At first, Captain Narunir had not believed Triwathon when he said he'd given him the hardest job; how difficult could it be to keep the palace safe?

But he soon realised it was going to be more challenging than he had anticipated; many of the elves who had come in from the surrounding settlements for the nightmeal were now anxious to get home to make sure all was well with their neighbours.

After his third conversation with anxious, insistent elves, he put guards on the outer doors to stop any of them from leaving, and visited the Palace Office to garner official support.

Faerveren, the scribe on duty, looked up with a smile that didn't quite hide his concern at being left in charge.

'Acting Commander Narunir, how can the Palace Office help today? Tonight, of course…'

Narunir shook his head.

'Master Faerveren, we have elves wanting to leave…'

'I know; I have told those who came to me, no, there is an unspecified emergency in the forest and it is policy for them to stay here and for those outside to come in to the palace to shelter if it is safe to do so. I have suggested their friends and families, if they obey the orders, will be with them soon. I have had this posted on the official notice boards around the palace, but it is not stopping them from asking… May I tell them they will be restrained, for their own safety, if they continue to disregard instructions? Remind them we have lockable cells here?'

'That would be very helpful, to know we're showing a united front. I would like to send out a small – very small – scouting party to see if all is well and if the villagers really are coming, although, if they are not, I do not see how I can force them, not with a score of warriors…'

'I agree. I suppose… as long as there is no immediate danger, they are safer where they are. Oh, one other thing – we have been expecting the messenger, he is late… I do not know whether his tardiness is linked to the danger, or not, he has never been really reliable, but if your scouts find news of him… and if he is found…'

'How late, exactly?'

'The messengers usually arrive between the day meal and supper, and but for the emergency in the forest, I would not mention it…'

'It's not Girithon, is it?' Narunir asked. When the scribe nodded, he grinned. 'Oh, yes, I know what he's like… I will give orders to bring him in, whichever bed we find him in. I'll also send scouts out to the half mile boundaries, see what's happening.'

'Very well. And thank you for keeping me informed.'

Faerveren waited for the Acting Commander to leave before turning back to his work. Normally, of course, he would not be on duty at night, but these were special circumstances… it was all rather exciting and slightly alarming in his eyes; strictly speaking, he wasn't experienced enough to be in charge, he was not Parvon's assistant, as such, but his assistant Feren's assistant, but Feren had been chosen to ride down with the king to the Old Palace…

The scribe hid a sigh. It was an honour to be so trusted by Master Parvon that he was left in charge of course, but he felt a little out of his depth and would have much preferred to be spending the Yule festivities in the Old Palace, where his family were mostly settled. Still, he had caught a glimpse of one of his uncles at the top table earlier; Captain Canadion was here for the celebrations. So he was not entirely alone and without kin…

It would have been a more comforting thought had he not known his uncle had offered his services to Commander Triwathon for the duration of the emergency and had ridden out armed and ready to fight whatever was out there...

Well. Everything Faerveren could do, he had done. Caught up with the filing, tidied the office, made notices and had them posted on the boards, reassured more visitors to the office that yes, they were safe here, no, they could not go home tonight… he decided it was not unreasonable, now, to push the door from being wide open to being halfway closed; it gave him a sense of being available, but not completely poised for action which made him feel a bit better about sitting back in his chair and rubbing his eyes.

Not that he was especially sleepy, but it had been a busy few days, with preparations for the Yule celebrations already underway.

The first main event would be the Yule Eve Feast, two days away now. The following day, Yule itself, there was a gathering for the middle-day meal, with the evening being given over to the Night of the Names, the most important commemoration of the Silvan calendar. By tradition a private affair, after a formal opening ceremony for the shared observances, people would retire with their families and friends to share private memories of those they had lost. There were always public observances, though, for those who had no-one else to share their memories with; it was the king's wish that nobody be alone on the Night of the Names lest it be too difficult.

Sometimes, it was. Faerveren had heard the story, told almost in whispers, about how his uncle had almost faded from grief after one of his friends had died while they were fighting together; everyone knew elves were not intended for death and the bonds made even just of friendship were powerful when you could spend thousands of years together.

Thousands of years! Faerveren wondered what that must be like; he was only in his low hundreds, still, yet his uncle's husband was almost as old as the king, and Commander Triwathon, so it was said, had once been very close friends with Lord Glorfindel, who had been born long ago in the far west, in Tirion… it was almost beyond understanding, how long ago that was…

A knock on the half-open door, and Narunir was back.

'Dragons,' he said in brisk tones, 'it is officially dragons! Refugees have started to find their way in from the north-western villages; Oak, Elm and Beech, I have put some of my guard at the perimeter line to help people get in, it is dreadful, the tales I have heard, and…'

Faerveren went to a drawer in one of the other desks and took out a bottle two-thirds filled with a dark amber liquid.

'Master Parvon's emergency restorative,' he said, pouring a measure into a cup and handing it to Narunir. 'Sit for a moment, gather your thoughts. Then tell me, if you can.'

Narunir followed these suggestions with relief, nodding as the spirits shocked and soothed his distress.

