A Consolation of Princes
Chapter 11: A Supplication of Sweethearts, Part 2

Morwen trailed behind Thengel, leading Vanyaroco through the mouth of the stables into the yard. She blinked in the full sunlight for a moment before Thengel helped her to mount as if hadn't been possessed by an impish spirit.

They made their way down from the sixth circle without seeing anyone Morwen knew, except Aranel and her mother. Neither young woman spoke to the other in passing but their eyes met. Aranel's gaze flicked between Morwen and Thengel.

Not so bad, Morwen thought. Shy women were the soul of discretion. Weren't they?

Thengel, however, had his name called out or a morning greeting offered from every other passing pedestrian headed toward the citadel. If they failed to be inconspicuous, Thengel seemed unruffled by it. But Morwen sat up straighter in the saddle to compensate for the sinking feeling in her belly.

On the fifth circle, Morwen held her breath as they rode past her family's residence, half expecting Gwereneth to fly out from the door like a bat in hot pursuit.

"You can breathe again," Thengel informed her when they passed the gate.

Morwen exhaled roughly. So he'd noticed? Flouting convention put more of a strain on her nerves than she reckoned it would. She nearly began to take a dim view of herself.

Thengel cleared his throat. She looked over and met his appraising gaze. The impulsive spirit that seemed to light him up in the stables began to fade.

"We could turn around and take you home."

That kindled Morwen's spirit. She refused to disappoint him and she refused to be cowed. So Morwen stared ahead, her expression stony. "If you do I will add it to the list of things I refuse to forgive you for."

Thengel considered this. "Is it a long list?"

"It may be growing."

His brow rose. "You promised to have no hard feelings if I didn't like your choice," he reminded her, referring to their pact.

"That isn't it." Then unable to fully articulate what 'it' was, she asked, "What's in the bags? It looks like you could ride to Pelargir with enough provisions."

He glanced a little guiltily at the bags. "I didn't know what you had planned for today, so I told Cook to pull something together. She has a morbid fear of people starving to death on her watch."

Morwen appreciated that he took some initiative, even if the outing had failed. "Other than leaving the city, I had only planned to lose you both somewhere while I hid out in a barn."

Thengel scratched his chin, frowning slightly. "For what purpose?"

Morwen waited for an interested pedestrian to realize that he'd missed his home gate. Then she said, "To leave the two of you to sort yourselves out."

"Sort out what?"

"You know. So you could," Morwen scanned her memory for a phrase her mother would approve of, "be demonstrative."

He winced up at the circle gate ahead of them.

"There's no need to make faces," she scolded. "I thought if I could get the two of you out of my mother's sitting room then there might be a spark."

Thengel maneuvered Baranroch closer to Vanyaroco when the increasing squash of traffic threatened to part them. He checked the bay to keep him from nipping at Morwen's horse.

"It's a logical maneuver," he conceded.

"I thought so."

"Just stupidly applied," he added.

Thengel sounded just like Gaeron had the night before, which did nothing to improve her mood. Morwen upbraided Thengel with her eyes, annoyed once again by his frankness.

"What would it take for the Lord of the Mark to make me a marshal?" She'd need a larger brush, for one thing.

Thengel grinned at her. "I'm not afraid of you."

"I wouldn't announce that so baldly while we're riding close enough for me to reach you with my boot, horse-master."

Instead of taking her warning in the proper light, Thengel winked at her.

"Carrots," she mumbled to herself as she glanced sharply away.

"You will consider, however," Thengel droned as he nodded at the gatekeepers, "that a certain level of comfort on horseback might be necessary to become a marshal of the Mark."

Morwen waited until they passed through the tunnel and its interesting acoustics before responding, "Since you haven't shared with me through what violence that rank may be obtained, I don't think I'll trouble myself."

"Just as well," Thengel replied. "You'd put Fengel King out of his reckoning."

Morwen grinned wolfishly. "A good thing, wouldn't you think?"

"I…huh." Thengel considered it, pursing his lips. Then he looked at her sidelong. "Where were you twenty years ago when I needed him put out of his reckoning?"

"Learning how to walk."

Thengel sighed.

They proceeded slowly through the city. Morwen hadn't accounted for market days when she set the date for their outing. Merchants and vendors from outside of Minas Tirith had increased the traffic, not to mention those who wanted to purchase their wares. As Thengel had said, everyone truly would get a good look at them while they abandoned decorum.

Speculative glances were thrown their way, especially since her companion's looks stood in high contrast to nearly everyone in the country. Without being the son of a foreign king, it did not help that Thengel's exploits as Ecthelion's right-hand man had given him a fair amount of fame. Several times, the watchmen posted at the tunnel gates greeted Thengel and exchanged pleasantries in a manner that suggested a long acquaintance. But Morwen received sidelong glances. She wondered how long it would take before the rumors landed in the ear of her mother.

