A Consolation of Princes, Part II: A Revolt of Kings
Chapter 4: A Foray of Friends

Morwen knocked on Thengel's door after parting ways with Tathren. She felt it had turned into an evening in which to resolve things and she didn't like the way supper had gone. When he didn't answer, Morwen thought maybe he had retired to bed. So she tried Gaeron's door. Tathren answered.

"He isn't here," Tathren told Morwen after she inquired. "I haven't seen him."

A startling thought occurred to Morwen. "Do you think they might be together?"

"Voluntarily?" Tathren frowned and glanced down the hallway toward the stairs. "Possibly but…" She winced. "Could Gaeron be in the library?"

"He only goes in there when Father calls for him and it's well past Father's bedtime." Morwen followed the line of Tathren's gaze with the same sinking feeling. "How much of Gaeron's apologies did you write?" she asked.

"You won't like the answer," Tathren replied.

"Should we look for them?"

Tathren's brow furrowed. "Our interference won't help if they are together."

Morwen didn't like that answer either. Interferer was her epessë — or it would be if anyone would give her one. But she decided to be guided by Tathren and put her busybody ways behind her for good now that she had seen the result. Twenty years and one had to be as good an age as any to turn over a new leaf.

Back in her bedroom, Morwen opened the window to let the cool night air in. She heard voices coming from the rose garden below. She slipped to the side to avoid being seen while she listened. It sounded like Gaeron and Thengel. Gaeron for certain. His voice tended to travel. She couldn't make out what they were saying. It didn't sound like an argument, but then, Thengel had a habit of getting quieter rather than louder when he felt angry, so she couldn't be certain.

The better spirits of Morwen's nature vied with her lesser ones to keep her new resolution to stay out of other people's business. It gave her a stomach ache. So she wished her better spirits good night and crept downstairs. Her parents had gone to their beds and the servants were busy elsewhere, so no one hindered her way down the passage toward her escape window that opened out into the rose garden. The chest that she had moved out of the way earlier remained where she'd pushed it, so nothing stood in her way. She carefully unlatched the pane, but it creaked on its hinges as she budged it open slightly. Then she crouched on the floor beneath it to listen.

"What was that?" Gaeron asked.

"Another window," Thengel answered. "Your family are returning to their bedrooms. Morwen opened hers a moment ago."

Morwen's brow rose, realizing Thengel must think she had remained up in her room after opening the window. She congratulated herself for accidentally creating a clever ruse. She settled in contentedly and wished only for Sadril to bring her a cushion like the last time she had eavesdropped.

She heard Gaeron exhale roughly. "We should go in before we're missed."

"We need to resolve this so your sister isn't forced to play peaceweaver again. It isn't fair to her and, frankly, she has enough to worry about."

"You mean because of your father?" Gaeron asked in a tone that made her wince. "Don't pin that on me."

Morwen heard only crickets for some time.

Then she heard Thengel say in a slow, measured voice, "Regardless of Fengel, you and I can take responsibility for our behavior."

Then Gaeron asked, "This delay…it's not your way of backing out?"

Morwen covered her mouth to keep her thoughts inside of her head. She could only imagine the expression on Thengel's face. It would be a long night on the floor if Thengel insisted on a resolution and Gaeron insisted on keeping to past rhetoric.

"I'm promised to Morwen whether Fengel acknowledges us or not."

"So you're knowingly subjecting a sweet girl like that to the king's insults?" Gaeron continued, "How is that a sign that you have her best interest at heart?"

Morwen's nose wrinkled. Sweet? She began to feel offended and not just for Thengel's sake.

"Perhaps you'd like to go upstairs and offer an alternative to your sister," he answered.

Gaeron snorted. "No, thank you. I prefer not to have my eyes scratched out — or worse, encourage Mora to make a grand gesture like she threatened to do last time."

"Then let's stop treading the same ground we covered in my house," Thengel said wearily. "I wish to resolve this."

"For Morwen's sake?"

"I miss my friend, Gaeron," Thengel corrected. "But yes, Morwen's caught in the middle and that's not fair to her."

Gaeron didn't say more for some time. Morwen could hear his or Thengel's footsteps disturbing the gravel on the path. She assumed Gaeron.

"Look," her brother said eventually. "It's clear my parents don't share my opinion, so it's useless to go on this way. I'll acknowledge that, at least." More crunching of gravel. "And I'm sorry for taking that crack at you during supper. I'm not used to being the family disappointment and I spoke out of turn."

