'My friends,' I began, when all had gathered in the lounge, 'I have a difficult choice to put to you. Had matters progressed as intended, we would have breakfasted together at the hotel where we gathered last evening, and then I would have canvassed your opinions, we could have made proper, unhurried arrangements. But the situation has changed.'

Legolas came to stand at my side.

'Whom amongst you is are willing to follow our king, as you would have in the past?' he asked, and a stir ran through the room and almost all elves murmured assent, even as I made placating gestures.

'No, Legolas, not like this!' I said. 'I am no longer a king. I see myself instead as a protector. All of you, my dear Silvan friends, you have done so well to survive. Many have not. But this modern world is becoming increasingly inimical to our way of life, to the survival of Elvenkind. I will sail, and those of you who are willing are welcome to sail with me. With us, I should say, for many of my family and my friends have already agreed to join me on the ship. It is likely to be the last ship, my friends. I know some of you may be hesitant, and for those of you who are unsure, I have left documents with the human woman Lily Dunbar, who has been given instructions to help those showing our... ah... shared genetic trait...'

'If I may interrupt, my king – for you will be my king always,' Erthor said. 'We have left our commune in trust for any who are reluctant.'

'Thank you, Erthor. I am sure your commune has been a haven for many. But the world to which I awoke just a few weeks ago was no haven, but a modern, dirty environment, and not a world in which I feel I can safely live. My son is in danger of fading, I myself have lost huge tracts of time... for me, for us, it seems we must sail.'

'We will come, my king,' Canadion said. 'My husband Thiriston and I, we will sail.'

'Araspen and I will take ship with you, of course,' Merlinith said. 'You will need someone sensible on the voyage.'

'I do not know if my words will weigh with any here,' Triwathon began. 'But it is no secret that I was once friends with the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, the famed Balrog-slayer who died and was sent back again to these shores. He told me, he had seen Silvans in the Undying Lands. He did not offer it as a proof, or as a test of faith, but shrugged when he said it; a fact he was reporting, for me to make of what I would. And some of you know, I came close to dying at one point... I saw... I conversed with the Doomsman of the Valar, or rather, he with me. Lord Námo himself, and he said there was space for many more Silvans in the woodlands of Valinor, that our kin had been welcomed and were as happy as any there. When we die, we go to the Halls of Mandos, this we know. But if we fade, what happens to us then? Of that I have no knowledge.'

'Will you sail, then, Triwathon?' one of the hesitant ones asked.

He smiled and looked at Parvon.

'That depends on my fëa-mate,' he said. 'For I would rather stay with him, and fade to a memory, to a shadow of a memory, than sail without him at my side. All the long years he waited for me to see him clearly, he deserves no less.'

Parvon looked down and swallowed, emotion overtaking him for a moment and I wondered how deeply touched he had been by this declaration. He looked up again, grinning and swishing his long, tawny hair.

'Oh, my beloved Honey-beer!' he said with a laugh. 'Of course I will sail with you; I cannot wait to see the expression on your Balrog-slayer's face when he sees that I won your heart, at last! Even were I to be refused Valinor, that would make it worth my while!'

'You will not be refused,' Nestoril said clearly. 'There is a welcome there for Silvans. But please, all of you, you must realise that the incident last night may draw attention to Elvenkind. It might be safer for everyone to continue on with us at least for the moment, so that we may take care of you. You may have met Lily last night, the human of whom my husband speaks so highly, and she will befriend and assist any who wish to remain. But I would urge you to join us in this venture.'

'What if we are refused?' one said. 'We cannot sail back, can we?'

'My fëa-mate's former friend sailed back,' Parvon said.

'Listen, all of you,' Govon rose to his feet. 'What my Ada-in-Honour has not mentioned, yet, is that our vessel is being provided by Cirdan the Shipwright. He has sent many of our kindred to safety across the sea. Those of you who know me, who knew me in the old times, you know I am from a sailing family, yes. But I have always declined to sail. Not from fear of rejection, but because I am Silvan; we do not sail in our pride of what we are, what we made of ourselves and all without the Promise of the Valar. And yet I have delayed so long that I have put my beloved spouse at risk, because of this pride, and I am ashamed...'

He broke off, shaking his head as Legolas reached up to take his hand and murmur reassurances. Gathering himself, smiling at my son, he found the courage to continue.

