It didn't take long for Parvon to grasp exactly what Faerveren had meant. He frowned down at the documents.

'The date has been changed to make it appear that the messenger set out later than he actually did, no doubt to give him time to dally in the villages. But he neglected to look at the inner sheet since usual policy puts the latest page on the outside, and therefore we have clear evidence that this message – stating the king will remain in the Old Palace until the threat is resolved – was sent at least five days ago. There can be no doubt and…'

Parvon broke off and he looked at his friends and colleagues, his eyes filling suddenly.

'Oh, sweet Eru, those little orphaned elflings, their parents treated as prey, the trees, burned… Glorfindel of Imladris slain and all because Girithon delayed on the road… surely he must have known what was in the document…?'

'He did indeed know the contents,' Faerveren said. 'He made a point of telling me how Dain's people had disturbed a nest of dragons, he treated it as a joke… do not doubt he was aware of the danger.'

'I, too, heard Girithon talking of dragons,' Erestor said.

'Elves have died!' Parvon said, 'This is treason, or at least kinslaying by dereliction of duty; it must be dealt with at the highest level… '

'You have a jail here?' Arveldir asked.

'We do, although we have never needed to use it as such before,' Parvon sighed. 'We must get a message to the king as soon as possible – we can send a goshawk, and I'll ride myself, if I must, with word to the Old Palace. I must alert the guard to watch for Girithon and restrain him on sight...'

'He is due to return here to collect the outward missives; we will detain him then if nothing else,' Arveldir said.

Parvon nodded and sat down to compose a brief summary of events on a small piece of parchment: "Dragon attack, wyrms all slain but many dead and injured, trees burned, warning came late. Courier follows."

'Faerveren, see this is sent as soon as possible by goshawk.'

'Perhaps you should also see if you can find someone fit and willing to ride to the Old Palace in haste,' Arveldir said. 'Parvon, there are too many people here who will look to you for guidance; I am not sure you can be spared.'

'Very well, Faerveren, I know I can trust you to find a reliable courier. And I am grateful.' Parvon lifted his head suddenly, listening more than just his ears. Suddenly he felt profoundly troubled and could not say why… 'Arveldir, would you mind adding an update to the missives? Girithon's perfidy must be made known.'

'Of course, Parvon. But…'

'I must go, I have urgent business elsewhere, I am sorry.'

Leaving the Palace Office, Parvon hastened towards the garrison, trying to understand his sudden dread. Triwathon; something was niggling at the back of his mind and he realised he was anxious about the Commander, anxious in an unthinking, automatic way, his fëa was responding. But what could possibly be wrong now?

Although he enquired several times on the way, nobody seemed to know where the Commander was. But it was a fair guess that he would be with the Hero of Gondolin. Approaching the chamber, he was both annoyed and worried to find nobody on guard outside.

'Where is the honour guard?' he demanded of the duty officer. 'Where is the watch?'

'Captains Thiriston and Canadion were needed by healer Maereth,' the duty sergeant told him. 'The elflings feel safe with them, she said.'

'And you did not set other sentries in their place?' Parvon's tone was harsh as he bit back the fear that suddenly rose up and gibbered in his mind.

'I was not ordered to, Master Parvon. Besides, as the room is empty, what need for a guard?'

'The room is not empty,' Parvon snapped, losing patience. 'It holds the body of one of the Firstborn, the Hero of Gondolin, who died for us, for our elflings and our families, and the guard is there to honour his sacrifice.'

Shaking his head, he opened the door and tried to calm himself as he stepped inside.

The scene before his eyes shocked and horrified him. He had found Triwathon, yes, but there was the messenger, Girithon, too, and he was… was… had one hand around Triwathon's throat, the other pawing at his garments and Triwathon, he was permitting…

No. Triwathon would not do that, would not willingly allow anyone to do such things, not with Glorfindel's remains there at his side; this was forced on him, he was being attacked, molested, the dread Parvon had felt in his fëa attested to that…

Parvon closed the door with a click, crossing the space in a heartbeat. He reached out and grabbed Girithon's single travelling braid, wrapping it around his hand as he heaved with all his strength and loathing, and when the messenger lost his grip on Triwathon and was forced to turn, he slammed his fist into Girithon's face, sending him spinning away. The elf skidded on a damp patch on the stone floor and connected with the wall with a disturbing crack, sliding to the floor where he lay in an untidy, unmoving heap.

