Shadows. Whispers. The dream encroached upon Haleth's sleeping mind. The images rolled over each other; the bright glint of a sword aimed at her side, screams of terror from the city, the ground trembling and a wall of water overshadowing the world.

Haleth shot bolt upright, a strangled cry in her throat.

The fire had faded to embers. Inglor sat with his back to her, humming softly.  At one time he would have tried to comfort her, but months of Haleth tersely rebuffing his concern had taught him to leave her alone.

She looked at the stars, tendrils of sandy hair hanging in her eyes, and was unpleasantly surprised to find it far later than she had expected.
 
"I'll take the next watch," she said, getting to her feet and approaching the dim, red circle of firelight. "Did you notice anything unusual?"

"Nothing," Inglor said, stretching out on the grass with his cloak around him. "I bid you good night."

He seemed to fall asleep immediately, his breathing even and shallow.

Haleth made a quick circuit of the camp, then stationed herself across the fire from the sleeping elf and carefully rebuilt the blaze.

Her eyes were continually drawn back to Inglor's somnolent form. Unwanted, erotic images rose in her mind and she quashed them.

She silently repeated all of the old lore, from the old histories down to basic arithmetic to distract herself. But the instant her concentration wavered, her thoughts strayed and she would find herself staring at Inglor.

Haleth tried chewing her knuckles whenever she caught herself daydreaming. Soon there were fine teeth marks across the backs of her hands. Finally she stood up and walked the circuit of the camp.

The fresh night air forced her to greater awareness of her surroundings. Much to her own chagrin, it was not exactly what she wanted at that particular moment.

Finally she deliberately sat with her back to both the elf and the fire.

Nothing but her own fevered, half-suppressed, guilty thoughts disturbed the night.

"You should have awakened me sooner," a voice said behind her. Haleth jumped with the energy of the guilty.

"I lost track of time," she grumbled.

Inglor looked at her sharply. "You must have a great deal on your mind," he said.

A wordless grunt was the only answer.

"How do human men and women decide on their partners?"

The question came in the middle of a glorious May morning. They were a day's travel out of Bree and had finally encountered some signs of civilisation. A path led off the road to a spring and they had stopped to refill their water skins and refresh themselves.

Haleth spat out the mouthful of water she had been about to swallow.

Inglor did have the most glorious sense of timing.

"Are you well?" he asked, mildly concerned.

"I'm fine," she spluttered. "I just wasn't expecting the question."

"This subject does seem difficult for you," he observed. "Is it something you do not normally discuss?"

'Not in completely dry terms with the object of one's affection,' Haleth thought desperately.

"It's fine, Inglor," she tried her best to sound like a calm professional for a profession that did not yet exist. "It's just so complicated that it's difficult to know where to start.

She sighed and made the attempt to explain one of the least understandable aspects of human behavior to an Elf.

"The nobility often arrange their children's marriages to make allegiances. Or in order to seize power," she began.

"Some feel it's necessary when leaders don't live forever," she added when she saw his confusion. He was very endearing when he was baffled. Drat.

"Great merchant houses can also arrange marriages to build trade alliances," she continued, looking ahead and choosing her words carefully while leashing her random thoughts.

"Common people can marry for the same reasons, on a different scale, of course. Or people can marry because it seems like the only thing to do. Or because they are forced to do so."

"Does anyone marry because they love each other?" Inglor interrupted.

Haleth was genuinely taken aback by the question, as though the option had never occurred to her.

"Well, I imagine they do," she gave him a sad, half-smile. "And occasionally it even works in the long run."

"Occasionally?"

"Only occasionally," she said. "Although sometimes people with arranged marriages grow to love each other over the years."

"Sometimes people start out loving each other too much," she continued. "They lose sight of other things and make each other and everyone else miserable."

"Humans certainly make love complicated," Inglor said.

"Oh, yes," Haleth agreed.

"Were you ever married?"

"Me?" she was genuinely surprised. "No. As far as I know, no one ever asked my father for my hand. If anyone did, I never heard of it."

"Why not?"

"I think I might have frightened them," Haleth laughed ruefully. "Like everyone else in my family, I've never been afraid of expressing my opinions."

"Besides," she added. "I was a bit young when my father could still arrange that sort of thing. And then it was just too late."

"Did you ever love anyone, Haleth?"

The innocent, curious question hit her like a body-blow. Her face froze to hide her emotions.

"My family, my friends. But in the way you mean, I don't know," she finally said, deliberately avoiding his eyes.

"How do elves fall in love?" she asked to change the subject.

It was Inglor's turn to consider his response.

"They see each other and they know," he finally answered.

"Love at first sight?" Haleth asked, incredulous. "All elves fall in love at first sight and stay in love forever?"

"Not all," Inglor answered softly. "Remember Aredhel and Eöl."

They walked together silently, the unspoken question accompanying them..

"And I imagine it's usually a huge mess if love is not returned," Haleth said at last. "Elves and humans have that in common, at least."

"But love can be beautiful when it is returned," Inglor said suddenly. Haleth's heart literally skipped a beat and jumped, pounding, into her throat. It was immediately followed by the mental image of her fist firmly slamming it back into place.  She silently ordered it to stop being stupid.

"Like it did with Beren and Luthien," Inglor added.

"Isn't that palantir getting heavy?" Haleth asked, deliberately changing the subject.

"No, not at all," he answered.

"How do they work?" she asked.

"No one but their maker, Fëanor, knows for certain," Inglor began. "But the theory is..."

Haleth let him drone on without hearing a single word he said.