Chapter Five
In Éowyn's chamber

It was Malegond who reported that Lírulin was missing; Noerwen had told him to bring her daughter home at midnight, and he'd waited for her half an hour before he asked a servant to tell Éowyn that the girl had not shown up.

Aranel was summoned, but all she could contribute was the fact that she had seen Lírulin the last time when the food was served and the guests swarmed the pavilions. Many courtiers had danced with her or talked to her, but not all of them could still be found in the residence; those who were had no idea where the young, beautiful maiden in the green dress might be. And when it became clear that Lírulin had vanished without a trace, most of the noble families invited to stay and spend the night in Emyn Arnen had already retreated into their rooms. With a heavy heart, Éowyn decided to notify her husband and send one of her ladies-in-waiting to Aragorn and Arwen; after all, it had been the idea of the Queen to invite Lírulin to the ball, and she had to know about this unfortunate development. Around the residence, the storm was still raging with terrifying force, and waterfalls of rain gushed down the hills. Éowyn stood at the window, staring outside without really seeing anything. She felt ill at ease – and increasingly guilty. If the girl got lost in the woods...

This was the moment when Elboron entered the private chamber of the princess. He had changed his festive robes for something simpler and more comfortable, but when Éowyns eyes met those of her son, his gaze was at least as troubled as the skies outside.

"Father just told me that Lírulin is lost, and now he sends the servants all over the place, to turn every stone. What happened?" he demanded, a deep fold between his brows. "How can it be that a guest you personally invited – and a guest of the Queen of Gondor! - is missing? Where can she be?"

"I have no idea," Éowyn replied with a sigh. "So far, I don't know when exactly she left, let alone why." She hesitated. "Tell me, did she seem to you in any... discomfort... this evening?"

Elboron stared at her, his frown deepening. "Not as long as we were together! You saw us dance – do you really think that made her uncomfortable?"

Éowyn studied him thoughtfully. "Certainly not," she finally said. "But watching you both together, in such visible ease...it might have given others the discomfort she didn't feel."

"Do you think so?" Elboron gave back, his tone slightly sharp. "Perhaps we should put it plain and clear: they may have felt open malevolence, especially those hoping for a gainful match."

He shook his head. Éowyn noticed the tension of his jaw; suddenly it struck her that Elboron was more deeply changed than she had expected him to be. She no longer saw the charming youth she'd raised and sent away five years ago – life as a warrior in Aragorn's army had sharpened his edges, so to speak, and the fact that he'd readily yielded to the dynastic plans she followed with the ball did not mean that he was willing to be manipulated. His next words confirmed her impression.

"When I met Lírulin this evening", he slowly said, "all I felt was gratitude – that you and the Queen had obviously decided to make this task easier for me, by inviting a companion of my childhood. But, mother..."

He stepped close to her, and they stood eye in eye.

"... what did your other guests see, all those noble families, gathered here for the feast of my return? All those young ladies who were waiting for me to make my choice? I will tell you. They saw me, dancing with a lovely woman, enjoying her company to the fullest... and returning to her whenever I saw the chance."

There was a soft knock at the door. Éowyn went to open it and found the King and Queen of Gondor on her threshold. They were both still fully dressed, their faces serious.

"You have lost a guest?" Aragorn asked. "Noerwen's daughter?"

"Indeed," Éowyn admitted. "Elboron, would you please pull that chair over there closer to the fireplace? Arwen, take a seat."

Elboron did as he was told, and Arwen sank into the chair with palpable relief. She was mere weeks away from giving birth to her fourth child, and though the baby in her rounded womb didn't lessen her radiant beauty, it certainly made her cumbersome and tired at times. Aragorn stood close to her, his hand gently stroking her shoulder.

"How much do we know?" he asked.

Éowyn opened her mouth to answer, but the same moment there was another knock at the door. "Come in!" she called, trying to stay calm.