Click.

The sound registered in Triwathon's fading consciousness, but not the import.

Then Girithon was pulled away and he was released. He fell back against the wall, gasping and coughing, his sight singing and pocked with lights as the blood flowed back and he began to see and hear properly again.

'Come, Triwathon, let me help you there.' Parvon put a gentle arm under the Commander's shoulder and supported him across to the chair near Glorfindel's bier. 'Take a seat. There. I am sorry I did not get here sooner… he was annoying poor Faerveren earlier, but I hardly expected him to take such liberties with you.'

'I… what you must think…'

'I think Girithon deserves to be exiled somewhere he might meet with a fatal accident, so that Lord Námo can keep him out of the way of decent elves. Has he harmed you? Are you injured? You are hurt, I am sure…'

Triwathon shook his head mutely, but ran his fingers around his throat. 'No, I don't… dirty, I feel dirty, Parvon, and it was my fault, and… he… and Glorfindel, it would have been…'

'Once we have Girithon taken care of we can return to your quarters and I will wait outside while you use the washing cascade. You will feel better then.'

'I am such a fool, I… how did you know?'

'Ah.' Parvon gave a small, sad smile. 'Yes, how indeed? Not to bring up old issues, but you know I have feelings for you. My fëa was anxious suddenly, and I felt something was threatening you. When I found myself outside the room, I knew you were in danger.'

'I am most grateful, Parvon…'

'Do not mention it, that's what friends are for. And console yourself with the knowledge that since I felt your fear, I know you did not in any way invite Girithon's advances. He will say, perhaps, that he was trying to help you up after you had collapsed. I do not understand why there was no-one on duty outside?'

'Thiriston and Canadion were there. Healer Maereth asked for them, Canadion offered to stay, I said they could both go. It wasn't meant to take long. Nobody knew I was in here, I didn't want to be seen so I didn't send to the guard room, after all, the guard is to keep Glorfindel company and I was here, he wasn't alone…'

The Commander offered a wan smile. Parvon sighed out a breath, trying to expel his anger. Typical of Triwathon, of course, not to see himself as vulnerable and no point remonstrating with him.

'I doubt Girithon will admit he attacked you, a shameful thing to do at any time but particularly vile under the present circumstances; I saw his hands around your throat, Commander…'

'It really wasn't like that, he…'

Triwathon's voice faltered. What had it been, then, if not an attack? He had protested, tried to, but why had he not pushed Girithon away, it was not as if he were a weakling, and the messenger…

'He is in trouble anyway. The Palace Office found the missives he conveyed had been tampered with, the seal broken, the date on one letter changed. We should have had the news of the dragons days ago, it does not bear thinking about – but my current point is that Girithon will be held and charged with treason.' Parvon shook his head. 'No doubt he realised that we would discover his deception and he was looking for a place to hide. That you were here was…unfortunate. Perhaps he thought if you felt compromised, he could use you to exonerate him.'

'That would never happen,' Triwathon said, his voice rasping and husky. 'Even if we… he had… I will not let him use it to escape justice.'

'Well, if you are feeling better, I will get someone to take Girithon to the cells and someone else to keep Lord Glorfindel company. Sit there quietly, Commander.'

Parvon went to the door and summoned the guard he had spoken to earlier.

'Go at once to Healer Maereth and tell her we need Captain Thiriston here immediately. Nobody else will suffice. She may have him back presently.'

'Is there a problem, Master Parvon?'

Parvon refrained himself and gave the barest of the facts.

'In fact, the room was not empty. The messenger Girithon, currently suspected of treason, had found his way in.'

Belatedly realising that someone was likely to be in trouble and he'd rather it wasn't him, and that Thiriston wasn't part of the garrison and therefore more likely to get away with just a minor reprimand, the guard pulled himself up smartly.

'Oh. I will fetch him, then. Shocking that he did not make sure his post was filled...'

'Someone has failed in their watch, certainly, Captain. Please hurry.'

Parvon returned to the chamber, standing by the door and looking down his nose at Girithon. His hands were folded in front of his body and he emanated disapproval, although it was rather wasted on the messenger who was still out cold.

The messenger was too still, somehow, and even as Parvon frowned and moved towards him, Triwathon spoke up.

