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Chapter One- Fun and Games

“Do you at least remember what it looks like?” 

Olihre had been abiding several exceedingly uncomfortable positions since just after breakfast, and his usually obliging temperament was beginning to suffer the consequences.

Legolas, who had somehow been able to make crouching, bending, twisting and other such unnatural contortions seem graceful, was now dangling partway off a ladder, some fifteen feet above the red-tiled library floor. 

“It has a cover and is quite thick,” he began in a facetious voice, “though not nearly as thick as the Annals of Angmar, or perhaps the Lore of Lebennin.”

The look of distant confusion in Olihre’s eyes soon turned to aggravation as he noticed the well-defined muscles in the shoulders of the elf above him heaving with scarcely restrained laughter. 

“Do all elves esteem their humor as highly as you?” Olihre asked dryly, while throwing another heavy book onto his pile with a groan.

“Forgive me,” Legolas croaked as he used the back of his hand to wipe the tears of mirth from his sparkling blue eyes, “I think all of the dust in here is affecting my senses.”

“Or perhaps your braids are too tight.” Olihre shot back, though he didn’t even try to hide the grin on his angular face.

The two had been searching for a particular bestiary* for many hours, and despite methodically searching row upon row of books, they had yet to come across it.  Olihre had passed the hours by remaining silent and trying not to let the intentional heckling of a certain elf provoke him.  Legolas, it seemed, had decided that the best way to pass his time would be to torment the young man aiding him in his search. 

In reality, Olihre could have left long ago if he had wished, but he was actually somewhat humored by the light-hearted antics of the immortal menace above him, and frankly, he could think of no better way to spend his morning.  

“In all honesty, I do not remember exactly what it looks like.” Legolas admitted after scrambling back down the ladder.  Rubbing his hands together to dispel the dust that lingered on them, he shrugged his shoulders.  “I only remember that it was bound in green cloth…but then, so are half of the books in this room.  I recall no design or detail, nor even its size.  As I told Gimli, it has been many decades since I have seen the book.”

Olihre nodded as he rose, kneading the back of his neck with his fingers.  “What say we find some nourishment and give ourselves a well-earned break?”

Legolas bobbed his head as he retreated toward the door.  “I told Gimli we would meet him for luncheon, and I daresay we have kept him waiting for a small time now-- not that he is likely to mind-- he has Eowyn and Lothiriel to keep him company.”

Wiping his hands on his brown trousers, Olihre jogged to catch up to the elf.  “Indeed,” he called ahead, “how is it that we are left to search for a book all morning, while he is somehow fortunate enough to play handmaiden to the women?”

Legolas chuckled loudly and then turned, giving Olihre a blithe look before mumbling, “It is indeed a strange phenomenon, my friend.  Somehow, though hairy and gruff as they are, dwarves possess an almost magical ability to woo women until they are complacent, and, dare I say, indulgent.”

Olihre shook his head forcefully as they paused just outside of the banquet hall doors.  “Legolas, the picture you have just painted is somewhat disturbing.  It is strange enough for me to think of Gimli with a female dwarf, much less a fair princess!”

“Not that indulgent!” Legolas hissed under his breath as he swatted Olihre playfully on the back of his head.  The two were still grinning when they entered the room, though neither sported any blush.

“Aye, look out ladies…the elf is grinning…” Gimli grumbled as Legolas took a seat next to him. 

Legolas rolled his eyes and gave the dwarf a feigned smile.

“I don’t see anything wrong with grinning.” Lothiriel retorted as she helped herself to a serving of bread pudding.  “In fact Gimli, I’d love to see YOU smile a bit more often.”

Gimli let out a loud ‘humf’ as all around the table laughed in apparent agreement.

It was Eowyn who restored some order to the table when she cleared her voice and looked adoringly at the dwarf.  “But then he would have to trim that exquisite beard, and that would truly be a grievance.”

Olihre snorted as Gimli gave a satisfied smile.  “Perhaps I should grow a shrub on MY face,” he proclaimed in Legolas’s direction.

Giving Olihre her most sympathetic look, Lothiriel shook her head.  “It just wouldn’t be the same, my dear-- only a dwarf can sport such a fine beard.”

Olihre winked suggestively at the Princess of Dol Amroth.  “I wager that if Eomer decided to let his already substantial beard grow out, you would likely dote on him just as much as you do Gimli.”

Emitting a breathy giggle, Lothiriel nodded her head.  “Perhaps so, but I assure you, it would be for entirely different reasons.” 

When nobody at the table challenged those reasons, Lothiriel turned back to Olihre and raised her eyebrows in victory.

