Two weeks ago

“Oh, no!”

Eowyn stared into the empty chest. The exquisite silver-green mantle, made for Legolas’ grandmother, handed down to his mother, given to him by his father so that he might present it to his wife-to-be, had vanished—taken from its locked, lavender-scented box by person or persons unknown.

Eowyn sat back on her heels. Who could have done it?

Surely not an elf.

A human then. Or a dwarf. But who? And how did he unlock the chest?

Oh gods—

What would she tell Legolas? And what would Thranduil say—do—when he found out?