The sun was high in the sky when Inglor and Haleth entered the Grey Havens. Haleth was profoundly grateful that they arrived during the daylight hours.

In the time that she had known it, Mithlond had hardly been a hive of activity. Haleth had seldom met anyone in the streets when she had come to see Círdan, and the few elves she had met rarely showed more than a passing interest in her.

There was, as she was beginning to realize, a very large difference between a thinly populated settlement and one which was completely deserted.

The worn soles of her boots were unnaturally loud on the cobblestones. Shuttered windows glared at her in silent condemnation, disapproving of her disturbing their slumber.

Inglor made no sound as he walked. He looked sadly upon the deserted streets and buildings of Mithlond. Haleth edged closer and closer to him until they were so close that, if he had not been gifted with good co-ordination, he would have tripped over her when they rounded a corner.

He easily avoided her and hardly seemed to notice the intricate little dance she performed to not crash into him.

Admonishing herself to watch where he was going, Haleth forced herself to put more distance between them.

The wind sighed forlornly through the empty streets. As she gazed at the blank windows, she was reminded of the empty ruins that littered Eriador. Not that Mithlond was anything like them. The buildings were completely intact and the gardens were still beautiful in a wild, over-run sort of way. The delicate scent of roses and other flowers occasionally wafted through the air, carried by a wandering zephyr. It seemed as though the inhabitants had all gone to a feast in the neighbouring hills. What would they say to the two strangers who wandered into their city, uninvited, while they were away?

It was comforting to think the people of Mithlond had simply gone on some long, unannounced holiday and would return at any time. It made the place less eerie. The illusion was shattered when they passed a house where the ivy, growing wild, had cracked the window shutters. Haleth quickly averted her eyes and discovered that Inglor was ahead of her. She rushed after him, walking so closely behind that she stepped on his heels.

‘Empty,’ he said.

Haleth sighed and examined her boots to avoid looking at her surroundings.

‘I have a hole in my boot,’ she said conversationally.

‘Haleth,’ said Inglor.

‘I shall have to repair it. It’s a pity the cobblers have all gone.’

‘Haleth.’

‘I shall have to do it myself,’ she babbled. ‘Fortunately, I have my own supplies and a great deal of practice.”

‘Haleth!’ cried Inglor.

‘Yes?’ she asked calmly.

‘Will you take my hand?’ he asked, holding out his hand to her.

‘I’m not a child in need of comfort, Inglor,’ she said with wounded dignity.

‘Two ages of the world have passed since I have been accounted a child, yet there are still times when I am in need of comfort,’ he said.

Haleth bit her lip, abashed by his response to her bravado. She grinned and took his hand in hers and together they passed through the empty, echoing streets.

They wound their way through the laneways, moving steadily downhill towards the water, when they suddenly rounded a corner and found themselves on the riverside. It was here that Haleth could no longer maintain her comfortable illusion that the population of Mithlond was somewhere nearby. The waters of the Lhûn, which had always teemed with ships no matter the time of day or the season of the year, were completely empty as were the many docks that lined the waterfront. Nothing, not even the smallest dinghy, could be seen. Only the gulls circling above the water kept the waves company.

‘They really have gone,’ Haleth thought forlornly. ‘And Middle-earth has lost a little more of her magic.’

To distract herself, she examined the settlement on the opposite side of the river. The shore, like this side of the river, was lined with empty docks. A large, squat building surrounded by parkland dominated the waterfront. The piers lining the shore gave way to skeletal cranes and the dry docks. From past visits, Haleth knew it was the ship works where Círdan and his people had fashioned the boats that took the Elves into the West.

Upstream from the ship works was Círdan’s Hall, its white, marble walls gleaming in the afternoon light. Further inland were the homes and shops of the Falathrim, smaller, yet no less beautiful than their Lord’s hall.

On the highest point of land behind Círdan’s Hall stood the delicate towers of Gil-galad’s castle. Beyond it, between the trees and the buildings were glimpses of the city walls.

‘I’ve always wondered why Círdan never lived in the castle,’ said Haleth.

Inglor’s face took on its typical expression of mild bemusement. ‘Why did you not ask Círdan?’

‘It seemed like a rather personal question,’ shrugged Haleth. ‘I did not wish to offend him.’

‘Why would it have offended him?’ wondered Inglor.

‘I don’t know,’ said Haleth. ‘Elves are offended by strange things.’

The remark was lost upon Inglor, for whom Elves were a most reasonable and predictable people. Mortals, on the other hand, were a complete mystery. At one time he would have shared this observation, but experience told him that Haleth might have an odd, unpredictable and possibly violent reaction to it. As she seemed especially volatile today, he kept his observations to himself.

‘We need to cross the river?’ asked Haleth.

‘Yes,’ said Inglor.

‘How shall we manage? Shall we use a bridge or shall we try to find a boat?’ she asked.

Twin delicate spans joined the two halves of Mithlond. The bridges were narrow and high enough to allow the tallest ship’s masts to pass under them without trouble.

Side by side, they crossed the downstream bridge. The added height gave an unimpeded view of the entire city. Haleth stopped at the centre of the bridge to examine both halves of Mithlond. Even from this distance it was impossible to ignore the desolation of the place.

‘How long will these stand, I wonder?’ she asked.

‘Saving deliberate destruction, these bridges will only last a few millennia,’ Inglor replied.

Haleth’s eyebrows shot upwards but she refrained from commenting on the use of the word ‘only’ in conjunction with the phrase ‘last a few millennia.’

‘I doubt anyone would deliberately destroy them,’ she said. ‘They are far too useful.’

‘It seems that is often a key reason for mortals to destroy things,’ said Inglor.

Haleth thoughtfully eyed the parapet of the bridge but decided against shoving her companion over the side; it would only prove him right. She grunted wordlessly and resumed walking.

Inglor took her question to mean she had a general interest in the life expectancy of elven ruins. ‘The other structures, the castle and the halls, will last much longer, of course,’ he said. ‘They were made, for the most part, by my people.’

Haleth did not listen.