Summer was fading to autumn when Inglor and Haleth finally reached the Lonely Mountain.

Inglor had gone alone to speak to Thorin, son of Nain, King Under Mountain, leaving Haleth to explore the town. The Bardings, with the help of the dwarves, had rebuilt Dale into a vibrant place since Bard the Archer had slain Smaug so many years ago. His great grandson, Bard II, now ruled in Dale, his father having been slain beside Dain Ironfoot at the front gates of the Mountain during the War of the Ring.

Dale itself had also suffered in that battle, but most of the damage had since been put right. The bells rang merrily on the hour and the streets and markets were busy with people buying, selling and going about their daily business.

Behind all the hustle and bustle Haleth could see the scars of the recent war. Some of the houses stood empty, forsaken by families who likely could no longer afford to keep them. There were few young men in evidence.

Women had stepped in to do some of the trades usually exclusive to men. Haleth found a woman toy-maker who ran her own shop, apparently alone.

The toys were among the most extraordinary she had ever seen. There were toy soldiers who marched to war in ordered ranks when they were wound with a key. There were tops, jacks-in-the-box, whirly-gigs and mechanical gee gawks of every possible description. If the proprietress had not given Haleth several significant looks, she would likely have played with them all.

She eventually bought a wind-up bird that could actually fly a short distance. It was a completely frivolous purchase as it was very doubtful that the delicate construct would survive Haleth's pack, despite the sturdy box in which the toy-maker packed it.

Haleth also purchased two small boxes of red candles which were labelled fire crackers. The toy-maker had brought her into the street to demonstrate these while excited boys teemed around them. When the wick, which the toy-maker insisted on calling a fuse, was lit, it burned with a loud sizzle for several moments before exploding into a shower of yellow sparks. Haleth's agile mind had immediately grasped the potential usefulness of these things and she could not leave the shop without some.

Now she ambled down the street, watching the people and looking at the merchandise in the shops and stalls. The streets were filled with people of all ages, from the newest of infants to bent, grey-haired elderly folk. Children raced up and down, intent upon their own games while their parents ran their businesses or did their marketing. The variety in ages and appearances, the boisterous shouts and haggling from the market stalls made it an altogether human experience. She stood in the centre of the marketplace with a lopsided grin on her face, drinking it all in.  Haleth had not realized how much she had missed human society.

By noontime her stomach began to growl. She resolved to find a place to eat by using one of the oldest methods known to tourists; she watched where the locals ate.

A rather large crowd of them was gathered around one small shop. An intoxicating aroma drifted out of the shop's open door. Haleth joined the throng. Fragments of conversations swirled around her. Most of it concerned the daily life of the Bardings; who was in business, who was in trouble. She half listened for anything that might be of use later and quickly discovered that Inglor's arrival had not gone unnoticed. This was potentially bad news under the best of circumstances. In a city that had lost a fair percentage of its young men it was disastrous. Haleth would have to insist Inglor stayed in his room at the inn or at least to keep out of the Common Room in order to avoid the type of trouble they had experienced in Bree.

There also seemed to be a stir about a new beverage. It had just arrived in Dale and everyone wanted it. In fact, it almost seemed impossible for people to get through a day without it. Luckily enough, Haleth was in the line for it, whatever it was. She would find out soon enough. The locals seemed to be suspicious of the owner and his family, though. She dismissed this as the natural doubts any tightly knit community had about newcomers.

Eventually she found herself in a seat on a long, narrow bar. She quickly scanned what the other patrons were eating.

To her dismay, no one was eating at all. They all seemed to be drinking a steaming, aromatic beverage. Disappointed, Haleth was about to leave when a server asked her for her order. Haleth looked around and said "I'll have what they're having."

The server, a blank-eyed young woman, hurried off and almost immediately returned with hot mug of brown liquid. Haleth sniffed it suspiciously. This was the source of the wonderful aroma. She cautiously took a sip and the hot liquid scalded her tongue. She put the mug down on the bar and looked around her, half intending to leave it there. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying it, so she gave it another try. She blew gently on the liquid before sipping it again. It was not as bad as she had originally thought.

Before she knew it, she had emptied the cup.

Feeling oddly invigorated, she left a few copper pieces on the bar and continued her explorations of Dale.

~*~

The shadows had grown long when Haleth returned to the Inn.  She had not seen Inglor since that morning when he had departed for Erebor and she had gone to the market.  He might chose to remain a guest of the dwarves that night. In a way it was easier for Haleth’s nerves than having him in Dale.  She doubted dwarf women would be drawn to Inglor as human women were. 