She forgot to worry about that once they left the black City Gates behind them and took the road down into the tilled green fields that rippled out from the foot of Mindolluin toward the river. A country girl at heart, Morwen felt her breast expand more freely with each breath than it had within the stone city confines. Her native confidence began to return.

Thengel also seemed to relax as the traffic on the road thinned and they found themselves almost alone along the stretches of grazing livestock, granaries, and the cold kilns that would be used in a few months to dry the harvest of hops and malt. Alarm threaded through Morwen when she noticed Baranroch take advantage of Thengel's ease. As the stallion picked up speed, Vanyaroco increased his pace to keep up as best he could. She made a poor horsewoman beyond a canter and the kind of explosive speed packed by a destrier terrified her.

During her childhood, Gaeron had thought it would be entertaining to let her ride his new courser, which he had received as a newly minted man-at-arms under Ecthelion. He'd barely managed to fit the first stirrup for her when it bolted. Gaeron managed to get ahold of the stallion soon after, but not before she'd been bounced into a stupor. She had never quite gotten over the experience no matter how many times she climbed back into the saddle afterward.

Before she could grow truly alarmed, Thengel checked Baranroch and waited for her to catch up. He knew the story.

"No fear. Nobody's running off with you today," he assured her once she was alongside him again.

"Even though you packed for a long journey?" she quipped to mask her nerves.

He smiled at her. "There's no point in scaring you witless beforehand if it does turn into an abduction."

That made her laugh. "No fear, indeed."

"No?" he asked. "Why not?"

Morwen stared down her nose at him. The man may have upset her footing in the stables, but out here in the open air, she had command of herself again. "It's difficult to countenance an abduction from a man who looks askance at cutting in on other people's dance partners."

"Consider, Morwen, that I felt content with the partner I already had," he replied. "Perhaps you're in more danger than you realize."

Morwen stifled a snort. "You're a fine fellow, Thengel. Polite and steady to a fault. I'm safer out here with you than with Gaeron." Especially where it involved horses.

"Hm."

Then she pointed. "Let's take that charming little bridge over the brook. It looks thinner of farmhouses that way."

"Do you know where you're going?" he asked. They had veered north.

"No, but I'd prefer to keep Osgiliath out of my sight. It's too depressing even if all I can make out is an uneven smudge."

They stopped in a shaded, out-of-the-way place where a stream cut between meadows and formed a little pool before going on its way again to feed the Anduin. Willows rested heavy, ancient arms on the ground along its banks and let their hair float dreamily in the breeze. Some ducks paddled around in the water, sometimes tipping their tail feathers up in pursuit of tasty morsels beneath the pool's surface.

Morwen breathed in the fresh air, delighting in the play of light and wind over the water. It reminded her of home in Imloth Melui. With a pang, she realized that tomorrow she would return to Lossarnach with her parents, leaving all of this and Thengel behind. She snuck a glance at him unawares while he staked the horses and messed with the saddlebags instead of doing something important like sighing over the willows.

Thengel glanced at her from over the saddle and caught her looking at him. She blinked in confusion, but he seemed not to notice. He held up the bag of provisions. "Take this, please."

Morwen gladly accepted the bag while he retrieved a blanket from the other. "How nice," she said, peeking inside and snatching out a strawberry to inspect it. "Húnil is missing out."

"Not from what you've described."

Morwen winced. "She's taking a risk with Serion, isn't she?"

"Húnil has the resources to afford a risk," he opined while he attended to the horses. "But who can say? Perhaps she'll turn Serion into an honest man."

Morwen considered the possibility while she rolled the berry between her fingers. It seemed like a paradigm shift too far. By all accounts, Serion had carefully cultivated his blackened character over half a decade. Wasting all that effort might put him into a crisis.

"Is that possible?" Morwen asked. She wasn't sure how seriously to take Thengel today. Pure carrots, that man.

"She could always threaten to feed him to her cats if he doesn't reform."

Morwen's mouth dropped open as Thengel's joke reminded her of the very real threat posed by the cats. "Húnil's footman almost fed me to Nahtar this morning. Given Húnil's…eh…preoccupation, I doubt anyone would have discovered it yet."

Thengel stared at her for a long moment. Then a dark cloud passed over his expression. He growled, "Morwen, are you serious?"

She nodded. "The cat cornered me in her garden after the footman left me there. I don't think the young man knew that Nahtar had gotten loose."