"Hm!" Morwen slapped her hand over her mouth again before another involuntary sound could escape. She would be happy to give Gaeron some tips on how to cope.

"From one disappointing heir to another, I can recommend a change of scenery."

Gaeron snorted.

"You really mean to transfer to Pelargir?" Thengel asked.

"It's done. I had heard about a vacancy," he answered dryly. "Did you tell Morwen that you're retiring?"

"Arnach is not the same as retirement." Then Thengel added, "I haven't put the request to Ecthelion yet."

"But you will."

"Morwen wishes to stay in Lossarnach."

Gaeron laughed darkly. "It's something to know that for Morwen's sake, you'll give up chasing corsairs and the protection of the delta to throw inebriated fishermen into the drunk tank and rescue Lady Beriel's little doggies from the bluffs."

"I won't have to if you let a pirate ship or two slip by for me."

Gaeron made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh but it wasn't a scoff either. "Still. Will Ecthelion let his star lieutenant disappear to a third-rate market town where the worst thing that ever happens is a naturalist gets stuck in the marshes?"

"Ecthelion commands me wherever he wills regardless of where I'm stationed. I'm already tardy joining him in Ithilien."

Silence. The pacing had stopped as well.

"Enjoy your time with Tathren with what's left of your leave," Thengel advised, seemingly apropos of nothing.

"Right," Gaeron answered eventually. "Of course."

She heard the sound of gravel crunching under their boots. Knowing they would have to either cut around to the kitchen or else come in by the front door, she stayed put until she couldn't hear their steps anymore. Then she would have a moment or two to bolt upstairs without getting caught. She needed to unpack the turn in the conversation around Arnach. Had she made an unfair demand that would squander Thengel's prowess and lead to his boredom? She hadn't thought so — not when she had agreed to give the rest of her life to the Mark.

The sound of the window overhead swinging wider on its hinges startled her out of her concerns. She heard Thengel clear his throat. Morwen glanced up and squinted at him while he leaned over the sill.

"Hello," she said.

"What are you doing down there?" he asked, sounding like a man who knew perfectly well but wanted her to sweat it out a little.

"Inspecting the mortar?" She patted the cool flagstone.

"Hm."

"Have you been enjoying a late-night stroll?"

"Mora, we know you were eavesdropping," she heard Gaeron grumble as the sound of his footsteps along the gravel path grew louder and then began to fade as he passed Thengel.

Morwen blew out a breath and then got up from the floor. When she stood level with Thengel at the window, she said, "Can you blame me for wanting to be on hand in case you kill each other?"

"No." Thengel observed, "You look alive and well, by the way."

"No thanks to your gallantry for that," she replied, turning slightly so he got her cheek instead of her mouth when he bent to kiss her. She leaned on the sill. "Lucky for me, Tathren wasn't in a murderous mood."

Thengel gripped the sill near the place where her arms rested. "I've put my gallantry to better use this evening, don't you think?"

"Is gallantry the word for having a prolonged argument? You said you weren't ready," she reminded him.

Thengel glanced down the path that ended in evening gloom. "It was a mistake to avoid Gaeron in Minas Tirith," he admitted. "But now at least there won't be a repeat of the evening meal and, I hope, an end of you having to keep the peace."

She laid her hand over his. "I don't mind…"

"I do," he said firmly. "There's enough of that going on in my family already."

Morwen thought he probably meant his sisters, Thedware and Theberga, since his mother had passed away already and no one could accuse Fengel of keeping the peace.

The front door opened. They paused to listen. It closed, followed by the sound of Gaeron's boots scuffing the floor. When the ancient stairs began to creak under his weight as he climbed to the upper floor, Morwen turned back to Thengel.

"Does it feel patched up for real this time?" she asked.

Thengel took his time considering. "As much as it ever will be, I think."

"Are you going to bed?"

Thengel shook his head. "Not yet. I need to clear my head."

"I could join you in the garden. Possibly your head won't feel any clearer but I am good company." She shooed him away from the window before hoisting herself up again. "You're going to have to pull me out. I've got boots on this time so there won't be room to swing my legs over."

"Is this a record? Sneaking out twice in one day?" he asked.

Morwen made an affronted sound. "Stars, no. At the height of my education, I'd been known to sneak out a dozen times before breakfast."

