Triwathon's breakfast was taken amidst a host of interruptions. He was used to it, almost; since the attack, every meal had been a way for people to find him, tell him what he needed to know.

Feren was there, too, filling the place Parvon had taken, trying his best.

Only he wasn't Parvon and his new status as most senior advisor wasn't sitting easily. He was hesitant and stammered out his reports, and Triwathon's patience only made him more miserable.

'Don't worry, you are telling me everything I need to know,' the commander said.

'But not coherently, I am afraid!'

'Never mind. It is difficult for all of us. We none of us expected this.'

'The Lord Oromë suggested the arrival of his messengers might cause undue alarm and that it might be wise to send representatives with the Maiar to Imladris and the Old Palace... I was going to offer myself, for I am no use here and a short repute from the names of the dead and the faces of their kin...'

'That's not true at all! You have been of great use, Feren. Of course you can go, if you feel it would help.'

'Who is going where?' Glorfindel asked, sliding into an empty place near, but not too near, Triwathon.

'Messengers with the Maiar to Imladris and the king. Feren has volunteered.'

'That's a good idea. I'd suggest you go to Imladris, Feren; Arveldir is there, he would prefer the news from a friend, perhaps. I'd like to offer to take word to Thranduil, there would be too much fuss if I went to Rivendell... showing up just when they think they've got rid of me... they might want me to stay...'

Triwathon held Glorfindel's gaze for a moment. His heart was sinking already, and he wanted to protest the Balrog-slayer had only just got there... but perhaps it was for the best, the golden one was a distraction when Triwathon needed to focus.

'Thank you, Glorfindel,' he said instead. 'We sent a messenger after we were attacked, but whether he got through... Make sure you seek out Master Merenor. He will be concerned for his son Canadion's safety when he hears the news. Oh, and we have his grandson in our Palace Office, Faerveren – make sure he knows he is well, also.'

'Of course, Commander. The Maiar messengers wish to leave within the hour.'

'I've a letter almost finished in my office. Will you collect it in twenty minutes or so? I need to visit the Silent Room first, but after that, Parvon can show you where...'

Except he couldn't, because he was lying dead in the Silent Room. Triwathon ducked his head down, and Glorfindel covered the awkwardness as best he could.

'I can find your office, I think. Feren, if you've never ridden with the Host, don't be surprised, the Maiar go more swiftly than we can, you'll be there in no time. We made it from just east of the Langflood to here in just one long day. You should be back easily for the Night of the Names.'

'Thank you. I want... I need to tell Arveldir myself how things stand, ask him for advice, he will know what to do...'

'If he offers to come back with you, say that he and Erestor will be most welcome,' Triwathon said. 'In fact, any who wish to will be welcome; I would think Rusdir will want to see his nephews...'

'Such a shame for the little ones,' Feren murmured. 'For all the little ones... For everyone, really.'

'Yes. But we've survived, thanks to our brave warriors and our friends,' Triwathon said, trying to lift the mood. 'Now we are no longer under direct attack, and there's time for reflection, this is when we will feel it most, Feren. But have courage! Go and ready yourself for the ride.'

'Thank you, Commander. I will hand over all my keys and duties to Faerveren. Not that we will be keeping to routine, of course.'

'Don't worry about the Palace Office, Feren; we'll muddle through and sort it out later, if we have to. I'll try to come and see you off.'

'Commander?' Celeguel approached. 'The perimeter is secure, sir, and our Maiar friends have dealt with a second orc troop. Their Lord Melaglir has been most helpful in keeping us informed. Permission to change the alert status down a level to 'watchful'?'

Triwathon nodded. Having been on the highest level of alert for three days, the step down would lift everyone's spirits and ease the pressure on his warriors, giving them a little respite.

'Agreed. And thank them all for their courage.'

The captain nodded and departed. Momentarily, Triwathon was alone with Glorfindel.