At least, she chose to give him and his mistress the benefit of the doubt. Surely offering pushy visitors as prey to Nahtar hadn't been a direct order.

"Why didn't you say so before?" Thengel circled Baranroch, reaching for Morwen. He gripped her shoulders, searching her over for injury. Baranroch's ears pinned back and he pulled on his picket line. "Were you hurt?"

"I forgot before now — I'm fine!" she added quickly when Thengel looked ready to hunt down Nahtar right then and there. "Catching Húnil and Serion together afterward drove it from my mind."

"Húnil has no business keeping those animals within the city walls. What possessed Ecthelion to let her travel here with them?" Thengel ranted as he released her shoulders. "There should be an ordinance. I'll speak to the Keeper of the Keys."

Morwen regretted telling Thengel about her misadventure. She didn't think he'd start breathing fire like that dragon from the north. She gripped his coat to check him.

"Please don't. Nahtar only stalked me and hissed a bit." Morwen omitted the part where the cat had leaped at her and then chased her into the house. She held out her arms between them as best she could with the bag dangling from one of them. "See? No scratches or bites. There's no need to antagonize Húnil over nothing."

Thengel's eyes flashed angrily. "Nothing? It's one thing for Húnil to be careless of herself, but you could have been hurt."

"You must admit it's partially my fault for involving her." Morwen looked at her feet, remembering how the footman had tried to warn her against entering the house, but she'd broken past him with the subtlety of a fire ship. "You might say I walked into it myself."

"Oh certainly, I know exactly how to share out the blame," Thengel answered tartly. Then he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Morwen?"

"Yes, Thengel?"

When he looked at her, his eyes had the aspect of ice chips. "Promise me, please, that from now on you'll curb your evil genius before it kills you. I'd be so grateful."

Morwen held up three fingers. "I promise to be guided by the better spirits of my nature…if I have any." She squinted at him while he took on the aspect of a lemon. "You must admit that I might not or I'd be more attentive to household duties."

"That's not it. You simply need to get out from under your mother," he muttered as he went to fix Baranroch's picket.

Morwen took that to mean that he'd accepted her promise. And she had gotten out from under her mother, which made her wonder if she had behaved any better than Húnil by riding out into an open meadow with Thengel.

"By the way, what does a woman who hasn't got enormous desert cats do to defend her honor?" she asked.

Thengel glanced southward and Morwen followed his line of sight toward the white glimmer of the city walls in the background of the green terraces. She probably should have asked these questions before leaving the city with him.

"I know a woman who has some for sale," he answered dryly, turning back to her with a martyred expression on his face.

That surprised Morwen into a laugh. She had to quickly cover her mouth because Thengel didn't yet seem amenable to levity at the moment. "Are you going to forgive me for that? I meant to warn you. It's the pretext I gave Húnil to dine with us."

Thengel shook his head. "You'll have to pay penance."

"How?"

"By promising," he began, holding up three fingers, "to never let Húnil's name trouble my ears again for the rest of the day."

Morwen pressed her lips together, holding up her fingers.

He gave her an approving nod. "Very good. Now, please set the bag down somewhere that isn't on an ant hill or a puddle, and help me spread this blanket."

They found a suitably dry spot on the bank under the shade and laid out the blanket while mindful of the bees that drifted around, also determined to enjoy the willows. Then Morwen presided over the sharing out of the food and utensils. Thengel had procured a good spread from his kitchen. She liked his housekeeper and decided that she approved of the cook, as well.

She found a handy wooden box with a sliding lid that contained little bacon and chard pies the scent of which made Morwen's mouth water. Wrapped in waxed cloths, she uncovered small flatbreads and soft cheese. A pot of some spicy-sweet fruit spread lay at the bottom of the bag. She removed the cork lid to inspect it and tried to pick out all of the spices she could smell. Then there were dried apricots as well as the first strawberries of the season. A pouch contained roasted almonds. Lastly, she found another box of little orange cakes at the bottom where the spiced fruit jar had been.

Morwen nearly told Thengel how glad she felt that they wouldn't have to share any of this with Húnil, but she remembered her penance in the nick of time. She opened the second bag and found carefully wrapped plates, glasses, and a bottle of wine.

"Should we set out the third table setting in case someone wanders by?" she asked.

Thengel gave her a look that suggested he would brook no such suggestion.

"Aren't the Rohirrim famous for their hospitality to strangers?" she pressed, handing him a plate.

"Yes. For total strangers, we provide them with a special escort of spears to the border of our lands."

She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and then stared at him.

"For strangers who can be vouched for by someone who isn't himself a stranger, we give them a place to sleep, a hot meal, and a healthy dose of suspicion. And then an escort to the border of our lands."

