Eventually Parvon turned off the cold water and left the chill sanctuary of the washing cascade. He wrapped a towel about his hips and automatically fingered through his wet hair as he looked again at the enormity of the thought of leaving the forest.

It had never occurred to him before to sail.

For Silvans, it was a personal choice, but the majority of those who were still in Eryn Lasgalen were die-hard bound-to-the-forest types who would as soon fade as sail. For Parvon, the question had simply never arisen; he served the King's Office, and so while there was a king to serve, he would do so. Besides, the knowledge that Triwathon was unlikely to take ship himself had previously, perhaps, coloured his perspective.

But now the fact that the beloved of his fëa was unlikely ever to sail was more of an argument against remaining in the forest; if Parvon truly could not bear to stay while his love for Triwathon remained unrequited, if the sense continued to grow in him that he was better off alone, then perhaps he would have to reconsider…

A knocking at his door, anxious and tentative, and he called out in response, belatedly realising he had heard several similar such knocks some time previously and had pretended not to while under the cascade. Now he was probably wanted somewhere for something.

'Yes?'

'It is I, Faerveren, Master Parvon,' the voice of his underscribe said through the door. 'It is almost time for the meal to be called. Are you well?'

The Yule Eve Feast. Was it that late already? He had intended helping prepare for it, was all as it should be? Had been needed to help, and not responded? He padded barefoot to the door, the towel clinging, his hair still dripping, and admitted his junior scribe.

'I am sorry to intrude, sir.' Something about Parvon's bedraggled demeanour made Faerveren strive to be more than usually polite. 'I thought you would like to know that the hall is ready, the top table rearranged since we had word that Lord Arveldir and Master Erestor are dining privately. I have given orders that they be served the best that we have.'

'Thank you, Faerveren. I really do not know what we would do without you.'

Faerveren shuffled, uncomfortable with praise.

'It is an honour to serve. Although there is more of a warrior element to the top table than there would have been, had Master Erestor been well enough to attend. And I should inform you that Commander Triwathon expressed concern as to your whereabouts. He said there was a matter he wished to discuss with you ahead of the meal, if possible; I sent him to Healer Maereth, saying you might be there… otherwise he would have come here again and I thought if you had not heard his knock the first time, it may have been because you were so deep in your thoughts that not even the knocking disturbed you…'

'Faerveren. I was in the washing cascade…'

'I rather thought you must have been, Master, since you appear to be wet, still,' Faerveren said, drawing a small smile from Parvon. 'The Yule Eve Feast awaits.'

'Very well.' Parvon sighed. 'I do not suppose I can plead indisposition, not tonight of all nights. But I confess I have never felt less like celebrating…'

'I understand, of course. And you must know that other people than Triwathon will worry, if they do not see their Chief Advisor at the top table. Besides, we are alive, we have survived multiple dragons and that must be an occasion of relief and gratitude, if not yet of joy.'

'You are right. Never fear; I will be in the hall presently.'

'If you wish, I could wait outside while you dress, and walk across with you?'

'Faerveren, I am very grateful; your companionship will make facing the populace much easier. But there's no reason why you can't sit and be comfortable while I get ready.'

It did not take long to get his hair under control and hurry into his formal robes of office. Parvon returned just a few moments later to find Faerveren had prodded the embers of the fire into a glowing heat, found the spirits bottle and had poured a glass of the rich, amber liquid which he handed to Parvon with the smallest of bows.

'For it seems you grew cold under the washing cascade, and it may help warm you,' the underscribe said. 'May I ask? Your hair…? A single plait, sir? It looks like a travelling braid, and that will not sit well with the people; they will wonder where you might be going…'

'I had not thought.' Really, he had not; as Faerveren noted, it was the style most often used when journeying; perhaps the thought of taking ship had been playing on him still, so that it was the unconscious action of his hands responding to the thought of leaving. '… it was just that my hair being wet, and we are in haste…'

'Not that much haste. Sit, drink.' Faerveren tilted his head to one side, a habit of his when venturing something that might seem inappropriate. 'If you will, I could assist…? I have quite deft fingers, sir, it will not take long…'

'You are very kind. My thanks, again.'

Parvon sat sideways on the sofa so that Faerveren could reach his hair, his thoughts taking him back to the night he had Triwathon's head in his own hands, braiding the commander to keep the hair from disturbing him, the comfort it had brought them both, in different ways… of course, Faerveren was simply being his usual efficient, helpful self, there was nothing more to this than simple practicality, but still, it was good to relax under another's touch as the travelling braid came out, to allow another to take charge for a brief moment and know it was safe to do so.

'I usually put in two side braids and…'

'Master Parvon. I do know how you braid your hair; you have worn it just the same ever since I started working here! Two narrow side-braids to start.'

These went in, just above Parvon's ears, swiftly and with not even a tug at his scalp.

'Might I ask, what else has happened, sir?' Faerveren asked as he began on the long braids Parvon wore below the side-braiding. 'You are obviously burdened with more matters than when last we spoke…'

'Nothing. Not really; that is, I find I may need to make alternative arrangements for the Night of the Names…'

'Indeed? Is this something with which I might help?' Faerveren moved on to the matching long braid. 'I have promised Healer Maereth I will join her in her healing rooms early in the evening, but after that, I am available…'

'I am not quite certain, yet, about my own observances, that is all. Lord Arveldir has extended an invitation to Commander Triwathon to share with them, and…'

'Oh, that would never do!' Faerveren said, his hands pausing just for a heartbeat. 'Lord Arveldir cannot know, of course, that we have our own order to things here, and that such an innovation to our usual practice without good reason would be seen as tantamount to yet another disaster among our dear Silvan friends! Would you like me to explain to him, sir?'

The thought of Faerveren approaching Lord Arveldir with such an intention made Parvon both shudder and smile.

'No, that won't be necessary. Of course, you are right; Arveldir does not know our ways, he has been here only as a guest and visitor; I do not doubt he meant it kindly.'

'I wonder, sir… the matter Commander Triwathon wished to raise – he seemed quite urgent – perhaps it was this? Might it be he wished to discuss the invitation with you first, before he replied to it? Might he really have wished for advice on how to refuse?'

'I suppose… but it is entirely his choice, of course.'

'Perhaps, if the commander wishes to spend the evening with Lord Arveldir, you might also be included in the invitation? It would look better to the people and I am sure you are just as much a friend to Arveldir as is Triwathon…'

'Thank you. Triwathon and Arveldir recuperated together after the Battle Under the Trees; there is a certain kind of closeness when persons recover from near-death together, I think. It seems to me it would be unkind to encourage a refusal of the inivitation, and your notion is a good one. Yet I would not wish to intrude… but, as you say, it would be more seemly to the populace than otherwise…'

'Well, if you should need my assistance, sir…' Faerveren completed the matching braid and moved on to the last of the structural plaits, the one Parvon wore on the crown of his head and which incorporated the two side-braids, making a thicker braid which fastened neatly with a clasp. 'That is done, I think.'

'My thanks, Faerveren.' Parvon drained his goblet and set it down. 'I am most grateful. Now, if we hasten, we will not be very late.'

'Besides, arriving together, it will seem simply that we have been engaged on Palace business. Which, in a sense, we have, since we were discussing, however obliquely, the arrangements for the Night of the Names. And to that end, sir, once I am finished with my duties with Healer May tomorrow night, I will hold myself in readiness for a summons, should you need me.'