'I don't know who to send to Ithilien,' he said to the Balrog-slayer. 'There are only two scribes in the Palace Office now, with Feren going. I can't really spare a warrior; it's a much longer ride...'

'Why does Ithilien need to know?' Glorfindel asked. 'Are any of its inhabitants related to those who lost their lives here?'

'Actually, no, I doubt it. Perhaps, then, the written message can be sent on from the Old Palace; you will, I know, give our king the fullest picture of events, and it can be up to him, then, to arrange how to inform Ithilien. But do not let him talk you into going, my lord; I will need your expertise to reassure the Imladris contingent, when they arrive.'

'Of course, Commander. I want to be here for the Night of the Names, anyway.'

'You will be most welcome, Glorfindel.'

Three more individuals approached the commander's table from differing directions, all claiming Triwathon's attention at once.

Obviously this was no time for a chat, to ask Triwathon how he was feeling, today; Glorfindel could see for himself, his beloved friend was overworked, and probably using it as a coping mechanism. Ah well. Perhaps when he went to collect the message for Thranduil there would be a moment to ask. As he was already packed for the ride to the Old Palace, he used the intervening time to seek out Canadion where he and Thiriston had spent the night watching over the injured and displaced elflings.

Arriving as one of the healers was supervising breakfast, he paused in the doorway.

'I'm after a word with Canadion?' he said, and was relieved when the warrior emerged from behind the schoolroom desk.

'I am here!' he turned to address someone beneath, or behind the desk. 'No, dear one, I will be only a moment, for Lord Glorfindel has come to speak with me. He it was brought the shiny heroes to save us yesterday... My lord Glorfindel, if you wait outside...?'

Canadion joined him in the corridor.

'Some of the little ones are so frightened, poor things! Thiriston and I made a nest under the desk for them, and they have sheltered there all night while my husband kept watch. They find his presence very reassuring, and now, how may I serve?'

'I'm riding to the Old Palace. Have you a message for your father I can take?'

'Thank you, that is most kind! That I and my husband are well, Faerveren is well and likes the work, except for the dragon, and our love to Ada and Master Hanben. Oh, and Commander Triwathon has agreed we may serve here instead of Ithilien. Thank you, my lord, I am very grateful. I should get back to the elflings, now, though.'

Glorfindel nodded. 'I'll make sure to pass that on. Do you know where Triwathon's office is? I said I'd collect the missives from him...'

But when he arrived at Triwathon's desk in the Palace Office, it was empty.

'He went with Faerveren to select gemstones for the deceased, my lord,' a scribe told him. 'May I help?'

'I was to collect some letters for the Old Palace, that's all.'

'These are the missives, if you wish to take them; I will inform the commander...'

'Thanks, I will.'

Reluctant to leave without seeing Triwathon, in public if necessary, Glorfindel stowed the letters with his saddlebags and made sure all was ready before going in search of the commander once more. He was sent, variously, to the barracks, to the gates, to the Healers Hall, back to the dining hall and was on the point of giving up when Celeguel's voice hailed him.

'He's in the linen store off the Silent Room,' she said. 'Maereth's keeping everyone out, he wouldn't want anyone to know, but you can... can... he's done so much for us...'

Glorfindel clasped her shoulder mutely and set off with a nod.

At the door of the Silent Room, Maereth inclined her head.

'This morning our commander is setting the gemstones at the head of each of our fallen,' she said. 'Tonight, everyone will gather to pay their respects, speak their memories to the stones. The next day, the stones will be carried to the elflings, for them to say their remembrances. But you will not be here, tonight. So you should go and speak your memories of our good Master Parvon now. I will ensure your privacy.'

'Thank you, Maereth.'

It was as she had said, each pallet had a gemstone set on a table at its head. Six empty places had the stone set in the middle of the empty space, and these had pearls, rather than diamonds... that meant they hadn't been warriors, just victims. Some of the bodies, too, he now noticed, were gifted a pearl.

