Several days later Lady Anairë and Haleth made their way down the white road that led from Tirion to the sea.  They travelled with what was, in Haleth’s estimation, a small horde of attendants.  The hovering presence of the quiet crowd irritated Haleth, who was accustomed to travelling with a single companion.  The attendants bore many baskets and boxes and one large trunk.  The impedimenta slowed their progress, which was annoying even if the food they carried made for much more satisfying meals and the blankets and cushions made their rest stops very comfortable.

Haleth withheld her observations.  During her years of wandering around Middle-earth she had often wished for better food and comfort.  The speed with which she was willing to give up both astonished her. 

Lady Anairë’s behavior was even more surprising. Haleth had repeated the invitation to join her several times, only to be met with polite rejection at every turn.  It might have made sense if there had been a reason for the refusal, but Anairë had never offered an explanation beyond the fact the Haleth would not understand.  The condescension irritated Haleth, especially because she had done the same thing to Inglor many times.  But that was different.  Inglor did not understand mortals at all and persisted in asking questions up to and beyond the verge of rudeness.  Perhaps Lady Anairë felt the same way about Haleth’s questions.  Before she had come to Valinor and witnessed the Noldor firsthand, Haleth would have rejected this possibility.  But watching the Elves, Haleth had discovered that there was a great deal about them that she did not understand.

They reached the white sands and jewel-spangled beach of the Bay of Eldamar when the sun was at noontide.  Haleth squinted into the glare. A small white ship rested on the beach.  As they approached a lone figure seated on the sand beside it stood up and waved.

It was Inglor.

Haleth fought to keep herself from fleeing back up the road to the sheltering walls of Tirion.  What would she say to him?

‘Greetings, Lord Inglor,’ said Lady Anairë politely.

‘Greetings, Lady Anairë,’ said Inglor with a graceful bow.  ‘Greetings Haleth.’

‘Hello, Inglor,’ said Haleth.  ‘Where is the crew?’

There was a moment of stunned silence.

‘I am afraid you are part of it,’ he said.  ‘The King thought it best that you found an outlet for your restlessness.’

‘I see,’ said Haleth.  Her fingers reflexively drifted to the silver ring.  She had hoped to keep clear of Inglor and thus avoid having to discuss the ring’s meaning.  That would be impossible with both of them alone on a small ship.

Inglor followed her movements. The ghost of a smile lit his face when he saw the ring.

Haleth flinched and thrust her hand behind her back. 

‘When do we depart?’ she asked.

‘After we eat,’ said Lady Anairë firmly.

They shared a meal upon the sand of the beach of Eldamar after Inglor helped the attendants to load the large chest into the ship.

When they had finished, Haleth bade Lady Anairë farewell then hiked up her skirts and grasped the gunwales of the boat and looked at the others expectantly.

‘Well?’ she asked when no one moved to help her.

‘If you will please get into the ship, the rest of us will push it into the water,’ said Inglor.

‘I can push,’ said Haleth tartly.

‘No one here doubts it,’ sighed Inglor.  ‘But your feet will get wet.’

Haleth’s mouth dropped open in protest; she had faced far worse than the prospect of damp feet.  But one glance at the fair faces convinced her that while she could win the argument, she could not do so gracefully.  She would not embarrass Lady Anairë.

Stifling her disagreement she threw one leg into the ship. 

A pair of hands caught her at the waist. 

‘I know you have little time for our customs,’ Inglor whispered in her ear.  ‘But for the sake of Lady Anairë I would ask that in this moment you honour them.’

A chastised Haleth did her best to not scowl as he scooped her up and neatly deposited her in the ship.

He leapt out of the boat and called to the others.  They gathered around the ship to push.  The white wood glided easily over the sand, the ship eager for the sea. Inglor jumped onboard.

‘Your custom does not seem to mind that you get wet,’ Haleth observed as she smiled and waved at those gathered upon the shore.

‘It will dry,’ Inglor said dismissively.  ‘Could you please sit further forward?  I need to sit at the oars.’

‘Inglor, I can row a boat,’ Haleth said.

‘I know you can,’ he said calmly.  As Arafinwe had promised, he was speaking Westron.

She glared at him.  He impassively returned her scrutiny as the ship bobbed in the gentle waves.

‘Oh, very well,’ she said, exchanging places with him with very bad grace.

They left the shore behind as Inglor pulled the oars.  Anairë and her attendants were arrayed like beautiful statues upon the beach.  Anairë slowly raised her hand in farewell.  Haleth wondered how her departure affected her kinswoman.  The older woman’s reaction were so muted that it was impossible for Haleth to tell. 

‘She is disappointed that you did not find Tirion to your liking,’ Inglor replied to her unspoken question.

‘I’d have thought she’d be happy to be rid of a disappointing nuisance,’ snapped Haleth as she glared at Inglor.

‘For pity’s sake, Haleth, why do you always expect people to think the worst of you?’ sighed Inglor.

‘Because I always live down to their expectations!’ she thought.

‘How long will it take to get to Tol Eressëa?’ she asked to change the subject.

‘At least a week if I have to row the entire way,’ he answered.

‘You could raise the sail,’ he added.

‘Oh,’ said Haleth.  ‘I can do something beyond sitting here being useless, then.’

They sailed in silence for several hours, the white sands of Eldamar slowly falling behind them.  Anairë and her attendants had retreated towards Tirion, leaving the jewel-spangled beach empty. The sun began to sink.  Haleth shivered in the evening wind.  Without a word she opened the trunk Anairë had insisted she take.

