A Consolation of Princes, Part II: A Revolt of Kings
Chapter 3: A Worry of Wives
By the late afternoon, Thengel had confirmed to Morwen's parents for a second time his father's position regarding the marriage gifts. Then Gwereneth had shooed everyone out of her sitting room so she could have a headache before the evening meal.
Morwen then proposed that anyone without a headache play a round of House of Fortune in the library, a game of chance that wouldn't overtax Amarthor's nerves. Thengel suffered it for that reason, though he found the game dull. He claimed to enjoy throwing the dice, at least. Morwen enjoyed winning the money.
She wiped a dust rag over the double-dagger-shaped board and set it down on the table near the library windows as Thengel moved a third chair over for a fresh game. The board consisted of ten tiles numbered at random from 2 to 12, with 1 missing because it was impossible to roll and a tile missing for 4 because the player had to forfeit a coin to another without the benefit of collecting one.
"New house rules dictate that a player who rolls 4 must forfeit a coin to the bride," she announced.
Amarthor, who had already ensconced himself in his favorite seat nearest the window, glanced at Morwen from over the book he had selected to read between turns. "On whose authority?"
"Mine, as a future queen of the Mark." She glanced at Thengel. "And everyone knows that a queen has the most power in a game of chess. So."
Amarthor blinked owlishly as he tried to follow her line of reasoning.
"But the queen is also bound by the rules and the rules follow a natural order," Thengel said as he sat beside her. "How do you justify the change?"
"Well. It's a wedding game of sorts. Players build a dowry on the 7th tile, don't they? Why shouldn't the coin go to the bride?"
"Because her father's paying for the wedding," Amarthor droned.
Morwen crossed her arms, eyeing the pair of them. "I didn't expect an immediate revolt."
Thengel held his hands up. "I'm only saying the rule has to make sense. What do you do when there isn't a bride playing?"
Morwen grinned. "Go back to the old house rules that state rolling 4 requires giving the youngest a coin."
Amarthor clucked his tongue. "In my day, the coin went to the master of the house."
"Yes, but I have to borrow money from you to play," Morwen pointed out. "So it's yours already."
"We don't have to gamble," Thengel offered, gesturing to a cambric bag near the board. "Use the chips instead."
Morwen squeezed his arm to silence him. She liked using the set of mother-of-pearl chips most of the time. They had been in Amarthor's family for years. But she needed the coin.
"It has to be for money," she declared.
"What could you possibly want to win money for?" Amarthor asked.
Morwen tapped her lips while she thought. "I need rods."
"Rods?" Thengel asked.
Morwen nodded.
"Why?"
"Doesn't everyone want rods from time to time?" she evaded.
Thengel grimaced minutely, perhaps sensing a scheme. "I can't say it's ever come up."
"Shocking given the excellent upkeep of your house before now," she answered dryly. He looked only slightly chastened by this.
Amarthor glanced at her from over the top of his book again. "My foreman can get you rods without going through this rigmarole."
"Yes, but I wouldn't have earned it." If Fengel wanted to publish her as useless, she would supply him with counterpoints.
"By gambling?" Thengel asked.
"You cut throats. I gamble. We all have our methods for acquiring income," Morwen chanted.
Thengel started to reply but thought better of it and shut his mouth.
Amarthor made the sign of the eight-pointed star. That was a prelude to ear scratching, so Morwen signaled to Thengel to drop the topic. It served her to do so. Morwen meant to keep her word to Thengel regarding the morning gift and she didn't want him to know the details. He would be forced to disapprove probably because it didn't pay proper deference to the tradition or something. Or because disapproval was the default response to any of Morwen's ideas by people with sound minds.
She needed two things: help and supplies. Lots of both. She thought she could count on her mother and the ladies of the neighborhood for assistance once the project became known to them. After all, it would give the latter an excellent pretext to continue staring at her in leisure. It might require an olive branch to restore Nenniel's goodwill, but a well-appointed gift would solve that. And yes, she had fabric, but that only solved half of the supply issue. Call it stubborn, but she didn't want the rest of it handed to her.
