With her body no longer blocking the window the darkness was not so complete. There were stairs two body lengths below her. She could have made the drop without the rope, but as she had gone to so much trouble, she might as well use it. It would reduce her chances of tumbling down the stairs which spiraled both upwards and downwards out of sight.

She set her feet against the stone and rested her hand on the coolness of the wall. Complete silence settled upon the staircase as the thick walls muffled the sounds from the outer world. The air within the tower was cool. The place smelled of dust and memory mixed with the sweet scent of the oil that coated her skin.

She should make her way to the bottom and find a way to let Inglor in before the rain started. Then again, it was his fault she was here at all. It would serve him right to get soaked. After removing her gloves to better feel her way, she began to climb the curved staircase, her footsteps echoing in the unnatural silence.

Haleth had been in many dangerous places but the deserted tower was somehow worse. She had the uneasy feeling she was not alone and caught herself more than once looking over her shoulder. It would hardly have surprised her to see a face peering out of the darkness. In some way, that would have been better than finding nothing but blackness and stones; at least it would have been something corporeal.

The light faded as she mounted the stairs, leaving the window behind her. Her footsteps echoed through the dark, doubling and redoubling until it seemed that an entire troop of invisible folk were mounting the stairs with her.

‘This tower was built by Gil-galad,’ she told herself sternly. ‘The Firstborn make no noise when they walk.’

But Gil-galad had not built the tower for his own use. The leader of fallen Westernesse, Elendil himself, had once lived within these stones. Legend told he had watched for the approach of Gil-galad’s host from the top of Elostirion.
She wondered if the stones had watched him the way they seemed to watch her.

Haleth’s hair stood on end at the prospect of Elendil’s ghost climbing the stairs with her. She should have gone to the bottom of the tower, opened the doors and let Inglor in before searching for the palantir. Even now she could turn around and flee downwards, the echoes and half heard whispers in her wake, and open the doors for him. But that would be admitting defeat, and her pride could not allow it. She would endure the whisper of stones and the memory of those long dead.

Up the stairs she trudged, surrounded by darkness and haunted by the half memory of a tall, bearded man whose pale form she could almost glimpse from the corner of her eye. And what of those who came behind them? Isildur and Anarion, Elendur, Aratan, Ciryon, Valandil and all of the captains and kings who had followed in their footsteps, all of whom were long dead. How many of them had mounted these stairs as she did now? Had the stones watched them in the same way? Would they one day remember her as they recalled the others? When would her shade come to join them, one more invisible memory stalking through the darkness?

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ Haleth said aloud. Her words bounced off the walls, the echoes multiplying in the blackness. The scent of flowers had grown stronger as she climbed and was now almost overwhelming.

From whence had Inglor said his oil had come? Lorien. She had never entered the Golden Wood. Men told many strange tales of the Witch who lived there. Perhaps she had made the balm and infused it with her magic. Whoever had made it and for whatever purpose, it did not have a good effect upon mortals.

Her outstretched hand encountered a barrier. At first she thought the staircase had made an unexpected jog but as she moved her fingers over the obstacle, she realized it was made of wood rather than stone. It was a door. Groping for the latch, she full expected it would be locked. Part of her cursed her own stupidity for forgetting her lock picks while the other, larger part rejoiced, for now she would have no choice but to bring Inglor into the tower with her. The two conflicting thoughts were settling down for an argument when the door unexpectedly opened.

The sudden brightness dazzled her for a ring of windows filled the circumference of the tower. Rubbing her eyes in the manner of a child, she stumbled into the light.

The sky was covered in thick, dark clouds. Fat raindrops pelted the windows facing the ocean. Haleth stared at it in fascination. She had never understood how the Elves could build windows that would allow the breezes to pass but block precipitation. She could ask Inglor, but his explanation was bound to be long and highly technical and she doubted she would understand more than a few words of it.

Inglor. Was he still standing at the base of the tower in the driving rain? Surely he had had the sense to seek shelter, although there was precious little of it on the hilltop.

