Haleth gripped the sides of a mid-sized boat that skimmed down the white waters of the River Running. The boat lay low in the water, laden with goods made by the dwarves and the men of Dale for trade with Esgaroth and the Wood Elves.

The waters of the river between the Mountain and the Long Lake were rapid and choppy. Sharp rocks jutted from the riverbed. The men who guided the boats downstream knew each stone outcrop and quiet pool like they knew their own hands.

Haleth had been placed in the middle of the boat amid the sacks and baggage and ordered to not get in the way. She had translated this to keeping herself from falling out of the boat and to not even dare to think about taking a paddle.

Inglor was directly in front of her, helping the men with the paddling. She watched the muscles in his back moving beneath his shirt as he worked. In the past it she could have happily contemplated his shoulders for an entire afternoon. Now she twisted the silver gift on her finger and frowned. She was completely certain the ring should not have been given to her but there was no way to return it, save getting the palantir to Gondor.

They shot into the wider waters of the Long Lake.  The new town of Esgaroth came into view. It had been rebuilt over sixty years ago after the old town had been destroyed in the death of Smaug, the golden-red fire-drake who had ruined the Dwarf Kingdom of the Lonely Mountain and the town of Dale before at last being slain by Bard the Bowman, the ancestor of the current King Bard II of Dale.

The bridge which connected the town to the shore looked very new, the beams and planks golden instead of weathered grey. The citizens of Esgaroth had thrown down its predecessor to thwart the armies of Easterlings during the War of the Ring.

The boat with the men from Dale made its amid the huge pilings and beneath the wooden streets of Lake Town, quickly threading the twilight maze to the brightness of the Market Square. The Square itself was lined with piers and bustling with activity as merchants traded goods from Wilderland and beyond. Dwarven metalwork, mechanical toys and crackers from Dale, wine for Dorwinion and strange goods from further east made their way to the Market Square of Lake Town.

From her perch amid the baggage, Haleth curiously studied her surroundings. It had been years since she had been in Esgaroth but the hustle and bustle remained the same.

The boat was tethered to one of the many piers that lined the square at water level. The men quickly jumped out to make fast the ropes. Inglor leapt gracefully to the dock and offered Haleth his hand. She took it and, with a forced smile, stepped onto the pier beside him.

"We should take that ladder," Haleth said, nodding to the north west corner of the square. "It should bring us close to where we need to go."

They said quick farewells to the boatmen, who were already unloading their cargo, and made their way in the appropriate direction.

"I wonder if any of the Hosluin remain here?" she quietly asked Inglor.

"We will find out soon enough," he answered sternly.

They reached the base of the ladder. Haleth made her way up first, Inglor following slowly, for an elf, behind her.

They found themselves amid a large, open air market. The wooden streets were crowded with merchants, longshoremen and local customers. Everyone moved with a purpose, whether it was carrying goods or haggling for a better price.

"That must be the Master's house," Haleth said, indicating a wooden building directly across the way. It was an impressive two-story home with large, glazed windows. Like all of the buildings of Esgaroth, it was made of wood.

"I guess we might as well start there." She scanned the crowd. Female heads were already snapping around to gaze upon the splendour that was Inglor. "And we'd better start quickly."

They carefully threaded their way around market stalls and people to the home of the Master of Esgaroth. The men of the Lake Town elected their leaders rather than having a hereditary king.

"We can't just go and knock on the front door," Haleth said as she trotted after Inglor, her legs still unsteady from the boat ride.

"I am certain he is expecting us," Inglor told her. "I was assured messages were sent."

Haleth subsided. Individuals who looked like her were never given access to the great and the powerful. Those same great and powerful would actively seek out Inglor. She would just ride through on his coat tails, as she had been in every populated area since they had left Bree.

Inglor bounded up the wide, wooden stairs of the Master's house, Haleth following slowly in his wake.

His knock was quickly answered by an iron-haired woman of rigid bearing. The door opened so quickly that Haleth suspected the woman had been standing at a nearby window, watching the coming and goings of the people in the market square.