To begin, they each set a coin on the 7th tile to establish the dowry. Morwen rolled a 6, which meant she lost another coin to the empty tile. Had it been filled, she could have taken the coin instead of giving one up.
Being widdershins from Morwen, she dropped the dice into Thengel's open palm next. He rolled a 7 and had to offer another coin to the dowry. "Perhaps we should challenge my father to a long-distance game," he reflected when Amarthor wasn't listening. "It's a slow way to get the gold out of his grasping fingers, but parting with it might be less painful that way."
"Do you think it would work?" Morwen laughed.
"It's worth a try."
Amarthor lost a coin to the 10th tile.
Morwen rolled a 3 and also lost a coin, but she held out her hand cheerfully when Thengel rolled a 4 and had to forfeit a coin to her purse. She then had to roll for her father who had become engrossed in a passage from his book. He lost a coin to the 9th tile.
"That's what I dislike about this game," Thengel murmured. "These stretches where nothing happens."
Morwen flipped the coin she'd won from him as the bride. "I'm having fun," she leaned over to whisper in his ear. "And observe how calm Father looks after all the bad news we gave him this afternoon."
Thengel silently acknowledged the truth of this as she rolled again and lost a coin to the 11th tile.
Thengel rolled another 7 and only looked slightly ironic as he placed another coin on the dowry pile. It was the only tile where players couldn't take the coins unless they rolled a 12 and became "king." That player won all the coins on the board and thus the game would end.
Amarthor rolled an 8 and lost a coin. Morwen rolled a 6 and got to take the coin that she had placed there the previous time she'd rolled that number. Thengel rolled a 3 and got the coin Morwen had lost to that tile before.
"See, now it's getting interesting," she said as their purses began to grow again.
Her father rolled a 9 and got to take that coin.
Morwen rolled a 7 and had to contribute a coin to the dowry.
"There. I feel less singled out," Thengel teased. Then he rolled a 7 again and Morwen laughed at him.
"It's looking to be a fat dowry after all," she remarked as the stack grew. "I look forward to winning it."
The corner of Thengel's lips lifted. She thought his competitive side might be engaged now. "What makes you so confident you can win a game of chance?"
"Fortune favors the bold," she recited.
"But luck oft deserts braggarts."
Morwen's brow furrowed. "I don't know that one."
Thengel winked at her. "I made it up."
The coins were gained and lost until nobody could remember who had originally paid a coin to which tile. Amarthor became fully engrossed in his book and left the rolling, and the collecting and doling out of coins to Morwen. She had to interrupt him briefly to ask to replenish both their purses as the dowry on tile 7 grew and her stockpile shrank to one last coin. He waved her toward his desk where he kept a lockbox with the key still in it.
Thengel rolled another 4 and had to pay Morwen from his dwindling purse when something unexpected occurred. She observed a beautiful woman ride into the yard on a neat-limbed palfrey, her black hair streaming over her shoulders like a mantle of midnight. Even from the upper floor, Morwen could see the woman brimmed with vitality and grace: her lips were red, her brow clear and pale, with dusty roses for cheeks. An elegant melancholy darkened her gray eyes. She had a complexion that poets swooned over.
Tar-Míriel had come home.
Well. Tathren and Gaeron had come home. He rode beside her on Bruidal, but he looked less striking than his elegant wife — at least to Morwen who could not be said to be impartial. He was a rough-hewn, powerful man, the sort that Gondor desperately needed in these after times, but the village girls would have to sing his praises.
Morwen dropped the coin as she witnessed her sister-in-law's arrival in the yard from the library window. She leaped up, abandoning Thengel to set the 5th tile for her father. She ran out of the library and down the stairs, leaving both men to stare after her with puzzled expressions.
She flew through the foyer and out into the dooryard. The newly arrived couple had dismounted in the meantime and Gaeron oversaw the servant removing their bags. Morwen pulled Tathren into a hug, wrinkling her sister-in-law's spotless white traveling clothes and startling the poor woman, judging by Tathren's stiffness. Although, riding for hours on horseback might have caused that.