Thengel wrapped his arms around her waist. "Would you say your sneaking days are behind you?" He pulled her out and steadied her on her feet. "You know, now that it seems to be a two-person job?"

She patted his shoulder. "I just need a larger window."

Thengel sighed.

…

Morwen met Thengel in the passage the next morning after having breakfast in her room. She had given him a tour of the rose beds the night before, which he had pretended to enjoy in the dark. When they'd had enough, she had disappeared into her father's library and stayed up half the night. She carried the result now, intent on presenting it as soon as possible to the correct parties.

"Good morning. Do you remember which rose my mother named for my father's favorite aunt?"

"What's that paper under your arm?" he deflected, pointing to the large scroll that she held.

"My part of our bargain," Morwen told him. "And you can help me by getting Gaeron out of the house this morning. I want Tathren all to myself."

Thengel grimaced. "You don't wait for the dust to settle, do you?"

"You're an expert at coping with dust by now." She touched his arm. "You're not in any danger either."

Thengel looked mutinous.

Morwen stepped up to him so that their bodies brushed together as she gripped his forearms. She looked up at him, breathing deeply so that her breasts swelled against his chest. "Please?"

Thengel's lips formed a thin line.

"Oh, very well," she relented as she edged past him toward the staircase.

After she'd descended a step or two, she heard him call after her, "Fine. But don't imagine this sort of behavior will work on me in future."

Morwen turned on the stairs and gave him a brilliant smile. "I don't know what you mean."

"Scatha's teeth," she heard him mutter as she turned away. Then his footfalls retreated toward the bedrooms.

…

Morwen pounced on Tathren, who still reeled from the knowledge that Thengel and Gaeron were willingly spending the morning in each other's company. It didn't look as though Gaeron had caught her up yet on the new truce.

After Gaeron and Thengel left, Tathren and Morwen remained in the hall so that Morwen could use the large table. She unrolled a wide piece of paper, using her hands to keep the edges from scrolling back together. Then she closed her eyes and shoved the paper across the table to Tathren. She'd spent half the night and a good portion of the morning working on the rendering so she could get her sister-in-law's opinion. The linework itself had turned out beautifully. But Morwen felt uncertain that the image would translate to a proper pattern.

Morwen grabbed candlesticks to weigh down the rendering's edges so she could let them go. A bit of jam from her toast had smeared over one end, which she only belatedly discovered. She tried wiping it off with her finger while Tathren examined the rendering.

"It's a child's toy, isn't it?" Tathren asked.

Morwen nodded while she licked her finger. "I had Gaeron's hand-me-down as a girl. Did you ever play with them?"

Tathren shook her head. "I had sailboats and blank ledgers." She looked puzzled as she studied the drawing. "Thengel wants to give you toys as a wedding present?"

"No. He wants to give me real horses, but Fengel won't send them." Morwen explained, "It's like the final ceremonial touch on the wedding. I thought if I could get enough of these made then it could stand in as a symbol. It's the best I can think of to help Thengel honor his traditions."

"You need them to be free-standing?"

Morwen nodded. "I haven't figured out where they'll go, but that's the idea. Think of them like a temporary sculpture garden."

Tathren bit her lip while she considered. "This will take some time," she reflected. "And we don't know how much of that you have until your charts have been drawn."

"Mother hates loose ends. She paid the chartrix to send her a preview without the full transit maps so that she could begin preparations. We might have as little as five months."

"Only five!"

Morwen tucked her hair behind her ears. "That might be the earliest date. Mother wants to get it over with because Thengel and I might not have been very discrete..."

Tathren's fine brow rose. "Which time? At the reception where you were glued together? Or that time you were alone with him at his house? Or when you paraded through six circles of the White City and then disappeared into the fields for hours?" she asked.

"Um…" Morwen studied the rafters. "People know that we were alone together at his home?"

Tathren gave her a look of pity. "You were hanging out the window when Gaeron went shouting after me from Thengel's front gate."

"Oh." She blew out a breath. "Well. As you can see, there's no point in delaying."

Although, with the missing elements that Thengel needed for the negotiation, Morwen didn't know when they'd be able to set a wedding date firmly. If the negotiation failed to happen soon, the wedding might get pushed out another twelve to eighteen months.

"Five months is nothing at all to plan a wedding," Tathren reflected a bit breathlessly.

"You and Gaeron accomplished it in nine," Morwen pointed out.