Not Parvon, though. The chief advisor had not yet had a stone placed by his shrouded face.

There was a door in the corner and Glorfindel went over, pushed it open.

'Triwathon, penneth?'

He was there, huddled in a corner, and turned at the sound of Glorfindel's voice. His chest and shoulders heaved as if he'd only just stopped sobbing, and his face was running with tears.

'What are you doing in here?' Glorfindel asked softly. He stood to the side of the door, lest Triwathon needed escape, but he opened his arms in a gesture of invitation.

'Hiding from the dead,' he said between involuntary gasps for breath. 'They accuse me... no, no, they don't. But they should; I accuse me, it's my fault...'

'Really? How? Did you send for a dragon, did you invite orcs to come down upon you?'

Triwathon shook his head and wiped his face with the back of his hand.

'Just... just seeing them and knowing I should have protected...'

'We all feel like this when we fight on home ground,' Glorfindel said softly. 'And you never afterwards think of those who got away, because of you, those who grow up, because you fought a way through for them. All you see is the dead, Triwathon, you don't hear the thanks of the survivors, you just hear the screams.'

'The silences,' Triwathon whispered, taking a step forward. 'Oh, sweet lord Eru, the silences... when there was that voice, that one voice that started the day and ended it and now... it is like the day, yesterday, is still going on...'

...started the day and ended it? Parvon? And Triwathon? Glorfindel swallowed; now was not the time for jealousy. He reached out, but Triwathon shook his head and backed off, leaving the seclusion of the linen store. Outside, there was a basin and a water pump, and he splashed water onto his face and hands, drying off on a cloth and standing tall, red-eyed, and brave again.

'I have yet to set Parvon's stone,' he said. 'Come and help me, Glorfindel, and address the diamond with me.'

'I thought non-combatants were honoured with pearls?' Glorfindel said, warily following. 'Yet none died more bravely.'

'Yes. But Parvon was not a non-combatant. Moreover, he served the Palace Office, and therefore its people. What's more, he died fighting to defend us.'

Triwathon laid his hand over his heart and bowed to Parvon's remains before taking out a perfect diamond from its pouch. He touched his lips to it and set it down in place beside Parvon's head.

'I have so many memories of my friend and my main support that I do not know where to start,' he said. 'We both came to our posts new and fresh from the Old Palace, determined to make a new life here for as many of our king's subjects as wished. In time, we hoped it would become the new centre of government and organisation, the king's main seat, especially as he has ceded some of the southern forest away... and we enjoyed the challenge. It gave me purpose, something to fill my days after... after I recovered from my injuries.'

Glorfindel nodded.

'Parvon took his brother's death badly,' Triwathon went on. 'Yet he faced it with courage. He was not so brave, he said, as his brother. He will be proud of him now, in the Halls, learning how Parvon died.'

'I remember Parvon,' Glorfindel said. 'Always polite, efficient, serious. By rights, he should have hated me... but I don't think he was that kind of ellon.'

'No, he wasn't. He didn't think well enough of himself to believe he had any right to do so, for one thing. But mostly it was because he was thoughtful and not given to outbursts of unthinking emotion.'

'Did you not ever...?'

Triwathon shook his head.

'No. I liked and esteemed him, he made my job much easier and he was a good friend. I... I will admit, I was warming to him. Perhaps, if he hadn't died, in a decade or so... no.' Triwathon sighed. 'Perhaps I might have fooled myself into thinking I loved him, and perhaps I would have fooled him, also. But it would have all gone awry. At least this way, we both kept our integrity with each other. I will not mar that now with false pretence. I liked him, I cared about him, but I did not love him in the way he hoped I would. Perhaps his death will release him from his longings, I do not know, Glorfindel, is that how it works?'

'Well, it did for Ecthelion...'

Triwathon looked up from his contemplation of Parvon's memory gemstone to see a look of hurt disappointment in Glorfindel's eyes.

'Laurefindil?' he said softly.