"You're back," Morwen cried. "And you came with Gaeron!"
Tathren patted Morwen's back as if unsure of what else to do until her sister-in-law let go. "Yes. He wouldn't let me travel alone." She shot her husband a look. "Again."
"He's bossy like that," Morwen agreed, deigning not to ask why Tathren would want to travel home alone. He certainly behaved like letting Morwen wander alone in Minas Tirith would lead to unspeakable mischief. Though come to think of it, the one time she had managed to wander the city unescorted by family, she'd ended up causing a scandal with Thengel. So.
Gaeron glanced up at the sky but kept his thoughts to himself. She took that as a sign of improvement even if it didn't necessarily break the tension. Although Tathren had moved into the townhouse with him shortly after Morwen and her parents had quit it, the tension still felt palpable. That might be nerves, Morwen thought, as none of them had seen Tathren since the wedding and everything else that had transpired.
"Come inside." Morwen all but pushed them in front of her. "Thengel's here. I'm fleecing him and Father at House of Fortune. You haven't missed him."
"Obviously," Gaeron replied, stopping to give her an obligatory kiss on the cheek. "We would have passed him on the road otherwise. By the way, did you know you're sunburned?"
Morwen bit back a sigh. All of their visitors had arrived in a Mood. But she'd exhausted all her resources on Thengel and her parents earlier in the day, so her brother and sister would have to cheer themselves up.
"What brought you home now?" she asked.
"We've come for the negotiations," Gaeron answered.
"Oh no," she gasped before she could stop herself.
Gaeron exchanged a look with Tathren. "What, Mora?"
Thengel hadn't told Gaeron about the king's empty chesst and her parents must not have thought to do so either. Morwen didn't know why. But as a result, her brother and sister-in-law had traveled back for nothing.
"There's been a delay," Morwen explained.
Gaeron's brow furrowed. "Until when?"
"I don't know." She hastened to add before they could question her further, "Come inside where it's cool. You look exhausted."
Gwereneth met them in the foyer. She acknowledged her son and daughter-in-law as if nothing had ever happened. Once the initial greetings and inquiries were over, Morwen thought that Tathren seemed to thaw slightly. Gwereneth sent them to their rooms to refresh themselves after the journey and Morwen hoped things would feel more natural after they'd had a rest.
"Did you know they were coming home today?" Morwen asked her mother when they were alone again. She thought Gwereneth seemed far too cool and commanding for the woman who had gone mute when given the news of her son's separation from his new wife.
"No," Gwereneth answered in her usual clipped manner. "I supposed they had to one day."
Morwen realized that's why they were eating more soups and stews lately, despite the rising heat of summer. The kitchen staff could spread out the fare more easily if the number of diners suddenly increased. Gwereneth managed always to keep a few steps ahead of everyone.
For this reason, Morwen thought she should tell her mother first about her plan for the morning gift. But she held back. Morwen wanted to practice explaining it to someone less critical. Now that Tathren had arrived, she had just the person she needed…provided Gaeron didn't put his wife in a sour mood again — or put Morwen in a sour mood by picking on Thengel.
That thought prompted her to realize that neither Thengel nor Amarthor had come down to greet Gaeron and Tathren. Perhaps they were that absorbed in the game. Or maybe she needed to learn what Thengel considered a patch and if that differed from her own ideas.
Back in the library, the game continued but Thengel played alone. Amarthor had fallen asleep with his book splayed out over his slight belly. That, at least, explained her father's absence from the entry hall.
"We've been waging a war over the 6th tile since you left," Thengel explained. The coin had been taken and returned repeatedly as each roll landed on the same number. "It's possible the dice aren't balanced."
"Did anyone finally win it?" she asked.
"Lost it," Thengel corrected. "That's my chip on the tile now."
"Oh." She stood beside him with her arm draped over his shoulders as she observed the board. "Why didn't you come downstairs to greet Gaeron and Tathren?"
Thengel rolled for himself and collected a coin from the 8th tile. "I never replied to your brother's letter. I'm not sure I'm ready."
