Haleth leaned over the stern to get a better look at the small, white smudge glistening in the distant haze.  No matter how hard she squinted or turned her head she could not make out anything more than a dot.  She leaned forward further and further until her feet came off the deck. 

‘Be careful lest you fall,’ Círdan said.

‘I can swim,’ replied Haleth absently.

‘I do not doubt your aquatic prowess,’ said Círdan. ‘But I doubt you could swim all the way to Tol Eressëa and pulling you out of the sea could prove troublesome.’

‘Oh,’ said Haleth.  She seemed surprised at how far over the stern she had positioned herself.  She pushed herself back onto the deck, her feet landing with a thump.

‘Lord Círdan, are there settlements along the eastern shores of the Pelori?’ she asked.

‘There is Alqualondë, of course.  My understanding is there are several small fishing villages along the coast.’

‘Thank goodness,’ she muttered with a sigh of relief.

‘I beg your pardon?’ he asked, confused.

‘It must be a fisher’s craft, or someone going to visit one of the villages in that ship,’ she said.

Círdan glanced at the tiny ship in the distance.  It was larger than it had been when he had first mentioned it to Haleth. 

‘No,’ he said.  It is not a Telerin ship, nor does it belong to my people.’

‘How can you tell?’ Haleth demanded, frowning and leaning over the stern again.

‘The lines of it are wrong, that ship is of Noldorin build.’

Haleth blanched and stiffened. The last time Círdan had seen a mortal with that reaction had been when the Havens at the Mouth of the Sirion had been invaded.  The daystar’s light darkened as the memory played in Círdan’s mind. He recalled the sons of Fëanor and their followers, their fell swords gleaming red in the starlight as they attacked the miserable collection of hovels where the refugees of Beleriand had gathered.

Haleth’s voice impinged on the cloud of memory. ‘Is there a device on the sail?’ she asked, her voice strangled and far away.

‘Yes,’ said Círdan as he returned his gaze to the open ocean at the bow of the ship.  The vessel had veered off course while he had been conversing with the immortal mortal.  He adjusted with steering oar by the smallest fraction, grateful for the distraction.

There was a small snort from Haleth.  She was looking at him expectantly but he could not guess why.  Her shoulders sagged.  ‘Could you please tell me what it is?’ she asked stiffly.

Círdan did not immediately reply.  Mortals were impatient by nature; this one moreso than most.  Another Firstborn would recognize the signs of uncomfortable memory and end the conversation but Haleth was Secondborn and he would have to make allowances.

She was practically hopping by the time he glanced over his shoulder.  ‘The sail is emblazoned with the fountain.  See how the diamond water droplets sparkle in the sunlight?’

‘Ecthelion!’ The whispered exclamation was pronounced with terror. Haleth’s face went as white as milk.  Her mouth gaped open and closed like a fish torn from the water and she ducked beneath the rail of the ship.

‘Are you well?’ asked Círdan, surprised by her behavior.  Mortals, he knew, were prone to sicknesses that never afflicted the Firstborn.  Haleth, whose appearance had not been healthy at the beginning of the trip, looked deathly ill.  

She stared up at him, her eyes as round as saucers.  ‘Do you think he saw me?’ she whispered, breathless, her face entreating him for reassurance.

Compassion stirred in Círdan’s heart.  Haleth was terrified but he could not imagine what might have happened to her at the hands of Ecthelion to warrant such fear. Another ancient memory surfaced; the face of a child, Gil-Galad, son of the doomed Fingon, looking up at him and begging him to say that his father was safe and well. 

Then, as now, his words held scant comfort.

‘I am sorry, Haleth, but you spent a fair amount of time hanging over the stern. Ecthelion’s eyesight is at least as good as mine.  If he is searching for you, he could not help but see you.’

Haleth snorted and jumped to her feet, chewing her lip.

‘Do you think you can out-sail him?’ she asked finally, her tone casual.

Círdan looked over his shoulder at the tiny boat dancing on the ocean swells. The white ship had turned to follow the Gwaerandir.   ‘For a time,’ he said mildly.

