Faerveren walked more jauntily as he returned to the Palace Office. The goshawk was on its way, he had found an elleth who had agreed to horse the missives through the forest, and he had even found time to bespeak a key to one of the good guest chambers from the housekeeper, and borrow an item of equipment from the healers to make things easier for Master Erestor, whose injuries must be troubling him far more than he would admit.

He had stopped many times on the way to hear reports , or had been stopped for reassurance and information, and something was growing very clear to him; there was a greater need than ever for a formal top table in the dining hall tonight, to pass out clear information, quash the rumours, and put everyone in the best frame of mind as was possible under the circumstances.

'The injured have all been tended to, although more casualties are expected with the hour, and the horse of the Lord of Gondolin has been found safe and brought to the stables,' he began, passing on what he thought was the pressing news first. 'The hawk is away and you should have already met the elleth who will ride to the Old Palace…'

Belatedly he became aware of a strangely tense atmosphere, Master Parvon seated with Honour-Uncle Thiriston behind him, and Lord Arveldir's expression serious, was worrying. The door to the inner office was closed, and this suggested exclusion of Master Erestor gave him pause.

'What has happened now?' he asked.

'There has been an incident. An accident,' Arveldir said. 'And it is a matter only you can legislate on.'

'Me?' Faerveren said. 'But Master Parvon is in charge, I am the least of underscribes…'

'Not in this case,' Arveldir said. 'And I am retired from service to the Greenwood, so while I can advise, I cannot decide.'

'Tell me, then? I will do my best…'

'Girithon is dead,' Parvon said, swallowing as if the words hurt him. 'I… it was my fault. I killed him. Not on purpose, he was… attacking Commander Triwathon, I pulled him off and hit him, I was angry to see such...disrespect. He fell and… and didn't move. I didn't know, at first, I thought he was just unconscious and I was more concerned about the commander… but then… and so I gave myself up to Captain Thiriston and told him to take me to the cells…'

'Didn't think it was a good idea,' Thiriston offered in his big, rough voice. 'Besides, I don't work here, so he couldn't make me. Needs sorting out, lad.'

'Thank you, Uncle,' Faerveren said. 'I can see that. Yes, it would cause panic if word got out that Master Parvon had been locked up. But at the same time, it is the law. Well, unless it can be shown that the matter was not deliberate – I do take your word for it, Master Parvon, but you know how it is. If we represent the King's Law, then we are as subject to it as the next elf, you and Lord Arveldir taught me that… I think someone should look at where this incident took place, and try to understand what happened. If it can be shown to be not deliberate, then I think house arrest would be sufficient, until the King himself can judge the matter. You said, Master Parvon, that Commander Triwathon was present?'

'It was because he was being attacked by Girithon that I intervened…'

'Good, perhaps he was able to see what happened.'

'I doubt it; he was almost unconscious himself.'

'So it was obviously a very severe assault. Where did this take place? Was anyone else there?'

'In the room where Glorfindel lies,' Parvon said. 'The door was closed. Only Triwathon, Girithon, Lord Glorfindel and I were present.'

'I see, and, of course, we cannot ask Glorfindel, he… Oh, dear, I am really not the best person to ask,' he said with a shrug. 'I file papers and write notes, I do not order my seniors to be locked away…'

'Doing just fine, penneth,' Thiriston rumbled.

'Thank you, Uncle. Did you notice anything?'

'Yes. Triwathon's bruised round his neck, was gasping for his breath. Nobody had any weapons drawn. Which you would, if you were Parvon's height and planning on killing someone of Girithon's build.'

'That's helpful, yes, you wouldn't go up against Girithon empty handed unless you had to. Well. We were planning on taking him in charge for treason, so, Master Parvon, that you had not drawn your knife suggests to me you did not expect to find him there.'

'No, I did not. I simply…' Parvon sighed. 'I felt something was wrong and simply hurried in. I did not shout, or call for a guard, or pause to think, I simply intervened. Once sure Triwathon was safe, I sent the guard to bring Captain Thiriston – I intended handing Girithon over to him to take to the cells. It was while Triwathon and I were waiting for him that we noticed something was wrong, that Girithon was dead.'

'What of the Commander?' Faerveren asked. 'Has he been taken to a healer?'

'Left Canadion with him,' Thiriston said. 'No point upsetting everyone by trailing him through the corridors. Think about it; Parvon locked up, Triwathon almost killed while he was sitting in vigil, what's that going to do to people's confidence?'

'Yes. He must see a healer, though, and it would be useful for one to examine Girithon's body, too, to confirm that no weapons were used and that the death was caused by his fall. We should have the commander brought here, I should speak to him, perhaps Uncle – Captain Canadion will escort him… or if I go myself, I can ask, and then…'

'It would be better if you stayed in the office, Master Faerveren,' Parvon suggested. 'I might flee, otherwise, since – as Captain Thiriston has already pointed out – he does not have to do what we tell him and so he would not have any right to hold me here.'

