Haleth, hand steady on the tiller of the elven ship, watched the expanse of sea before her. Her eyes turned to the dark smudge in the eastern sea. Númenor pulled her like a lode stone.  She walked the familiar land each night in her dreams.  If only all of her dreams were so pleasant.  Each night seemed to bring new nightmares of hideous beasts and a tall, dark individual who shouted shook her until her teeth rattled.  

The sail cracked in the breeze. Silently cursing, Haleth corrected the ship’s course. She had to pay more attention to her immediate surroundings.  Each time her concentration failed she would steer to the east.  The bad habit would reveal her true intentions to Inglor.

She glanced in his direction. Inglor was bent over his work; a detailed map of the last island they had passed.  It had been little more than a rocky outcrop with several brave trees upon it, their trunks slanted in the direction of the prevailing west winds. 

The Enchanted Isles were proving far less interesting than Haleth had hoped.  While some were large enough to accommodate a small wood, most were little bigger than the island they had just skirted.  Nothing moved upon them except for the birds and there had been no sign of any person, sleeping or awaking, on any of them.  There had not even been so much as the rotting remains of a wrecked ship although plenty of reefs and rocks lurked just below the water’s surface waiting to ruin an unwary sailor.

The sail cracked again.  Haleth adjusted the tiller.

She glanced at the silver ring that still rested on her index finger.  The metal had lost its luster of late, the bright silver darkening to a foggy grey.  It must be because of the salty air, it could have nothing in common with Inglor’s deteriorating mood.

For the first times since she had met him, Inglor was not his mild tempered self.  The scholar who took delight in explaining the whys and the wherefores and the extended, detailed history of any subject Haleth was foolish enough to indicate an interest in had grown taciturn to the point of melancholy.

Where this would formerly have set her scrambling to give him cheer, now Haleth had no idea what to say or do. Resentment and the revelation of the possible meaning of the silver ring kept her tongue-tied.

Grasping the tiller with her opposite hand, she raised the ring to her lips and blew upon it until the dull silver clouded further with the mist of her breath.  She vigorously rubbed it against her shirt to polish it, half hoping that it would improve Inglor’s mood.

Holding up her hand, she critically examined the silver band, turning it this way and that to catch the rays of the sun.

‘Turn the ship to the north east.’

The instructions caught her off guard.  She glanced at him with a guilty expression and dropped her hand to the tiller.  The silver was as murky as ever.

‘Is there another island up there?’ she asked to make conversation.

‘Yes.’

‘Is it larger than the last one?’ she asked hopefully.

‘That is my hope,’ he said.  ‘Ossë grows restless.’

~*~

Elves, Haleth reflected, had an amazing talent for understatement.  The thought skittered through her mind as the ship climbed a mountain of water and plunged down the opposite side with sickening speed only to immediately climb the next wave. 

Rain teemed from the inky blackness of the sky. Water surged into the ship from above and from the sides, threatening to swamp the tiny speck upon the ocean. Inglor clung grimly to the oars, fighting to keep the ship in line with the waves as Haleth, soaked to the skin, bailed for all she was worth. 

If this was a restless Ossë, she would hate to encounter of an angry Ossë.

The ship was poised at the crest of an enormous wave.  Inglor shouted to her. Haleth only knew because of the movement of his lips for his words were torn away by the howling wind. 

Haleth knew it would be a miracle for their tiny ship to survive.  She bailed water as hard as she could.  But for every bucketful she tossed over the side, two more poured in to take its place. 

The relentless roaring of the wind suddenly changed.  Haleth risked a glance behind her.  There was a wall of white, roiling water directly ahead of them.

‘What have I done? We’re going to die and it’s my fault!’ She cursed the foolishness that had driven her to the open ocean.  If only she had followed Master Elrond’s advice and gone quietly to Lórien instead of setting to sea and taking Inglor with her.

She could have told Inglor her true purpose at any time during their voyage but her fear and pride had kept her silent.

And what was the source of this paralyzing dread?  A tiny band of silver. 

‘And why did he never speak to me of it?’ demanded a rebellious part of her mind.    ‘He could have raised the subject as easily as me but he elected not to.’

Another horrible thought occurred to her. 

Maybe he had not broached the subject because, as far as he was concerned, there was no subject to broach.  Maybe the ring was nothing more than a token of friendship. 

If that was the case, and the more Haleth thought of it, the more she was convinced it was so, her groundless fear would be the death of them both. 