"With spears?"

"Riders don't leave home without them."

Morwen slipped the extra setting back into the bag. "Without company, there's enough food here to keep us fed for several days," she reflected. "If we decide to camp, for example."

"I'm considering the possibility," he said as he selected a pie.

"Too bad it's our last day in town." She glanced at him as she handed over the wine to be opened. "My parents would not be amused if I didn't turn up in time to finish packing. Mother's been trying to drag me back to it for several days now."

"You could keep Gaeron company," he mused after he removed the cork. "Hand me your glass."

"Oh, yes, I could stay for Gaeron's sake. Poor, misguided lamb." She accepted the filled glass. "Thank you."

"It could take time for Tathren to come around."

Morwen sipped her wine before setting it aside. It tasted almost as nice as the Steward's, which she decided could be dangerous for her faculties just as it had at the reception.

"Undoubtedly," she agreed. "Days and days. Dried fruit or fresh?"

"Fresh."

Morwen handed him the strawberries along with the almonds. "You'd better have these too."

"What are you doing?" he asked as she ignored all the other food and instead chose an orange cake for herself. "That's dessert."

Morwen made a face at him. "I'm a grown woman, which you don't seem to have absorbed." Thengel started to protest, but she talked over him. "If I wish to start with dessert, then I shall…especially when my mother isn't around to stop me."

Never mind that she'd missed breakfast in her hurry. She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, inspecting the cake. "They smell wonderful. Just like an orangery."

"They're the reason Cook got the job," Thengel told her. "She brought samples."

"I approve," she mumbled with her mouth only somewhat full. "Is that cardamom? I would eat this cake constantly if I lived in your household."

Thengel studiously inspected an almond before eating it. "Hm."

She squinted at him. "It's a wonder you're so lean."

"The trick is to live elsewhere most of the time." He bit into a pie, brushing crumbs from his chest. "Also, beating up corsairs between meals keeps the figure trim."

Morwen swallowed, hearing the implication. "You're going back to Pelargir."

Thengel paused. "No. I have business here that I can no longer put off." He threw a piece of fallen crust to the ducks, causing a minor explosion in the pool.

"What business?"

Thengel looked at her like he thought she chose to act stupid. "The business of persuading the most obtuse woman of my acquaintance to agree to ride out with me unattended."

"Hm," she echoed. Having finished one of the cakes, Morwen set the box down on her lap and then took her time selecting a piece of bread. "What a silly plan."

"You think so?"

"Yes. As if you know any obtuse women. Even with all my powers, the only one I could find to agree to ride out with you, well," Morwen drawled, "She reneged at the last minute to tuck up with someone else."

"You don't count, I suppose."

Morwen squared her jaw, then said, "I understand you perfectly, which means I'm not obtuse enough to be an object for you."

"Morwen — "

"Have you tasted this bread with the cheese?" she interrupted. "It's very refreshing with the spiced jam. Allow me to make you some."

"Thank you," he sighed.

She tried to hand him the dried fruit first. "You'd better have some apricots, too. They're good for your digestion."

He regarded her through slitted eyes.

Morwen blinked at him. "Don't you like apricots? Your cook provided them."

"I have perfect digestion," he insisted as he accepted the bread from her and refused the dried fruit. He finished it in one bite and seemed hardly to taste it.

Morwen shrugged as she watched him eat. "I wouldn't know. I haven't seen you in well over a year and they say that after thirty—"

"Two years and seven days."

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, adding unhappily, "Who's counting?"

"Me. You see, seven days ago..."

Morwen almost drooped. "I know. I promised to find you a wife and I've failed. Stars and sea kings, I haven't earned cake."

Never mind that she'd already helped herself to one. Morwen put the box down between them. Thengel's fingers brushed her wrist before she could move away. She inhaled but her body didn't seem to know what to do with the breath so she held it.

"That's not what I meant," he explained, still touching her. "I last saw you shortly after your nineteenth birthday. Then Gaeron's wedding marked a year and a day since you were presented at twenty."

Morwen felt her stomach turn a little sour. She tucked her arm against her side and he withdrew his hand.

"What's the significance of that?" she asked. Besides a reminder of past mortification.

"It means fair game," was all he said as he squinted up at the sky where some clouds were blowing in from the east.

"Fair game for what?" she asked again as she observed him. He didn't seem to hear her. To clear his abstraction, she added, "Cloud gazing or seducing me?"

That caught his attention. His eyes snapped to her face. "I have far too much respect for your honor. You'll have to live with the appearance of seduction."