Morwen's heart sank. It was one thing to be at odds with Fengel. He lived over the mountains many leagues away. But Gaeron lived right here. The two of them had to speak sometime.
She accidentally kicked the coin she had dropped earlier on her way to return to her chair. Thengel retrieved it for her while she rolled a 7 for her father. She put another coin on the dowry pile. A second one had to be started to keep the stack from tumbling over. Watching the coins pile up had been more enjoyable before Gaeron's arrival. Now she simply felt anxious. On her turn, she lost a coin to the 8th tile that Thengel had just cleared out on his last roll.
He rolled a 4 and had to pay her again. There was no teasing now as the coin changed hands.
"Why did you say there was a patch when there isn't?"
"There is, Morwen," Thengel insisted soberly. "He's discontinued the vitriol. But we're changed now." He stared at the dice in his large hand before rolling again. A 10. "I suppose I'm grieving over it."
Morwen nodded. She understood that. It had grieved her when she misunderstood Thengel's rejection of her invitation a year ago last spring. Even after they had reunited as friends, the sting hadn't disappeared but had come roaring back at the reception for Bard's ministers.
"Ugh." She rolled a 12 for her father, making him king and the winner of the dowry and all the coins left on the board. There went sixteen silver pieces back into his purse that she wouldn't come by easily.
"How hard is it to fleece corsairs?" she asked.
Thengel looked at her sidelong. "Harder than galloping on a horse."
Morwen sighed as she palmed the dice again. "How about best out of three?"
At the evening meal, Thengel took his usual seat next to Amarthor as their guest and Morwen sat on Gwereneth's left, while Gaeron sat at their mother's right and Tathren at Amarthor's left. Morwen looked around the table, feeling as pleased as she could that the whole family had assembled for a meal for the first time since the wedding dinner. She had to ignore several facts in order to feel pleased, however. Thengel remained only provisionally engaged to her. Gaeron and Thengel acknowledged one another with mute nods, which seemed like less of a patch than Morwen had imagined. And Tathren still seemed ill at ease in everyone's presence.
Morwen felt like she had to hold all of the tension on her own. Her mother, she could tell, had pretended it didn't exist. Amarthor drifted along as his usual oblivious self. He at least appeared more chipper than usual after beating Thengel and Morwen three times at House of Fortune and having received a letter from Dol Amroth, which arrived shortly after he'd won the largest dowry yet. She tried not to think about how she'd been denied a dowry, even a fake one, by both of their fathers in one day.
"Isn't it nice to have everyone home?" Morwen asked once she thought they had contemplated their food in silence long enough.
Her family and Thengel stared at her.
Morwen squinted down and pushed her spoon around the carrot soup. Maybe she should have let them eat more of it before springing conversation on them.
"That reminds me, Gaeron," Amarthor droned as he held up the letter. Gwereneth had forbidden books and the post to be read at the supper table but news from Dol Amroth didn't ever count. "Angelimir writes that Adrahil has returned from his expedition to the north and intends to make a report to the Steward by the end of the summer. You should visit him in Minas Tirith for us before your leave ends. I've forgotten when that is."
Morwen wanted to roll her eyes. She wished for them to focus on being together as a family. Leave it to her father to redirect their attention to more separations.
That and she wanted to hear about Adrahil's adventures firsthand too. But her father would only ever think of Gaeron for these things.
"It doesn't end until autumn," Gaeron replied. He cleared his throat. "I, eh, requested a transfer to Pelargir. It's been granted."
Gwereneth dropped her spoon, which clattered against her bowl, startling Tathren. Morwen's sleeve narrowly avoided the splatter.
"Pardon me," Gwereneth apologized in a low drone that made the fine hairs rise on Morwen's arms. A servant rushed to remove the spoon and bring a clean one.
"What about Arnach?" Morwen asked for her mother during the exchange of silverware. "You've been stationed there ever since you left the post in Ithilien."
Gaeron shot a glance at Tathren. He cleared his throat again. "Arnach is well in order."
"Don't tell me Thengel's left any corsairs to worry about in Pelargir?" Morwen replied lightly. She nudged his boot. He didn't nudge her back.