‘Oh.  Only for a time,’ echoed Haleth with a shrug.  She sounded vaguely disappointed.

‘We will eventually come to the island and then we must need stop,’ Círdan reminded her gently.

‘You can’t out-sail him?’ she asked.

Círdan looked straight ahead and made a minute adjustment to the steering oar.  Haleth’s posture was too tense.  There was more to this situation than she was admitting.  He had played this game many times before and was confident he could coax the information out of her; especially with the threat of Ecthelion catching them.  He glanced over his shoulder.  The white Noldorin vessel was perceptibly closer. 

‘We are in the Blessed Realm,’ he said after careful consideration. ‘Even if we had been at odds in the past, and we were not, why should I need to out-sail Ecthelion’s ship?’

Haleth inhaled deeply.  She looked as though she was carefully weighing her words.  It was an expression that would have surprised Inglor.  ‘Forgive me, Lord Círdan, we may be in the Blessed Realm but politics remain.’

He gave her a long, appraising look. 

‘Politics may, but politics are hardly as dire as Oaths.  There is nothing to fear.’

‘Politics will not set upon you with sword and flame, but it will keep you from your purpose just the same.’  She paused, allowing him time to imagine how this might be accomplished.

‘You are beginning to sound like a Firstborn,’ he said with some amusement.

‘Am I?’ she said, a sour expression on her face.  ‘Then allow me to be blunt, like the Secondborn that I am.  In all this time, no one but us has gone in search of the lost sailors on the Enchanted Isles.  You seem to believe this is due to some sort of lack of character on the part of your people. 

‘Don’t try to deny it.  You just said so yourself,’ she said to his taken aback expression.  ‘I put forward that it may not be a lack of character at all.  Someone may not want the sleepers rescued.’

One glance around the deck told Círdan that his sailors were listening intently. There were undoubtedly others who could hear them.

‘Haleth, please…’ he began.

‘I’m not shouting. You needn’t shush me like a misbehaving child,’ she said fervently.

‘You forget where you are.  You do not need to shout to be heard by everyone on deck,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice calm and even.  ‘And if you were a sailor as you claim, you would know how sound carries over water.’

Haleth’s shoulders slumped as she raised her eyes to the sky. ‘Forgive me, Lord Círdan.  The ears of the Firstborn are keen but I doubt that even an Elf Lord as mighty as Ecthelion of the Fountain can hear us from this distance.’

‘Why are you afraid of him?’

Haleth’s mouth froze in an open oh.  ‘I will never learn to fence words with an Elf,’ she muttered. Círdan let the comment go without comment.  It had not been meant for him.

‘You are frightened of him,’ he said, one eye on Haleth and the other on his crew.

‘Lord Ecthelion would never allow any harm to come to me,’ said Haleth, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

‘If you are not frightened of him then perhaps you are frightened of what he may intend for you.  You have reason to believe he is hunting for you, although for what purpose I cannot guess.’

‘I already told you,’ said Haleth with a shrug, ‘Lord Ecthelion would never allow any harm to come to me.’

‘And this somehow troubles you.’

‘Please excuse me, Lord Círdan.  The light of the daystar upon the water is too bright for my mortal eyes.  I must retire below.’  He watched Haleth’s stiff retreating back.

~*~

Haleth was about go below deck when the door popped open and Haleth stood nose to chest with Inglor.  At least she assumed it was Inglor.  Whoever it was wore Inglor’s shirt.

He grasped her shoulders and Haleth looked up into Inglor’s concerned eyes. ‘What troubles you?’ he asked gently.

Haleth drew a deep breath, determined to not sound like a frightened child. ‘Ecthelion of the Fountain follows us,’ she replied.

‘How close?’ Inglor asked his expression grim.

‘Not very close, at least not for now.   I can barely see his ship,’ she said.

‘Then how do you know…’ he began.

‘Lord Círdan sees a fountain upon the sail.  He says the ship was made by the Noldor,’ said Haleth, her voice rising steadily as she spoke.

