genius ran away with you. Again."
"I'm hardly to blame." Morwen raised her chin in defiance. "Húnil is an attractive woman with a great deal of spirit. You left her unattended. I suppose Serion couldn't help succumbing to her allure."
"I have fellow feeling with him in that regard," she heard Thengel mutter.
Morwen didn't know how to respond to that. So she said, "But I am surprised that Húnil could entertain him as a lover."
"Why?"
"His reputation, Thengel. Gaeron calls him the city's hobby horse."
"Did Gaeron know you were within earshot when he made that remark?" Thengel asked knowingly.
"Of course not." She exhaled sharply. "He never says anything interesting when he knows I'm around."
"Húnil…" Thengel seemed to weigh what he wanted to say next. "…can mimic the exact sound a large predator makes in heat. I'm only surprised the two hadn't discovered each other sooner."
"Oh." Then Morwen grew thoughtful. "Is that an attractive feature?"
"I — " Thengel paused. "Well. It works for cats."
Morwen tried to follow up with another question but he shooed her out of the way and began to unhook Vanyaroco from the crossties.
"In your defense, I admit to seriously considering asking Húnil to marry me right then in your mother's sitting room following her demonstration," he remarked.
Morwen stared, beginning to wonder just how well she understood Thengel. "Really?"
Thengel nodded. "Really. For the way she nearly caused your mother to fall out of her chair." He chuckled at the memory. "That does take talent."
Before Morwen could reflect on Húnil's many talents, he placed Vanyaroco's lead in her hand and walked off again. She stared stupidly at the leather.
"Is something the matter?"
Morwen shifted in her boots. "Are we still riding out? Without Húnil you're unattended."
"At my time of life that's little to be wondered," he drawled. "Don't you mean that you're unattended?"
"I meant to be Húnil's chaperone," she explained with all the dignity she felt due to a fully grown woman in such a position. "So in this instance, I am without a protégé not unattended."
And she wasn't alone with him in the tempting seclusion of his house. So.
"Hm. Do you need a protégé in order to ride out with me?" he countered as he retrieved Baranroch.
"Well…"
"Consider this an abduction if that helps."
"An abduction?" Did that help? He seemed consumed by a very teasing mood. Perhaps it depended on who was being abducted. Even without the Matter of Pelargir, she found abduction difficult to countenance in a man who looked askance at cutting in on someone else's dance partners.
"You said yourself it's the natural course of things."
"A seduction, Thengel," Morwen corrected. "At a banquet. With men," she added, gesturing to the world at large.
"What am I, pray?" he asked, sounding affronted.
"Besides stubbornly dignified and unfailingly polite?" Morwen stuck her nose in the air. "I couldn't possibly say."
"Are you willing to find out?" he goaded, "Or are you only worried about the Serions of the world having dark designs?"
Morwen looked Vanyaroco in the eye and felt that her palfrey understood that he also bore witness to this strange mood of Thengel's. They watched the man collect some heavily laden bags and hook them to Baranroch's saddle. She wondered what they contained, but Thengel began to lead his destrier past the tack area before she could ask. Morwen watched him pass by looking like a man completely at ease with himself. Too at ease for dark designs. Surely.
"Well?" he called back. "What do you think?"
She said in a measured voice, "Won't there be a scandal?"
"Gaeron's taken the lead on that front." He paused at the mouth of the stables. "What's the worst that could happen if we're caught riding out together?"
Besides the demolition of a paradigm? Morwen considered.
"Well…I expect Mother could get Gaeron to persuade you to do the honorable thing…since he's in town."
"I'll suffer it," Thengel replied. He touched his chest. "Now, if you feel that's too much for your sisterly sensibilities to bear, I could put the horses away and walk you home instead."
Baranroch's ears flicked backward, which showed what he thought of that.
A challenge hung in the air between Morwen and Thengel. She knew he meant it as a challenge. Morwen also knew that Thengel knew that it would goad her into behaving exactly as he wished. It had always worked in the past whenever Gaeron couldn't get her to budge. Despite that knowledge…she felt the opportunity to change her ways had passed.
Morwen regarded Thengel, her expression hooded. "I have my hands full with Gaeron. I don't need another brother." But before the sudden kindling in Thengel's eyes could begin to make her question herself, she held up her hands, adding, "As you know, I won't be galloping madly across the Pelennor with you as Húnil could have. Did you consider that before you let her slip through your fingers?"
Thengel shrugged. "Fine. We'll go slowly. That way the whole town can get a good look at us while we abandon decorum."
"Something has gotten into you today," she chided down at her hands while she pleated the lead rope between her fingers.
"I know," he replied, making her glance up. The kindling came back into his bright eyes as he grinned at her. "What do you think it is, Morwen?"
She swallowed, suddenly aware of how he seemed to fill the entryway. "You're full of carrots," she told him, borrowing a phrase from every mother in Lossarnach.
Thengel blinked. "Carrots. That's a new one for me."
Of course, it was. Before today she'd never have applied the phrase to him…though she had often heard it applied to herself as a girl. If Gwereneth accused Morwen of being unsteady, Thengel had always been the picture of steadiness.
She watched as he rolled the phrase back and forth to himself in Rohirric and Westron. Surprising him with a phrase proved rare these days, but it did happen on occasion.
"I can't tell from the context if that's good or bad."
"Neither," she explained, "it's just sort of impuls—"
"Oh, then keep up, please."
Morwen shook her head, feeling like he had taken the floor out from under her as he strode away. She wasn't used to feeling like this around another person, though she'd been told that she often had a disorienting effect on others. She watched him disappear into the sunlight with Baranroch looking like he had all the assurance that things were going his way rather than being the jilted man that he was.
If Morwen didn't know better, she'd think that modern courtship had finally caught on with Thengel. An absurd observation, but she hung back to consider the possibility until Vanyaroco's ears pointed stiffly in the direction of the stable yard. He seemed to say that the two of them had better follow the stallions' leads before they grew huffy.
It was exactly the sort of meek thing a gelding might think, but Morwen suspected it was correct nevertheless. So much for complacency.
"I'm not accustomed to following another person's lead," Morwen confessed to Vanyaroco. She meant to sound imperious, but it came out breathier than she liked.
Vanyaroco snorted through his nose, which suggested that she had better get used to it.