Puffing from exertion, Haleth dragged herself onto a landing high up in the tower. The staircase, now wide enough for only one person to pass at a time, continued to spiral upwards, its end obscured by the curve of the stone walls. A closed door barred passage into the tower’s body.

Haleth pushed on the door and was not surprised to discover it was locked.  Her hand disappeared within the voluminous folds of the blue robe and reappeared seconds later grasping a lock pick.  She glanced quickly down the staircase, half expecting a blue robed figure to appear and challenge her, but no one materialized. It seemed the entire population of the tower had sudden business outside.  The noise of her breath echoed off the stones.

Straining her ears for the sound of footsteps, Haleth slid the pick into the lock and gently twisted.  The click of the moving pins thundered through the landing.

Holding her breath and hoping the hinges had been properly oiled and that any guards had joined the general exodus from the building, Haleth slowly pushed the door open a crack and peered inside.

It was quite dark; the only illumination provided by two tall, white candles that burned upon silver sconces. But even in the muted light it was obvious the corridor was luxuriously appointed. The tapestries and thick rugs were all the more opulent when compared to the rough, unadorned stone of the lower floors. These, Haleth realized, had to be the apartments of the highest ranking Hosluin.  The palantir must be close by.

Without further hesitation, she slunk into the hallway.  The thick, blue carpet muffled her footsteps as she proceeded, cautiously opening heavy doors and briefly examining the rooms behind them.

Much to Haleth’s disappointment, none of them proved to be of immediate interest.  Most were richly decorated but currently unoccupied sleeping quarters.  She experienced a twinge of professional regret as she closed the door on several minor treasures after only the briefest of glances.

One chamber held little more than a very large table and many ornately carved chairs, several of which lay on their backs upon the floor, knocked there, without doubt, by their former occupants in their rush to quit the tower.  Faint screams drifted through a small, high window and Haleth was sorely tempted to push a chair beneath it to catch of glimpse of the circumstances down below. For once her sense of urgency overcame her curiosity and she hurried to the next room.

The door of the next room was locked.  Haleth’s heart pounded with anticipation.  There had to be something very valuable behind this door. Once more she slid her pick into the lock only to discover the pins too strong for her to move.  Withdrawing her hand into her sleeve, she groped for a particular one of the many pockets hidden in her shirt and produced a very thin, silver lock pick.  Candlelight glimmered off it as she jammed it into the lock.  After several quick twists, the door was opened to reveal an utterly dark room.  Without hesitation she grabbed one of the beeswax candles from the corridor to examine the room’s contents.

The light revealed shelves piled high with weapons. Candlelight glinted upon the cold steel of swords and spears.  Haleth’s breath hissed in through her teeth. The Hosluin, it seemed, had plans beyond currying influence and selling an addictive beverage. A palantir would be a very valuable tool indeed if they were planning a military invasion. 

There was no time for further investigations.  It was imperative the palantir be taken out of Hosluin hands and returned to its proper owner. Heedless of being discovered Haleth barreled into the corridor and raced to the next door. 

This was also looked.  It took several minutes of clever work with the mithril lock pick and much muttered cursing to open it. 

The doorway loomed like an open mouth.  Inside, the room was pitch black. Still holding the candle she had taken from the wall, Haleth slipped inside and closed the door behind her.

The floor was of bare stone and the echoes of her footsteps whispered through the darkness. In the centre of the room she discovered a large, wooden pedestal, draped beneath a heavy cloth. She approached it slowly, peering into the blackness about her, alert for traps.

Suddenly she heard the very faint but unmistakable sound of a voice.  There was someone in the corridor, asking questions in an agitated tone.

Haleth ran to the pedestal , tore the cloth away, and succeeded in snuffing out the candle as she did so. She was immediately plunged into complete darkness.  Then a dim, flickering, orb-shaped light appeared before her.  Without thinking she plucked the stone from its stand.  Staggering slightly under its weight, she glanced into its sparkling depths.

The palantir awoke Haleth's insatiable curiosity. She sought a way to justify making use of it again. With all the earlier commotion, she told herself, it might be a good idea to find out who was in the hallway.

Then the latch clicked and the door opened on silent hinges.  The room was immediately flooded with light which dazzled Haleth’s eyes.  

"Who are you? What do you think you're doing here?" a tall, imposing man demanded as he strode into the room. The hood of his dark blue robe was thrown back to reveal a leonine head of iron-grey hair.

Cradling the palantir in the crook of one arm, Haleth lunged towards him and threw the cloth that had covered the Seeing Stone over his head. As she raced past him, she paused briefly to hit him with the palantir.  There was a muffled yelp of pain as the fabric collapsed to the floor, still covering the man - who was undoubtedly the leader of the Hosluin.