Tathren glanced down. "That time would have been better spent still getting to know one another instead of focusing on a wedding," she reflected. Then she looked up and gave Morwen a slight smile. "Don't look so worried. It'll come good in the end. And at any rate, you and Thengel don't share our…challenge…of knowing too little of one another. Who knows. Five months might be plenty of time to prepare for the event."

"If King Fengel doesn't reform, we may have more time than we want," Morwen grumbled.

"What of the supplies?" Tathren asked, waving her hand over the drawing.

"Well. Once I beat Father at House of Fortune, I can buy us the rods," Morwen said. "If you think it's possible to complete a project of this scale, then I'll ask Mother for help. She has all that terrible fabric from Minas Tirith that we can use."

Morwen fished a stack of fabric squares from her pocket. She'd gone through the bolts in the shed and taken pieces of the likeliest colors. She laid them out on either side of the paper for Tathren to inspect.

Tathren laughed. "It's possibly the ugliest fabric I've ever seen, but a few of these samples could mimic a horse's coat. I suppose it would be simple enough to get thin rods made." She bit her lip. "You may even be able to gather new poles from the coppice. Gaeron can help us strip them."

Morwen hadn't considered that. "Yes, perfect."

"We'll have to consider the construction so the rods don't pop through the fabric while they stand in the ground," Tathren mused. "And there's plenty of fresh straw this time of year. But…"

"But?"

Tathren looked her in the eye. "The three of us, assuming your mother will help, will never sew enough of them in time." Her fingers brushed the image. "Gaeron can sew as all soldiers can, but only for quick patches and darning. He's not nimble or especially neat."

"That's where Mother's expertise comes in," said Morwen. "She'll be on recruitment detail."

The sound of the bells announcing someone at the door echoed down the passage into the hall. Morwen folded her arms. "We've got a valley full of women in need of something to do besides stare at me all the time. What do you think?"

Tathren slowly nodded her head as she studied the drawing some more. "That may work." She looked up. "And I know a few more women who could help from a distance. First, we need a workable pattern. I can help you draft that."

A little doubt struck Morwen. "Are you sure I'm not running you over with my…um…enthusiasm?"

"You mean a second time?" Tathren smiled ruefully at her. "Yes, I'm sure. It will be nice to have something else to think of besides your parents' upset over Gaeron's new post."

Morwen began to roll up the plans again as a servant ushered their first visitor into the hall. To Morwen's surprise, Nenniel appeared in the doorway by herself.

"Your mother stepped out to take a walk with my mother," Nenniel explained. "To complain about Gaeron's new post in private." She smiled blandly at Tathren. "You must be Morwen's sister-in-law…"

Morwen introduced her neighbor to Tathren and then rang a bell for refreshments to be brought.

"I've brought you both a gift," Nenniel announced as they were seated once more on the cushioned benches.

Tathren looked confused. Morwen figured she didn't understand the gossip circuit in the valley. News traveled faster than a goat running toward breakfast. Most of the field hands and the entire village had seen Tathren ride home with Gaeron. So Nenniel would have heard of it the day before, plenty of time to include Gaeron's wife in the gift.

Nenniel produced two linen pouches, giving one each to Morwen and Tathren.

Morwen untied the strings and peeked inside. It contained a roughly ground powder and crushed dried herbs. "What is this?"

Nenniel sat back looking pleased with herself. "I've been up in the hollow, learning how to guarantee male offspring." For Tathren's benefit, she added, "My Intended is a successful foundryman. He's going to need sons."

Up in the hollow. It was a phrase in Imloth Melui. People would refer to an old wive's tale the way someone in Imloth Melui would say up in the hollow. The valley boasted an embarrassment of herbs and flowers and the grandmothers had a system of physic entirely their own based on herb lore. If a grandmother ever rhymed anything, it likely recalled a recipe for a potion. The valley even boasted of a famous brew known throughout the kingdom.

Some said that a nostrum called cyrilphen first appeared in Imloth Melui having been brewed by a grandmother. Only, a man got ahold of the recipe and added some other ingredients not native to the valley, then claimed it could purge any illness devised by Men, Elves, Dwarves and even the foul nature of beasts or the craft of Orcs. Since viper might be one of the ingredients, he became known as the first snake oil tradesman. Gwereneth called it Fool's Treacle. Perhaps the original recipe now lost to time had produced some benefit, but no one would find a bottle of the current iteration in Gwereneth's medicine chest.