Inglor did not answer.  He looked at the white dot that followed their ship and frowned. Then he looked up at the sky, his face the picture of intense concentration.  He closed his eyes and shook his head.  ‘Alas, I cannot,’ he murmured.

This did nothing to reassure Haleth.

‘Inglor, what are we going to do?’ Haleth whispered. ‘He means to drag me to Lórien and I cannot stop him.’

‘Haleth, believe me.  No one can force you to do anything against your will,’ he said.

Haleth stared at him, her mouth working soundlessly.  Since she had awakened in Master Elrond’s new home it seemed that everyone had had huge, unspoken expectations of her. Almost no one had bothered to explain what those expectations were. And Haleth, as hard as she had been trying, had failed to meet them at every turn.

‘Oh, Inglor, I just don’t belong here,’ she groaned.

‘Never say that,’ he said with unexpected ferocity.

‘But it’s true.  I lumber around like a trained bear.  I have no manners.  I take ships that don’t belong to me…’

‘Borrow,’ he corrected her.

‘I beg your pardon?’ she asked.

‘Borrow. You borrow things but only when you have need of them,’ he said.

Haleth searched his eyes for some trace of mirth but Inglor seemed completely earnest.

‘Very well, then, borrow,’ she said, a ghost of a smile on her face.  Her expression sank back into worry.  ‘It’s a pity there isn’t any extra boat to borrow.’

‘Haleth, what do you want to do?’

Haleth drew breath to answer and then stopped. 

‘Are you unsure? Do you wish to go to Lórien?’

‘No,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘Then what do you want?’

‘I want to go home.’ The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Inglor sighed.  He grasped her arm and guided her towards the bow of the ship.  Idril stood in the very prow, her keen eyes gazing across the water, her golden hair flowing in the breeze. She was the very image of valour and determination, intent upon rescuing her husband and her friend.  She would have no time for Haleth’s fears.

Inglor steered Haleth to the side of the ship instead. They stood together watching the white ship cut through the blue waters of the Enchanted Sea while Haleth tried to collect herself and failed miserably.

‘I’m sorry,’ she babbled.  ‘I don’t know what made me say that. I know I can’t go home. My home is gone.’

‘How long have you felt this way?’ he asked.

‘Since the day Ecthelion took me to the beach for a picnic,’ she replied. ‘That was the day when I saw…when I thought I saw…’

‘Númenor.  Or what remains of her,’ said Inglor softly.

It was true!  Her home, or at least a part of it, had survived the cataclysm. Haleth’s heart pounded in her chest. Her ears roared and she would have fallen to her knees if Inglor had not put a steadying arm around her waist.  

Inglor’s voice cut through to her awareness. ‘I am so sorry, Haleth.  I should have been watching for the signs.’

‘The signs of what? That I still have a home?’ she demanded, her voice thick with tears.

‘Your longing for home,’ he said gently. ‘I had been told that it might be problematic for you.’

‘Well, yes, being in a strange place and all,’ she said because she did not know what else to say.

‘I told myself that was the reason for your behavior; being in Valinor and not being aware of our customs,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Forgive me.  I should have known when you st….borrowed the ship and sailed east.’

‘Inglor, what are you talking about?’ Haleth asked, fed up with the oblique conversation.

Inglor hung his head and turned away from her.  ‘The limpë, the drink I gave you when I…’ he stopped.

‘When you changed my fate,’ said Haleth bluntly. 

Inglor winced, ‘When I took your Gift from you.’

‘It did more than make me like the Firstborn, didn’t it?’

‘I suspect it instilled your fierce longing for home.’

‘You suspect?’ she said distantly. ‘You don’t know?’

‘It is not something that is commonly done,’ he explained.

‘Then how did you know it would work at all?’ she asked.

‘I did not.  I fervently hoped it would.’

Haleth opened her mouth then closed it.  She was caught somewhere between laughter, tears and shoving Inglor into the depths of the ocean.  All of the homesickness, all of the ennui, all of it was the result of the potion he had given her while she was unaware. The same potion that had stolen her Gift and landed her in Aman with all of the impossibly lovely, incredibly accomplished immortals who she could never hope to equal. 