Morwen shook her head and scoffed. "I had begun to seriously believe back in the stables that you'd acclimated to modern courtship. Too hastily, as it happens."

"I've been a poor pupil." He threw more crust to the ducks. "But now that you understand that I'll never be a lover of Serion's caliber, will you at least allow me to court you in a calm and sensible manner?"

Morwen felt her stomach turn over as her eyes snapped open. Carrots! She swallowed against something in her throat, and asked as lightly as possible, "Do you wish to?"

"I have been planning to put the question to you for two years."

Morwen stretched her legs out in front of her, staring at her boots. Did he mean the two years he'd spent running away from her? He's given the corsairs the benefit of his time and left her with nothing. The thought made her climb to her feet.

Looking down at him, she said gravely, "Thengel, I believe you are telling a falsehood."

"The men of the Mark do not tell falsehoods," he said, gazing up at her. "Where are you going?"

"For a walk if you're going to sit there in broad daylight on a picnic blanket and say ridiculous things."

He rose to his feet and stood beside her in a moment. "Is wanting to court you ridiculous?"

"Of course not. I'm a good catch," she replied. "But expecting me to believe that you want to court me defies expectation."

"Suppose I tell you it's true. Have you known me to be a liar?"

"Never," she replied. So there must be other reasons. "Explain your motivation."

"I love you. Why else?"

Morwen blinked. She noticed, looking down, that one of her bootlaces looked a little frayed…if she stared at it and not at anything else around her.

It seemed highly unlikely, she reflected, that Húnil could be right about Thengel in the face of his preference for pirates and the letter. Had his grasp of the Common Speech failed him? Maybe he didn't know what that word meant.

"How would you say that in Sindarin?" she asked, glancing up briefly.

He looked puzzled, but said, "Nin emel gwaloth an cin."

My heart opens for you.

"Oh." Stars and ships and sea kings. She added some islands to the oath for good measure.

When she didn't respond for a while, Thengel tapped the side of her boot with his, since her eyes seemed to be glued down there. "Still with me?"

No. She didn't happen to know up from down at the moment. And she didn't know what to do. So she started walking blindly along the stream. She could feel him following close behind her.

"Well?" he asked.

Well. The thought of believing him and being fooled felt like too much. She usually wore playfulness like a shield and found herself seeking refuge there now.

"I'm in shock," she quipped as he walked alongside her. "Stars and ships. I suppose it would be something to be courted by a man with a new bathtub."

The corners of his mouth quirked up. "Consider it yours but only until Fengel dies. Then it's basins and rivers and steam baths."

Morwen's eyes rolled upward toward the clouds. "Love really is for better or for worse with you."

"It is," he agreed. "Do you think you could bear it? You've paid close attention to what my wife would have to put up with."

Yes, Morwen had. "And this whole time you thought the likely candidate would be me?"

"I had hopes in that direction, yes."

Morwen frowned deeply at the inconsistency of that statement with his behavior. "But then why on Middle-earth would you allow me to become your matchmaker?"

"For one thing, you begged me to — with your mother as a witness," he reminded her. "I admit to feeling curious if you would come to the correct conclusion on your own."

Morwen beat her fist into the palm of her other hand. "And to think I felt willing for a few seconds to ride — on horseback — all the way to Rohan to find you a wife not knowing that the game was rigged the whole time. That is unsporting."

"You would have been successful," he remarked. "Only you would have found her more expediently by staying put."

Morwen did not feel satisfied with Thengel's answers. If he wanted to tease her, then it seemed to be going too far. She ought to have gone sensibly home instead of riding out with him and this was her punishment.

"You don't seem convinced," he said.

"I'm not," Morwen acknowledged. He kept saying words — words she had longed for him to say — but they seemed to ping off of her instead of sink in. Her mind simply couldn't absorb them. She stopped Thengel next to an old willow that had uprooted and fallen into the stream after the recent rain. "Thengel, are you being serious? You are in a strange mood."

"Completely serious. Though to be honest, I can't tell if I want to lecture you or kiss you more."

Morwen blushed but didn't take the bait. "Why lecture?"

Thengel crossed his arms. "Because of the rumpus you created this week out of sheer obtuseness."

Morwen found that unfair. "I acted in good faith. You allowed me to set an impossible task. Had I known how you felt I would not have wasted anyone's time." She glanced away. "Much."

He rubbed his jaw, looking puzzled. "You really didn't suspect how I felt? Not once? After all this time?"

"Well, I didn't think…."

He sliced the air with his hand. "Morwen, I've turned my house upside down for you."