But this didn't look like cyrilphen. Morwen pinched out some of the powder while a servant laid out the refreshments for them.

"Since I made a batch for myself, I thought I'd share some with you. It's easy to scale up," Nenniel explained cheerfully. "You'll need sons too — especially Morwen."

Morwen squinted up at Nenniel. "Who gave you the recipe?"

Tathren squinted down at the powder. "What's in it?"

"Well…" Nenniel helped herself to a cake. "Mam Dommethiel said that the prime ingredient to ensure sons comes from hares eggs."

"Hares eggs?" Tathren parroted.

Nenniel nodded. "Mam Dommethiel keeps vast hutches so she always has a supply. The eggs are dried and ground up with some herbs." She ticked off the herbs on her fingers. "Mix the powder into a glass of wine and then drink it every night." She waggled her eyebrows. "Before bed."

"It would be harder to drink after going to bed," Morwen mused with more than a share of her mother's vinegar. She understood the intent of the timing, but the whole thing seemed far-fetched. And she had better uses for her morning than being reminded of her dynastic duties.

Morwen glanced at her sister-in-law. Tathren's expression wrinkled a little. Morwen wondered if she was trying to find any reference she could remember to hares laying eggs. Likely such a thing hadn't come up during her upbringing in a port city. She would have to set Tathren straight on country euphemisms later…hopefully before Tathren used the sachet.

Morwen cinched her pouch closed and made a tight knot. "Thank you, Nenniel. That's kind of you."

Nenniel leaned across the table to pat Morwen's knee. "When I learned that kings could send their wives back to their families for not having sons, I just had to help. Wouldn't it be awful if you were the first queen of Rohan to be sent home for that?" She smiled sympathetically. "You'd have to come back to live with Gaeron in disgrace."

Morwen felt her cheeks burn.

Tathren stood up. "Why don't we catch up to Lady Gwereneth and your mother, Nenniel. I haven't had a chance to see the valley yet. Could you show the way?"

Nenniel shrugged. She had begun to serve herself tea, but seemed just as happy to spread venom in the open air as inside the hall. "Morwen could show you the way just as easily, but as your neighbor, I'm at your service."

Morwen rose when Nenniel did, but Tathren gripped her arm as if she meant to push her back onto the seat.

"Morwen has the wedding to prepare for. You know how it is. Brides never get to relax." Tathren turned to Morwen and handed over the pouch. "You know where to put this." Tathren whispered in Morwen's ear, "Ten to one it's poison."

Morwen watched Tathren thread her arm through Nenniel's and march out of the hall.

…

Morwen locked herself in her mother's sitting room after that, instructing the servants that no one should disturb her and that any new visitors should be shown the way toward her mother's favorite footpath.

Tathren assisted Morwen after they returned from their walk by joining Gwereneth for that morning's round of visitors, who seemed just as happy to gawp at Gaeron's new runaway bride as Thengel's future queen. After all, Tathren's unexpected behavior had enlivened many a family table with fresh gossip.

It took some time, but Morwen managed to draft a workable pattern based on her original rendering. When Tathren could join her again, they basted together a rough prototype from muslin, which revealed a few issues with the pattern. Tathren made some minor adjustments.

By the time they heard the bell for supper, Morwen felt they had put together a satisfying result. Now she only had to convince her mother.

The new project so greatly occupied Morwen's mind that she had barely registered the fact that Thengel and Gaeron had returned from beating the bounds of Amarthor's estate until Thengel knocked on the door of the sitting room. Morwen jumped up to throw a blanket over the project at the sound of an intruder and instantly regretted it when the sudden movement pinched her neck muscles painfully. She'd been sitting in one place bending over her drawing materials or sewing basket for far too long. Morwen massaged the back of her neck as Thengel let himself in.

The hair framing his forehead looked damp as if he had just washed up. It surprised her to see that his bottom lip looked split and that he sported an interesting scuff on his cheek. She had wanted to find out how he prospered with Gaeron on their outing. However, she didn't feel very sanguine about it now. Before she could ask about his injuries, he gave the blanket a suspicious frown.

"What are you hiding?" Thengel asked as he joined her at the table.

Morwen held up a finger. "Not hiding…maintaining a surprise," she corrected. "It's less sinister."

"Then you got the help you wanted from Tathren?"

