"Maethor! Maethor!" Elrohir cried, "Where are you? Why do you not answer me?" Elrohir was so tired. He had awakened in the night and decided to look for his friend. But he had been unable to find him. What could have happened to Maethor? He had been to all their favorite places: the pond with the ducks, the apple tree, the bench where they would sit to feel the spray from the falls, but Maethor had not been in any of those spots. He had been to the cairn on the hill that Maethor often visited, where the old warrior would pick wild flowers and stand them between the stones, where sometimes a tear or two would trickle down his cheeks and he would let Elrohir wipe them away.
He had been to the stables, where they would talk to the horses and warrior would tell him about the flat plains of Rohan or the tiered city of Minas Tirith. The apples they had picked would disappear in minutes into the mouths of the great beasts. Elrohir would laugh as the horses' lips tickled his palm, for Maethor had taught him to hold the apple in the flat of his hand. That way the animal would not bite his finger when it took the treat.
Elrohir had gone to the river and walked along its banks, making sure that Maethor was not clinging to a rock, waiting for someone to pull him from the water, for Maethor could float but had never learned to swim. Relieved that his friend had not fallen into the river or drowned in its currents, he had sat for a while and listened to the night sounds, trying to imagine where an old elf like Warrior would go.
Glorfindel had told him that Warrior fought in the Great War. That he had been a captain who held the respect of all his soldiers. He said Maethor and his archers had kept the enemy at bay until all their arrows ran out and they had to use their swords. He also said Maethor was very brave and had come home a hero. When Elrohir asked Glorfindel why Maethor was no longer a captain, he said that eventually warriors got tired of fighting and wanted to spend time with their families. Elrohir could understand that. But the only family Maethor had was a brother and they argued a lot. Then one-day Maethor's brother went away and did not return and Maethor was sad.
Elrohir had been about to return to the Last Homely House and tell his Ada about Maethor, when he remembered something else that Glorfindel had told him. They had been talking about Lindir's parents and Glorfindel said that sometimes when elves were tired of living in Middle-earth they felt the call of the Sea and boarded a ship and sailed to the Undying Lands. Elrohir remembered talking with Warrior about the great ships and about Círdan, the shipwright, and Warrior had said he would go there one day, that at times the Sea called him.
So either Maethor had been carried away by wargs or had gone to the Grey Havens. Either way, Elrohir was determined to find him. So he left the river and headed for the path that went through the woods. He had been scared at first to enter the forest, but the moon's light shone through the trees and it was not as dark as he had expected. When his courage failed he remembered that Warrior was also alone, so he sucked in his stomach and kept on the trail. At one point, he thought he heard Warrior call his name, so he left the path and ran through the trees, yelling to Maethor that he was on his way. But he must have been mistaken, for he did not find his friend.
And now he was tired and discouraged. He hung his head and walked back the way he had come. He had made much better time when he stayed on the path. The longer he tarried here, the further behind Maethor he would become. He walked quite a ways before he realized he should have reached the path much sooner. He must have gone the wrong way in his haste. So he turned and began walking in the other direction. The sun had just begun to tint the sky when Elrohir admitted to himself that he was lost. Added to the tears for his friend, were now those for himself, for he did not know how to get home. He cried for his Ada and his Nana and called out to them, but they did not hear him. Tired, footsore and very miserable, he crawled inside the trunk of a hollow tree, pushing the leaves inside into a makeshift bed. Then he lay down amongst them and fell into a deep sleep.
