Inglor and Haleth remained in Dale over two weeks.  Haleth was confined to the house King Bard had loaned to them for most of that time. At first she was happy to sit in the garden and admire the autumn flowers during the warm days and cool evenings. The contentment had lasted approximately three days. Then she began to chafe at her forced inactivity.

At first Inglor attempted to mollify her by bringing her books of the history of Dale and Erebor. Haleth’s temper soon wore on him and he disappeared for several days, claiming to have some business with the dwarves. He strongly suggested to Haleth that she remain in the house and rest. This meant Haleth automatically did everything in her power, short of jumping off the roof, to leave the premises. She was checked at every turn by the polite but firm servants Bard had sent to attend them. Erysa, the extremely competent housekeeper, was the best at foiling Haleth’s escape plans. No matter how quiet Haleth imagined she was, Erysa would always manage to intercept her just before she could get out of doors. The older woman would find Haleth standing by the door or opening a window.  She would immediately strike up a friendly conversation while apparently oblivious to the fact that Haleth was about to leave.  Inevitably an offer of tea and a bite to eat in the kitchen would be made. There was never any way Haleth could refuse without appearing surly and impolite, so she always acquiesced to being stuffed with apple tart and tea until she was ready to burst. At least she never had to do much talking. Erysa happily held up both ends of every conversation.

The only thing that could interrupt Erysa was her large, orange tabby cat. The cat would parade into the room on silent paws and stare at Erysa until the woman relented and found him a tidbit from the larder. This done, he would turn his intense, copper gaze at Haleth, trying to intimidate her into feeding him.

Haleth imagined the cat followed her around the house. He seemed to magically appear whenever she was considering an escape, to be followed shortly by Erysa.

Haleth had taken to hiding and jumping out at the cat at unexpected times. When she did, the cat would train his copper eyes on her, plainly contemptuous of her attempt to startle him. Then he would regally bathe himself while Haleth stalked away, unsatisfied.

Between Erysa and her cat, Haleth had been forced to limit her defiance to staying in the garden until the stars kindled their clear, white fire in the evening sky.

She was sitting beneath an oak tree the evening Inglor returned, without announcement, from Erebor.  She glanced at him quickly, then frowned and studied the ivy climbing the walls of the house. 

"When will we leave?" Haleth asked, each word as clear and hard as a diamond.

"You should be sleeping," he said shortly.

"It's very good to see you again, too," she said sarcastically, her temper eroded by a day of hide and seek with the cat and listening to Ersya's endless monologue.

"Haleth, I did not say this to be rude. Your body has taken a shock and you need to rest before we resume our journey."

Haleth bristled.  Inglor was right, but she was in no mood to admit it.

"I'm fine," she said shortly.

"No," Inglor corrected her. "You are still pale. You need rest."

"How can I rest when I feel like I'm being held prisoner?" she demanded in quiet fury.

"I am sorry, Haleth," he said sadly. "But I do not want you walking the streets without my protection."

"I don't need your protection," she spat.

"Someone tried to murder you," he said, plainly exasperated.

"If I recall the entire episode properly," she said with glacial calmness, "The poison was given to you. If I hadn't taken it, you would be the one requiring my protection."

"I am very much aware you were harmed in my place," he growled.

Haleth stared at Inglor in surprise. She had never heard him sound this stern. The veil of bemused kindness had been torn aside to reveal a grim, terrible and enraged Elf Lord.

Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated her next comment when her slim instinct for self-preservation warned it was probably not the best time to pursue the argument.

The realization had come too late. All of Inglor's incandescent fury was focused upon her. She twisted her fingers into the grass and tore the blades from the ground. All the while she refused to meet his eyes and silently willed him to leave.

"Haleth," he said, his voice suddenly gentle again. "I have something for you."

He knelt gracefully before her, took her hand and pressed something warm onto it. Haleth blinked at the silver ring that glittered on her palm.

"I can't accept this Inglor," she said quickly. "I have nothing to give you in return." She held the ring out to him, still resting where he had placed it.

"I neither need nor expect anything in return," he said gravely. He folded her fingers over the ring. His hands were warm and strong. "Please, take it and wear it, at least until the palantir is in the possession of King Elessar. Then you may return it, if you still wish to do so."

He studied the stubborn set of her jaw.

"Please?" he whispered.

"Very well, Inglor," Haleth said after much hesitation. "But only until the palantir is where it belongs."

She slid the silver band onto the fourth finger of her right hand. It hung there loosely, sliding easily over the knuckles.

"It's a bit big," she observed.

"Here," he said and, stripping the ring from her fourth finger he placed in on her index finger where it fit perfectly.

She examined glimmering circle and frowned.

"Thank-you," she finally said because it seemed like she should say something polite.

"I think I should get some rest," she added and rose to go. "Good night."

"Good night," he answered in a whisper.

Haleth lay in bed once again and stared at the ceiling. She felt like an actor who had played a scene without benefit of a script or even of the vaguest hint of background story. She assured herself that it would sort itself out when she and Inglor went their separate ways. With that dubious comfort, she eventually fell asleep.