Haleth raced out the door, not bothering to close it, and tore down the hallway back to the stairs. To her horror, the unmistakable thump of footsteps came from below. The downwards escape route was closed. She raced upwards towards the roof, hoping against hope for a chance of finding an escape; or at least of not being caught as quickly.  It was just possible that Inglor might find her before the Hosluin did. He was a formidable warrior. Together, if luck smiled upon them, they had a chance of getting away.

She mounted the final turns of the narrow staircase as quickly as she could while burdened with the palantir.

The stairway ended abruptly at a landing where a ladder led up to a trap door in the ceiling. Hefting the palantir under her left arm, Haleth scrambled up the ladder with all possible speed, her feet constantly tangling in the long, blue robe. The bolt that held the trap door closed was frozen shut. She struggled and cursed and finally threw all of her weight against it before it slid open, shrieking in protest as the rusty catch was forced through the brackets.

The trap door was devilishly heavy. Braced precariously on the ladder, Haleth shoved it upwards with her head, right arm and shoulders. It was a struggle to not tumble off the ladder when the door passed its centre of balance and fell open with a resounding crash.

She caught herself on the edge of the doorframe and quickly took in her surroundings. The noonday sun blazed down, temporarily blinding her.  She squinted about her. The tower top was a round, narrow space about as wide across as Haleth was tall. She rolled the palantir onto the roof and clambered after it.

The tower top was completely surrounded by a low parapet, except for the space where the outer staircase ended.  She gaped at the stairs for a moment and then laughed out loud in relief.  In the excitement of finding the palantir and being discovered, she had utterly forgotten about this alternate escape route.  

She wasted precious minutes levering the trap door closed again, in the hope that the latched door would buy time. The heavy door was far easier to move when she could use her leg muscles as well as her arms. It fell shut with an enormous clang before she noticed there was no way to latch it from the outside.
 
The swell of panicked voices drifted upwards, reminding Haleth that something besides the theft of the palantir was amiss in the lair of the Hosluin. The disruption was a huge blessing.  She and the palantir would simply melt into the crowd and escape in the confusion.  There was a faint hope that Inglor would have the sense to do the same instead of stubbornly trying to follow her and getting caught in the process.

There was no time to worry about the elf.  She had to escape with the palantir and get word to Gondor about the Hosluin.  Straining with the effort, Haleth lifted the leaden Seeing Stone and stumbled towards the edge of the tower. The scene below froze her heart.

A long, grey, snake-like form covered in scales the colour of dead ashes crawled laboriously up the exterior stairs.  It was more than halfway to the top. Although its head was currently not visible, Haleth knew in the pit of her stomach that it could only be Lithul, come from his dank hole on the Withered Heath. She and Inglor had previously encountered the Cold Drake and had barely escaped with their lives and one of the dragon’s treasures. News of the palantir must have drawn the worm. Although he lacked the intelligence to use the palantir, the cold drake undoubtedly knew it was a treasure. That alone would be enough reason for him to covet it.

The courtyard of the tower complex was pure chaos as people ran towards the exits.  Anyone unlucky enough to fall was trampled by the crowd. As Haleth watched, several blue robed people tumbled into the bottomless pool. They struggled to get out, pushing each other beneath the water in the process. From the top of the tower they looked like mice trying to crawl out of a bucket. No one stopped to help them.

As Haleth helplessly watched, a small party of warriors forced their way to the bottom of the tower and began to ascend behind the worm. They were tall and advanced with their swords flashing in their hands. She thought she caught a glimpse of the White Tree of Gondor on their shields.

Another group appeared around the curve of the tower and marched up the stairway. They were much shorter and equipped with axes and shirts of mail. With a shock Haleth recognised dwarves in full battle array.

It was impossible to tell what would happen next. The men and dwarves were moving fast, but Lithul was far ahead of them. The safest thing for Haleth to do was to hide in the tower and allow the fully armed dwarves and men to deal with the Cold Drake.

Encumbered by the palantir, she staggered towards the trap door only to see it lurch upwards. With all the excitement going on below, Haleth had forgotten about the Hosluin inside of the tower.

Again hoping to buy time, she jumped on top of the trap door, slamming it closed.

~*~

Inglor pounded up the stairs, moving faster than any man could. No one bothered to question him or even seemed to notice him. Under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed the anonymity.

He saw no sign of Haleth but it only seemed logical that she had ascended the stairs in search of the palantir. He was sorely tempted to call to her with his mind, but she had requested that he not use this Elven ability. As dangerous as the current situation was, he was honour-bound to heed her request.

There was a commotion above him on the staircase followed by a large group of panicked Hosluin flying down the steps as though pursued by a demon. They washed around Inglor like the tide rushes around a rock. Several of them occasionally grunted curses about idiots with no sense of self-preservation who insisted on blocking the way of the more sensible people.