Inside was an assortment of clothing.  Tucked at the very bottom were her travel-worn shirt of many pockets, her breeches and her beloved boots.  Tearing off her shoes, she tossed them into the box and pulled on her patched boots.  She intended to change the rest of her clothing the instant they reached Tol Eressëa. In the meantime she pulled out a cloak and wrapped it around herself.

‘Why are you wearing a cloak?’ asked Inglor.

‘Because I’m cold?’ said Haleth from the depths of fabric.

‘You are?’ he asked.  He sounded mildly disappointed.

‘Yes, I am,’ she sighed. 

‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Why? Because the sun is going down and the wind has picked up.  I’m not like you, Inglor.  I’m…’  she stopped.  She had been about to say mortal but that was no longer true.  Her shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘I’m just not like you,’ she repeated gruffly. 

‘But you are,’ he said.

‘Don’t remind me,’ thought Haleth.

‘No, I am not.  I still feel the cold.  I still tire quickly compared to you.’

‘I am sorry,’ he said.  ‘I had thought…’

‘That I could share the strength of the Elves?’ asked Haleth.  ‘It would have not been unwelcome but I doubt I ever shall.  My body is still the body of a…’ she could not bring herself to say mortal.

‘Are you still feeling the effects of your injury?’ he asked.

‘It hurts from time to time if I use the arm too forcefully.  That, as least, will heal. For the rest, I haven’t changed. I doubt I ever will.’

‘It may come, given time in the Undying Lands,’ he said quietly. ‘Are you getting along well with Lady Anairë?’

‘She is the soul of kindness,’ answered Haleth stoutly.

‘Yes, she is,’ said Inglor.

The wind veered and Haleth set to work adjusting the sail.

‘What do you think of Tirion?’ he asked when the ship was heading in the proper direction again.

‘It is the most beautiful city I have seen,’ said Haleth unenthusiastically.

‘More beautiful than Valmar?’ asked Inglor.

Haleth shrugged. 

‘I don’t clearly remember Valmar,’ she mumbled.

‘You do not remember?’ asked Inglor.  He sounded mildly concerned.

‘There were trees and bells, many, many bells.  More than there were in Dale,’ she said after careful consideration.

‘Haleth, it was not so long ago.  If you cannot remember…’

‘There were one or two other things occupying my attention!’ she snapped, embarrassed at having been forced to admit another weakness. ‘When I first awakened in Tol Eressëa I couldn’t remember anything at all, not even my own name.’ 

‘And now?’

‘The memories are slowly returning, but in bits and pieces.  There are so many of them and they come in no particular order. I cannot tell which are real and which are fragments from old stories. It’s impossible to sort true recollection from fever dreams, let alone patch them all together. Even thinking about it gives me a headache.’

‘Have you told anyone else of this?’ said Inglor. 

‘No,’ she said sullenly.

‘Perhaps you should tell Master Elrond when we reach Tol Eressëa.  He knows more of the…’ Inglor stopped and bit his lip.

Haleth glared at him, working up a truly devastating retort.  She swallowed her anger and turned to the sea instead.  The ship rode upon gentle swells.  The wind was behind them and it smelled of the flowers of Valinor.  Haleth would have preferred the fresh scent of salt water.

‘The weaknesses of the Secondborn?’ She finished for him. 

‘The conditions of the Secondborn,’ he said firmly.

‘Inglor, enough.  It’s weaknesses.  Say what you mean,’ said Haleth.

‘I did say what I meant,’ he countered.  ‘Haleth, do you still believe Elves are without frailty?’

Before she had come to Aman, Haleth would have shouted at him.  Now she stopped and considered all of the age long hurt and unvoiced longing in Tirion.  ‘No,’ she finally said.  ‘But they are different.’

‘Just so.  Haleth, would you indulge my weakness, just for a moment?’ he asked in a strained voice.

She spun around as he left the tiller and came forward to sit beside her.  Catching her chin in his hand, he looked deeply into her eyes.

Haleth’s breath caught in her throat.  He was so close that their lips nearly met.  If she leaned forward the merest fraction, she could kiss him.  Shivers of anticipation coursed through her.  She knew what the silver ring meant now.  All of her frustration and bitterness were swept aside.  Her eyes closed, her lips parted…

‘Please open your eyes.’

Her eyes flew open.  Inglor was still very close.  He was studying the depths of her eyes as though he could see through them to her innermost thoughts.  That was plainly untrue.  If he did know her thoughts, he would be kissing her. 

His eyes were so blue.  She had never watched them this way before, so close to her.  His breath was warm against her skin.  She attempted to turn her head and lean forward only to be thwarted by his hand upon her chin.  Her fists were clenched so tightly that the nails drove into her palms.  She forced herself to be patient.  Inglor obviously wanted to be the one to initiate their first kiss.  She had waited for years for this moment and had never expected it to come.  All he had to do was turn his head and lean forward.  He would do it very, very soon, as soon as he was finished staring into her eyes. 

Except that he did not lean forward and did not turn his head, he simply continued to stare into her eyes.  What did he expect to find there?  Had a piece of dirt fallen in and she wasn’t aware of it? 

‘Alas, I cannot tell,’ he whispered as he leaned back and released her.

Haleth was too shocked to speak.  Couldn’t tell what?  What had he been searching for?  Why didn’t he just ask?  Unless he didn’t trust her to tell the truth. 

Of course he didn’t trust her to tell the truth.  Who would?

She drew away from him.  The cliffs of the Pelori were visible over his shoulder. Without a guiding hand upon the tiller, the ship had turned. 

‘I think one of us had best steer,’ she said coldly.

Shaking his head, Inglor made his way to the stern of the ship while Haleth ground her teeth in humiliation.