Morwen felt alternately hot and cold, torn between belief and skepticism. She had been teasing and flippant until now. But the playfulness fell away as emotions she'd experienced during the last year came to a head. She thought with a pang of the lady's room that faced Lossarnach. It was exactly the sort of thoughtful touch she'd expect from Thengel toward someone he cared for. That he had meant it for her…

She stared ahead without seeing anything. "You're telling me the truth?"

"In Westron and Sindarin, as it happens," he confirmed dryly. "I'd say it in Rohirric too if I thought you would understand. Do you think I'd get you away from your mother like this just so that we could discuss apricots?"

Morwen's eyes flashed like silver in the sun. "How could I know the answer to that?" she cried. "You never said anything before now, not even when I gave you the opportunity to admit it."

"I couldn't. Not before you came of age."

"Thengel, I've been of age for a year now. How long have you felt this way?" And did that match with what she had once believed before the letter?

Thengel tugged at a willow frond, preferring to look at it while he peeled off the delicate leaves with his thumbnail. "I'm not sure as it happened gradually…about two or three years. I used to look forward to my visits to Lossarnach in the summer and the times when your family would return to Minas Tirith in the fall. It took some time before I realized that while I used to anticipate meeting Gaeron again, at some point I began to think only of you. When the truth came home to me, I didn't know what to do. Especially when I began to suspect that you knew how I felt and returned those feelings." He dropped the willow frond and turned to her. "Morwen, surely my manner at times…"

"Oh, there were moments when I thought maybe," she admitted…except for the part where maybe really meant absolutely. "Snatches of conversation or an expression…"

She'd loved him for four years, as far as she could tell. At sixteen, she couldn't admit to anyone that she had fallen for a man of thirty-two and the consolation had been that he felt no such feelings for her — until later when the expression in his eyes told her that everything had changed.

The first moment she thought she could identify a shift in his feelings had occurred while drawing his portrait. She'd lost count of how many times she'd done so and could have drawn him with her eyes closed…until that moment. His expression, especially his eyes, contained something in their depths that she could only describe as…hers. Later, she had compared her other sketches in the privacy of her room and had discovered that her senses had not been mistaken. Words didn't describe his expression adequately, but she had felt loved.

Morwen had taken to drawing caricatures instead of true portraits after that in order to hide her confusion, and because time and age were still not on their side. But by that time they had only a year to wait for her to come of age. She could be patient.

And she had never felt so grateful for that patience until she received his letter, which revealed all the folly she would have been in for if she had ever discussed her feelings openly with Thengel beforehand. It was the folly, she had realized, of a very young woman who needed little evidence to believe that someone felt more for her than encouragement and reason allowed. For all she knew, he had been daydreaming about another woman while she'd drawn him.

"When the moment came when you could finally act, you went away and you stayed away — even when I especially invited you to come to me last year," she explained. "How could I interpret that as regard?"

Thengel stared at her, dumbfounded. "I stayed away because of how I felt," he answered. "What else could I do before you came of age?"

"Nothing, I know," she told him earnestly. "And so for these past few years I never once teased you or pushed you — which you know is pure torture for someone like me. I've behaved so well that not even my mother can complain about my conduct. Gaeron believes I've gotten over carrying a 'silly torch' as he called it. And then you went to hide out in Pelargir. I figured that I'd misread everything, persuaded by my own silly fancies." She had to pause and take a deep breath, fighting the urge to bury her face in her hands. "When I stole your reply from Father's desk a year ago I felt like a complete fool."

Morwen had to bite her cheek to keep her composure now that she'd said the thing out loud that had weighed so heavily on her since last spring. Thengel's hand hovered between them as if he wanted to reach for her again but wasn't sure how she would receive his touch. Morwen's fingers twitched to reach out too but she squeezed her hands together instead.

"How could you interpret that as a lack of feeling toward you when you knew our situation?" he asked softly.

Morwen shook her head. "How else could I explain why you'd refuse to attend my presentation last year and come forward as a suitor when you finally had the chance?" She raised her chin. "Since then I've been determined to behave with you as I always did, like Gaeron's little sister."

And she'd made sure to burn the portrait.

Thengel shook his head. "But that's not it at all."

"Explain, then."

"Morwen, you've spent so much of your life tucked under your mother's wing in Lossarnach. I wanted to give you a chance to meet other men first before throwing your lot in with me," he admitted. "And after that time, if you didn't meet anyone you liked, then I could take my chance with a clear conscience."

Morwen made a strangled sound in her throat as the implications of such a plan flooded her mind and stirred up her emotions all over again. "So you avoided me for another year?"

"A year and a day," he corrected. "That seemed like a fair amount of time."

"A year is a very long time! Too long."

