Pitfalls of the Palantir

Summer was beginning to fade to autumn when Inglor and Haleth finally reached the Lonely Mountain.

Inglor had gone alone to speak to Thorin, son of Nain, King Under Mountain, leaving Haleth to explore the town. The Bardings, with the help of the dwarves, had rebuilt Dale into a vibrant place since Bard the Archer had slain Smaug so many years ago. His greatgrandson, Bard II, now ruled in Dale, his father having been slain beside Dain Ironfoot at the front gates of the Mountain during the War of the Ring.

Dale itself had also suffered in that battle, but most of the damage had since been put right. The bells rang merrily on the hour and the streets and markets were busy with people going about their daily business.

Behind all the hustle and bustle Haleth could see the scars of the recent war. Some of the houses stood empty, forsaken by families who likely could no longer afford to keep them. There were few young men in evidence.

Women had stepped in to do some of the trades usually exclusive to men. Haleth found a woman toymaker who ran her own shop, apparently alone.

The toys were among the most extra-ordinary she had ever seen. There were toy soldiers who marched to war in ordered ranks when they were wound with a key. There were tops, jacks-in-the-box, whirly-gigs and mechanical gee gawks of every possible description. If the proprietress had not given Haleth several significant looks, she would likely have have played with them all.

She evenually bought a wind-up bird that could actually fly a short distance. It was a completely frivolous purchase as it was very doubtful that the delicate construct would survive Haleth's pack, despite the sturdy box in which the toymaker packed it.

Haleth also purchased two small boxes of red candles which were labelled fire crackers. The toy maker had taken her into the street to give her a demonstration of these things while excited boys teemed around them. When the wick, which the toy maker insisted on calling a fuse, was lit, it burned with a loud sizzle for several moments before exploding into a shower of yellow sparks. Haleth's agile mind had immediately grasped the potential usefulness of these things and she could not leave the shop without some.

Now she ambled down the street, watching the people and looking at the merchandice in the shops and stalls. The streets were filled with people of all ages, from the newest of infants to bent, grey-haired elderly folk. Children raced up and down, intent upon their own games while their parents ran their businesses or did their marketing. The variety in ages and appearances, the boisterous shouts and haggling from the market stalls made it an altogether human experience. As she stood in the centre of the marketplace with a lopsided grin on her face, Haleth had not realised how much she had missed human society.

By noontime her stomach began to growl. She resolved to find a place to eat by using one of the oldest methods known to tourists; she watched where the locals ate.

A rather large crowd of them was gathered around one small shop. An intoxicating aroma drifted out of the shop's open door. Haleth joined the throng. Fragments of conversations swirled around her. Most of it concerned the daily life of the Bardings; who was in business, who was in trouble. She half listened for anything that might be of use later and quickly discovered that Inglor's arrival had not gone unnoticed. This was potentially bad news under the best of circumstances. In a city that had lost a fair percentage of its young men it was disastrous. Haleth vowed to argue with Inglor to stay in his rooms at the inn or at least to keep out of the Common Room in order to avoid the type of trouble they had experienced in Bree.

There also seemed to be a stir about a new beverage. It had just arrived in Dale and everyone wanted it. In fact, it almost seemed impossible for people to get through a day without it. Luckily enough, Haleth was in the line for it, whatever it was. She would find out soon enough. The locals seemed to be suspicious of the owner and his family, though. She dismissed this as the natural doubts any tightly knit community had about newcomers.

Eventually she found herself in a seat on a long, narrow bar. She quickly scanned what the other patrons were eating.
To her dismay, no one was eating at all. They all seemed to be drinking a steaming, aromatic beverage. Disappointed, Haleth was about to leave when a server asked her for her order. Haleth looked around and said "I'll have what they're having."

The server, a blank-eyed young woman, hurried off into another room and almost immediately returned with hot mug of a brown liquid. Haleth sniffed it suspiciously. It was the source of the wonderful aroma. She cautiously took a sip and the hot liquid scalded her tongue. She put the mug down on the bar and looked around her, half intending to leave it there. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying it, so she gave it another try. She blew gently on the liquid before sipping it again. It was not as bad as she had originally thought.

Before she knew it, she had emptied the cup.

Feeling oddly invigorated, she left a few copper pieces on the bar and continued her explorations of Dale.



Inglor was in his rooms when Haleth returned that evening. She knocked on his door quietly.

"Who is it?" came the suspicious reply.

"It's Haleth," she said, slightly annoyed that he felt the need to ask. At the sound of her voice, he immediately opened the door.

"Who else would it be?" she asked as she stepped into the room.

"I thought I was followed," he explained, closing the door behind her after a suspicious glance up the hallway.

"Inglor," sighed Haleth as she looked out the window, "This town is filled with unmarried young women with no prospects of finding a man. I'm positive you were followed."

"That is not what I meant." So he did notice that sort of thing. Haleth briefly wondered what else he noticed.

"Did the King Under Mountain receive you kindly?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Inglor. "He was most anxious to be rid of the palantir. He claimed it was causing some sort of distraction among his people."

"What sort of distraction?" asked Haleth, remembering a similar conversation in Moria.

"He would not elaborate beyond complaining about the work schedules being badly thrown off and how he couldn't really blame the lads for being lonely. It made no sense."

"Oh," said Haleth blandly. She had a nasty suspicion about the nature of the distraction.

"At any rate, he was most anxious for me to take the palantir away," said Inglor. "See?" He pulled the twinkling ball out of his pack. "He said that he was going to send it to King Estel as soon as the next party of his people went to Aglarond. But that wouldn't be for some time yet."

"I'll bet," she said. Leave it to the dwarves. She was quite certain that the mighty hand of Fëanor had not wrought the palantir in the depths of time for them to watch dwarf pornography. She could not understand that level of frustration. Well, come to think of it, when she looked at Inglor, she could.