It was a servant; his clothes were drenched, and he left a trail of drops on the polished wooden floor. He bowed to her. "Your Highness..." Then he noticed the King and Queen, and suddenly he seemed to be at a loss for words. Elboron – who saw that the man was simply overawed by such a sheer amount of lordly presence – managed to give him a reassuring smile. "Do you have any news for us?"

The man pulled himself together. "Your Highness, I am one of those who removed the pavilions after the meal... which is why I'm so dripping wet, beg your pardon. We were afraid that the storm might rip them to pieces." He took something out of his shirt pocket. "When I collected the last awnings, one of them was blown away and wrapped itself around the post of the gate that leads out of the garden. I went to get it back and found this on the ground, just beside the gate."

He handed Elboron a scrap of cloth... fine, green silk, obviously from the hem of a dress, wrapped around something. He freed the item within and stared down at it as it lay glittering on his palm. A flower with petals of freshwater pearls, an emerald in the middle, held by a narrow velvet band. The silver clasp was lost.

"Lírulin wore this," he softly said, turning his gaze to the Queen. "She said you sent it to her as a gift."

"Yes, I did," the Queen confirmed, "after the tailor told me which dress she had chosen for her." She looked at the servant. "That gate is where exactly?"

"On the western side of the garden," the servant replied. "From there a narrow path leads into the woods, and if you follow it for two miles, you reach the river."

"Thank you," Éowyn said. "Change your clothes before you catch a cold, and then go to the kitchens for something hot to drink. You were a great help."

The servant bowed for the third time, turned around and vanished, softly closing the door behind him. For a moment, the room was silent, then it was Elboron who spoke.

"We have to go after her," he stated. "I don't dare to imagine what might happen to her in that storm." He made a step towards the door. "If you excuse me..."

"Not so fast," the King interrupted him before Éowyn could even open her mouth. His voice was gentle, but it carried an unmistakeable hint of steel, and when the young prince tried to protest, he raised one hand. "Even if Lírulin left the garden through that gate – and in haste, as it seems, or she wouldn't have ripped her dress and lost that necklace – she certainly knows the way home. That doesn't mean there should be no search party, but reason demands that we send someone to the house of the Healer first, to find out if she safely got there."

"Yes," Elboron grimly added, "and to inform her parents in case that she did not. Damrod will doubtlessly want to be a part of that search party."

"I think so, too," Aragorn retorted with a sigh. "but still: Lírulin has grown up here, and she knows this land as well as any of Faramir's rangers. It bothers me much more what Noerwen will have to say about the whole matter."

"She will be upset," the young prince said, staring down at the delicate flower again. "She will ask how it could happen that she left her daughter under our protection, only to find out that we were obviously careless enough to betray her confidence."

He shot his sovereign a piercing gaze.

"Which is absolutely true. And this is why I will be one of the messengers to tell Noerwen what happened. One of us has to apologize, and I think it should be me."

Aragorn looked back calmly and with quiet respect.

"Do that," he said, "and tell Noerwen I will pay her a visit in the morning."

Éowyn felt the fierce urge to object, but her son's face told her that his decision could not be swayed. "Be careful," was all she finally said.

Elboron bowed before the King and Queen, stepped beside his mother and kissed her cheek. Then he turned away and left the room with fast steps.

vvvvv

Elboron started out with one of the younger rangers, Gideher. He knew Lírulin since she'd merely been a toddler, and Damrod was a legendary figure for him, same as for all those he had been training for years. It took not much persuasiveness to convince him that they should not take the main road down to the river but the shortcut Lírulin had probably chosen. Thus they would at least be able to look out for the missing girl while they rode down to the Healer's house... but the matter turned out to be much more difficult than expected.

The path the servant had mentioned wasn't a path any longer. It had turned into a rapid, loamy river that shot down the hill, carrying soil and stones with its current and tearing a wide aisle into the underbrush. Roots of oaks and beeches that had been growing there for decades were washed free. Elborons mare and Gideher's gelding stumbled on wet rocks and muddy earth, and after a few minutes both men realized that it was completely impossible to to get down to the river on horseback. They dismounted and continued their way step by careful step, dodging fallen trees and wading through ankle-deep puddles. It took them more than twice the time they normally needed to reach a narrow plateau at half height of the slope, where the trees opened to a clearing.