'Should he not be stirring by now? He looks… I do not know, empty…'

Kneeling beside the messenger, Parvon shook his head.

'He is not breathing, oh, sweet Eru, his neck… I… I have killed… he is dead and…'

'It was an accident,' Triwathon said. 'You would never deliberately harm another elf, you were trying to protect me.'

'I know, and if I had stopped to think I would have sent for the guard, but I was so afraid for you I did not pause. He is dead, he is dead, and I killed him… had there not been enough loss lately?'

A knock at the door and Parvon went to open it.

'Master Parvon, you sent for me?' Thiriston said, easing himself into the room.

It was a large chamber, but suddenly it felt far smaller with his looming strength added to it. The captain placed his hand over his heart and bowed towards the fallen before taking in the room and the persons in it. A strange light came to his eye as he turned back to the advisor.

'Something happen here you need help with?'

'Commander Thiriston.' Parvon tried to keep the relief from his voice. 'Do you know the way to the cells?'

'I do indeed, Master. Someone need an escort?'

'I do, in fact. I have… seem to have… it was an accident… killed the messenger Girithon.'

'About time somebody did,' Thiriston said. 'Nasty piece of work, for an elf.'

'I… even so, he is dead and it was my fault. You must lock me in the cells until the matter can be investigated, that is the law.'

'Captain, it was not intentional,' Thiriston said, his voice husky and rough. 'Girithon was… he had his hands around my throat, Parvon came in and pulled him off me. Girithon fell badly against the wall; we thought he was simply unconscious…'

'Master Parvon has a point, though; anyone suspected of taking a life has to be held in charge. It'll all be cleared up easily enough, I'm sure.'

'You cannot!' Triwathon protested. 'Thiriston, it was an accident…'

'I do not want to be locked up,' Parvon said, 'nor do I want to leave you…' He turned to Thiriston. 'The Commander collapsed after the incident; he should not be left alone…'

'Canadion's outside,' Thiriston said. 'He'll keep an eye on the Commander. Could start a panic taking him off to Healer Mae…'

'Healer Maereth has enough to do,' Triwathon said. 'I am grateful. But I am fine, Parvon.'

'Might be worth letting one of the healers look you over in your rooms, or here, even,' Thiriston said. 'Got a nasty bruise or two shaping there, would stand in Parvon's favour. Well, if we have to, we have to. Come on, Master Parvon.'

Thiriston opened the door for Parvon to precede him from the chamber.

'Captain Canadion, if you would sit with Commander Triwathon for a few minutes, I would be grateful.' Parvon said.

'Of course, Master Parvon… is all well?'

'Not really, but thank you for asking.'

'Been thinking,' Thiriston began once they were out of earshot of the guardroom. 'You're too important to lock up. Necessary. Burials today, Yule Eve Feast, Night of the Names… you'll be needed.'

'I understand that, but it is the law. If I do not abide by it now, how will it look?'

'Imagine when the tale gets around, though? Oh, those as knew what Girithon was like, they'll cheer you on, but the rest? And it was an accident.'

'It was. And despite what I know of him, what I saw him do, still he was a Silvan, he is dead when he should not be…'

'There are dozens dead because of him already.'

'Dozens? Has there been an update on fatalities that I did not know of? What…?'

'From the old days. Not sure what you're meaning is, though.'

'He knew about the dragons. And still, he delayed on the road. We should have had word three days ago.'

Thiriston swore.

'But you must see you're needed working,' he insisted. 'Think of what it'd do to the heart of the place, if you were locked up for kinslaying. Nobody'd know who to turn to, who to trust. Only thing, take you to the Palace Office. Let them decide.'

Canadion shivered as he saw Girithon lying dead on the floor. He debated asking what had happened, but decided too many people would be asking that soon enough. Besides, no doubt the Commander would tell him, in time. He took a moment to compose himself, to find the right expression for what appeared to have happened, and closed the door behind him.

'I remember Glorfindel,' he said with an elegant bow towards the Fallen. 'I met him first after the Battle of the Three Dragons. There were warriors who woke in the night shouting, after it – I'm sure you remember – and Lord Glorfindel knew what they needed. He set up a special camp fire for them at night, where they could come and talk or not talk, just share knowing they weren't the only one. Thiriston used to go. It helped him a lot. Glorfindel was a hero.'