"Pelargir is a larger post," Tathren explained for Gaeron. "With more opportunity for advancement than Arnach."
"It may only take a few years for me to advance," Gaeron added. "Who knows? Then I might get the command of Arnach one day. As a Lossarnach man, Lord Fulcard might put in a word for me with Captain Ecthelion once I've shown my quality."
Amarthor blinked owlishly at his son. "That's all very well for Arnach and Pelargir. What about the estate?"
"What about it?" Gaeron asked.
"The two of you will have the management of it one day," Gwereneth told them. "It will be difficult for you to be involved with the plantation and the tenants from Pelargir."
"Pelargir isn't much farther away from Imloth Melui than Arnach. I'll have the occasional leave."
"One hundred and fifty miles is no trifle," Amarthor wheezed. "Suppose there's a barn fire."
Gaeron smiled in a subtly wolfish manner that didn't bode well as the pressure from their parents increased. "I'm sure Mora and Thengel will be happy to assist you in my stead until my service ends."
Morwen swallowed. She hadn't told her parents about Thengel's refusal to live in Imloth Melui yet. She was going to make him do that at the negotiation…which had yet to be determined.
Gwereneth scoffed at the idea. "And you've returned to Imloth Melui to spend the last few months with us before you disappear for several years?" she asked.
Gaeron pushed his soup around with his spoon in a half-hearted way. "Well, yes. And you know what Minas Tirith is like this time of year."
"I never knew the summer could be so oppressive in Minas Tirith," Tathren added. "It was starting to feel too stuffy."
Or the gossip had gotten to be too much. Morwen tamped down on that thought.
"Have your parents returned home to Pelargir yet?" Gwereneth inquired.
Tathren nodded. "They did. A week ago."
"Ah."
Morwen could tell by the look on her mother's face that she chose to make that the reason for Tathren and Gaeron's appearance in Lossarnach finally and her brother's request to serve at the larger port. It reminded her of the current of competition she'd witnessed between her mother and Tathren's parents the day of Renneth's party when she had first met Húnil.
Gwereneth signaled for her bowl to be taken away. "If that's what the both of you wish, Gaeron," she said icily. "I'm sure we'll manage until it suits you to return and take an interest."
"It isn't the first time an heir decided to be of use everywhere but at home," Gaeron muttered. "I don't see why I should be criticized for it."
Morwen blanched. Her family had chosen to bar no holds, it seemed, as Gaeron tossed away whatever patch Thengel had referred to. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Thengel put his spoon down and fold his hands in his lap while he stared murder at the pepper mill. He said nothing in reply to Gaeron's jab but that seemed worse to Morwen than if he had.
"Father," she began before anyone else could get in another devastating sally. "Did you know that Thengel discovered an interesting record in the Archives all about an edict banning the sale of fish at the new moon in Rhovanion?"
Amarthor blinked. Thengel stared at her. Gaeron rubbed his forehead. Gwereneth sighed. Tathren looked confused.
Then Amarthor leaned forward on his elbow, squashing the letter from Dol Amroth. "At the new moon, you say?" He ignored the barbed look from his wife and the pointed way she stared at his elbow on the table. "But this would suggest…Stars and sea kings, beaver couldn't have been served at all at the feast hosted by Eldacar."
"Not even as an ingredient," Morwen agreed.
Amarthor scratched behind his ear, thinking. "This changes everything. I must find the almanac to confirm the lunar cycle…"
Morwen exhaled as the conversation swerved from the touchier subjects. It was worth having to hear a rehashing of old nonsense. Eventually, Thengel's expression relaxed into something less stormy. And though Tathren's eyes had glazed over by the time the meal ended, Morwen felt that proved better for her new sister-in-law than being on the receiving end of her mother's frosty ire for convincing Gaeron to move away, even temporarily, from the family seat.
Morwen congratulated herself for navigating the family through the worst of it when Tathren rose and excused herself, saying, "I want to speak to Morwen alone, please."
"Me?" Morwen squeaked.
Gaeron looked up at his wife and asked, "Why Mora?"