'Yes. Then, perhaps, Lord Arveldir, I do not like to ask, but would you be willing to seek out Commander Triwathon? I do not want to send one who does not already know what has happened, the fewer persons who know, the better, at present.'

'I would be pleased to help in this,' Arveldir said. 'And I might remind you, also, that I am an independent witness and so will be able to report objectively.'

Once he had politely asked Canadion to help Commander Triwathon along to the Palace Office, Arveldir bowed to the remains of Lord Glorfindel and closed the door behind him. Standing just inside the chamber, he looked about him. The Balrog-Slayer's body showed signs of having been superficially tended, his hair tidied a little, some of the blood cleaned away, but largely he looked much as he had when Arveldir had last seen him. Little puddles of water, slowly drying on the floor, suggested the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower had been lightly washed, and there was an indication that someone had, perhaps, skidded on one of the puddles. It aligned with the direction Girithon would have taken in order to fall against the wall.

He had been left to lie as he had fallen, and though usually this would have shocked and dismayed Arveldir, in this instance it was helpful that the body had not been moved.

'Most helpful, however, would be a witness,' he said aloud. 'Even if the report were inadmissible, for whatever reason, just to have confirmation for my own peace of mind would be a boon.'

He folded his hands together in front of his body and rocked on his feet, staring at the darkest corner of the chamber.

'I am patient,' he said. 'I can wait. But there are many pressing matters with which I could be assisting, if I were not delayed here.'

A few minutes passed, and Arveldir began to wonder whether he had misjudged matters. But then there came a soft sigh from the edges of the room that built and echoed and were followed by a coalescing of the darkness until a figure stepped forward, light glittering like diamonds in the aftershock of his movements.

'Lord Arveldir, simply because you almost died once and so are blessed with the ability to see me when I permit it does not mean I am in any way indebted to you or owe you the courtesy of my presence…'

'My lord Námo.' Arveldir bowed. 'I am most grateful for your attention. I wonder if you perhaps were here when matters unfolded earlier today?'

'One could say so.' Lord Namo approached and perched elegantly on the edge of the table where Glorfindel's body lay. 'I'd just had it out with our friend here – he's keen to get home and kiss his lover goodbye – about the delay. I had told him he was my last for the night… which was true; I simply didn't mention there was another to collect today; he had misunderstood and thought I had meant all the dying was done… so we were arguing semantics when I came through to collect and nearly found myself in charge of the wrong fëa…'

'My lord?'

'The newly-deceased there…' Námo indicated Girithon's body, 'was busy squeezing the life from our mutual friend Commander Triwathon. Now, that was not at all how it should have been. I was rather glad when that fellow came in and saved the day. So it was simply a tragic accident. Well, an accident, certainly, I doubt yon will be missed…' The Doomsman of the Valar tilted his head, observing the remains on the floor. 'I have an especially deep corner of the Halls for such as he. It will take him a very long time to climb up to the lighter regions. Even by my standards. One could even argue it was self-defence.'

'But it was Parvon who…'

'Parvon, whose fëa is tied to Triwathon's. Had the Commander died, Parvon would not have lasted long; he has waited so long as a living creature for Triwathon's regard that his beloved's death would have destroyed all his peace… of course, I expect the poor fellow is swathed in guilt, now, and Triwathon won't be much better… but that was all it was. An accident. And about time, too. You have no idea how many fëar I have in my care just because of Girithon's games.' Námo tilted his head at Arveldir. 'Is there anything more, or can I please get on? You think you are busy? You should try my duties, child!'

Arveldir smiled and bowed.

'Please tell Lord Glorfindel that there is word Asfaloth has been found safe and well. And that I will do my best to support Melpomaen in the time to come.'

'I was being sarcastic!' Námo said. 'Well, very well, I will pass that on. And so, goodbye. I hope it is a very long time before we speak again.'

'In fact, my lord, so do I. My thanks.'

Suddenly the room felt abandoned, utterly vacant. Arveldir sighed, bowed once more to Glorfindel, and left the chamber feeling rather more at ease in his mind.

'An accident,' Faerveren said, when Arveldir recounted his odd conversation with Lord Námo. 'I am pleased to have it confirmed by so important a person, even though he is unlikely to present himself to tell the tale to our king… You see, Master Parvon, it was not your fault in any way. Nor was it yours, Commander Triwathon. And…' He shuddered. 'I knew the deceased. I cannot be sorry I will not see him again. Of course, we will need to consider what to do with him.'

'In what way?' Arveldir asked.