From listening to their brief, clipped conversations, it quickly became obvious to Inglor that none of them had a clear idea of what was happening outside. The words dragon and attack were mentioned several times. Judging by the terror-stricken screams coming from outside Inglor could easily believe a dragon was assaulting the tower.

Coming upon a closed window, unbarred the shutters, threw them open and leaned out. The exterior staircase spiraled away above and below him. As he watched, a group of dwarves ascending the stairs disappeared around the curve of the tower.  Whether they were in hot pursuit of some unseen thing above or trying to escape something below he could not tell. He looked further. The courtyard was a patchwork of varying shades of blue as people crowded around the main gate, shoving and fighting each other to be the first to escape.

Inglor glanced at the sky, half expecting to see the snake-like, bat-winged form of one of the great fire drakes soaring through the air. It was a relief to see nothing but fat, white clouds, at least from this vantage point. If there was a dragon, it likely could not fly.

Not bothering to take the time to close the window, Inglor resumed his race up the stairs.

He soon reached the landing near the top of the tower. It stood ajar and several people garbed in varying shades of deep blue robes came running towards him, shouting variations of "stop the thief" and "get her". Inglor smiled with relief at the discovery of Haleth's unmistakable trail.

None of the blue-robed figures guessed that Inglor was not a Hosluin until he reached the first one and grasped him tightly by the shoulder. The Hosluin cried out in pain and dropped to his knees, holding his broken clavicle and whimpering. The other four stopped dead in their tracks before the tall, hooded figure dressed in the robes of a middle-ranking priest.

"Another one," sneered a Hosluin resplendent in midnight blue robes trimmed with silver. He stood at the very back of the crowd. "Finish him."

Three of the remaining Hosluin rushed Inglor. There was a blur of blue fabric and suddenly only man in the silver trimmed robes was left standing. The others slumped against the walls where Inglor had thrown them. The unmistakable ring of steel drawn from a scabbard rang through the air. Unarmed, Inglor prepared to face the nex threat. 

The Hosluin in dark blue, silver-trimmed robes stood before him, a cruel, curved sword in his hands. The light of the candle gleamed off the jagged steel blade. Judging by the way he held the weapon, this Hosluin was quite experienced in fighting. He advanced slowly but confidently, holding the scimitar high before him as Inglor slowly backed away.

"You must be with the woman," said the Hosluin conversationally. "I saw her run towards the top of the tower stairs with the palantir. I shall have to thank her for disposing of Remel before I kill her. I've been trying to be rid him for years.

"I am Vaet, now the leader of the Hosluin, soon king of much more. You've done quite well getting this far. I don't suppose I can persuade you to join me? I can pay you more than fairly and suddenly seem to be in need of competent new recruits."

Inglor said nothing as he edged backwards without relaxing his guard. His eyes, hidden by the shadow of the hood, remained fixed on Vaet.

"Please don't tell me that you're one of those who can't be tempted by money," Vaet sighed.

"I can offer you more than money," he said, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Old Remel never understood the potential he controlled; never knew how to wield it properly. Join with me. A man of your intellect and ability can rise to great heights under my command."

He fell silent, waiting for Inglor to respond, his sword pointed directly at the elf’s heart. When no answer was forthcoming, Vaet tried once more.

"There must be something you want. I can offer the woman's life. You can keep her as long as you can hold her thieving impulses under control and are willing to share on occasions. She could prove useful as well as entertaining."

Inglor allowed himself to relax.

"I knew you were intelligent," said Vaet, who took this as a sign of willingness to bargain. "If we are to be partners, I should at least know your name."

A resounding crash echoed from above.

Inglor took full advantage of the distraction. In a blur of motion he lunged forward and to Vaet’s side, chopped down on his sword arm with his right hand and effortlessly wrested the weapon from Vaet’s suddenly nerveless fingers.

Vaet now slowly retreated. Sword extended before him, Inglor backed the Hosluin against the wall until the razor-sharp edge bit ever so gently into the skin of the man's throat.

"I know your kind," he growled. "You crave power but utterly lack the wisdom to use it. You have no honour." A trickle of crimson stained the bright steel as Vaet stared in wide-eyed terror at the elf.

Another crash came from above. Again it echoed through the corridor, drowning out the racket from outside.

Inglor, appalled by his own anger, shook himself and slowly lowered the sword.

"Get out," he told the Hosluin, his voice deadly quiet.

Vaet hastened to obey, the edges of his hood tattered, blood trickling from the wound on his neck.

Still holding the sword, Inglor lightly raced up the stairs and then up the ladder. He pushed on the trap door. It began to open but was suddenly closed with such force it seemed someone had jumped on it.

Haleth was on the wrong side of the door.

Inglor dropped the sword, braced himself and pushed the trap door upwards with all of his strength.