Tathren gave him an incredulous frown. "Because she brought us together. Remember?"
Morwen forgot to feel surprised as a sense of vindication took over.
"See!" Morwen rounded on Gaeron. Then to Tathren, she said, "He doesn't remember a thing."
"Well, I do." Tathren fixed intense gray eyes on Morwen. "And I want to know why you introduced us."
Morwen sank in her chair while Gaeron and Tathren rehashed their varied memories of that evening.
"Oh no," she whispered under her breath.
Only Thengel heard her mild panic. He murmured in her ear, "This is the part where you admit wanting to paint them together."
She could tell from his tone that he wasn't about to thank her for stealing his beaver-related gambit earlier and she would therefore have to give up a certain amount of sympathy from him.
"You're going to die a bachelor," she whispered back. "Unless you're willing to defend me."
"As a fellow victim of your evil genius, I feel compelled to let Tathren have her say," he answered. "But if you scream, I'll come to your rescue."
Morwen's nose wrinkled. "What if she cuts my throat?"
Thengel patted her thigh under the table. "Bleed as loudly as you can."
…
Tathren paced in Gwereneth's sitting room. Morwen's eyes started to ache as they followed her sister-in-law back and forth. She wished she had forced Thengel to wait outside the door as her past deeds as a busybody came home to roost. Did she deserve support for the decisions she had made of her own free will? No. But then, what was the point of marrying a knight?
Morwen waited until she thought the pacing and weighted silence would drive her mad. She had selected a chair pushed against a corner so that the walls protected her back as well as her flanks. Then if Tathren decided to smother her with a cushion for setting her up with Gaeron, Morwen could kick out with her feet to fend off the attack. At least, kicking had worked on Gaeron when she was a girl, almost as well as biting and scratching had. She hoped she wouldn't need to resort to the latter two with Tathren. It wouldn't reflect well on her as the future Lady of the Mark…she didn't think. No one had forgiven Berúthiel for similar behavior, on any account.
Tathren halted in the center of the room, rubbing her forehead. "I meant to congratulate you earlier on your engagement before the conversation went downhill." Tathren attempted to smile, but it looked rusty like an old chain that needed badly to be oiled. "I hope you'll forgive me for being so tardy to express it."
Morwen stared through eyes that were growing increasingly dry for lack of blinking. Did Tathren drag her up to her mother's room just to say that?
Tathren blinked at her, waiting for a reply.
"Thank you," Morwen answered slowly. "No need to apologize. It's been an interesting time for you."
"When will the wedding take place?" her sister-in-law asked.
Morwen hesitated, confused by the small talk and by the total contrast in Tathren's and Gaeron's reactions to the engagement. "We don't know yet for certain. We know when we want it to be, but it's a bit complicated to marry a prince, I'm learning."
At least, if the prince's father chose to make it so.
"Marrying anyone is a complicated business." Tathren took a shaky breath. "Morwen, after I returned to Gaeron, he confided that you've been unstintingly supportive of me."
That didn't sound like Gaeron at all. "Is that how he worded it?"
Tathren gave her a long look. "No."
Morwen nodded. "I didn't think so."
"I want to thank you for that." Tathren worried the rings on her fingers. "It may seem like a small matter to you but Gaeron and I still have a long road ahead of us. Your support gave me the courage to face your family again after…everything."
Morwen observed Tathren projecting her anxiety everywhere she turned. She could easily imagine her new sister's discomfort. Gwereneth and Amarthor didn't inspire warm feelings even in people they seemingly approved of. Until recently, if she had wanted comfort she would have chosen Gaeron. That greatly limited Tathren's list of sympathizers.
"We're your family now," Morwen assured her despite a glaring lack of evidence. "There's nothing to be afraid of…more or less."
Tathren looked a little skeptical. "Did you and I not share the same meal earlier?"
"Gaeron's news surprised Mother and Father, that's all. You'll learn that they need to be eased into new ideas, especially where it concerns Gaeron. He's the favorite."
Tathren sighed. "I can tell your mother already blames me for Gaeron's transfer to Pelargir."