'The matter must go before the king, and so we will need to say the fellow's name. Therefore he cannot be laid to rest before the Night of the Names… but I do not want him near decent souls, and his removal to another chamber would be best. First, I think, we need to wait for a healer to look him over and report exactly on the manner of his death. We also need Commander Triwathon to be examined…'

'I am fine, Master Faerveren…'

'Indeed. However, you bear the marks of the assault, which must be recorded so that the king is in no doubt that you were in danger. Besides,' Faerveren went on, 'we need to present a strong court at supper tonight, you will need to speak, Parvon, you will need to address the company also. The people need it. So to have your health attested to is important.' He paused to gather himself. 'It is the finding of the Palace Office, therefore, pending review by His Majesty the Elvenking, that Master Parvon is innocent of any deliberate intent to cause the death of Messenger Girithon, who was himself suspected of treason. This being so, we require Master Parvon to confine himself to the palace complex, except where his duties require him to be present outside the gates. On those occasions, he will have a guard at his side at all times to fulfil the guidelines stated, but there is no cause for the populace to be made aware of his involvement in Girithon's death.'

Faerveren let out a breath, suddenly finding he was shaking.

'Of course, the guard could be Commander Triwathon – what more natural than that our Advisor in Chief and our Commander be present to represent the two parts of our settlement – the Palace Office and the Garrison?'

'What are you thinking, Faerveren?' Arveldir asked.

'As many of the families as possible will want to see their loved ones laid to rest before the Night of the Names,' he replied. 'There will be many burials, and the families will appreciate an official presence. There is just tomorrow, really, unless the day of the Yule Eve Feast is also to be spent laying our dead to rest.'

'You have a point, there.' Arveldir nodded. 'What of the gemstones for the families?'

'I…' Faerveren twisted his shoulders. 'In fact, since Master Parvon has been shown not to be responsible for Girithon's death, there is no reason why I should not hand over the running of the office back to him, is there? Master Parvon, I will do as much to help as you require of me, of course, but if you would like to take over again, I would be very glad not to have the responsibility of the entire New Palace in my hands.'

Parvon smiled at the frantic edge towards the end of Faerveren's speech.

'Would you like me to find you some nice filing?' he asked.

'I would find that very calming, Master, but… I think there is other work yet for me? Oh, you were joking!'

The reinstated Advisor in Chief nodded.

'Only a little. I would like you to escort Commander Triwathon to the healers, and while you are there, explain about Girithon. If you can bear it, go with the healer and hear what they have to say about him; I think his neck was broken when he fell, but I would prefer to have it confirmed. Then you can return here, and mind the desk for an hour. I promised the Commander I would help him tend Lord Glorfindel; he died for us, it is only fitting that senior personnel take care of him as a mark of respect.'

'Of course, Master Parvon. May I have a moment before I follow your instructions?'

'Certainly.'

'My thanks.' Faerveren turned towards Arveldir with a bow. 'Lord Arveldir, I have something for you.' He handed over the key he had acquired earlier. 'It is for the best guest corridor, the room at the top on the left. I thought Master Erestor would appreciate a comfortable place to rest.'

'Thank you, Faerveren.' Arveldir glanced towards the inner office door, closed to give Erestor some peace to rest. 'This is very considerate.'

'Just outside the door is one of those devices the healers use for transporting injured persons. With respect to Master Erestor's feelings, I am sure he will find walking uncomfortable and…'

'My ada helped invent those, along with Ada-in-Honour,' Canadion said with a swift smile. 'The latest sort is called an elf-barrow by the disrespectful, but it is perfectly good.'

'I will leave you to discuss the matter, Lord Arveldir, with your husband,' Faerveren said. 'Your presence at supper would be very reassuring to our people. Captain Thiriston, you and Captain Canadion are also invited to attend…. Ah. Forgive me, Master Parvon, I should have asked you first…'

'You are quite right, we need a strong top table tonight. While you're at the healers', ask Maereth to attend supper, too. Stress that it will make people feel comfortable, since it will show she is not desperately needed in her rooms.'

'Yes, Master Parvon. Commander Triwathon? If you would come with me, please, we need to make sure you are properly well after your ordeal.'

'My ordeal, Faerveren?'

'I found even talking to our erstwhile messenger a most unpleasant experience. To have him lay hands on one…' The underscribe shivered. 'It would be horrific, I am sure.'

Parvon took his seat behind the desk as if he had never thought to inhabit it again. He needed time to process everything, he on the point of shaking, of shouting or weeping and he did not know how to deal with any of the things that had happened… dragons, deaths, Triwathon being attacked, Girithon's perfidy… his death… it was impossible, all of it. And yet it had happened. All of it.