“It seems I’ll never win!” Olihre laughed as he began to delve into his meal.

At that moment Eomer and Aragorn entered the room, with Arwen and Imrahil trailing in after them. 

“Win at what?” Eomer asked, though the amused look that he gave Olihre indicated that he had heard the last bits of the conversation.

Lothiriel perceived as much and responded in jest.  “It seems that Olihre considers me to be fickle in my adorations.”

“Oh really…” The King of Rohan began in an arrogant tone, “your adorations for whom?”

Before Lothiriel could reply, Gimli stood and issued an implied challenge that only the grunt of a dwarf could indicate.  “For me, Horse Master.”

Legolas chose this moment to interject.  “Not entirely true, Gimli,” he drawled, “not that it really matters.  Why a woman would find facial hair attractive at all is beyond my vast understanding.”

The three women in the room each took a moment to give Legolas a withering glance; quite possibly the first he had ever received from any member of the fairer sex.

Raising his hands in resignation, Legolas hurried to change the subject.  “Shouldn’t Gaviwyr be back by now?”

Eomer’s heart skipped a beat before he remembered that Xanthe was not present.  Relaxing a bit, he addressed all in the room.  “The wedding is tomorrow, and he did say he hoped to be back by then, but he wasn’t positive.”

“Where did you say he went?” Arwen entreated.

Eomer glanced irresolutely at Olihre, whose face had become somewhat ruddy.  “He had some things in Edoras that he needed to take care of.”

Legolas leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers behind his head.  With a bumptious grin he alleged, “I would bet my bow that certain someone’s in this room know more than they are indicating.”

The King of Gondor suddenly found his somewhat perturbed spouse planted in front of him with her arms folded in front of her chest and her eyebrows arched in demanding expectation.

“What…” he laughed, albeit nervously.  “…you don’t think I have anything to do with it…do you?”

His only reply was an even more dramatic arching of Arwen’s brows.

“Darling,” he drawled in his most placating voice, “it hasn’t been long, but in our time together, I have learned the peril of withholding any information from you.  I haven’t a clue as to why the Captain left.”

Arwen smiled wittingly and then turned to Eomer, who immediately felt as if a vice grip had been placed on his head.  

“And you…what do you know of the situation?”

Eomer looked down at his boots and tried to think of something clever to say.  “Well, I haven’t been married to you as long as Aragorn, but…”

“Not amusing!” Aragorn shouted.   

Arwen smiled dangerously and moved closer to Eomer.  “What do you know, My Liege?”

“He...ahem” Eomer cleared his throat.  “He…”

“Did he speak to you before he left?” Arwen prodded.

Eomer shook his head.

“Did he leave you a note?”

Looking around at the others who stared expectantly at him, Eomer sighed.  “In my defense, I didn’t find it for quite some time, and when I did, it just seemed…well…to perfect to pass up.”

Arwen shot a look of contempt towards the Horse Lord and then turned to Olihre.  “I suppose you are in alliance with this one?” she motioned towards a grim looking Eomer.

Olihre quickly scolded himself for succumbing to Eomer’s persuasive argument.  “It seemed like a good idea at the time…romantic even.”

“Romantic?” Arwen challenged. 

All in the room watched as Eomer threw his hands up and flopped down on a chaise.  “Fine!  The secret is to be revealed, I suppose!”  Looking Arwen unflinchingly in the eye, he continued.  “Gaviwyr rode to Edoras to obtain permission to marry Xanthe.”

With this revelation, different reactions flew around the room.  Eowyn and Lothiriel hugged each other, and then turned to Eomer, giving him enthusiastic looks.  Gimli frowned and grumbled something to Legolas, who merely nodded his head, as if he had known all along.  Aragorn and Imrahil raised their eyebrows at each other and then turned to Eomer, nodding their approval.  Arwen was the only one in the room who did not seem overjoyed.

“Let me see if I understand this correctly,” she said through clenched teeth.  “You have known Gaviwyr’s whereabouts this entire time, not to mention his intentions, and yet somehow, you have seen fit to leave your healer, your friend, in the dark?”  Arwen’s voice rose to a near frantic pitch.  “Have you not seen her suffering?”

Aragorn reached out to take Arwen’s hand but was rebuffed. 

“No!” she nearly shrieked, while never breaking eye contact with Eomer.  “Did Gaviwyr ask you to conceal this information?”

Eomer shook his head.  “He’ll be back soon and they’ll be together, that’s all that really matters.  Besides, a little bit of longing can do wonders for a relationship.”

