"Is there anything else that you need for the journey?" Beregnil asked Haleth.  Two nights had passed since the meeting. The Master of Lake Town had been a solicitous host, offering to bring Haleth on a tour of Lake Town the day before. She had sadly declined his offer out of sympathy for Inglor, who was confined to the house and the sidelong attentions of Mrs. Bass.

If Inglor had appreciated or even been aware of her gesture, he had given no sign of it. They had spent most of the morning of the previous day in the cheery sitting room, pouring over maps and making plans. The quickest way to the Sea of Rhun was Ethirwen's offer of passage down the River Running. They decided to go ashore a day's march away from the mouth of the river and to travel across country to avoid notice.

Once these sketchy plans had been made, Inglor had become stubbornly withdrawn, and nothing Haleth could say or do would get more than one word answers from him. She had finally abandoned her futile efforts to lighten his mood and had turned to Beregnil’s books for more amenable companionship.

Haleth had sought unsuccessfully for something that might explain the silver ring that hung around her finger like a rebuke, but there was nothing in Beregnil's bookshelves that could shed light on that particular mystery. She would probably have to go back to Rivendell to find the answers. After her last visit, Haleth was not entirely certain of the welcome she would receive. The puzzle would likely always remain unsolved.

To distract herself from both the irritating mystery and Inglor's black mood, Haleth spent the afternoon reading a thick book about the peoples of the east.

Inglor had echoed her example in silently reading, a slim volume of Numenorean poetry in his delicate hands. An uneasy quiet presided over the remainder of the day as each sat in an upholstered chair, doggedly ignoring the other as the shadows shifted across the room.

The tension even affected Mrs. Bass. The housekeeper brought another tray of delicacies for Inglor that afternoon. She hovered in the sunny room for several minutes before favouring Haleth with an accusatory sniff and leaving.

The evening meal was an exercise in stomach wrenching tension, with Beregnil in an effusive mood, Inglor willfully silent, and Haleth desperately trying to keep the elf involved in the conversation. The dream of the white boat riding silver-crested sea foam haunted her sleep again that night.

Now she was in the entranceway of Beregnil's home, waiting for Inglor to make an appearance so they could begin the next stage of what would definitely be their final journey together.

"No, thank-you Master Beregnil," Haleth answered with a smile. "You have been a most generous host. We lack for nothing."

"That reminds me," he said suddenly. He pulled something from his belt pouch. "Would you consider keeping these? As a reminder of our meeting?"

With a jolt, Haleth recognised the ivory combs he had loaned her. Inglor's words rose in her mind. "You would trade the ring for those combs," she heard his soft, resigned voice say. She had thought the imagined choice ridiculous until it was actually before her.

Haleth examined the combs. The delicate gold twinkled softly around the graceful lines of the running deer. Then she looked at the plain silver ring on her finger. It had become tarnished in the past two days, as though Inglor's low disposition had clouded its natural brilliance.

"I am truly sorry, Master Beregnil," Haleth said regretfully. "I cannot accept the combs as a gift."

"I see," Beregnil said. His dark eyes glinted with a quick stab of pain. Haleth looked upon him with sudden, unhappy comprehension. For all that she could see the signs directed at others, specifically Inglor, she had completely missed those directed at her.

Then the Master of Lake Town put the combs back into his belt pouch. "If you could promise me something, Lady," he said softly.

"If it is in my power to give," she said quietly.

"Once you have completed the task you have set for yourself, if you find yourself free, return to claim them."

Haleth thought uncomfortably of her dream from the previous nights; standing alone on slippery, sea-washed rocks, watching the white ship sail away from her.

"I promise you that," she said, trying unsuccessfully to shake the image from her mind. "But I truly doubt that I will ever be free."

"One can hope, Lady," he said softly.

"Indeed," she smiled sadly. "One can hope."

Inglor chose that moment to noisily descend the stairs. Haleth looked at him with a mixture of wonder and annoyance. He never made any sound unless he meant to do so; the racket was a deliberate intrusion. She suspected that he had been at the top of the stairs and had witnessed the entirely scene.

They made their polite farewells. With a magnificent flourish, Inglor gave Mrs. Bass a flower, a chrysanthemum of deep rusty red. Haleth never learned how he had come by it. She strongly suspected that it would be carefully preserved and saved by the widow for the rest of her life. Inglor himself seemed happier than he had been in three days.

At last they were out the door, making their way through the perpetual crowd of the Market Square to the docks below. Haleth felt Beregnil's eyes on her until she climbed down the ladder to the docks and disappeared from his view.

~*~

They crossed the Long Lake to the western shore by ferry. A small settlement had grown on the bank to accommodate travellers and the ferry crews who ran back and forth from the mainland to Lake Town. A small wooden inn and several ramshackle houses lined the shore. Children ran riot in the muddy streets, playing a game only they could understand. Inglor caught their attention and they immediately began to follow him.

Haleth had to smile as she watched them tagging along like iron filings drawn to a moving magnet. At first they were quiet and hung back, whispering excitedly among themselves. Their soft murmurings were soon punctuated with giggles which grew progressively louder until they almost drowned out the deep roar of the Long Falls.

She glanced questioningly at Inglor, who grinned widely at her, abruptly stopped and spun around.

This was met by a collective intake of breath as the children fell silent and drew back in anticipation of a scolding. Their upturned faces watched the elf with a mixture of fear and wonder. Then Inglor smiled and held out his hands. The children shrieked in delight and swarmed around him, a tide of shouting and laughter in plain homespun.