Inglor was barely visible in the murk, his hair plastered to his head, his clothing soaked.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she cried as the wall of water crashed over their heads.

The roaring unexpectedly abated. Haleth stared around, surprised to still be alive.  The waves were much lower and no longer threatened to swamp the boat.

What had happened?

‘Keep bailing!’ Inglor cried.  He searched around frantically for a bucket.  When none came to hand he scooped the water out with his clasped hands.

The realization that they were going to survive slowly seeped into Haleth’s awareness.  She sat in stunned disbelief, too shocked to move.

‘Haleth!’ Inglor shouted.

The sound of her name brought her back to herself.  The boat was riding dangerously low with water half way to the gunwales.

She filled the bucket, tossed the water over the side and filled it again.  Inglor located a mug and added his efforts to hers. 

How long they worked Haleth could not tell.  She moved without thinking until Inglor touched her arm.

‘You may stop.  The danger, for the moment, is passed.’

Haleth took stock of their surroundings.  The ship was in a sheltered, natural harbour.  Waves crashed against the entrance, throwing plumes high into the air.  That was the curtain of water they had passed through.

The rain had abated but they were both soaked to the skin.  A quick glance around the boat showed that many of their supplies had been washed overboard.  They were many leagues from home and far from any hope of aid, but they were alive.

Haleth glanced at the silver ring and bit her lip.  This was it.  They weren’t dead.  She would ask.

‘Inglor,’ she began, before her resolve failed.

‘Yes?’ he said; his calmness completely at odds with their recent experience.

The words weren’t difficult. She could say them in two and a half languages but her lips completely refused to form them.

‘You’re soaked,’ she said.

‘As are you,’ he said mildly.  ‘Perhaps we should search out some dry clothing for you.’

‘I’m sure it would all be wet,’ said Haleth, unhappy at the change of subject.

‘It could be a little less wet,’ he said, looking concerned. ‘Do you believe you may become ill?’

‘I don’t know,’ she shrugged, not caring. 

‘We should not hazard the chance,’ he said.  He turned to fiddle with one of the few remaining chests.

Opportunity was slipping away almost as quickly as Haleth’s courage.

No.  She would not hide behind fear.  The worst he could say was that he saw her as a friend; that was hardly a bad thing.  Granted, it would break her heart into thousands of tiny pieces, but she would be more than happy to have Inglor as a friend.

‘Inglor, there is something I must ask you.’  She placed her hands over his.

He regarded her hands with mild curiosity and, perhaps, she flattered herself to think, a wistful glance at the silver ring.

‘Yes?’ he asked when she remained silent.

Why was it impossible to think when those blue eyes gazed into hers? ‘That was a fine bit of sailing,’ she said, defeated once again.

‘Thank-you,’ he replied.  He attempted to move but she caught his hands again.

‘Was that all?’ he asked. 

‘Inglor, this ring,’ she said.  ‘The one you gave to me in Dale…’  Her voice trailed into silence.  This was the hardest thing she had ever done.  She glared at the ring.  It glimmered back mockingly. 

‘Yes?’ he asked. 

‘It’s…’ she began.  Was it her imagination or had it regained some of its luster?

‘Was it…’ she tried again.  Yes.  The storm had somehow polished it.

She looked into Inglor’s eyes and threw herself into the abyss.

‘I was speaking to some people in Tirion and I know it sounds silly but they thought it might be a betrothal ring.’

He regarded her with the familiar expression of befuddled kindness.  It rent her heart.

‘That is…I know it’s ridiculous…but I was wondering…is it?’

His expression barely changed. 

A physical wrench twisted within Haleth’s chest as her brittle heart shattered.  She looked away and withdrew her hands, face aflame with shame and embarrassment.

‘Well, of course it isn’t. Silly of me, really. Sorry.  It must have been the storm and thinking we were going to die and…sorry.’ 

A strong, gentle hand cupped her chin and pulled her around to face him.

‘Do you believe I would have interfered in your fate for any other reason?’ he asked, bowing his head until their foreheads rested together.  ‘What else could it possibly be?’

‘Well, I don’t know! It could have been anything!’ Haleth cried, drawing away from him.  

Inglor grinned, nonplussed by the explosion of temper.

‘It has always been the custom among the Eldar…’ he began.

‘I am NOT one of the Eldar!’ she shouted.  ‘At least I wasn’t…I’m still not.  I never will be, even if I do survive until the end of Arda. We have…my people had their own customs.  And don’t you dare ask me what they were!’ she shouted for his face had taken on the expression of mild interest that heralded a scholarly discussion. Haleth was in no mood to change the subject.  In fact, she could not begin to label her emotional state. 