"So he gave it to me when I told him that I intended to take it to Minas Tirith," Inglor said. Why did his voice have to be so musical?

There was another knock on the door. Inglor answered it. He held the door mostly shut so that Haleth could not see who was there.

His back was to her. She wondered what, exactly the dwarves had been watching. If she was ever going to find out, now was the time. Just her and the palantir and all of history and geography at her fingertips. This would likely be her only chance to ever use it.

She put herself between Inglor and the palantir and and gazed into its depths. "Show me what those who were just using this saw," she told it, hoping the palantir could understand nonspecific instructions. The palantir flickered to life. A small picture slowly resolved itself in its depths. Haleth held her breath and leaned forward in curiousity.

Then her shoulders slumped in disappointment. It just figured.

"These people certainly are friendly." Inglor closed the door. Haleth jumped guiltily at the sound of his voice.

"Who was it?" she asked quickly.

"I do not know," he answered. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just waiting for you to tell me who that was," she said, slightly annoyed.

"It was a lady," Inglor answered, confused. "She gave me something. What were you doing just now?"

Another lady. In the space of a heartbeat, Haleth's mood swung from guilty to jealous.

"Nothing," she answered flatly and then pretended interest. "What did she want?"

"She gave me these," Inglor held out a small bag. "You were looking into the palantir, weren't you?"

"That's right, Inglor," Haleth sighed and looked into the bag. It was filled with rich dark brown berries. Except that berries were never that smooth and shiny. "I wanted to know how many women are going to be lined up outside your door tonight."

"Don't be ridiculous." Had she finally managed to shock him? "The palantir only shows the past or the present. Never the future."

No, still not shocked.

"So you're expecting a long line of women outside your door tonight?" Haleth asked, her voice trembling slightly. Guilt and jealousy were once again working their deadly combination on her. She took a deep breath and vowed they would not entirely cloud her reason.

"I should hope not!" Inglor said.

"Good," she shrugged, "Because I'm tired of being beaten by your paramours."

"I don't have any paramours!" Inglor sounded as though he was actually becoming angry. So it was possible to make him lose control after all.

"So you miss them, then?" Haleth demanded in a bored voice while examining her fingernails.

"I've never had any. How can I miss them?" Inglor had the impression that neither truth nor logic would win this battle.

"So you don't want any?" Haleth was truly at her worst when she held onto enough of her temper to think clearly. And she had finally found a target where her barbed remarks to do damage.

"I never said that!" Inglor held up his hands as if to ward her away.

"So you do want...what...half a dozen?" she asked. "Would that do for one evening? Shall I go and tell them?" She floated out of his room and into her own where she closed the door quietly, lay down on the bed and screamed into her pillow. It did not make her feel any better in the least.


It was the middle of the night when Haleth crept out of her room. She half expected to see her imagined line of women outside of Inglor's door. There was only the sullen flickering of a dying candle casting phantastical shadows upon the wall.

She stood outside of his door, debating whether she should knock or go back to bed. Once she had calmed down enough to be ashamed for her behavior, she had realized that she had been seeing Inglor solely as the object of her desires; a thing to be possessed, not a living, breathing individual. She had allowed this to dominate her perecption of the elf. Repeating the empty phrases from a book simply allowed her to retain enough control of her faculties to be truly hurtful.

The entire episode had been a painful one of self-revelation for Haleth, who, more than anything, despised those who would dominate the will of others. She had always smugly believed that she would never want to control anyone. Inglor had proven her wrong. With a shock she thought she finally understood the reason for her cold reception at Rivendell.

So Haleth had spent several hours thoroughly cursing herself for being so shallow. Then she had wondered what to do about it. An apology seemed like the best place to start. She hoped that he would not demand an explanation for her earlier actions as she did not want to reveal this side of her personality. Especially not to Inglor, who knew her better than anyone and seemed to be fond of her anyways.

She had marched determinedly out of her room, crossed the hallway to his door and had stopped there, unsure. The apology was proving to be more difficult than she had anticipated.

Haleth ran her fingers on the door of Inglor's room. If he did not answer, she would just go back to bed and stare at the ceiling until dawn. Then she would try to pretend that the entire unpleasant incident had never happened.

"Enter," Inglor's voice barely carried through the door.

Haleth reluctantly entered the elf's room. He sat cross-legged on the bed, watching the stars out of the open window. His face was a cast of beautific sorrow. The expression rent her heart, although the logical part of her mind knew that she was not entirely responsible for it.

She closed the door and sat next to him, uninvited. Neither spoke for a long time.

"So we have the palantir again," she eventually said.

Inglor did not answer immediately. Haleth was certain he had heard her. She wondered if silence was some odd sort of elven rejection.

"Yes," he finally whispered.

"And tomorrow we shall take it to Gondor," Haleth said.

"You're willing to go to Gondor with me?" Inglor asked. He finally turned to look at her, his eyes shining though the sadness lingered.

"I've seldom failed to finish a quest before," she answered, smiling with fake bravery.

"Thank-you. I know it will be difficult for you, but the road would be long and lonely if I were to go without you," he answered, placing his hand over hers.

Haleth stared at his hand in open-mouthed panic.

"I think it would be better if I got the supplies tomorrow," she said brusquely as she pulled away from him. "You attract far too much attention."

Inglor shrugged. "It does seem to be true." It was plain that he did not understand why this was the way of things.

"I think I'll go and get some sleep," Haleth said and she stood to go.

"Good night," he said quietly.

Back in her own room, Haleth lay down on her own bed and stared at the ceiling. "I will go to Gondor with you, Inglor," she thought. 'But I shall travel away from there alone.'