They made poor time on the path to the Long Falls. Inglor carried a small girl on his shoulders. She gently stroked his hair with her tiny fingers. He held another two children by the hand. Even Haleth found herself with two guides when a boy and a girl, about the same age, took a hold of her after finding Inglor's already claimed.

All along the way they were regaled with stories of how each child's father was the strongest man in Lake Town and how the boys would be just like their fathers when they grew up. Inglor tried not to wince as the child on his shoulders began tangling her fingers into his smooth hair and pulling.

At last they reached the path down the escarpment. Inglor freed his hands and gently put the girl who had been on his shoulders down. Several strands of his hair were entwined around her fingers. Haleth watched with some amusement as she very deliberately untangled them and crammed them into a pocket.

Inglor told the children gently but firmly that they could follow no further. Haleth waved good-bye to the raggedy band as they reluctantly made their way back to their homes.

"We had best hurry," he said as he studied the position of the sun. "We are late."

Even rushing it took them the better part of the afternoon to climb down the long, zigzag path that had been hewn into the face of the rock bordering the Long Falls. The trail was wide and broad, but slippery from the spray. Porters struggled upwards, bent almost double under heavy packs. Men driving heavily laden donkeys shuffled up and down the trail. The amount of traffic made for some interesting moments when two large groups going in opposite directions met at a narrow part of the footpath. At several points Haleth found herself balancing along the barest of ledges while men and donkeys sorted themselves out on the wider part of the track. She did not have to look back to know that Inglor was directly behind her, poised to catch her if she lost her footing. As always, this irritated her more than it comforted her. There was no time to dwell upon it, though.

Some of the larger packages were brought up the escarpment by an ingenious system of ropes and pulleys. There were wide ledges at regular intervals where porters struggled to detach crates and barrels from one leg of the pulley system and attach them to the next. When possible, similar sized packages were used as counterweights from the top. Strong armed men worked the pulleys, sending the trade goods that fueled the markets Esgaroth up or down the cliff.

Several women with baskets strapped to their backs passed them. They would stop at the various ledges to sell food and drink to the labourers.

At last they reached the bottom of the cliff. A wide gravel road led to the shore and the docks where a heavily laden river barge waited. The boat was big enough to accommodate a large amount of cargo as well as passengers. Two masts sprouted from the deck and a bank of oars lined the sides. The gangplank lay open to the dock.

Inglor waved to someone on the deck. Haleth squinted in the direction of his wave and thought she recognised the tall, slim figure of Ethirwen, her raven locks floating in the western wind. As Haleth watched, she raised her arm to acknowledge Inglor's greeting. Not wanting to be rude, Haleth waved a greeting as well.

"It was very kind of Lady Ethirwen to arrange passage for us," Inglor said.

"Yes, it was," Haleth agreed, keeping her reservations about Ethirwen's possible ulterior motives to herself.

They made their way up the gangplank, Ethirwen waiting for them at the top. A gruff looking man with a bright shock of orange-red hair and a bushy beard of the same colour stood by her side.

"Good day to you, Lord Inglor," Ethirwen said.

"Good day to you, Lady Ethirwen," Inglor bowing deeply.

"Good day, Lady Ethirwen," Haleth said, fully expecting to be ignored.

"Good day to you, Lady Haleth," Ethirwen smiled with genuine delight.

"This is Dorlas," she introduced the red-headed man at her side. "He is the captain of this vessel."

"Welcome aboard," Captain Dorlas said abruptly. "We've been expecting you."

They were apparently the last passengers to arrive. The cargo had already been loaded.

"Come," Ethirwen said, "I will show you to your cabins. Do you have any other luggage?"

"No, Lady," replied Inglor. "We travel lightly."

"Very well, then," she said. "Please come."

Ethirwen led them past the banks of rowers to the passenger's area. They entered a low door into a dark, narrow hallway which led down the length of the ship.

"Here, you will have need of these," she said, handing each of them a small, shielded lantern. "Use them to light your cabin. Please try to burn them as little as possible. Captain Dorlas does not approve of the use of fire on his vessel. He tolerates it among the paying passengers, but only barely."

Haleth dug her tinderbox from her pack and expertly lit her lamp. Inglor used her lamp to ignite his own. They proceeded up the hallway.

"This is your room, Lord Inglor," Ethirwen said, pressing a key into Inglor's hand.

"You are to be his neighbour, Lady Haleth," she added, handing Haleth another key.

"I apologise if you find the rooms small. Space is limited on a boat. Shall I see you above decks once you have settled in?"

"Certainly," Haleth said smoothly. She wondered where, exactly, Ethirwen's cabin was and if she had a spare key for Inglor's door. She would undoubtedly find out soon enough.

Haleth unlocked her door and entered her cabin. The only piece of furniture in the room was a narrow bed, and it took up most of the space. If she turned sideways, there was just enough room for her to pass between it and the wall. Two drawers, side by side, were beneath the bed.

Another small lantern was hung from the wooden wall. She lit that lamp, extinguished the first and placed her pack on the bed. The cramped, dim room was already oppressive. Haleth opened the door to admit the faint, natural light and held the door open while she extinguished the wall lantern.

Inglor was already in the hallway.

"Shall we go above decks?" he asked.

"It's much preferable to here," Haleth said.

Together they passed into the sunshine.