“So can a little bit of pain and distrust!” she shot back.  “As far as Xanthe knows, she has been forgotten…left behind without a word.  I hardly even know her, but it is obvious to me that she has dealt with more than her share of hardship.”  Arwen turned to Olihre.  “Can you honestly expect her to trust you after this?”

Olihre didn’t speak.  Glancing back at Eomer, he shook his head and rubbed his fingers along the sides of his face. 

Arwen took his silence to be submission and she lowered her voice accordingly.  “Xanthe is not the only one who will suffer because of this.  Gaviwyr trusted the two of you; he left his honor and oath in your hands, not to mention his future.  What will he say when he comes back to find Xanthe furious?  What if she won’t speak to him at all?  Did he do anything to deserve such an outcome?” 

Aragorn sensed that the point had been thoroughly made, and did not deem it wise to continue.  Holding up his hand, he spoke.  “I think we have said all that is necessary.  No doubt Xanthe should be informed right away…before Gav comes back.”

Arwen looked at her husband appreciatively.  “I will speak to her,” she offered.

“Nay,” Olihre said gravely, “I will, though I thank Her Majesty for the offer.  This is my wrong doing, and I shall take full responsibility for it.”

Unable to shoulder the guilt any longer, Eomer stood and walked toward Olihre, putting a hand firmly on his shoulder. 

“It is not your responsibility alone, for it was me who suggested the farce in the first place.  I would offer to go to her myself, if not for the feeling in my heart.  Your sister is not likely to want to hear from me again, and I do not know what comfort I could offer her.”

Olihre nodded and looked towards Arwen.  “Have you any words of advice before I go to her?”

“I wish I did, young one, but I simply cannot see how you two could have been so blind.  Perhaps she will understand, but it is beyond my comprehension.” 

Olihre hung his head low and turned away, blinking back the stinging in his eyes.  As he reached for the handle on the door, Arwen called to him.

“Olihre…your tears have touched me…perhaps she will benefit from their sincerity as well.”

*          *          *

Xanthe shut the door to her room quietly before turning and gliding down the hallway.  As she reached the outer doors to the palace, she gripped her thin cloak more tightly and braced for the cold wind that she knew would meet her.  The guards outside barely glanced at her as she passed, reaffirming her suspicion that nobody cared about her departure. 

She had stopped in the library earlier to inform Olihre that she did not feel well, and did not expect to join them for luncheon.  Inwardly, she had hoped that he would press the issue, but he had only smiled dispassionately at her and then looked away.  Xanthe had felt something akin to regret; not realizing how much she appreciated her brother’s determined intervention in her life, until it was suddenly no longer there.  I supposed I missed my chance…he can’t coddle me forever.

The fierce wind and biting cold offered Xanthe a strange respite as she battled her way across the courtyard.  It’s nice to feel something… 

For the past two weeks Xanthe had felt as though she were in a waking sleep.  The pain of dismissal that she had originally been prone to, had quickly turned to an overwhelming lethargy.  She felt neither happy nor sad.  No pain, anger, regret or fear tormented her.  Instead she felt nothing.  It wasn’t denial, for she understood full well what had happened to her.  She had dared venture out of her cocoon, only to be lured into a false sense of security and then promptly abandoned. 

At first, the rapid complacency that had seized her was frightening, even to her newly dulled senses.  It was a strange sensation, and if Xanthe could feel anything at all, it was a dislike for her newfound listlessness.  She knew that she was supposed to feel angry, hurt, and sad.  She had tried desperately to accomplish these emotions, even going so far as to scratch at the delicate parts of her wrists.  The tears that followed would make her feel better for a moment, but she soon forgot the pain and was content to do no more than lie in her room and sleep.  She stopped taking meals with the others, but their concern soon prompted her to at least accompany them, though neither the food nor the company gave her any comfort.

Finally, that very morning, Xanthe had discovered just enough energy to motivate some movement.  I can’t keep doing this…it’s becoming unbearable.  Her plan was not a solid one, nor did it have any final result-- she only knew that it would bring some sensation back into her life, and that was all she hoped for.

The morning fog was finally beginning to lift as she reached the stables.  Xanthe was grateful for a young stable hand who was present, partly because she knew he would not dare oppose her ride, and also because she knew she didn’t have the energy to saddle a horse alone.  Her limbs felt as heavy as the iron tools that hung on the stable walls as she swung onto her horse. 

“Perhaps you should take this blanket…” the stable boy offered, holding out a tightly rolled parcel. 

Xanthe forced a nod before watching him secure it to the back of her saddle.  …though it will dull the sensation…

Mustering enough energy to smile appreciatively at the boy, Xanthe leaned into her horse and gave it a slight kick with her heel.  As she rode out of the stable, she look around, inwardly wishing that someone had noted her absence, but no one seemed to.  She was on her own.

