Haleth stormed through the woods, oblivious of her surroundings.  How dare Inglor rob her of her task? Even if the task had been self- appointed and unannounced.

The sensible part of her mind tried to assert itself.  She was being unreasonable.  Mr. Baggins had his button. That was the important thing, wasn’t it?  It was and of course she was happy.  She had expressed her happiness several times.  Yet judging by the expressions on Frodo and Inglor’s faces, they had doubted her sincerity.

Her pace slowed as her conscience assailed her.

She should go back and apologize, but it was too much to bear. 

Blind rage had carried her into one of the many groves of elm trees that blanketed this part of Tol Eressëa.  She wondered from what direction she’d come; she’d been too angry to pay attention.

If she climbed a tree, she might be able to find her way back.  There was one likely candidate, a younger sapling not yet as large as its neighbours.  She swarmed of up the trunk and edged out on a branch was that entangled with a bough of a larger tree.  Elves moved through tree branches as easily as if they walked on a paved pathway.  Haleth was much less agile, but she managed to climb onto the larger tree with only a few scratches. 

She picked her way upwards and settled into a fork between the main trunk and a large branch.  There was a break in the foliage, a cleft in the green canopy.  She peered through it, hoping to find something familiar.
 
To her relief, she recognized one of the out buildings of Master Elrond’s new home.  She should go back, except that would mean facing Mr. Baggins and Inglor and having to explain herself.  While not the most comfortable of seats, it was far easier to sit in the tree than face either of them.

It was far more awkward being back in civilization.  In fact, her entire existence was awkward. 

What in the world had Inglor been thinking when he had fed her that concoction?  He had claimed that he could not stand to be without her, but why?  It certainly wasn’t from romantic interest, not after the extended non-kiss on their most recent journey. How could she have been so foolish to believe the silver ring was a symbol of betrothal? She yanked it off her finger, intending to throw it away.  The silver glimmered in the evening sun.  With a sigh she shoved it back on to her finger. 

Life in Middle-earth had never been this complicated.  It had been uncomfortable and dangerous, but at least she had understood how things worked.  The Elves of the Blessed Realm were incomprehensible.  Even if she did live for the rest of Arda she suspected she would never feel at home among them.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes.  If she had the choice, she would happily trade eternal life in the Blessed Realm for an hour with her family.

The thought of home drew her eyes towards the sea.  She searched back and forth, looking for the dark smudge she had seen during her picnic with Ecthelion and her heart nearly stopped when she found it.  , She had never asked if it had been real or a trick of the light.  She had been afraid of the answer.  But now, seeing it again, she was sure there was an island in just the place that Númenor should be. 

If only she had a ship and a few supplies!  If only she had been thinking more clearly when she had fled Arafinwë’s court, but she hadn’t and, unless she took up boat building, this was the closest to home she would ever get.

~*~

The stars were burning brightly by the time Haleth worked up the courage to return to Master Elrond’s home. 

The sweet sound of Elvish singing rang through the night air.  Haleth was careful to avoid the singers.  She did not want to encounter anyone.

Which was why she was not surprised at all to turn and corner and find Master Elrond alone in his garden, hands clasped behind his back as he examined the stars.

He had not seemed to see her, or at least he had not acknowledged her.  If she took a different path, he might not speak to her at all.  She spun on her heel, intent upon escape.

‘Haleth, I was hoping to find you.  Please attend.’

Haleth slumped in defeat.  ‘Yes Master Elrond,’ she said without any enthusiasm.

She took up a station half a step behind him. They strolled along the meandering path without speaking.  Haleth’s anxiety grew with each step.  Master Elrond must want her to leave but he was too polite to ask her directly.  She would spare him the trouble.

‘I shall pack my things and leave at dawn,’ she said, unable to tolerate the silence any longer.

‘I did not ask you to depart,’ said Elrond, favouring her with a sidelong glance.

‘No.  And I thank-you for your courtesy.  Nonetheless I should go.  I am not very good company and I have already imposed upon you and your household too much.’