'Reports coming in of dragons in the sky. Many of the elves, when they heard the alarms, decided to stay and wait for help; those who are here fled immediately, as they were supposed to do. There are a few injuries, but mostly people are frightened by what they have seen. They are mostly families with elflings who decided it was better to leave with the little ones…'

'I must arrange for Healer Maereth to be told, and…'

'It is already done. She is preparing for worse injuries to follow, for, if it is dragons, and these are but the elves who left as soon as the warning came, then those who follow are likely to be in need of more serious help…'

'That is true. Thank you. Do you have any warriors with field training who could help, if Mae needs support?'

'I do… but I have sent them to the perimeter. It seemed best.'

'Of course. Is there any word from the other villages, those east and south?'

'No; it seems the dragons have stayed to the west and north of our position. Presumably they will… oh, I cannot begin to guess what dragons will do, Master Faerveren! I am speaking only to give myself courage!'

'It makes sense, though. That is, one does not think of dragons arrayed as an army and thinking as such with strategy and deployment of forces. They fight, and they hunt, so, perhaps they would focus on one area at a time…'

'Yes, so the eastern and southern settlements should be safe. I will recall my scouts as soon as the messenger is found…'

'Thank you. But if you need them, call them back now; the messenger is the least of my worries.'

Narunir drained his cup and nodded a farewell, leaving the Palace Office to be about his duties.

Guessing there would be a few minutes at least before further hordes of alarmed, annoyed elves turned up demanding information, Faerveren decided to close the office and pay a quick visit to the healers' rooms.

He found Healer Maereth busy, but not too busy to hand over to her assistant and come and smile at him; they had started in the New Palace at the same time, and although some thought the Healer to have a timid disposition, when left to herself she had proved to be confident and able.

'Master Faerveren, you are not ill, I hope?'

'No, in fact, I came to say, I hope you are not too occupied tonight and if the Palace Office can help, send and I will come.'

'Thank you, that is very kind. At present, it is all very minor, people have been frightened, have perhaps stumbled or been scratched as they hurried through the forest – some of the brambles have no manners – but all is under control.'

'I will pray it stays that way, Healer.'

'So shall we all, I think. In addition, I am making lists of those who are here safely, to make it easier to account for everyone later…' She sighed and turned her head slightly away. 'An unpleasant thought, but I have had my assistants clear out one of our store rooms and set up tables; we may see deaths tonight, Faerveren.'

'This near to the Night of the Names… how awful! But then, death is always awful, I suppose.'

Maereth nodded. 'Just when we had begun to think it was behind us, too, all the evil and darkness from the old days cleaned away…'

'Let us hope this is just the last, lingering dregs of it, Healer Mae.'

Voices outside, many of them, and a small crowd of elves filtered in. Amongst them were two with silver blond hair and unfamiliar clothing; Galadhrim! What were they doing here?

One stepped forward and bowed.

'Healer, we were asked to escort your villagers to safety; there are dragons and they are burning the settlements and attacking the people.'

'Oh, dear!' Maereth summoned her assistants with a wave of her hand and moved towards the battered Silvans. 'Oh, you poor things, come through with me and let us take a look at you…'

'If you need help, Healer Mae, send to me,' Faerveren said. 'Honoured friends, the New Palace thanks you for helping our people. I am Faerveren, presently in charge of administration. If you have a few minutes, would you come to my office? I would like to ask you some questions, if I may. It is just along here.'

On the way he sent word with a servant to Narunir; the acting commander would appreciate being part of the debriefing, might even know better than Faerveren what questions to ask.

Faerveren returned to the office and ushered the Galadhrim to seats.

'For your service, we are most grateful,' he said. 'And whatever information you have will be most helpful. We should wait, though, for the Acting Commander in charge of the garrison. Meanwhile, may I offer you a drink? I have strong spirits, or water, whichever you would prefer.

'Water would be a blessing, Master Faerveren.'

He served them himself from the jug on the side table. While he was doing so, Narunir arrived.

'Acting Commander, thank you for coming.'

'We found your missing messenger. Holed up in one of the villages, said he was delayed setting out from the Old Palace and felt it too late to continue on tonight, but the tale is he was at the neighbouring village the night before. Debriefing him now, Master Faerveren, will send him along once we've done.'

'I am grateful. Commander, these good Galadhrim have escorted in a dozen or so villagers from Elm, they are currently with the healers. My guests, Commander Narunir is in charge of the garrison while our Commander Triwathon is on duty. I am sure he would like to ask some questions.'

Not least what Galadhrim were doing in the forest anyway…

'We came with the elves from Imladris,' one said, when Narunir asked, more tactfully than Faerveren felt he would have done, to explain their presence. 'We had been staying there on our way to the Havens. When Lord Glorfindel had a dream of danger, he insisted on setting out, and so we went with him.'

'Lord Glorfindel is in our forest? The Balrog-Slayer?'

'Yes, he. Also with him were those known as Arveldir and Erestor, and Elladan and Rusdir…'

'I know Rusdir!' Narunir said. 'A fine captain when he served. And what were their plans, do you know?'

'Arveldir said they would go towards the villages and try to help. There are dragons, but Lord Glorfindel seemed confident he could deal with them.'

'If Rusdir is there, I am sure, between them they can,' Narunir said. 'Do you know how many?'

'No. We saw shadows; one very large, several smaller. Their activity seemed concentrated on the area where we were told the villages are situated; certainly, they did not follow us as we came through the forest. That is all.'

All! Faerveren took this in in a state of near-wonder. Arveldir, in the forest, and Lord Glorfindel the Balrog-Slayer, too!

Somehow, suddenly, things didn't seem quite as bad.