Thiriston and Canadion were still there, waiting, perhaps to help, perhaps to be dismissed. He found a formal Palace Office smile for them and suddenly felt more at ease as he felt his proper mantle settle over him once again.

'Thank you for your help, Captains,' he began. 'There is one more task needing doing – enquiries should be made concerning Girithon's connections, his family, his friends…'

'I do not think he has any family,' Canadion said. 'At least, none that own him… Thiriston, you are more of an age with him than I am… do you know?'

'Pretty sure not,' Thiriston said. 'Nobody ever admitted to kinship with him, back in the day.'

'There may be something on record in the Old Palace,' Parvon said. 'He was found in a flet in one of the near settlements; can you ask of Narunir where he was found, and if you would then go and enquire who his friend was, I would be grateful. If you find them, ask them to come in and talk to me, do not mention Girithon's death, that is my responsibility.'

'Will do that for you and gladly, Master Parvon,' Thiriston said.

'My thanks. And please, do attend the top table tonight. If nothing else, Faerveren will feel better with his kin to hand.'

Suddenly, only Parvon and Arveldir were left in the office.

'I find I am very grateful that you have such wide ranging friendships, Arveldir,' Parvon began. 'I… it is strange, but I began to doubt what I knew to have happened…'

'In fact, it is hardly strange at all,' Arveldir said. 'You have had to think about the event, and recount it, in so many different ways. Lord Námo said you would no doubt feel guilt, as will the Commander. But really, it was not your fault. Do not allow such as Girithon to taint your fëa, Parvon. He would rejoice in it, if he knew.'

'I do not know what I would have done without Captain Thiriston refusing to take me to the cells, without you here to help. And Faerveren is young, but I am so proud of how he coped. Had such a thing happened when I was a junior…'

'You would have locked me up and thrown away the key,' Arveldir said with a smile. 'And rightly so. Well, I will collect the elf-barrow from outside, and my husband, and I will wheel him away to the undoubtedly fine room Faerveren promised me. We will be at the high table tonight, of course.'

'Thank you.'

The door to the inner office had been closed at Erestor's suggestion: 'So that I may have a little quietness while you assist our friends, my dear,' he had said, but really because he had heard enough, when Thiriston had ushered Parvon in, to learn that what was passing was a very private matter and not really for him to share.

Now, as Arveldir opened the door, he started, pushing himself more upright against the cushions that padded his chair.

'I was not sleeping! I was but allowing my mind to drift.'

'Of course you were, dear one. Good news – there is a room for us.'

'How thoughtful of someone.'

'Faerveren, in fact. The bad news is that it is one of the good rooms, which means it is a little distance away. However, a way has been found…'

Arveldir left the room, returning presently with the folded elf-barrow, which he proceeded to erect near Erestor's seat.

'Is that what I think it is?' Erestor asked with suspicion.

'If you think it is the best and most comfortable way to convey you safely to our room, yes, my dear.'

Erestor allowed himself to be helped into the wheeled contrivance and even permitted Parvon to come and fiddle with it so his most badly injured leg was supported, but his hands gripped the armrests tightly as the elf began slowly to propel the chair into the outer office. Arveldir smiled at his spouse.

'You would prefer I carried you?'

'Of course, most beloved, but not in public.'

Parvon hid a smile and stepped away.

'The corridor servant will supply anything you need, including fresh garments,' he said. 'And I will see you at supper.'

The New Palace was not large in comparison to the Old, but nevertheless it spread some way under and around and into the hills of the forest. The pleasanter guest rooms were towards the outer edge, and by the time they got there, Erestor had realised that, actually, the walk would have been acutely uncomfortable.

'I suppose this contraption will be useful, too, for taking me along to the evening meal,' Erestor said as Arveldir came to a halt outside the rooms. 'It is a pity, though, that our saddlebags are under a very fine sweet chestnut several miles from the outer villages.'

'I will see you settled and then speak to the servant, explain we have arrived without luggage. Ah, here we are.'

Arveldir unlocked the door and wheeled Erestor inside before lifting him out of the elf-barrow and into his arms, looking around as he made his way to the bedroom. The chambers themselves were very fine, spacious and with lightwells allowing pools of dim daylight to shine down onto the sitting room. The sleeping chamber had a window, and the bathing room off it had both a washing cascade and a small bathing pool. Erestor sighed when he saw it.

'Alas, I am forbidden both, on Healer Maereth's instructions. But it is something to look forward to.'

'I think we all need that,' Arveldir said, laying his husband on the bed with gentle care. 'I shall see if the servant can find us fresh garments, I think, and then I can at least wash you a little… most of you… and we should be able to wash and dress your hair. We will both enjoy that, of course. Then an hour or two resting – both of us, beloved – and I am sure we will feel the better for it.'