It would take more than a few hours for Parvon's state of mind to settle, he thought, once Faerveren had gone. No matter what he tried, his thoughts kept dragging him from the brink of reverie and back to Triwathon, the awkwardness in the corridor, the sudden stiff animosity that seemed to have risen, like a wall unbreachable, between them. Moreover, the words Faerveren had seen fit to share from the commander, his lack of surprise at the knowledge that the underscribe had offered his help… Parvon wondered whether Triwathon was seeing things that were not there in Faerveren's eagerness to be of service, or whether it was himself not seeing things that were...

Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. And Faerveren had never showed any signs of being emotionally drawn towards anyone; it was probably just Triwathon venting his grief in yet another way.

For it was obvious the commander was grieving, still, and why would he not be? Glorfindel had been so much to him and for Triwathon there was no consolation of a future reunion, for even if Triwathon were to decide to sail to the Undying Lands, the Seneschal of Imladris was unlikely to be waiting for him on the quayside; Glorfindel had always made it clear his beloved Ecthelion was the one he was going back to.

It was hard, loving someone who didn't love you, or didn't love you in the same way. Parvon knew it, had felt the bittersweet pain of it over too many years, but all he could do was sympathise at a distance… and given Triwathon's current mood, probably at a long distance…

Morning came just as he finally found sleep, it seemed. The breakfast meeting was organised by Faerveren, and when Parvon got to the Palace office, his underscribe had already set breakfast for three, Narunir deputising for Triwathon for some reason Parvon didn't even hear, let alone comprehend.

'Lord Arveldir and Master Erestor regret they will not be attending the rites for the fallen,' Faerveren said. 'Master Erestor is much recovered, but still not comfortable walking and the paths outside being what they are… However, Lord Arveldir has said they will be at the doors, and after that, will be glad to sit here and answer any queries that come in.'

'That is very kind. I know they would both have wished to be present. Narunir, how is the heart of the garrison presently?' Parvon asked, just as he would have Triwathon, but aware on some peripheral level that Triwathon perhaps might not have had the heart himself to be fully aware of the mood of his troops.

'We are recovering, although there is a sense of shame that others died and were injured doing our tasks,' the captain replied with a rueful attempt at a smile. 'Especially one so renowned as the Lord of Gondolin, that he should die here, amongst Silvans…'

'Silvans who honoured and loved him,' Faerveren said. 'I was not in the Old Palace when the news came of the Battle of the Three Dragons, but it is known that he helped amongst our injured, even healing our king. And, after a dispute with Imladris, he claimed sanctuary amongst us for a time.'

It was perhaps not the history that Parvon had heard from Triwathon, nor was it in the official record, but he let it stand; anything that would help Glorfindel's death seem less guilt-inducing to the garrison could only help.

'It is no good trying to apportion blame, or feeling guilty,' Parvon said. 'As soon as the warning sounded, you responded, Narunir. You, everyone, did what you could…'

'I had home duty, if you remember…'

'I do remember. I heard from the survivors how you and your guard went out and carried the injured home, not knowing if the skies were clear. Sometimes one's duty is the hardest thing to do, Captain. And once sheltered here, those frightened elves felt safe, because you, and your company, made them feel so.' Parvon lifted a shoulder. 'Particularly as your commander was otherwise occupied.'

'The poor commander, he does feel his friend's death so,' Narunir said with a sigh. 'They say it is better to have loved and lost, but for myself, I think I am glad to be unattached.'

Erestor may have been too unwell, still, to attend the rites, but that did not prevent him and Arveldir joining the rest of the populace lining the way from the doors to the gates as the processions of the last, small remains of the dead were carried in honour from the New Palace. They stood silently as the biers went past, each strewn with leaves from the tree favoured in life by the elf and commemorating them now in death. Erestor bowed his head and brought his hand across his heart to honour the biers' passing.