'We are Silvans, we do not sail. Because of pride and stubbornness and a wilful, continuing refusal to answer the Call. But I say to you: There is nothing for us here, now. The forests we loved are shrinking, diminishing, and the spirit of the trees fades even as our own fëar become less. A famous Roman once said: Navagare necesse est; it is necessary to sail. So I, who never would sail, now I will go, because our time is up. In truth, it was up a thousand years ago when we fought off the last of the dragons.'

He faltered and sat down, and Legolas put his arms around him, holding him close.

'It is not your fault,' he whispered fiercely. 'I chose to be with you. Without you, I would have been lost long ago.'

'I will not lose you now,' Govon whispered back.

'I hope we will lose no-one,' I said, taking charge once more. 'Come. We must make sure we pack all we need and leave nothing behind. We must check out, and buy tickets, and get ourselves to Merseyside. And, Duinor – I will need to retrieve my bicycle.'

We had a jittery wait for the train, and none of us wished to be out of sight of the others. It was cold enough to legitimise hats, and many of our friends had headgear with them, although the elegant hats some of the ladies had worn to the wedding looked a little incongruous on a station platform.

'You know, I think those with long hair should put their wedding hats away and simply cover-up with tresses,' Nestoril suggested. 'It will look less conspicuous.'

'A good idea, Ness. Legolas, you and Govon come with us. You too, Seamus. Everyone else... split up amongst the carriages.'

Duinor had appointed himself Custodian of the Royal Bicycle and took charge while we found seats on the train. At this time of day – after the morning rush to work, and between flights arriving at the local airport, the train had comparatively few humans on board and Ness and I, Govon and Legolas sat around a table and talked softly.

'I think very few of our friends will stay behind, when it comes down to it,' I said. 'They are following thus far, even those who were hesitant. Indeed, most seem eager, if anything. And, Ness – it was inspired of you to suggest they all come with us as far as Liverpool. It gives us longer to persuade them.'

'Oh, it isn't that, melleth,' she said with her roguish smile. 'Or have you forgotten about the sea-longing?'

'The...?' I shook my head. 'Of course not. But living in the forest as deeply as we did, I assumed it would not affect Silvans...'

'My point being, that if we have our Silvans in reach of the sea, Lord Ulmo can help persuade them for us, if necessary... assuming, as you say, that after living inland for so long they are not immune.'

'I suffered from it,' Legolas said. 'For a while, it was very hard. But, in time, I grew accustomed.'

The gentle resignation in my son's voice made me swallow, and Nestoril reached out to stroke his hand. Govon shook his head.

'My fair elf, he is being brave now, but at the time he suffered greatly. And there we were, within reach of the Great River and knowing the whole time how easy it would be for him to just jump in a boat...'

'Ah, but he did not,' Nestoril said, smiling at Legolas who now turned to look out of the window.

'No, he didn't, and I am so grateful that he stayed with me... do you think, this time, it will be easier, knowing you will sail, melleth?'

Legolas didn't answer, gaze fixed on the landscape rolling past.

'Legolas?' Govon laid an anxious hand on my son's arm. 'Did you not hear...? Legolas?'

'Oh no, he has slipped away again!' Nestoril exclaimed. 'Thranduil, swap places with me, let me sit opposite him... Govon, try a light pain stimulus; pinch him, gently of course...'

I moved so that Ness could take my place and she took Legolas' face between her hands, looking into his eyes, murmuring soft words.

'Oh, it is not good, this train-thing! It isolates us from our environment; we cannot even open a window for the fresh air to touch him! There is nothing growing or green here...'

In my jacket pocket I had placed my buttonhole from the wedding as a keepsake; a spicily-fragranced carnation and I withdrew it now.

'Here, Ness. It was a growing thing yesterday...'

'It might just hold enough latent life...'

She took the flower from me and fluffed at its squashed petals, the pulled them apart to reveal its centre. Beginning her chant again, she thrust the flower under my son's nose, where he perforce must inhale the last of its lingering, peppery-sweet fragrance.

For a long, anguished moment there was no change in my son. But then he started, sneezed, and shook his head, looking at our concerned faces with bewilderment.

'What is the matter...? Why do you all look so...?'

