By the afternoon, Eibhlin couldn’t be more frustrated. Following hours of fruitless searching, they went to check with the messenger station, but all they received was further disappointment and a few curious stares at Eibhlin. Now they sat with their feet in the river on the forest side of the Hall, resting feet tired from walking the seemingly endless maze of hallways, and munching on scones packed that morning by Yashul.

Eibhlin took another bite, allowing the sweet and slightly sour taste to turn her thoughts away from the morning’s failure. To one side of her, Elkir noisily splashed his feet as he stuffed his remaining scone in his mouth, while Shira sat on Eibhlin’s other side, silently picking away at her scone and placing each small bite carefully on her tongue. Water sprayed into the air as Elkir dropped his feet into the water and let out a long, loud sigh.

“Why’d the fairy have to hide her key?” he said.

Eibhlin glanced at the boy. “You two don’t have to keep helping me,” she said.

“But we want to help you,” said Shira. “We haven’t even searched one fifth of the Hall, and do you mean to say you will search the rest of it and, if the key is not here, the rest of the settlement alone?”

“But you should go home and help you mother,” said Eibhlin. “She shouldn’t have to do everything at home while you’re helping me. It’s not fair to her. Besides, what if we don’t find anything?”

“If we don’t find anything before evening, then we will go home, help Mother, and then come back tomorrow,” said Shira. “You sound as if all must be accomplished in a single day. Hurrying at the wrong time brings nothing but ill tempers and impatience. Please don’t worry so much. It may take days, or perhaps longer, but we’ll find your key.”

“Thank you,” said Eibhlin, feeling a little better.

They had just settled into a comfortable mealtime silence when Elkir suddenly stiffened. “What was that? I think I heard something.”

For a moment, the three sat in silence. Eibhlin could only hear birds, the river, and echoes from the inhabited side of the Hall. However, Shira soon stood, saying, “It’s from upriver, from the forest! A voice, I think, and one in need of help. Come!”

Before Eibhlin could object, both elves rushed barefoot into the woods, and she, uncomfortable with solitude in that moment, ran after them.

Deep into the woods they ran, and the deeper they went, the more Eibhlin sensed a change. It was not so much in the look as in the air. Eibhlin knew the feeling of enchantment, for her own country held sprinkles of magic, tastes from its fairy visitors, and thinking now, she recognized a similar feeling from the Hall and Shira’s home. But the forest beyond the Hall felt different, more ancient. Not so ancient as the fairy road, she thought, though she did not know why, but no less overwhelming for its youth. These woods, these untamed trees, and this pathless undergrowth, held a stronger, wilder power. It felt as if any magic that might be contained and ordered under the skill and wisdom and even age of the elves, now ran free. Eibhlin’s forest felt dry as deep winter, while this place was spring in full bloom, full of life and the essence of past ages gathered up and reborn anew. It came in the rustle of leaves, the babble of brook, in the spring of step, the utterance of breath, all things of ancient days forever repeated and revisited as if in their genesis. Fear and wonder and ages and moments so filled her heart with longing, she felt tears gather in her eyes. Even at the forest’s most peaceful, the yearning did not lessen but increased. This swirling and pushing and pulling, Eibhlin could not discern if she should desire it or not. But still she ran, following her guides, trusting in those of surer feet. In that journey through the woods, Eibhlin encountered the essence of the elves, hidden from those who would rather run from than toward that ancient vitality.

The riverbank came in and out of vision, and a sound rose to Eibhlin’s ears that she recognized as a voice. Elkir and Shira turned to travel along the bank, eyes searching for the voice’s origin. Then, Elkir pointed and shouted, “There!”

A brown shape was floating down the river, and from it came the voice. Shira sprinted to a nearby tree with branches hanging over the water and scaled the trunk with as much ease as if it were stairs. She pushed off the trunk and went along a branch till she stood over the river. Hanging from her legs, she reached down, scooped up the brown shape, and tossed it to her brother.

Eibhlin moved beside Elkir to see what it was when the shape cried, “Oh, thank the Heavens’ Maker! I quite thought I would drown this time. Why, if you had not pulled me out, I might have finally cracked, or worse, snagged and broke my strings!”