Hurrying to the windows she searched for him but he was nowhere in sight. She was assailed by the irrational fear that he had abandoned her entirely. The large room suddenly seemed to contract as though the stones, lonely for mortal company, would keep her here with them. Despite the downpour the outside world looked very appealing and she struggled against the urge to push her head or at least her hand through one of the windows. She could use the rainwater to wash the flowery oil from her skin.

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she told herself out loud. Her voice was barely a whisper amid the thunder of the rain. A gust of wind blew through the window, chilling her exposed skin.

With her arms folded across her chest, she began to search the room.

There was an empty pedestal in front of the window that faced the sea. Closer inspection revealed a bowl shaped depression at its centre. It looked as thought it had been built to safely hold a palantir. Haleth ran her finger around its edge. The missing Seeing Stone was larger than the one she and Inglor had chased and ultimately lost. She wondered what secrets she might have seen within its depths. It was bound to have been more interesting than piles of gold.

There was little use in speculating about it. Perhaps Inglor could enlighten her later. She wished he were here with her now. His distracting company would have made the strange atmosphere of Elostirion easier to bear and she could have loudly blamed him for covering her in hallucinogenic oil.

She made a thorough examination, tapping on the walls beneath the windows and stamping on sections of the floor. It took very little time, for the place was empty of furniture except for the pedestal and a backless bench which she turned upside down and checked for hidden compartments. The vaulted ceiling was out of reach. She looked up at it speculatively and decided it was not likely there were any hidden doors up there, either. Even if there were she could not reach them. If Inglor insisted, he could come up here and search for himself.

Once satisfied that she had scoured the place to the best of her abilities, she reluctantly went back to the darkened staircase. The whispers and sensation of being watched returned as she descended the stairs, keeping one hand on the wall for guidance. She quickened her pace but the apparitions matched her speed. By the time she reached the bottom, she was running, heedless of where she was headed or the danger of falling.

She stumbled badly when she reached the bottom of the staircase. Only her hand on the wall saved her from landing on her knees. Clutching at the smooth stone, she paused to regain her bearings. The harsh noise of her breath echoed through the darkness. How was she going to get out of here? She should have climbed the rope and gone out through the window, but that would mean climbing the stairs again and Haleth was desperate to exit the tower. Besides, Inglor would probably appreciate the shelter the tower would provide; Haleth would certainly appreciate his company.

She became aware of a faint light as her breathing returned to normal. It was emanating from somewhere in front of her.

With her hand trailing along the wall and stepping carefully to avoid any unexpected obstacles, Haleth made her way in the direction of the light. It brought her to what could only be the front entrance. She expected the doors to be locked and once again cursed her stupidity for not bringing her lock picks.

To her immense surprise, the door swung open at her touch, carrying her out of the tower. The whispering darkness and cloying scent of flowers was washed away in a downpour of cold rain.

‘Inglor!’ she cried as she pitched forward onto the ground. The door hit her as it swung back on its hinges. She reflexively slid out of its way then dived after it, hampered by the fact that she was on her knees. Her fingers scrambled ineffectually at the door as it closed, locking her out.

‘No!’ she shouted, pounding on the unyielding wood with her fist.

‘Haleth, what are you doing?’

She spun around to find Inglor gazing down at her with the familiar look of calm bewilderment. He was soaked, his hair plastered to the sides of his face.

‘The door closed!’ she said.

Inglor glanced at the offending portal.

‘Yes, it did,’ he said, bending down beside her. ‘But I do not think you will open it by pummeling your fists against it.’ He took her hands in his and examined her bruised knuckles.

‘You’re…right,’ said Haleth, pulling her hands away from his. She was soaked to the skin which wasn’t saying much as she was wearing little other than her skin.

‘You d-d-don’t happen to have my shirt, do you?’ she asked, disgusted by the stutter in her voice.

‘It is in your pack. I left it under the trees. Half a moment.’

With one graceful movement he unclasped his cloak and threw it over her shoulders.

Haleth huddled inside it, grateful for its warmth.

‘The palantir is gone,’ she said

‘I had guessed as much,’ he said calmly. ‘Shall we retrieve our things?’

Haleth stared at his back. He knew. He had known from the start. Why had he insisted she subject herself to the silent memories of Elostirion to search for a palantir when he had known it would not be there?

‘Yes,’ she replied. She did not trust herself to say anything else.