'We lost you again,' Govon said, taking his hand and speaking softly while Legolas toyed with the carnation with his free hand, a frown on his fair face. 'One moment we were talking of sailing, and then next, you were gone.'

'I see. Well, I am back now.'

'I will seek Seamus and see whether he knows how long this journey will take,' Nestoril said. 'Legolas, keep your attention engaged on your father or Govon.'

'I'd prefer it to be Govon,' my son said with a grin. 'Keeping Adar's attention is your job now.'

She was back in a few minutes.

'I said Legolas was in need of some fresh air; unfortunately, Seamus now thinks you have a hangover, my dear son-in-honour! But there is a station soon where we could disembark; another train will be along in twenty minutes and Seamus has said he will wait for us at Liverpool Lime Street...'

'But that would mean dividing the party; I am not sure it is wise, Adar,' Legolas said. 'I think the way everything outside was moving confused my senses and I simply lost my way. I will be fine.'

'Come, walk down the carriage with me. Perhaps, when the train stops, we can be near one of the doors. A breath of outside, some cold, sharp air,' Govon said. 'And do we know how long to Liverpool?'

'Perhaps twenty minutes; really, not long at all after the next stop.'

Once the station was behind us and the train moving again, I went through the carriages seeking my Silvans and reassuring everyone that we would be off this infernal contraption presently. There were frequent smiles when I had said this, as there had been a number of tunnels which had seemed interminably dark and alarming.

But we reached the station without further incident, disembarked and passed through the ticket barriers with the minimum of fuss; it struck me that for all I wanted to take care of my Silvans, they had already survived through millennia without me and seemed far more able in the modern world than was I.

We gathered in the open space of the station, making sure we, and our luggage, were all present.

'Can you smell it?' Duinor asked. 'That tang in the air?'

'Yes,' Calithilon said. 'The sea.'

This was taken up.

'The sea – are we very near it?'

'Can we see it? Can we go?'

'Will it hurt?'

'It hurt me,' Legolas said. 'I lived in great distress and discomfort for many centuries after I heard its call; a longing, a yearning, a fierce hunger of the fëa. But I am Sindar; I do not know how it might make you feel, Oreldaer.'

'It did not hurt me,' Erthor said. 'Calithilon and I have lived near enough the sea to taste this salty air before.'

'But should we run the risk?' Merlinith said. 'If you ask me, we need to gather ourselves together and if our king is expected in Liverpool, as my brother tells me is the case, then should we not get him away as quickly as possible? Who is arranging this?'

'Seamus?' I spoke in the Common Tongue and he came over. 'What do we do now?'

'If everyone did as I suggested, their tickets are valid for onward travel. We need to swap to Merseyrail and then take a second train; I'll need to think about finding you all a hotel...'

'Not too near the sea, Seamus.'

'That's a pity, sir; most of the reasonable hotels are either on the coast or here, in Liverpool... but if you do not mind a longer journey, Chester has many top quality hotels...'

'I think a longer journey would be too difficult,' I said firmly, worried for my son.

Seamus sighed.

'As you wish, my lord... but... and forgive my bluntness, people are beginning to stare... Mr Dean said I was never to mention it outright... but I think it might be the ears. It might be best to get out of sight for a little while... if you can get your party to follow me... where is Mrs King?'

It took me a moment to realise he meant Nestoril and I looked around in horror, wondering where my wife had gone. But just as I was about to bark orders to Thiriston and Canadion to seek her, she came out of what looked like a shop at the end of the station concourse. She waved as if nothing was wrong.

'I spotted a tourist information sign and as we seemed to be waiting for something... there are recommendations for hotels here... look... private functions, private parties... I think we qualify as that, do we not?'

'These things are usually booked months in advance,' Seamus protested. 'But... if I may... if, for example, a party had been let down by their existing hotel, or if it had proven unsatisfactory, that might explain why suddenly such a large party needed accommodation in a hurry... Perhaps, if you'll forgive me, you were a... a science-fiction convention or... well. Please, my lord, get everyone to follow me. We have another short train journey on Merseyrail. Down here, everyone, and follow signs for trains to the Wirral, Birkenhead, or Chester...'

They balked, of course.

'Down there?'

'It is dark. It smells!'

'There could be anything down there! Dwarves, were-worms, orcs...'