"Greetings, fair lady," Inglor said, bowing deeply on the doorstep. "My name is Inglor. My companion and I have business with Beregnil, the Master of Lake Town. May we please come in?"

The woman blinked several times as though dazzled by the strong light of the morning sun. She gave Haleth, who was now also on the doorstep, a quick glance of disapproval before moving out of the way to admit them.

"Of course," she said, backing out of the door and giving Inglor a quick, stiff curtsey. "Please come into the sitting room. I will tell the Master you have arrived. You are expected."

The entrance of the Master of Lake Town's home boasted an iron and crystal chandelier. The white wax candles within it were of uniform height. A wide hallway of deep golden wood led into the house, doors alternating on either side of it. A broad staircase on the right hand side of the foyer led to the upper, private areas of the home. The floors and walls were of the same, gleaming, golden wood and all had been polished to a mirror shine.

The housekeeper led Inglor to a sitting room which was just off the entranceway. Haleth followed along, an unwanted afterthought.

"Please make yourself comfortable," she said. "I shall inform the Master of your arrival."

The sitting room offered a wide view of the market square. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with leather bound books. A couch and two chairs covered in heavily embroidered cushions were arranged upon a richly woven green carpet. Haleth placed her pack on the floor, being careful to avoid the costly rug. To pass the time she studied the gold-stamped spines of the books.

Most of the titles were written in the Common Tongue, but Sindarin occasionally put in an appearance. The books covered many diverse subjects, from history to herbals to descriptions of the lands to the east. Haleth found herself wishing for time to skim through at least some of the last, though the accounts would likely be spurious. She had never gone further east than the Sea of Rhun and the empty, white spaces on the map challenged her to explore.

"Would you not rather go west?" asked Inglor. He had been watching the direction of her attention.

"There is only so far west that I can go and I know the lands west of here quite well," said Haleth. "I always wondered what lay to the east."

"Besides thousands of Easterlings?" Inglor asked.

"They can't all be like the Easterlings," she said.

"Well, no. Now that you mention it there are the Wain Riders."

"Go ahead," she said, her shoulders sagging. "Spoil my daydream with unpleasant reality. Still, I can't help but feel that all of the men of the east are not completely evil."

"Do you know anything about them?" she asked Inglor, turning away from the books to face him.

"No," he said shaking his head sadly. "The east is dark to me."

"What of your kindred there?" she asked.

"Our fates were sundered long ago," he answered quietly.

"But don't you ever wonder about them?" she insisted.

"I have other things to wonder about," he said after a very long pause.

She was about to ask him what those things were when the door opened and the iron-haired housekeeper beckoned them to follow her. Haleth noted that the woman had changed from her severe black dress to one of charcoal grey with lace trimming the hem, wrists and neckline. She stifled a sigh.

They followed the housekeeper. The older woman almost seemed to dance up the stairs.  She led them to a large door and knocked.

"Enter," said a man's voice.

"Your guests, Master," the housekeeper said, shepherding Inglor into the room. Haleth followed, a forgotten shadow.

The room was an office. It was dominated by a high, wide window that overlooked the market square and much of Lake Town. A large, heavy desk of dark wood stood in front of the window, placed so that the person working at it could look outside. The top of the desk was covered in neatly stacked piles of papers which were covered in precisely formed figures. The Master of Lake Town, a man of about forty years, had left his chair. He was of average height and build with dark hair and beard which were flecked with silver. His eyes were as dark and piercing as an eagle's and keen intelligence sparkled behind them.

He bowed both to Inglor and to Haleth.

"Welcome to Lake Town," he said. "I am Beregnil and Master here, for the moment, at least."

"I am Inglor," Inglor said, bowing with his characteristic grace, "And this is Haleth." She followed Inglor’s example as best she could. She often felt awkward curtseying. It looked stilted instead of elegant if she wore trousers, as she currently was.