They rain didn't fall any longer, and far above them Elboron saw the moon appear between clouds that raced the sky like a herd of galloping horses. Sounds like something Uncle Éomer might say, he thought, stifling a small grin.

"You know that the hill will be rather steep from here," he said, turning to Gideher. "We'll better be careful; I'd like to reach the Healer's house in one piece."

"Only to be torn apart once more, as soon as Noerwen learns that something unpleasant might have happened to her daughter," the other man gave back, flashing him a crooked smile.

They set out again, heading down slowly along the stony side of a deep furrow; water from the rain-sodden path and countless swollen rivulets rushed through it towards the plain with its small patches of grassland and the long line of weeping willows bordering the riverbank. From there it was a short walk of a few minutes to reach the house of Noerwen and Damrod – under normal circumstances. Judging after what happened to the path, Elboron didn't dare any foretelling when it came to the mighty waters of the Anduin.

Suddenly their way was barred by a huge jumble of branches and root balls directly ahead. Close to the edge of the woods, two unsound trees had lost the fight against the storm, their gnarled trunks leaning against each other and forming a lopsided triangle. Elboron held the reins of his steed more firmly, preparing to guide it around the dangerous obstacle, when he suddenly heard a desperate voice from somewhere in the middle of all those tangled leaves and twigs.

"Help! For Eru's sake, if there is anybody out there, help me!"

He froze on the spot. Gideher bumped into him from behind and he swallowed a curse. "Shhhhh! - Lírulin? Is that you?"

"Elboron? Oh... thank goodness, I thought nobody would ever find me!"

His head was spinning with relief. He handed the reins to Gideher, got down on his knees and frantically tried to shove the branches aside. A few moments of struggle and several scratches on his arms later a pale face appeared out of the wet darkness, and cold fingers closed around his hand.

"I was on the way to your mother's house, together with Gideher. We were very worried about you. Are you hurt?" he anxiously asked.

"No, I'm not – aside from an ankle that feels as if it might be sprained," Lírulin answered; her voice was surprisingly firm. "But those trees tilted and fell when I passed them by, and now I'm trapped. If I move too much, the trunks might collapse completely, and in that case I'll probably be crushed."

Those were highly unwelcome news. "I take it that you can't crawl out?"

"If I could, I would long have done so," she snapped. "And the fact that my skirt got caught in one of the root balls doesn't really help. I already made a few attempts to free the fabric, but each time I try, the trunks slip a little bit more." She cleared her throat, and he found that he gently stroked her wrist, as if trying to soothe a panicking foal. "I'm sorry," she added belatedly, sounding ashamed.

"Never mind," he said. "What you need is a knife. I'll give you mine, and you can cut the skirt off. And when Gideher and I keep the branches apart afterwards, you have a chance to escape."

"It is certainly worth a try," she said, and he felt a sudden, honest admiration of her quiet fortitude. He fumbled the dagger from his belt and pressed it, pommel first, into her outstretched hand. The slim weapon vanished in the darkness, and for a long moment all he could hear was his own breath. Then:

"I'm free! Do you really think you can get me out?"

"We'll do our best." Elboron more felt than saw Gideher kneel down beside him, and together they cut thin twigs off and cautiously shoved thick branches aside. It was laborious work, and Elboron had to move his upper body deeper and deeper into the wooden labyrinth to make way for the prisoner waiting in her narrow cave. Suddenly there was a deep, creaky groan above his head, followed by a horrible scrunching sound.

"Back! Go back!" he heard Lírulin scream directly in front of him, but to his dismay he realized that he was stuck. Behind him one of the horse gave a shrill neigh. He made a last, desperate move to avoid the inevitable, but the very next second something crashed against the back of his head, and the world grew black.