Glorfindel huffed out his breath.

'Tell you later, if you wish,' he said. 'But the Halls of Mandos... they are vast, and they are calm, and there is always a sense of peace there. Sometimes it feels sad, but then you realise, it's your own fëa that brings the sadness... you can meet with people and talk there, and there is never any rush, anywhere else you need to go, nothing you must do... Ecthelion and I, we would talk for years on end together... Parvon will find rest there, and if he has fallen kin, they may well be there to greet him... he will not be alone, unless he wants to be.'

'I remember he said it didn't matter that I couldn't love him,' Triwathon said. 'That he treasured my honesty. I never wanted him to be hurt.'

'It wasn't all hidden anguish, though, was it?'

'No, oh, no, we would laugh together... I remember how, when the king had visited once, and left behind some rather good wine... Parvon and I, we shared a bottle, we laughed for hours and I do not know what amused us so... we would start the day together, a breakfast meeting, to discuss what we expected to happen – patrols, training, or visitors and deliveries, and at the end of the day, just to make sure all had gone reasonably to plan... and talk, we would talk, sometimes. He shared the last Night of the Names with me... well, we will honour him, this year.' He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. 'Now, there was a letter you needed from me...'

'I got it from your office, Commander,' Glorfindel said, for Triwathon had gathered his fragile emotions together once more and looked every bit the Commander of the New Palace Garrison. 'And I must make my way to the stables, my Maia escort will be waiting...'

'Let me walk you through,' Triwathon said. 'My thanks for volunteering, Glorfindel. I need all my people to keep us together, now.'

'You let Feren go, I note.'

'Feren has served well and loyally, but he would be the first to admit he doesn't want to be in charge. He will be more at ease taking the word to Imladris; I almost expect him to return with Arveldir and Erestor, although it would be too much to hope for...'

Not only Triwathon was there to see the messengers off; a little crowd of persons had gathered to watch as the commander wished Glorfindel and Feren a safe journey and thanked their Maiar escorts.

'Be well, my friends,' he said, standing back. 'And hasten home when you are done.'

Of course, he had expected it would be hard to watch Glorfindel ride away just the day after he had arrived. Still, he had to be there to see it, part of his duty to watch the messengers go.

What he hadn't expected was Celeguel at his elbow, Maereth at his other side, their silent, dignified support strengthening him.

After the riders had gone, Maereth turned towards him.

'Commander, if you have a few minutes, I would like to speak to you in my halls.'

'I think that can be arranged... Celeguel?'

'Commander, I can take charge while you are busy.'

'My thanks.'

Maereth led the way to her office and closed the door firmly.

'Now I have you sitting still for a moment, Commander...'

'Is there something I can help you with?'

'I want to be sure all is well with you, that is all.'

'I am fine, there are others with more urgent needs...'

'Commander, one cannot serve from an empty cup. Unless you take care of yourself, you will be no good to anybody else. And I happen to know you were thrown a considerable distance through the air yesterday and landed hard...'

'I have one or two bruises, it's true. Would it reassure you to know that Lord Glorfindel looked at them for me last evening?'

'It would. And will you pardon me for saying, poor Parvon?'

'I will echo you, Maereth. Parvon was my good friend and what I will do without him – what the Palace Office will do without him – I have no idea... I can't pretend I'm not glad Glorfindel didn't sail. But I think I am glad Parvon didn't know he was here. And so, I am fine.'

'You are not fine, Triwathon! You are stressed, and exhausted, and grieving...'

'I am alive, and I am not bleeding from anywhere, and our borders are secured. I am as fine as I need to be. How are you and your healers coping?'

'We are all fine – as fine as we need to be.' Maereth smiled. 'Glorfindel's work with the elflings was most welcome, and Canadion and Thiriston have been so very, very good with the little ones...'

'Did you know Thiriston lost his own parents young, to dragon fire?'

'No, I did not. I know he and Canadion both were at the Battle of the Three Dragons... as were you, Commander...'

