The weeks became months, and the emotion surrounding Celebros' sudden disappearence faded to worry because there was no sign and no word. A year came and went, and the days and seasons seemed to have fled like startled birds, and autumn and winter and spring and summer had been one and nothing. No snow came, and the leaves browned everywhere and always, and the summer was indecipherable from the spring and the autumn. Only by counted days did they know that a year had passed. And the memories they held, and the hope that there would be word, and the peace within themselves. Friendships blossomed, and Elfwine was married, and his wife found herself with child, and they hoped and prayed that Celebros would come, for they wished him to be a Watcher for the child in the tradition of Rohan, to care for the child if ever they could not. But there was no word, and although the hawk sent with the invitation came back without its letter, there was no reply, and over all the seasons and the days, the leaves tumbled over Earil's undisturbed grave, but fresh roses always found their way there in the hands of one of the children. And even as the days passed and the hope of seeing him again soon faded to a wisp, a husk, there was in the Wild a young man finding himself within the seasons.