Beregnil examined Inglor closely. The elf returned his gaze with unblinking calmness. The Master of Lake Town then turned his attention to Haleth. His eyes whisked her from head to toe and then returned to her face. It lingered there as though he was searching for something. She levelly returned his probing inspection as Inglor had.

At last Beregnil noticed that he had watched his guests longer than was strictly polite.

"Please," he said, indicating two cushioned chairs that stood on the opposite side of his desk, "Be seated and tell me of your journey."

"Mrs. Bass." This was directed to the iron-haired housekeeper who had been hovering at the back of the room in order to spend more time near Inglor. "Please bring our guests some refreshments."

Inglor told their tale with Haleth occasionally filling in some of the finer points. This happened when Beregnil asked for some tidbit of information. The Master of Lake Town had a mind for details, the slightest of which could capture his attention like a diamond sparkling in the dust. Haleth got the impression that Beregnil did not miss much and that everything he knew was carefully filed away in his memory to be called up instantly when needed.

Mrs. Bass brought a tray of fresh rolls, a yellow round cheese and ripe, red apples into the room along with a carafe of wine and three glasses. She set it all on a side table and was made ready to serve the food and drink when Beregnil politely but firmly asked her to leave. She did so, slowly and with great reluctance, after many backward glances at Inglor. Instead of being jealous, Haleth felt herself empathizing with the housekeeper. Inglor's presence did make women do outrageous things, her included.

Both Haleth and Inglor jumped to their feet but Beregnil waved them back to their seats and served them himself as he listened to their tale.

"This is most disturbing news," Beregnil said when they were done. Hands clasped behind his back, he paced the carpet of his office.

"It can have far-reaching consequences if the palantir cannot be recovered," agreed Inglor. "We already have evidence that the Hosluin do not scruple to take what they want."

"I had long suspected as much," Beregnil said quietly. "And now I have the proof. No one known to be of the Hosluin is left in Lake Town. We have fast ties with the men of Dale and they must have known their actions would not be tolerated. They left very close to the time of the attack, taking their black beverage with them.

"Many felt the effects of that for some time," he added, "But that too seems to have passed.

"Dear lady," he paused before Haleth's chair. "I hope you do not suffer any long-lasting effects from this assault."

"None of which I am aware, thank-you for asking," smiled Haleth. It was somewhat gratifying to be included in a conversation rather than being relegated to the edges. Not that she could blame anyone. Who would wish to speak to her when they could talk to Inglor?

"Be on your guard, good lady," Beregnil warned, his expression grave, "The Hosluin may be gone but they still have sympathisers in Lake Town.

"Indeed," he said as he continued to pace. "There are even those on my council whom I do not entirely trust. Yet some will have to be consulted in order to help you. There is Calanloss, he has had dealings with the people of Dorwinion. And Ethirwen; she has lands on the north-western coast of the Sea of Rhun which she visits from time to time. There is also Orolondë, but...No. The fewer people who know of this the better. Calanloss and Ethirwen would be most able to help you."

He paused before the window, gazing into the blue afternoon sky as he watched and carefully noted the activity in the Market Square. Inglor and Haleth had to twist in their chairs to watch him.

"I will ask them to meet here secretly tonight," he finally said. "If such things can be said to be secret in Lake Town. They shall offer you such counsel as they may. But for now I would ask you to be my guests. I will have Mrs. Bass show you to your rooms where you can take some rest. I will join you for dinner.

"I would ask one thing of you, Lord Inglor," Beregnil said. He paused, uncertain of how to phrase his request politely.

"I intend to remain inside," Inglor said with a rueful smile. "I seem to have an unfortunate, disruptive effect on people." From the tone of his voice it was quite plain he had no idea why this should be the case.

"Thank-you, Lord Inglor," Beregnil said gratefully. He rang a small silver bell which rested on the sideboard. Mrs. Bass appeared almost instantaneously, giving Haleth the impression that the housekeeper had been waiting just outside of the door the entire time.