Triwathon nodded mutely.

'A real hero,' the young captain went on. 'Not only did he die protecting others, but he died far from home.'

Was there a point to this? Girithon was lying dead on the floor, Parvon was on his way to the cells and Triwathon really would have preferred to be left alone just now, but apparently, Canadion had other plans…

'It minds me that we have our own Silvan heroes who did the same; long before the War of the Ring or the Battle of the Five Armies, there was the Battle of the Last Alliance where we lost our first king. Thiriston was there then, he saw… he doesn't talk about it much and, really, for all that I love him, I am glad of it; I do not think I would want to hear… Well. Many who came home were ghosts of themselves, and other ellyn tried to comfort them… it is said that was when the term 'afflicted' was first used; it meant only a heroic warrior who had suffered and for whom there was not enough healing to be had. So the elves who tried to care for them, who loved them, were doomed to see them fade from grief and horror…'

Canadion sighed and drew a chair up near Triwathon's. Not too close, but there, nevertheless, in case he were needed.

'Then the ellyn turned to each other for solace. They would use a special place, an alcove in one of the communal pools, and looked at each other there, and then went home together. It was not perfect, it was not love… but it was better than the raw, aching pain of losing someone you cared for. Especially if that one was not your fëa-mate. When Girithon came to the Old Palace, he began to isolate these relicts, one by one, preying on them, using them, claiming his ways would drive out the pain… but all he did was hurt them more, and when they would have stopped, backed away from him, he insisted – but it was only what you wanted, you did not even protest… you did not mean your no, you simply meant yes, but you didn't want it to be your fault… oh, not me,' he said with a shuddering laugh. 'His fëa was foul, even then, when you got up close… He even tried to seduce my father, while he was still bonded to my mother, can you believe? By chance, someone who knew Girithon's reputation, and who knew Adar was newly arrived in the palace and so might not know, stopped things going wrong for Ada…'

'Canadion? What do you think happened in here, that you say such things?'

'I do not know why or how Girithon is dead, but there are many deaths on his conscience, even if he was not outright a kinslayer.' The elf sighed. 'I am sorry about Glorfindel, and I know you were close. I had a close friend, once. He died. I felt awful. Had Girithon found me then, I do not know, it could have been the death of me… he made us blame ourselves, even when nothing had happened, he made everyone feel as if it had, and it was their fault. I think Girithon would take any opportunity to be his usual unpleasant self, and he was no respecter of persons, Commander. If you had to defend yourself, who would blame you?'

'It was not like that, it… it was an accident. He slipped, and fell against the wall.'

'I can see that, but… how, Commander? I can see the bruises on your throat; I have seen those marks before, the last time on a dead person Girithon had spent time with… Is there anything I need to know to help you?'

Triwathon shook his head. To say anything more would be to blame Parvon, and it wasn't his fault. All he had been doing was trying to help, it hadn't been Parvon's fault.

Canadion sighed softly.

'Thiriston and I would have loved very much to work here with you,' he began. 'But I think I have said too much, asked too many questions. I was trying to help, but perhaps you will not want us here because of it, to be reminded that I know Girithon tried to harm you. And I think that will be sad, but I am just glad you are safe, and Girithon is dead. There are many ellyn who will be grateful for it.'

'No, that doesn't matter,' Triwathon said. 'I… will not say whether or not your words have any particular meaning for me, but your forthrightness would not prevent me from offering you, and Thiriston, a posting here. Simply, I do not think the New Palace will be allowed to continue. Elves have died, they refused to believe there was danger, they ignored even the simple safety procedures and they died. And had the message got through sooner, they might still live. But what matters, what will be seen to matter, is that I was in charge of the garrison, and I did not save them. I am not sure I will be in a position to give anyone a post, Canadion, when the king learns what has happened here.'

He swallowed, the action hurting his throat, reminding him with a shudder of Girithon's hands so tight and implacable. If he had just pushed him away, had shouted, had not allowed himself to be vulnerable, none of this would have happened, Parvon would not now be headed towards the cells…

Of the two of them Parvon was much more important to the running of the New Palace…

'I am grateful that you wish to help, but there is nothing to be done. It is my fault Girithon is dead,' he said. 'Irrespective of the fact that it was an accident, I am to blame.'