"Not to me, it isn't," he sighed. "Something's stirring up trouble in the south, emboldening adventurers and warlords alike to test Gondor's bounds. It's been nothing but sword-work for months. The time went by so fast that I didn't begin preparations for the house in time."

"It's a wonder you got away," she said bitterly, unable to forget what he'd said to her at the reception.

Thengel gave her a look that said plainly that he could read her thoughts. "As luck would have it, your brother created an opportunity by setting the date of his wedding on the day I could finally allow myself to step forward."

Morwen stepped up to him, gripping his arm. She wanted to see the look in his eyes when she asked her next question. He watched her silently, waiting.

"What if I had met someone tolerable all the while thinking you didn't care about me? I might have accepted him. Why on Middle-earth would you allow that to possibly happen?"

"I considered that possibility," he said solemnly. "Fortunately for me, Serion's fickle."

Morwen scoffed. "I never meant Serion."

Thengel's eyebrow rose. "You didn't appear to be tortured when you flirted with him."

"Well. I am a flesh and blood woman like anyone else." She raised her chin and said loftily, "I'm not spoken for so I don't see why I shouldn't enjoy flirting with him when I have the chance."

"It sounds like he's spoken for now," Thengel muttered.

Morwen winced. "You may be right."

"In all seriousness, Morwen," he began as he reached out for a strand of her hair, rolling it gently between his fingers. "A life with me is a weighty matter for anyone, let alone for a young woman with so many opportunities still before her."

"Not to me, it isn't," she argued. "I'd go to Umbar with you if you'd only ask."

"I'm pleased to hear it. But it's only fair to give you the chance to choose otherwise."

"Fair!" Her eyes flashed dangerously as she pressed a finger to his chest. "I see why you've never married before now. How many women have slipped through your fingers this way? You are a very confusing, irritatingly gallant lover."

He regarded her through sober eyes. "I am a lover who is a good deal older than his beloved, and quite a bit ahead of her in realizing his feelings." Morwen refrained from correcting him. "My conscience won't accuse me of leading you."

"You're safe from any accusations on that score," she grumbled. "A little suggestion might have helped last year."

"Be fair. You had as many hints as my courage and propriety would allow beforehand."

"You disappeared at the exact moment when you could actually pursue me without scandalizing the country. That's the only hint I understood," she told him, waving at the city walls. "It said as plain as plain that you couldn't be bothered with your friend's little sister and that my senses could not be trusted. I have clung to that letter through every confusing thing you have said and done this week which might cause me to make the same mistake all over again."

Thengel's eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's not what my letter meant at all."

"Then why haven't you said a word about how you feel during these last two weeks when we've finally been together for the wedding?"

"Because the year and a day didn't end until the wedding." Thengel made an exasperated gesture with his hand. "I tried to sound you out during Gaeron's wedding night when I knew for certain that the year had passed and you had no known suitors. But how could I be explicit once you started talking about your sisterly affection for me and your burning need to find me a wife?"

Morwen flushed as he recited her actions back to her. "I wanted to protect myself. If you didn't love me the way I loved you then I could at least be useful to you in a way that would be useful to me."

Thengel's expression went vague as he tried to follow her logic. "How could you find that useful?"

"By putting to bed any possibility that you might love me back one day…so I could move on."

His eyes roved over her face. "And that's your hair-raising idea? Shoving some poor woman at me while it broke your heart to do it?"

"Well, yes." She raised her chin a little higher. "I'm pragmatic…like my mother."

"Morwen."

"Can't you see that I'd still have some connection to you if I could find you a woman I didn't loathe?" Then she exhaled sharply. "Can you honestly say it's a worse idea than yours?"

"Your approach had the subtlety of a charging mûmak. At least I didn't catapult a battery of eligible men at you."

"You've never seen mûmakil," she countered. "And it was only one woman…I couldn't find anyone else who fit the list."

"Regardless, mûmakil don't hold a candle to you once you've set your evil genius in order," Thengel pronounced. "The fruit of your plan led me to think that I'd gotten too far ahead of you."

Morwen watched him rub either weariness or frustration out of his eyes. Then she looked behind her at the ducks, wondering what they thought of all this silly human melodrama. Not much, judging by the show of tail feathers.

"Do you take criticism?" she asked, turning back to Thengel.

"Only after meals."

"Fortunately you've had one," she said stoutly. "My hair-raising idea, as you like to call it, is a direct result of your overbearing conscience."

He stepped closer to her and touched her cheek. "But Morwen, what would you have done in my place?"

"Scandalize the world and let them deal with it," she declared while trying to ignore the warmth of his touch. "I can't see how the two of us are responsible for other people's feelings. I love you and I don't care what anyone thinks."

