Inglor sat on the floor of a ship's cagin, his legs stretched before him, and sang a quiet lament to entertain himself. Aranruth, wrapped in a cloth, was stowed beneath the captain's bed.  The sword Haleth had been carrying rested on the floor beside him.  They both would be sent into the Uttermost West.

Haleth had secured passage on a low, sleek, trading vessel.  The captain, a dark-skinned, widely grinning merchant from Far Harad, had a set of sparkling gold teeth.  Had had rented his cramped but well appointed cabin to them for the voyage North.

"Don't you know any happy songs?" Haleth asked sleepily from the berth.

"You are awake. Are you in pain?" Inglor answered her question with another question.

"Somewhat, yes," Haleth said, wincing slightly as she pulled herself as far upright as the low ceiling would allow.

"You should rest. You will heal more quickly that way," said Inglor with gentle reproval.

"Don't worry, Inglor," she said. "It's not as if there's much else to do here. Except..." She looked at her companion for a fraction of a second too long.  He was stunningly beautiful and it was all too easy to picture the potential activities their current situation could lead to. The blood immediately rose in her cheeks.

 "...talk," she finished lamely.

The captain had politely requested that they stay belowdecks as much as possible. Inglor assumed it was to keep them out of sight in case they came across the Corsairs or the naval patrols of Gondor. The situation suited him quite well as it meant that Haleth had no choice but to rest and allow herself to heal.

"That and tend your wounds," Inglor said lightly as he seated himself on the edge of the narrow bed.

"They're' fine," Haleth said automatically.

"Of course they are," he said soothingly. "I just want to look at them."

Haleth pulled away and immediately bumped her head on the corner of the low ceiling.

"And now you have a new one," he said, his voice bubbling with laughter as Haleth gingerly rubbed the top of her bruised head.

"You're dangerous," Haleth grumbled as Inglor gently probed her wounded collarbone with his fingertips. He was gentle, but the injury was raw and tender. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to not flinch.

"Yes," he agreed calmly as he finished his examination. "So are you."

"I did inflict more damage than usual this time," Haleth said. "And had more damage inflicted upon me."

She frowned at her bandages. "I was careless," she said darkly.

"The other sword, do you know whose it was?" Inglor asked to distract her.

"No," Haleth admitted. "Though I think it belonged to one Fëanor's followers."

Inglor paused, his eyes became clouded with sorrow. "It did," he said softly.

Haleth watched him in silence. Knowing that he was in need of comfort, but not quite understanding why, she placed her hand upon his arm. He grasped her hand so tightly that she gasped in pain and he quickly relaxed his grip.

"Which one?" she asked.

"Which one what?" he replied.

"To which one of Fëanor's followers did the sword belong?"

Inglor leant forward until his forehead rested against Haleth's and their faces were inchs apart.

"I think it is best not to say. It hardly matter as you cannot keep it."

"If you think it best," Haleth whispered, too taken aback by his physical proximity to argue.

They remained that way, their heads bent together, sitting upon the trader captain's narrow berth. The only motion was the gentle rocking of the boat upon the arms of the sea.

Then Inglor reached behind Haleth and fluffed the pillow.

"You should rest," he said softly as he drew away from her.

"That's all I've been doing the entire trip," she grumbled as she lay back. "I'm bored."

"I could tell you a story," Inglor volunteered.

"I'd prefer a song," Haleth said. "Something happy."

Inglor laughed. It sounded like the clear ringing of silver bells. Then he began a merry tune while Haleth tapped her fingers in accompaniment.