‘Haleth, it has been millennia since my brother passed from the Circles of this World and I continue to miss his presence.  I have spent the better part of an Age caring for the needs of his descendants, at least as much as they would allow me.  It pains me to see you in such straights.  Will you please check your unreasonable pride and cease your self-destructive behavior?’

Haleth gaped at him. 

‘My request shocks you.’ He said.

‘Your straightforwardness shocks me,’ she replied, too surprised to be diplomatic. ‘Elves are incapable of it.’

‘You forget I am not entirely an Elf,’ he said.

‘Forgive me Master Elrond, but you have lived far longer than any mortal I have ever known.’

This earned her a long, hard, incredulous look.

‘What did I say? Why are you looking at me that way?’ she asked.  If he was going to be blunt, so was she.

‘In what way?’ he asked.

‘As though I had just said something ridiculous. You were born thousands of years ago.  How many mortals born thousands of years ago are walking around now?’

‘Haleth, stop trying to change the subject. Your behavior, your very presence is changing my household.’

‘I know.  And I apologize.  And that’s why I offered to leave.’ Why couldn’t he see reason?

‘Please do not put words into my mouth. I did not say your presence was entirely disruptive.’

‘I…what?’ Haleth stammered.

‘Haleth, since I arrived on Tol Eressea, do you know how many guests have visited from Aman?’ he asked.

‘Um…well, no, but quite a few I would imagine. Except for Lady Anairë.  I invited her.’

‘Including yourself and Inglor, four,.’ sSaid Elrond.

‘Four?  That can’t be right.  Almost everyone here must have friends and relatives who never…I mean who didn’t.’  There was blunt and then there was rude and she wasn’t quite ready to step that far over the line. She backed away from the conversational precipice.

‘You, Inglor, Ecthelion and Glorfindel.  Ecthelion and Glorfindel arrived only a few days after you.’ 

It took Haleth a moment to digest this information.

‘I don’t understand.  If I could see my friends or family again after so many years...’ She stopped, the lump in her throat choking her words.  Of course she couldn’t see them.  They were all dead.

‘I don’t understand,’ she finished hoarsely.

‘To be mortal is to change.  You change us, Haleth, whether you mean to or not. And it is not always a bad thing to change.’

‘But I’m not… I mean I’m no longer…’  He was watching her, a question on his face.  Could it be that he didn’t know?  How could he not know?  Didn’t Elves gossip?

‘I am no longer mortal.’  There. She’d said it.  Now would come the inevitable string of questions that she did not want to answer.

‘But you have not learned how to be immortal,’ he said gently.

‘I…what?’  The conversation was making her head spin.

‘You forget I was born mortal.  I know what it is like to have the expectation of the Gift of the Secondborn.  Did you believe it would be easy to surrender that Gift?’

‘I honestly don’t know Master Elrond.  Unlike you, I was never really given a choice.  The decision was made for me.’ She wanted to say a great deal more, to rant and rave and accuse Inglor of grave injustice.  But Master Elrond had chosen the fate of the Firstborn, he obviously did not share her opinion.

‘Be that as it may, here you are.  I can help you make the transition from thinking like one of the Secondborn to thinking like one of the Firstborn, but only if you are willing to accept my help.’

Haleth’s gut reaction was to insist she could manage on her own but she had not been coping well.  In fact, that was an understatement.  Given time, she could muddle through on her own, and she did have a great deal of time, but what damage would she cause along the way? 

‘I promise it will not be too onerous,’ he said.

‘What would you suggest?’ she asked.

‘You need a purpose,’ he said.

‘A purpose,’ she echoed, at a loss. 

‘What have you done in the past?’

‘I found things.  There doesn’t seem to be much call for it here.  And even when there is, someone else is better at it,’ she finished darkly, thinking of Inglor and the button.

‘You cannot compare yourself to others.’

‘Please, Master Elrond. How can I not? No matter what I chose to do everyone, and I mean everyone, will always be better than me.  They’ve had several thousand years more practice than me.  I can never hope to catch up.’