Morwen nodded. "Yes, thank you for keeping Gaeron away for so long. But what happened to your face?" She reached up but didn't touch the wounds.

Thengel sucked in his bottom lip where the skin had split. "Let's say where words failed, eh, we found other means to settle our differences. Not unlike my ancestor, Helm."

Morwen stared at him, feeling horrified. "Gaeron raised his fists against you?"

"Not exactly," Thengel assured her. "I ran into his elbow."

"How?" She folded her arms. "No, don't tell me. Did it involve a window?"

"No. It's escalated to the entire side of a structure."

Morwen slumped against the table, pressing her fingers into her eyes. "Who pushed who?"

"Let's say we both did and call it even," he recommended.

"Grown men." She shook her head. "Why can't you attempt to poison one another like civilized people instead of resorting to fists?"

Thengel looked confused. "Pardon?" Then he seemed to understand. "Morwen, we weren't fighting. I helped Gaeron repair the deer blind he keeps up in the woods near your family's hunting lodge. But the platform had rotted more than we realized on one side. It gave way and we both had a tumble."

"Honestly?" she asked, eyeing him with suspicion.

"Have you known me to be a liar? In happy news, the blind will be perfectly sound come autumn. Now." Then Thengel asked, "What's this about poison?"

Morwen gave him a wry smile. "I received a suspicious gift today from Nenniel."

Thengel's expression clouded. "The neighbor girl you used to play with even though she liked to bully you?"

"Yes, that one."

"I never understood why you tolerated her," he said.

Morwen waved her hand. "I wasn't spoiled for choice, Thengel. She claimed to bring me a fertility potion so you won't send me back to live here if I don't give you any sons."

Thengel pursed his lips and then winced. He touched his lip. "As if I ever would," he protested. "If she's willing to spread poison like that, then I shudder to think what the potion's made of."

"I'll give you a hint. There's a poor hare scampering around the valley singing in a very high key."

Thengel chuckled darkly. "I hope you threw the stuff out."

"Oh no. Tathren received a pouch too. We're going to bake it all into a pie and send it home with Nathal the next time they visit Mother." She grinned when Thengel laughed in earnest. Then she gestured to the table again. "All this to say, your sacrifice wasn't in vain this morning. But I don't think Nenniel will be much help with this." She patted the blanket.

"It hardly sounds like a loss," Thengel reflected. "On a different note, Morwen…" He handed her a letter. "This arrived today."

Morwen looked at the seal before accepting the letter. "From the Steward?"

Thengel nodded. "It's a summons. I have to return to Minas Tirith tomorrow."

Morwen's heart sank as she read the brief note. "But you've only been here two days and he doesn't bother to say what's so pressing."

"I know," he sighed. "It's for the best, Morwen. I can't work on a path forward from Lossarnach. I'll see what Turgon wants and then I'll figure out what to do next to make the negotiations happen."

Morwen folded the letter and handed it back. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "I had hoped you'd stay long enough to become really friendly again with Gaeron — without having to fall off of platforms."

"We're getting there, Morwen," he promised with a rueful smile. "For now, let's attend to our own business and what we can accomplish to make this wedding happen."

…

Thengel departed early the next morning. Morwen had gotten Gwereneth to herself the night before to discuss the morning gift project. Her mother only needed to hear that it would eat up significant quantities of the horrible surplus fabric to agree to whatever Morwen wanted. So by the time Thengel and Baranroch could no longer be seen on the road, Gwereneth already had a plan in place to strong-arm the day's visitors into becoming useful components in the first royal wedding in Gondor since Eärnil II — if one didn't count the princes in Dol Amroth. Amarthor did, but Gwereneth didn't. Ear scratching ensued.

News of Morwen's need spread through the valley with recruits joining daily who didn't need to be strong-armed. No one wanted to be left out as an integral hand in years to come when the story of the Lossarnach girl who went on to become a queen was related to a new generation.

Except for Nenniel. She had her own wedding to plan.

Morwen set to work attacking the ugly surplus fabric from the clothmonger during the first week of Thengel's absence. Gwereneth helped her cut it out while Tathren reproduced the pattern to be sent along with fabric in kits to Renneth in Pelargir and some of her friends there. Morwen felt a little uneasy about the amount of fabric Tathren insisted on sending to her mother, feeling that might be asking too much. But her concern fell on deaf ears.

After that, nothing remained but to sew and await Thengel's return.