Thengel's cheek tremored. It was the first time she'd admitted it to him in words. He swallowed and said, "But remember I still didn't know exactly how you felt. I only suspected."

Morwen gripped his tunic. "How could you have doubted me when I stole my father's stationery to write and practically beg you to come to me?" she argued.

"That's what I thought until I met you that evening when you went on about marrying me off to — I have to say — a very odd-sounding woman."

Morwen could think of no way to minimize the blame on herself in that particular instance, so she avoided it entirely by saying, "And another thing. What makes you so sure we're living in Minas Tirith?"

Thengel blinked at the swerve in topic. "That's where I keep my house."

"I'll agree to live in the city from the start of Hithui through Gwaeron. Once the mud dries up you're to bring me back to Lossarnach for Tuilérë."

"Where will we live?"

"You can negotiate that with Father. Maybe he'll lend us a shed." She held up a finger. "But those are my terms until the Rohirrim call you back."

Thengel crossed his arms. "You are not living in a shed. The new tub won't fit." He closed his eyes, thinking before he said, "I'll see what I can find — in Arnach." She opened her mouth to argue. He held up his finger, mirroring her. "I am not living less than a half day's ride from your parents. Those are my terms. That is if you don't run for the hills at the prospect of leaving Gondor with me," he replied. "Now's your chance, Morwen."

"Is that what the saddlebags are really for then? My escape?"

He looked at her self-consciously. "I'd hate for you to go hungry on the way."

Morwen planted her feet. "Now who's obtuse? If there's any running away to be done, it will be the two of us together — to the glee of every gossip in the country."

Both parties considered the words that they had spoken. Slowly, the sounds of nature and civilization came back into focus. A curious bee hovered near Morwen's arm, which she knew better than to shoo away. Somewhere, the tramp of many horse hooves on a distant lane could be heard, which she deemed to be a patrol traveling to relieve their comrades on the northern border.

Or potentially a search party sent by her mother.

After a reasonable silence, Thengel observed, "It seems to me that we've skipped from the possibility of courtship right into something more permanent."

"Well, we have to as a matter of necessity," she said primly, taking his hand and leading him back toward the picnic blanket and their horses.

"Why's that?"

"Because my mother will insist once she sees the grass stains on my dress."

He glanced at her skirts. "What stains?"

Morwen sat down on the blanket, waiting for him to join her. He sat beside her, facing the opposite direction. Then she reached across his lap, planting her hand on the other side of his hip. Her nose almost brushed his. She looked up into his clear blue eyes. "Do you think you could figure it out from here or do you still need lessons on modern courtship?"

Thengel gripped her chin with his fingers as he leaned toward her. "Are there any other misunderstandings we need to clear up first?"

Morwen glanced away so she could think. "I don't believe so."

"You understand that if you marry me our lives will be very different one day?"

She skimmed his nose with her own. "I do, yes."

He gripped her arms, holding her back a little so she had to look him in the eye. "And I'll be a king so you will have to treat me with a modicum of respect when you draw my picture."

Morwen pursed her lips. "Hm."

"Just so we understand one another," he drawled.

Morwen began to scoot away. "It's like you want me to run."

The shine came back in his eyes as he pulled her onto his lap, encasing her in his arms. "No fear. I have a fast horse."

"That's just as well," she quipped though her heart had lodged in her throat now that Thengel didn't seem to be holding back. "You'll need him to keep up with me, old man."

She felt his laughter deep in his chest. "You dare."

Morwen nodded, batting her eyelashes. She enjoyed feeling pinned against him like this, never wanting him to let go. She felt caught like one of his corsairs, only she assumed much more enjoyable. "It's only fair. I wouldn't want you to grow winded."

He skimmed his thumb along her throat making her shiver as he cupped her cheek. "One of these days you will find out just how young I still am."

She gave him a rosy grin. "I hope so."

Morwen tingled with excitement as he captured her mouth. His hands smoothed down her sides and around to her lower back to press her closer still. She began to feel repaid for the year of misery caused by the misunderstanding of last spring and the years of dancing around one another before that.

AN: This chapter felt so fun to write but once I finished it, I realized that their son would die on those fields and then my heart broke. Alas.

Nin emel gwaloth an cin came from one of those internet translators, so don't get it tattooed anywhere. It translates to "My heart blossoms for you."

Hithui - Gwearon: The 11th month of the year through the 3rd month of the new year. Roughly November -March.

Tuilérë: 1st Day of Spring. ~March 23.

Arnach: A medea!verse burg in Lossarnach located between Minas Tirith and Pelargir on the East-West road where the Erui feeds into the Anduin.