‘Haleth, my foster fathers were the sons of Fëanor. Gil-galad was the son of Fingon.  If I had followed your line of reasoning, I never would have left the Ered Luin. There is always someone better than you.  Always.  That is no excuse to give up.’

He was right, of course, but now she was at a loss.  What could she do? Even her skill for finding things was overshadowed by Bilbo who had found the One Ring of Power.

Another thought occurred to her.That was it! The Hobbits had told her that they had written down their tale but that they had left the book in Middle-earth.  With their permission, she could write, or at least record while they dictated their stories.  She could also record the less epic stories that they told of their home, the Shire.  It would help her to remember them and what it had been like to be mortal.

‘Master Elrond, I’d like to request ink and paper,’ she said.

‘That may take some time as such things are in short supply.  However, the tools and the raw materials are available to fashion these things, if you are willing to take the time.’

‘Thank-you, Master Elrond.  I would truly appreciate it.’  It was strange.  She felt better already.  It wasn’t the exhilaration she had felt when she had learned of the missing button, but it was far better than the feeling of uselessness that had dogged her steps since she had lost her Gift.
 
‘Splendid!  I shall approach Teithor tomorrow morning.  He and Ecthelion have been busy in the workshops, making paper and ink.’

‘Thank-you, Master Elrond., Mmay I be excused now?’

‘It is late.  You should seek some rest.’

Haleth sketched a hasty bow and went in search of her room.  Her conscience nagged her every step of the way.  She had to apologize to Inglor. 

She stopped outside the door of his room.  ‘Inglor,’ she called softly.  How many times had she done this in the past?  Screamed at him and then apologized hours later when her conscience finally beat her pride into submission. 

‘Inglor, it’s Haleth.  Please may I enter?’ 

There was no answer.

She had really done it this time; he refused to speak to her at all.  She could hardly blame him.

‘Inglor, please. I’m coming in.’ The door was not locked, which disappointed her.  ‘Look, Inglor, I don’t blame you for not wanting to speak to me.’ 

The room was completely silent.  That didn’t mean anything.  How many times had she believed she was alone only to have Inglor startle her?  He was being stubborn and refusing to talk to her.

She could be stubborn, too.

She fumbled around in the darkness, pulling the stub of a candle, tinder, flint and steel from her many pockets.  ‘I’m sorry, Inglor.  I was unreasonable.  I should not have raised my voice.  Will you please say something?’
 
The candle flame spluttered to life.  A quick look around confirmed that he was not in the room.  Typical Inglor.  She would have to apologize three or four times before he actually heard her.

A slightly longer look convinced her that his pack was also gone. 

He must have unpacked. It would make sense.  Who kept a loaded pack when they were staying somewhere? Except that Haleth had never known Inglor to unpack. 

She extinguished the candle.  He must be out of doors with the others. 

She rushed outside.  The strains of elvish music were audible in the warm night air.  She followed the music, a song of Tuor and Idril and how they sailed away to never be heard from again. Haleth listened, for she had never heard it before. She wondered what Elrond would think of it; they were his grandparents after all.

When she finally found the singers Inglor was not among them.  There was at least one person she knew, though.

‘Good evening, Lord Ecthelion,’ she said.

‘Good evening, Haleth.  You are abroad later than I would have expected.’

‘Yes, yes,’ she said dismissively.  ‘Have you seen Inglor? I need to speak to him.’

Ecthelion’s face fell.  ‘I am sorry, Haleth.  He departed earlier this evening.’

Haleth rocked back on her heels. 

‘Did he say where he was going?’ she asked.

‘No.  Nor did he say when to expect him.’

‘Oh,’ said Haleth, crestfallen.  She shouldn't complain.  She had told Inglor was to go away, but she had never expected him to actually leave.
 
‘May I be of assistance?’ Ecthelion offered.

‘No, thank-you, Lord Ecthelion.  I bid you good night.’

She raced away before he could speak again, her own bitter words ringing in her ears.

Oh, she had really done it this time.