*          *          *

Olihre sped from Xanthe’s empty room to the library, only to find that it was also empty.

“Where are you?” he mumbled. 

He usually would have been slightly annoyed that she wasn’t where she had said she would be, but in this case, he knew he had no right.  He had betrayed his sister’s trust, and that fact alone was enough to make Olihre feel nauseous. 

How did I not see it?

Eomer had convinced him that in order to achieve the full effect of their surprise, they should try to remain somewhat distant from Xanthe, allowing her to think that they were unconcerned about Gaviwyr’s disappearance.  Olihre had been hesitant to do this, knowing that his sister was already a very introverted person.  He didn’t want years of his gentle coaxing to be undone by a foolish plan.  Eomer was persuasive, however, and had eventually won Olihre over to his plan. 

Over time, Olihre’s concern had faded away.  Xanthe didn’t seem to be dwelling upon anything in particular, nor was she the wreck that he had feared she would be.  She was quiet and kept to herself most of the time, but that was nothing new.  The only time that he had truly worried about her was when she had stopped taking meals.  When he had asked her about it, in as unconcerned a way as possible, she had dismissed his worries and insisted that she was merely dealing with ‘feminine issues.’

But now, as Olihre sped from room to room, finding no sign of his sister, a previously subdued nagging entered the back of his mind. 

…Xanthe doesn’t deal with things in a healthy way…she stays silent until everything builds up, and then she acts out…who will she go to if I distance myself from her…

All these thoughts had entered Olihre’s mind at some point during the past two weeks, and as he thought about them now, he realized how stupid he had been to ignore them.  I believed what I wanted to believe, not what I knew to be true.

Finally, after searching all of the rooms he could imagine Xanthe visiting, Olihre returned to the banquet hall.

“How did she take it?” Gimli asked, surprised at how quickly Olihre had returned.

“She didn’t, I can’t find her.”

Eomer paled drastically and Aragorn nodded to the guards at the door.  “Begin an organized search of the palace and grounds.” Then turning to Olihre, he attempted to smile comfortingly.  “I’m sure she’s around.”

Olihre only nodded and took a seat next to Legolas, who looked upon him with obvious pity shining in his eyes.

“Relax, my friend.  This is but a small matter in the grand scheme of things.  Soon you will look back on this situation and laugh, I am sure of it.”

“Elven wisdom,” Olihre jested, though his voice was flat and his features held no mirth.

Several minutes passed and polite conversation fluttered about, though none in the room felt slighted when the doors flew open and the guards interrupted them noisily.

“Sire,” one of them began, “the stable hand reports that the young lady whom you seek left on a horse almost an hour ago.”

“Did she indicate her intentions?” Aragorn asked, concern etched in his noble features.

“Umir said she didn’t speak at all…he said she seemed sick.”

“Sick?  Why does he say that?”

“Because she didn’t speak, Your Majesty…and also because her movements were labored and slow.”

“Is there anything else Lieutenant?” Aragorn beseeched.

The man faltered slightly, as if afraid to say what he knew he must.  “He said that she was hardly dressed appropriately for the cold.  She had only a house cloak on, though he did offer her a blanket, which she accepted.”

This news obviously concerned Aragorn, who looked fearfully towards Eomer.  Neither man spoke as they considered their next step.

Legolas couldn’t understand why they were hesitating.  “We must search for her!  It is already the season of frost; she should not be out so ill-prepared!”

Aragorn nodded, first to his Lieutenant, and then to Legolas.  “I agree, though I am not sure we should make a large affair of it.  If Xanthe is merely off for a short ride, I doubt she will appreciate the undue attention brought by a full-scale search.”

“Olihre and I will go,” Legolas insisted, taking the young man’s arm and hauling him up beside him.  “If we are not back by sunset, you may rest assured that a full-scale search IS needed.”

Without another word, the two dashed out of the hall and headed to their separate rooms.  They both dressed warmly, adding several extra layers in case an overnight stay was required.  Legolas packed a good portion of way-bread, a gift that Arwen had brought for him on her last trip from Lorien.  Olihre made sure to bring extra clothing for Xanthe, as well as some rudimentary healing implements. 

When Legolas entered the stables, Olihre was already there, reigns in hand, ready to begin the search.  As they rode out together, following the faint tracks that Legolas’s sharp eyes discovered on the ground, there was an impending sense of urgency.  Though neither voiced their concern to the other, it was obvious throughout the heavy silence that something was wrong.

Olihre took deep breaths, attempting to will his heart into a steady beat.  Forgive me…