"It wasn't your idea?" Morwen asked.
Tathren shook her head. "Gaeron decided it. We know this will be our eventual residence. But he thought it would help us if I felt more at home at the start of our marriage. He put in the request before the wedding without telling me. It was a gift."
Morwen blinked at that. Such a move on Gaeron's part surprised her. He'd never expressed any interest in the port before. But the gesture gave her hope for them too.
"And I know Gwereneth blames me for running off," Tathren continued. "I thought you all did until Gaeron related everything that you and Thengel had said to him. Why would any of you give me the benefit of the doubt?"
Morwen hooked her hair behind her ridiculous ears. "Do you think I've never been in a fight with my brother?"
Tathren stilled. "He told me about the argument he had with Thengel over your engagement."
"Then you know that I know that Gaeron can be the worst. We probably should have warned you. Sorry for that." Morwen shrugged. "In fairness, Gaeron can also be wonderful and thoughtful, like giving up his post in Arnach so that you could be closer to your family for now. Or the way he more or less adopted Thengel when he first arrived in Gondor without friends or family. Gaeron looks out for people, even if sometimes in a misguided fashion."
Morwen hadn't considered it before, but she supposed she and Gaeron shared that trait. They could be absolutely hair-raising when the spirit of good intentions took them. It just seemed to take Morwen more often.
"So I suppose that's why I didn't try to scare you off," Morwen finished. "He could be a good husband once the rough edges are smoothed out."
Tathren blinked owlish eyes at Morwen during this speech. "One might argue that you did the opposite of scaring me off. Why did you introduce us?" she asked. "You seemed to have some inspiration that evening. You and I didn't know each other and we sat nowhere near one another during the banquet until you suddenly appeared at my elbow with Aranel."
Morwen swallowed, remembering how she had enlisted the shy young woman's help. She could try to make it sound mysterious, but Thengel was right. The simple truth would be better in the long run, even if it made the present very uncomfortable.
"You're aesthetically pleasing together," she admitted.
Tathren blinked at her. "Pardon?"
"You brought to mind one of those classical couples." Morwen stopped herself from referring to them as ill-fated. "Like Imrazôr and Mithrellas or Tar-Míriel and Ar-Pharazôn. The ethereal princess and the powerful anti-hero." Morwen cupped her cheeks in her hands. "At least, I used to think so. I wanted to paint a tableau."
She still wanted to paint a tableau but she doubted she could get anyone to stand for it besides Thengel. Maybe she could attempt an Eorl the Middle-Aged if he would grow his hair out.
Tathren stared, looking like she'd bitten into wormwood. "That's not a…"
"Basis for marriage? So I've been told," Morwen cringed.
"Weren't those couples all unhappy?" Tathren asked.
"Imrazôr and Mithrellas were only allegedly unhappy," Morwen countered. "Because she…er…"
"Ran off?" Tathren finished for her with an ironic rise of her brow.
Morwen winced. "Allegedly."
"I'll also point out," Tathren continued, "that history considers Ar-Pharazôn a villain, not an anti-hero. It might not do well to fixate on him — or the poor woman he bullied into marrying him so he could usurp her throne."
"It's the contrast," Morwen explained weakly. "The virtuous and the vile…light and dark motifs."
Tathren sank onto a couch, rubbing her forehead again. "Oh, Morwen. You should come with a warning." She looked adrift. "I hoped you had a better reason, something more…"
"Fated?" Morwen supplied, feeling thoroughly foolish and guilty. "I'm sorry. It's not as though the stars had aligned. I just saw you two near one another and it felt right. It looked right. I couldn't stop myself." She allowed herself a shrug. "Thengel calls it my evil genius."
"Is he familiar with it personally?" Tathren muttered in an acerbic tone.
Morwen hunched back in her chair. "I tried to marry him off to your cousin Húnil because I thought he didn't love me."
Tathren's face went slack. Morwen leaned forward in case her sister needed to faint. She jumped up when Tathren doubled over her knees, face buried in her hands as if to be sick. Morwen rushed to her side.
So it confused Morwen when Gaeron's wife began to laugh.