‘Haleth,’ Inglor sounded as though he was choosing his words with the greatest of care. ‘Aside from your home, which is beyond my ability to give you, what do you want?’

‘I want to make my own decisions,’ she snarled. Her fingers ached from clutching the ship’s rail.

They lapsed into silence. Haleth struggled to control herself while Inglor sadly watched the gulls swoop and turn. 

‘Haleth,’ he eventually managed. ‘There are times when your decisions are perhaps…’

‘Not as wise as they could be?’ Haleth finished for him.

Inglor’s face was an interesting combination of relief mixed with terror.  He nodded, mutely.

‘I know, Inglor.  They may not be wise but they are my decisions all the same.’

‘Ecthelion, Anairë and the others, they only wish to help cure you of pain,’ Inglor said.

Haleth turned on him, furious again.  He had caused her pain, after all.  If he had just left her at Mithlond, none of this would have happened.  She would have been alone, left to wander the empty leagues of Eriador and mourning Inglor’s departure until death finally claimed her.

Very well, perhaps her current situation was not so horrible after all.

‘What about you?’ she asked as she slipped her arm through his, a crooked smile on her face.

‘I have my wish,’ he said grasping her hand. ‘But it has come with great cost which I regret.’

It took Haleth a moment to realize he was talking about her.  She was his wish in all of her angry, lumbering, inept glory.  It was a humbling and utterly confusing experience.

‘Inglor, it is possible to have more than one wish in a life time,’ she said gently. ‘You have had one wish fulfilled.  What else do you wish for?’

Inglor did not answer for a very long time.  The wind picked up, whipping the spray into their faces. Idril stood like a proud figurehead on the prow of the ship.  Círdan’s sailors worked the sail this way and that to take full advantage of Manwë’s gift.

'I wish to undo the damage caused by my first wish,’ said Inglor.

Haleth guessed he was talking about her and all of her outbursts and bad decisions and homesickness.

‘But you do not insist that I go to Lórien?’ she ventured, hoping her guess was right.

‘You have made it abundantly clear you did not wish to go.  Besides,’ he added, smiling sadly.  ‘You are not the only person who refuses the peace and healing of Lórien.’

Haleth stared at him speculatively.  ‘Someone tried to send you there, too.’

He nodded, not meeting her eye.  ‘It was strongly suggested.’

‘And you wouldn’t go, either,’ she added.  She longed to ask the questions; what had happened to him and why did he not wish to go? But she sensed he would not answer; at least not yet.  One thing was certain though; Inglor understood her plight.

Wrapping her arm around Inglor’s waist, she rested her head against his shoulder. ‘Very well, then neither of us shall go.’ 

‘Because both of us prefer to have our pain,’ she thought. ‘I don’t think either of us is particularly intelligent.’

Inglor placed his arm around her shoulder and the two of them stood in silence while the gulls screamed and squabbled and the sailors moved around them.

‘Ecthelion is still following,’ Haleth finally said as the sun sank below the Pelori.

‘He cannot force you to do anything against your will.  I will not allow it,’ muttered Inglor.

‘I suppose he will rest easier when he sees that I am with you,’ she said as she watched Inglor’s profile.  The slightest hint of a frown creased his features.

‘You did save me, after all,’ she insisted.

‘I did,’ he said slowly. ‘But at great cost.’

‘Everything has its cost,’ said Haleth with a shrug. ‘You keep me out of trouble.’

Inglor made no reply.  The long twilight of Valinor came to its end and the first stars were igniting in the darkening sky when he finally said; ‘I do not believe anyone would agree with your observation.’

‘What observation?’ asked Haleth, who had lost track of their previous conversation over the intervening hours.

‘That I keep you from trouble.’

She was about to argue when he continued. ‘If you will please excuse me, I must speak with Lord Círdan.’  He strode to the stern of the ship, leaving Haleth to stare at his retreating back in confusion and disbelief.