She might have less reason to be jealous, but it was very difficult to be left out of the negotiations for the palantir.   On the off chance he had returned to the Inn before her, Haleth knocked on Inglor’s door.

"Who is it?" came the suspicious reply.

"It's Haleth," she said, slightly annoyed that he felt the need to ask. At the sound of her voice he immediately opened the door.

"Who else would it be?" she asked as she stepped into the narrow room.  The red light of the setting sun blazed through the small, glazed window.  Haleth seated herself on the edge of his bed and blinked, dazzled by the brightness after the comparatively dim light of the hallway.

"I thought I was followed," he explained, glancing suspiciously glance up the hallway before closing the door.

"Inglor this town is filled with unmarried young women with no prospects of finding a husband. I'm positive you were followed," Haleth sighed.

"That is not what I meant." Haleth blinked, surprised to learn that Inglor did notice that people, particularly women, found him fascinating. She briefly wondered what else he noticed, flushed with embarrassment.

"Did the King Under Mountain receive you kindly?" she asked to change the subject, hoping the ruddy light of the sunset masked her blush.

"Yes," replied Inglor, sitting down beside her. "Thorin was most anxious to be rid of the palantir. He claimed it was causing some sort of distraction among his people."

"What sort of distraction?" asked Haleth, remembering a similar conversation at the western gate of Moria.

“He would not elaborate beyond complaining about badly delayed work schedules although he did occasionally say that he could not really blame the lads.”  There was a tiny furrow in the centre of Inglor’s perfect brow.  It always appeared when the Elf was confounded by mortal behavior.

"Oh," said Haleth blandly. She had a nasty suspicion about the nature of the distraction.

"He was most anxious for me to take the palantir away," said Inglor.  He turned away from her and rummaged through his pack, which was resting near the head of his bed.

"See?" He pulled the twinkling ball out of his pack for Haleth’s inspection. "The King said he was going to send it to King Elessar as soon as the next party of his people departed for Aglarond. But that would not be until the spring."

"I'll bet," Haleth said sourly. Leave it to the dwarves. She was quite certain that the mighty hand of Fëanor had not wrought the palantiri in the depths of time to watch dwarf erotica. She could not understand that level of frustration. Then she looked at Inglor and found a spark of sympathy.

"He simply gave it to me when I told him that I intended to take it to Minas Tirith," Inglor said. Why did his voice have to be so musical?

There was another knock on the door. Leaving the palantir on the bed, Inglor sprang to his feet to answer it. He held the door almost closed so that Haleth could not see the visitor.

Under normal circumstances, Haleth would have found a way to see who it was.  But being in close proximity to a palantir hardly counted as normal circumstances.  Inglor’s back was to her.  Although he had never expressly forbade her from looking into the palantir during their journey through the Cold Waste, he had been careful to keep it away from her.  Haleth knew this might be her only opportunity to look into a seeing stone.  All of history lay within her reach. 

Deliberately turning to shield her indiscretion from Inglor, Haleth leaned over the palantir and gazed into its twinkling depths. What should she order it to show her?  There were so many possibilities and so little time to decide.  Should she ask to see Valinor before the death of the Trees?  What of the kingdoms of the Noldor in Beleriand, long ruined and sunk beneath the waves?  Time was short.  She had to choose. 

In spite of all these entrancing possibilities, there was one recent mystery Haleth wanted to solve. 

"Show me what those who were just using you saw," she told the palantir, wondering if she had been correct in her assumption of what had distracted an entire mountain of dwarves. The palantir flickered to life. A small picture slowly resolved itself in its depths. Haleth held her breath and leaned forward in curiosity.

Then her shoulders slumped in abject disappointment. She should have known.

"These people certainly are friendly." Inglor closed the door. Haleth jumped guiltily at the sound of his voice.

"Who was it?" she asked quickly.

"I do not know," he answered. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just waiting for you to tell me who that was," she said, slightly annoyed.

"It was a lady," Inglor answered, confused. "She gave me something. What were you doing just now?"

In the space of a heartbeat Haleth ignited with jealousy.  The reaction was intensified by guilt.

"Nothing," she answered flatly as she silently recited the phrases from the Book of Calming Thoughts. 

"What did she want?" she asked sweetly when she had herself under control.

"She gave me these," Inglor held out a small bag. "Were you looking into the palantir?"

"That's right, Inglor," Haleth sighed and looked into the bag. It was filled with rich dark brown berries, except berries were never that smooth and shiny. "I wanted to know how many women are going to be lined up outside your door tonight."

"Do not talk nonsense," Inglor said.  Haleth stifled a twisted, triumphant smile; she had finally managed to shock the elf.

"The palantir only shows the past or the present. Never the future."  Inglor immediately destroyed her smug satisfaction.  The fact that he had done it so innocently rankled all the more.