‘You…you…you arrogant, leaf-eared Firstborn,’ she spluttered.  ‘Do you know what you’ve done?  Do you have any idea how long I’ve loved you?  Do you have any clue?  I knew it was hopeless.  I knew it from the start and I told myself don’t fall in love with him but, like a complete fool, I did anyways.  I’ve loved you for years and I hid it because you would never love me except as a friend or a temporary companion.  I was resigned to unrequited love.  I was quite prepared to say good-bye to you on the shores of Mithlond and I would have if you hadn’t thrown me into the ship.  I was going to let you go without ever telling you how I felt and somehow…somehow I’m in the Blessed Realm where I shouldn’t be.  You know I was here before, don’t you?’  He nodded.  She sailed on before he could speak. ‘You know what happened the last time I was here. Why did you bring me here?’

Inglor, in his usual unperturbed manner, tried to answer but Haleth barreled onwards, scarcely pausing for breath.

‘I was ready to die when I was brought before the Valar.  You know that, don’t you?  My family is dead.  My country is obliterated.  I’ve outlived everything and everyone I ever loved – until you came along – and just when I was about to give back my life I learned that you had chosen differently for me and I didn’t know why and…and…and…’ She threw her hands in the air, unable to express herself.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she wailed.

‘I thought you knew,’ he said, shrugging helplessly.  He looked close to laughter.

‘How could I possibly know?  And how did you know that I would say yes?  In fact, you didn’t explain, but I accepted betrothal when I accepted the ring, didn’t I?

‘Haleth, I thought you understood its significance.’  There was something in the way he said it, some tiny air of smug certitude that set Haleth’s temper aflame.

‘How did you know I’d accept?’ she snapped.

His face suddenly fell, all trace of merriment vanished.  He dropped to his knees on the bottom of the ship, seeming to age before her eyes.

‘If you do not wish it…if commitment to another binds you… I will not hold you to the promise,’ he said.

‘Who else would I be committed to?’ she asked in total bewilderment. 

‘Please forgive me, Haleth, but I must ask.  I do not know the ways of the Secondborn, but for the Firstborn the marriage bond is sealed when a couple joins together in physical union.  The bond remains, even if one of the partners dies. I cannot marry you if you are already wed.’

‘Inglor, it is different for the Secondborn.  If one spouse dies, it is expected the remaining partner will remarry!’

‘Were you ever married?’ he asked.

‘By the customs of my people?  No.  By the customs of yours?’ She paused. A horrible doubt gnawed at the pit of her stomach.  ‘I don’t know. My memory…I don’t know.’

He sat back, worry knotting his brow.  ‘Perhaps,’ he eventually said.  ‘If the man was mortal he would have passed from the Circles of the World long ago.’

‘Inglor, no,’ the words nearly killed her.  Her entire body was trembling. ’I will not have you do something so against your people’s custom.’ 

Strong arms wrapped around her, drew her against a firm body.  Inglor rocked her and stroked her hair.  Haleth leaned against him and shook all the more.

He chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest.  She pulled away, shocked.  

‘We are quite the pair, are we not?’ he asked, ‘Both of us risking everything for the other only to realize their sacrifice is either unneeded or unwanted.’

‘I never said…’ she began.

‘It is quite plain that you do not want to be in the Blessed Realm.  Your deeds since you arrived here trumpet it.

‘Hush,’ he added, placing his fingers against her lips when she made to protest again. 

She grasped his hand and pulled it away from her mouth. 

‘I take it the Valar were not pleased with you for brining me here?’ she asked, ashamed to have not asked earlier.

‘The Valar, my family, my people, I daresay most of Valinor,’ he said. She was shocked; not because of the admission but because of his attitude. He sounded smug.  Then his face fell.  ‘You,’ he added wistfully.

‘Do you not love me, Haleth?’  His voice was barely a whisper.  ‘I thought you did.  You told me you did, but that may have been the effects of the poison.  If you do not, I have done you a grave harm that cannot be undone and I must ask your…’

‘Inglor, shut up,’ she said, breathlessly.

‘I cannot,’ he said, shaking his head.  Beads of water flew from his rain darkened hair.  ‘I must beg your…’

Whatever he meant to say next was silenced as Haleth reached out, grasped his shirt and pulled him to her.  Their lips met with firm decisiveness.