'Well, that day all I did was keep out of trouble and see my friends burn and die... Thiriston killed one dragon, Canadion saved our king from another.'

'You made up for it yesterday, though. You killed the twin-headed one.'

'Parvon and I, yes. We killed it. Is there anything else, Healer Mae?'

'The final report. The last survivors arrived this morning, while you were attending to the gemstones. Thanks to them, and their accounts, we have a tally of sixteen dead, eight irretrievably lost on the field, so I must lay out another two pallets and ask for more stones, and all the inhabitants of the settlements are now accounted for.'

'Twenty four lost!'

'Over three days, against orcs, and fire, and a dragon. Commander, if you speak to the door wardens, they will tell you of fifty-two survivors, brought in by your warriors, more brought by the Maiar... I do not deny the loss of life is dreadful, but it could have been much worse!'

'There is no hope of bringing in any of the eight?'

She shook her head. 'They were eaten, or burned so badly they could not be so honoured.'

'We will arrange for a cairn, then, and honour them that way. And gather in branches from their favourite trees to lay to rest in place of their remains.'

'Thank you, Commander. Of course, that would normally be the purview of the Palace Office...'

'We're down to Faerveren and Tirnel and they are already pressed.'

'And still you let Feren go.'

'Of course I did; I could think of no-one better to speak to Arveldir, and to Rusdir whose sister was lost.'

'It was well-done, I think. But it makes more work for you.'

'That doesn't matter. The fighting is over, Maereth. This is the difficult part.'

It did, at least, keep Triwathon busy, stop him having too much time to feel the full weight of their losses. The New Palace was secure again, there was store enough of food and water even with their Maiar guests to house. Oromë visited the Silent Room, standing respectfully as Triwathon encouraged people to speak their memories. He was grateful that Canadion spoke to Parvon's stone, for he had remembered enough, for now, of his friend, but Canadion's stories made him smile.

'I remember Parvon, when my adar came to the Old Palace for my wedding. Afterwards, there was a party, and Adar flirted with him... he liked his eyes... to be fair, Ada flirted with everyone that night... but after, Parvon seemed happier. And they worked together in the King's Office, and Ada said Parvon was always very kind to those who arrived in trouble, who were sad. I will miss him, even though I did not know him well, because he was like that; he made everything just a little bit easier for everyone else without shouting about it.'

'And you do this for all your dead?' Oromë asked softly. Triwathon nodded.

'We speak our memories to the gemstones, and it helps us remember. We hope the messages of love and memory go from the gems to the stars, and that the starlight will bear them on to our loved ones.' He glanced at Oromë. 'Lord, I have lain near death and spoken with Lord Námo. I have come to the conclusion that our beliefs do not necessarily reflect the facts. But that does not matter; I am Silvan, and so I honour our dead in the Silvan way.'

'I would not presume to offer my opinion, Commander.'

They stood and waited until the last of the visitors had left their memories, and departed, leaving Triwathon and Oromë alone. The Vala went over to Parvon's pallet and gestured to the diamond there.

'May I?'

'It would honour my friend if you would, my lord.'

'I did not know you well enough, Master Parvon, to form many memories,' he began. 'But I remember how bravely you died. I remember the love in your heart for your Commander Triwathon, and I wonder why someone as intelligent as you should love, and continue to love, in all hopelessness. I wonder what someone as brave as you is afraid of, that you spend your love on one you knew you would never attain.'

Triwathon stared, speechless, as the Vala straightened and addressed himself directly to Parvon.

'While you're in the Halls, look out for one Orophin, if you need a friend. He's sweet, and lonely, and awfully flexible.' He winked. 'So they tell me.'

'My lord Oromë?'

The Vala smiled.

'Yes, I am done, thank you. He'll like Orophin, I'm sure. Come, young friend. Tonight my friends will join you at the feast, and very soon, the messengers will be back amongst us again.'