Haleth shrugs. "There is not time to waste, as you know. We cannot stay here overlong, especially not if your brother does call you back to war; it would be tactically unsound. Better for us to move on to a place where we may remain."

She tilts her head, looking at him curiously for another minute. "You have courted me most assiduously, Caranthir of Thargelion," she says, just as forthright, just as abrupt. "You know my priorities, and that they will not alter; you know that I cannot bear children and that I will not marry as the Edain do, and nor am I free to live with you, nor you with me. You know I will be old and gray and haggard while you remain as you are, and that I will eventually be taken by the Gift of Men. Knowing all those things, do you still wish to offer suit?"

She stands with her chin lifted high as she waits: a small, plain, striking woman, unquestionably mortal, no more than she seems and no less.