The Grey Havens was the largest port in Vanaheim. Ships that sailed west from here left this plane entirely, bound for the blessed land of elven legend—the elven realm of Alfheim.
The port city's role was to see the elves off into the sea. Elves didn't linger here long, so only a handful could be seen on any given day—tall, pale-skinned figures. The rest of the population was a mix of dwarves and Vanaheimian humans from all over the world.
The Vanaheimians looked no different from Earth humans to a casual glance, but Bella's Hawkeye Vision could pick out subtle differences: their bone density and skin density were both greater than Earth humans'.
Thorin Oakenshield and his company needed to resupply in the Grey Havens. Some of the spoils from Narnia would be sold here for necessary provisions, before they crossed the entire continent to the Lonely Mountain in the east.
Without a visual anchor, Bella didn't dare teleport blindly. Spending a month on the road wasn't the end of the world for her—she could use the time to study local knowledge and broaden her understanding of this world.
For a mage, travel was required coursework. With thirteen dwarven warriors at her side, she figured the safety margin was comfortably high.
Bella parted ways with Thorin and the rest for the time being, wandering alone through the exotic, ancient port city. She stopped from time to time to listen in on the thoughts of the sapient beings around her, to examine their art, and to take in the city's overall layout.
"First time in Mithlond, traveler?" An aged voice sounded at her ear as she stood studying a statue of a valiant knight.
She turned, and found an elf—a male elf with long silver hair and a long beard at his chin.
Every elf Bella had seen in her walk through the city gave the same impression: arrogant, elegant, haughty. And if you added one more distinguishing feature—beardless.
The elder beside her was the first bearded elf she'd encountered.
True, she had only been in the Grey Havens a short time and hadn't seen ten elves yet. Saying elves were beardless on such thin evidence was jumping to conclusions, but this one's appearance still struck her as distinctly unusual.
For a bearded elf of a long-lived race—just how old did that make him?
Bella, who still counted as young even by human standards, was polite. "Yes, my first time. Mithlond is a great city. But..."
The elder watched her quietly, waiting. She had no choice but to go on. "But the city has a heaviness about it. I can hear it weeping. Grieving for the elves who have left."
From where she stood, she couldn't see the harbor, but she pointed toward it anyway. "The seawater is full of the sorrow of parting. The elves have invested their feelings in the hills, in the stones, in the tides. They love this land, but they have no choice but to go."
Bella didn't know why she was telling a stranger all this. The mood of the Grey Havens had seeped into her, and psions were the most sensitive to that kind of mood—and the least able to resist it.
The elder's gaze was deep. His mind was wrapped in an endless weave of memory. Even without any defense, Bella couldn't get a clear read on him.
"You're right. Mithlond is a place of sorrow. Departing for the elven realm is the fate of all elves—but abandoning the land that raised them is cruel too. The subject is a heavy one. Still, it's a pleasure to meet you, traveler from afar. I am Círdan the Shipwright."
Who was this? Bella scratched her head, sifting through her memory. After a long moment she still couldn't place the old elf.
"Isabella Swan. Just call me Bella."
On learning of Bella's interest in the city's history and elven culture, the old elf directed her to the lord of the city's private library.
The lord's private library? Was I actually allowed in there?
Bella guessed the old elf was no ordinary figure. But she didn't think going in to read a few books was a crime.
Following his directions, she found the lavish library tucked away in a quiet corner of the northwestern quarter.
A day later, the old elf Círdan came to see her again. They spoke of poetry, of music, of the relationship between gods and their faithful, and finally about architecture.
Though Bella's years wouldn't make up a fraction of his own, she was widely read and could hold her own on any topic.
Just when she expected him to turn the subject to elvish magic, he pivoted suddenly. "Miss Bella, you carry yourself with such warmth. And yet your heart, underneath, is cold."
Was I really that obvious? The Ancient One had seen it. Now this elder of unknowable age could see it too?
Bella bit her lip and said nothing.
The Ancient One was her teacher; at least there was a bond there. This old elf was another matter. She waited in silence for whatever came next.
Círdan the Shipwright sighed. "I really have lived too long. Nearly fifteen thousand years this year."
Bella's eye twitched.
Surely that wasn't a brag.
The old elf went on. "I'm so tired. I've sent off generation after generation of the young, and here I still am, waiting, and waiting. My heart has already gone cold. My body is nearing its end."
There was a hint of puzzlement in Bella's eyes. "But you still seem full of passion to me. When we talked about music earlier—that was your heart speaking, wasn't it? High, fierce, unbreakable. I don't think I heard it wrong."
"Ha—" The old elf gave a soft laugh and lifted his left hand. On his middle finger was a ruby ring.
"All my passion comes from this ring. Now—it's time she had a new master."
He slipped the ring off and set it gently down in front of Bella.
"Narya will help you resist weariness and despair. At your most exhausted, she can rouse the last embers of strength within your heart."
Reading Bella's questioning gaze, the old elf rose and walked toward the library's door.
"Take the ring. The burden ahead of you is very heavy. She'll be there to hold you up when you falter. This is the Ring of Fire. She will set your chilling heart alight again."
Seeing he was about to leave entirely, Bella had to stand and call after him. "Why? Why give this to me? Is there some prophecy?"
"You need her more than I do. That's the only reason. Oh—and the books here are yours to take. But... do leave an old man a few novels, will you, to pass the time." With that, the old elf walked out without looking back.
On her third day in Mithlond harbor, Bella and Thorin Oakenshield's company set out on the great road leading east. Their journey would be long.
After some hesitation, Bella accepted the gift in the end. One of the Three Elven Rings, the Ring of Fire: Narya.