"So you're expecting a long line of women outside your door tonight?" Haleth asked in a trembling voice. Guilt and jealousy were working their deadly combination on her. She took a deep breath, recited another verse from the Book of Calming Thoughts and vowed her reason would not be clouded.

"I should hope not!" exclaimed Inglor.

"Good," she shrugged, "Because I'm tired of being beaten by your paramours."

"I have no paramours here!" Inglor sounded as though he was actually becoming angry. The twisted grin returned to Haleth’s face.  It was possible to make him lose control after all.  It gave her an odd sense of power to be outwardly serene while Inglor was the one to splutter and blush.

"So you miss them, then?" she demanded in a bored voice while idly examining her fingernails.

"I have never had any at all. How can I miss them?" Inglor sounded desperate. It had likely occurred to him that neither truth nor logic would win this battle.

"So you don't want any at all, then?" Haleth asked, relishing his distress.  He had certainly caused enough to her.  She was finally getting some of her own back.

"I never said that!" Inglor held up his hands as if to ward her away.  

"So you do want...what...half a dozen?" she asked. "Would that do for one evening? Shall I go fetch them for you?" She hopped off the bed and floated out of his room, closing the door softly behind her.  She paused in the hallway half hoping he would follow her and continue the argument.  When Inglor did not appear, she quietly entered her own room, lay down on the bed and screamed into her pillow.

~*~

 
Cold moonlight streamed into Haleth’s room.

Despite the warm, clean bed, the night had been uncomfortable.  Once the initial storm of self-righteous fury had passed, Haleth was ashamed of her behavior and not just for the earlier nastiness.  She realized that she had been seeing Inglor solely as the object of her desires; a thing to be possessed, not a living, breathing individual. She had allowed this to dominate her perception of the elf. Repeating the empty phrases from a dusty book had simply allowed her to retain enough control to be truly hurtful and, worse yet, to take pleasure in the hurt done.

The entire episode had been a painful one of self-revelation for Haleth, who, more than anything, despised those who would dominate the will of others. She had always smugly believed that she never wanted to control anyone. Inglor had proven her wrong. With a shock she thought she finally understood the reason for her cold reception in Rivendell.

Haleth had spent several hours thoroughly cursing herself. Then she had wondered what to do about it. If nothing else, an apology for her earlier behavior was essential. She hoped Inglor would not demand an explanation for her behavior as she did not want to openly discuss this side of her personality. Especially not to Inglor, who knew her better than anyone and seemed to be fond of her anyways.

She marched determinedly out of her room, half expecting to see the imagined line of women outside of Inglor's door.  But there was only the sullen flickering light of a dying candle to greet her.  Her determination carried her across the hall to Inglor’s room and then deserted her.  She stood outside of his door in an agony of indecision debating whether she should knock or go back to bed. Perhaps he was asleep or at least resting.  It was likely he would not want to speak to her even if he was awake.

Haleth brushed the door of Inglor's room, her fingers barely touching the wood. If he did not answer, she would go back to bed and stare at the ceiling until dawn. Then she would try to pretend that the entire unpleasant incident had never happened.

"Enter." Inglor's voice was on the very edge of hearing.  It was almost as though she heard him without benefit of her ears.

Haleth reluctantly entered the elf's room. He sat cross-legged on the bed, watching the stars out of the small window. His face was a cast of beatific sorrow. The expression rent her heart, although a part of her was certain she was not entirely responsible for it.

She closed the door and sat next to him on the bed, uninvited. Neither spoke for a long time.

"So we have the palantir again," she eventually said.

Inglor did not answer immediately. Haleth was certain he had heard. She wondered if silence was some odd sort of elven rejection.

"Yes," he finally whispered.

"And tomorrow we shall take it to Gondor," she said.

"You are willing to go to Gondor with me?" Inglor asked. He finally turned to look at her, his eyes shining but very distant.

"I've seldom failed to finish a quest before," she answered, smiling with fake bravery.

"Thank-you. I know it will be difficult for you, but the road would be long and lonely if I were to go without you," he answered, placing his hand over hers.

His touch was warm and strong.  Haleth stared at his hand.  The breath hissed through her teeth. 

"I think it would be better if I gathered the supplies tomorrow," she said brusquely as she pulled away from him. "You attract far too much attention."

Inglor shrugged. "That does seem to be true." It was plain he did not understand the reason for this.

"I think I'll go and get some sleep," Haleth said and she stood to go.

"Good night," he said quietly.

Back in her own room, Haleth lay down on her own bed and stared at the ceiling. She would go to Gondor with Inglor, but she would travel away from there alone.