'A Balrog...'

I shook my head and made eye contact with Triwathon, who came over.

'How may I serve, sire?'

'You may take up your former role as Commander and if your Parvon is willing to assist...?'

'Of course, my king. Parvon?'

'Gladly, sire... Everyone!' Parvon clapped his hands. 'Your attention, please.'

He spoke in the Silvan dialect, his tone firm and decisive.

'We are embarking on the next stage of our journey. I understand this tunnel will take us across the river...' Beneath it, truth to tell, but I believed Parvon was right not to mention that fact. 'We descend here and take another train. We disembark and then will gather, and make our way to shelter. We travel with our king; when we were his subjects before, did he not protect us? Were not all his decisions, even the hard choices, made for our good?'

'But it is a tunnel...' one voice dissented.

Parvon glanced at Triwathon, who spoke to me.

'My king, do I have your permission to create a guard company?'

'Please do, Triwathon.'

'Thank you, sire. Mellyn-nin, I want volunteers to serve in the King's New Guard. If you are willing, step forward at your name. Celeguel, Amathel. Erthor, Calithilon. Canadion, Thiriston. Saethor and Oreldaer... Good. In pairs, you will each take charge of a group of Silvans; organise yourselves. You will report to me or Parvon or Commander Govon... Commander, will you take responsibility for our king and his family?'

'I was hoping not to have to insist on the privilege, Triwathon.'

'Problems, my lord?' Seamus asked. 'We should get moving.'

I tried for a reassuring smile.

'Some of my kin are a little... they do not like the idea of the tunnels...'

'Claustrophobia,' Nestoril supplied. 'It is unusual to see it as a genetic trait, but many of my husband's cousins are victim to it to some degree or other...'

'There isn't really any other way, not if you want to keep out of sight,' Seamus said. 'There's a bus that makes the same journey, but there are so many of us we might have to split up. Or make our way to the pier head and get a ferry, but you seem so adamant in avoiding the sea...'

Triwathon had organised his guard while we were talking. Each pair of warriors now had a little group of Silvans in their care and were explaining calmly and firmly what had to happen. Canadion's voice raised above the rest.

'I know, I know, it is all new, and different, and we do not like change! If you want to stay here and fade, that is your choice. But think of your loved ones waiting, think of your king. Does he not deserve the honour of arriving in the Undying Lands with a loyal escort? Now, it is not far, I am assured, and it starts here, with these moving steps. I am sure that if I can manage them in these heels, you can all follow, too?'

He smiled his charming smile and led off, Thiriston bringing up the rear of the little group.

Erthor was next to speak.

'Many of you have trusted me before. Trust me again now. Follow.'

Soon we were following the last of the Silvans down the moving steps. I understood their hesitation; these were odd things to encounter at the best of times, but the sense of stepping into a void was disconcerting. Still, we all arrived safely at the bottom and continued through the tunnel, following the signs for Merseyrail. Our surroundings were grim, dirty and grey and with a pervading air of hopelessness which only faded a little when we found our way to brightly lit areas once more.

We got everyone through the ticket barriers with only a little fussing and then descended again down a wide, long flight of steps. A vibration filled the air, the tunnel, a huge thrumming and whining noise, most unpleasant to our ears, and one of Erthor's commune Silvans stopped abruptly, leaning against the wall and covering his ears with his hands.

'I cannot! Ai, it is too much, and it is dark and the noise and where is the sky? I...'

Ness made to hurry to him but before she could, Triwathon was there at his side, holding tightly to the point where the Silvan's shoulder and neck joined and whispering softly all the while. After a few seconds the afflicted one's hands dropped down and he slumped back with a relaxed smile blossoming on his face.

'There, that is better... be calm, now, mellon-nin, all will be well, you are in a waking dream and here is Erthor to guide you...' Triwathon gave the ellon into Erthor's care. 'He will be fine. This state will last about twenty minutes or so, he will be perfectly calm and biddable, and unharmed after.'

Since everyone had stopped to see what was up, Triwathon addressed us all.

'That, my friends, is what the Lord of the Golden Flower used to call a Námo Special. It does not hurt, and I have used it many times. And, if you are not able to find the courage to follow your king, I am quite willing to use it again.' He lifted his chin in defiant promise. 'You choose.'