Once again I must thank my patient beta readers, Aearwen and Ruger and all of the wonder writers on the Garden of Ithilien. Any remaining mistakes are my responsibility.

Weeks had passed since the debacle with the first ship.

Haleth, three unfortunate rabbits hanging over her shoulder, crossed one of the bridges linking the two halves of Mithlond and considered the current situation.

The second ship was almost as lovely as the first. The wood gleamed nearly as brightly as the original’s had. The carvings were almost as intricate. Haleth privately believed that it would have been every bit as beautiful and more except that the summer was drawing to its close. If he delayed his departure much longer, Inglor would risk facing the storms of the autumn sea. Even though she rejoiced with each extra day she could spend with him, Haleth did not want him to take that risk.

They had built the new ship in the large, echoing workshop that jutted over the river. The urgency of their errand had made the surroundings less oppressive. Inglor, as before, had worked day and night, seemingly without rest.

Only after the construction of the second ship was well underway had Inglor asked for help with the original. Using rollers, they had pushed it back into the small workshop. Then Inglor had closed and locked the double doors forever.

The second ship was now completed. Inglor had sailed it several times, claiming he intended to familiarize himself with the way it moved. A tiny morsel of Haleth secretly hoped he was simply delaying his journey although the larger, sensible part of her knew he was simply waiting until sufficient provisions had been gathered.

Inglor had spent the past few days gathering old casks and filling them with sweet water and stowing them in the ship while Haleth hunted and gathered as much food as she could.

She paused at the highest point of the bridge and looked south, past the mouth of the River Lhûn, into the haze over the waters of the Gulf. A dark spot marred the horizon. It served as a reminder of the fading of Middle-earth.

Her gaze swept over the deserted city. The world that she had known was gone just as surely as the Elves were gone from Mithlond. There were reminders, of course. In the south the new King was restoring the glory of Gondor. The time of Men had come in earnest. The long twilight of the Elves was over; one look at the deserted city confirmed that. The only reminders of their existence would be ruins, like these, and the old stories. In time, even these would fade.

Haleth sighed and looked back to the sea, acutely feeling all of the decades of her life. She frowned. The dark spot on the horizon had grown larger.

Leaning over the parapet, she squinted at it. The spot was indeed larger. And it was in the shape of a ship with black sails. The dwarf’s warnings, which she had dismissed until that very minute, returned to ring in her ears.

‘Raiders!’ she whispered aghast.

She had dealt with pirates in the past. Her side ached with the memory of her last encounter with them. They would burn the ship if they could. There would be no mercy if they laid hands upon her.

Her heart froze in her chest. It would be infinitely worse if they caught Inglor.

She had to reach Inglor before they reached the mouth of the river and saw Inglor’s white ship. Maybe they could lift it back into the workshop and lock the doors behind them. With luck, the Raiders wouldn’t be interested in the wooden ship works.

With the rabbits bouncing on her shoulder, Haleth pelted towards the docks. The black speck on the horizon grew steadily larger. She dared not call out. She did not know where Inglor was. Even though his ears were very keen, he might be inside one of the buildings and would not hear her. But sound carried so well over water that someone else, someone on that black ship, might.

Driven by evil visions of what the Corsairs would do with an elf, she ran harder than she had in years. Haleth was at an age where she preferred to out-think her opponents rather than outrun or out fight them. But there was a ship to race and no time to think. She reached the bottom of the bridge and skidded around a corner, painfully twisted an ankle and almost lost her balance. The rabbits fell to the ground and were left behind, forgotten.

She ran with a shuffling gait along a street that was parallel to the riverside rather than on the paved road that ran along the water’s edge. There was less chance of finding Inglor here, but there was less chance of being seen by the Corsairs as well. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to ignore the pain in her ankle and run faster. At last she reached the side street that led to the dock where the ship was moored.

She stopped at the corner of the last house. The ship was there, bobbing gracefully in the river’s current. The mast, which could be raised and lowered, was lying on the dock. Boxes and casks of supplies were stacked neatly on the pier.

Inglor, or course, was nowhere in sight.

Cursing under her breath, Haleth peered around the corner towards the mouth of the river. The main workshop blocked her view but it was too easy to envision the black ship gliding upstream, propelled by the oarsmen.

She would have to try to hide the ship herself, but before she could take a step someone grabbed her arm. She whirled around, loosing the knife she wore on her forearm as she moved, and found herself holding the point of her blade against Inglor’s neck.

Swallowing hard, she deliberately lowered the knife. ‘Inglor, there’s a problem,’ she said.

‘There is a black ship in the gulf,’ he said. ‘The Corsairs come to Mithlond.’

‘Is there time to get the ship above the city and far enough upstream to hide it before they enter the river?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Inglor. ‘Even if there were two sets of oars to work against the current and the tide, we could not hope to reach the first bend in the river fast enough.

‘Very well. This is what we are going to do,’ said Haleth. It was amazing how clearly she could think. She ran to the pier and began tossing casks, boxes and anything that came to hand into the ship. Inglor joined her.

‘This is what we’ll do,’ she repeated as she dropped a box into the ship. It landed on its side and slammed onto its top. ‘You get in the boat. I’ll run down as close to the mouth of the river as I can and start a fire. That ought to get their attention.’

‘It should,’ Inglor agreed as he shoved a cask over the edge of the dock. ‘But what will that accomplish?’

‘Not enough,’ said Haleth. She paused to think as Inglor continued the haphazard loading of the cargo. ‘I’ll fire some arrows at them and let them see me,’ she said. ‘That ought to annoy them enough to give chase. Once their boat has anchored and most of the crew is on land, set sail. Don’t raise your sail until you’re certain they’re all on land. Good-bye, Inglor,’ she said with a sad smile. It was a terrible way to bid farewell to her best friend, but circumstances would not allow for anything better.

‘And how shall you escape the Corsairs?’ he asked.

‘I’ll run. There are plenty of places to hide. I know the city far better than them. I’ll be fine.’