Led by an honour guard from the garrison, and with Parvon and Faerveren walking behind with the relatives following and others joining on after, the burial party made its way from the New Palace and out through the forest on the widest paths to where the way diverged for the three villages diverged. There a place had been prepared, and after the appropriate calls and responses, after short speeches from the families, from Parvon for the Palace Office, and Triwathon for the garrison, Parvon gave the sign, Triwathon nodded, and the remains were laid to rest, the deputation from the garrison raising a cairn quickly around and over them, relations and friends adding their own stones to the construction.

Parvon waited to see it done. He stood and watched those who were not friends or kin turned towards the palace, barely looking round at the devastation of the forest. He stood until Faerveren touched his sleeve.

'Sir, we may leave whenever you are ready.'

'Yes, I know.' Parvon sighed. 'This is all so awful, seeing it again, remembering what it was like in the dark, with the smoke hanging everywhere and dragons in the skies… The forest will come back, we know this. But… can we?'

'Master Parvon?'

'Forgive me. It is hard, today, to see a future for us here. I think the king may wish to withdraw us back to the Old Palace… and what have we achieved, except the deaths of those we will miss forever?'

'I… My Daerada Merenor is fond of saying, we can never know what might happen. There may be disasters, there may be miracles. But whatever they are, they show us that we are here, and we are alive, and there is always a reason to rejoice, if you look hard enough.'

Parvon nodded and smiled.

'Your Daerada has a way of looking for the best everywhere,' he said. 'And more often than not, he seems to find it. You go on, Faerveren; this is your rest day, remember?'

'Are you sure, sir?'

'I am quite sure. I will expect to see you dressed for duty in in the dining hall tonight, but until then, try to relax. You deserve it.'

He waited for Faerveren to be out of sight before turning away himself. Aware that just the work detail remained, with Triwathon watching, he wanted to be gone before it looked as if he was waiting for the commander to join him; so far today Triwathon had not so much as glanced at him, but whether that was simply the solemnity of the morning or a response to some perceived slight from the previous night was uncertain.

Not taking the direct path – he wanted to see more of the forest close to the palace, to read its mood – he set off, believing himself unobserved. One thing about working for the King's Offices, one learned when to be a presence in a room, when to be unobtrusive and blend into the shadows. And so it was a little bit of a surprise when, after just a few moments, a voice from the canopy dropped down to him.

'By rights I should report you to the Palace Office.'

Torn between relief that Triwathon was talking to him again, and unsure whether or not he wanted to be on speaking terms with the Commander quite yet, Parvon answered formally.

'Commander? Were you following me?'

Triwathon jumped down from the branches of the elm that currently supported him. He looked as if he was trying to smile.

'There's still a curfew and, on a more personal level, were you not the one who agreed to be under house arrest?'

'Indeed; my apologies. I was just looking at our poor forest… but you are right, of course, I will return immediately… there's no need to follow, Commander. Or do you not trust me?'

'That's a low blow.'

'As is the fact that you found it necessary to follow me.' Parvon shook his head, not sure where this was leading, wanting to mend things, even though it wasn't his fault. 'You have your work detail to oversee; I would not interrupt…'

'They are quite capable of finishing their work without me watching them.' Triwathon fell into step beside him. 'I spoke with Arveldir this morning.'

'Oh, yes? I have yet to talk with him today, although I did, of course, see him at the…'

'I'll be joining him and Erestor this evening, after I've joined in with the hall observances and the garrison's ritual,' Triwathon went on quickly. 'He applauded your notion of another place for commemorations. And as he seems to actually want my company…'

'It is not…' Parvon broke off. Not that he didn't want Triwathon's company, nothing like it. True, he didn't want his pain, but even so, he would not have let that put him off… 'I hope you know that it was not for personal reasons I… That is, a place for people who might feel guilty about sharing old grief in the face of so much new pain. Faerveren and I…'

'He'd be good for you, you know,' Triwathon hurried on. 'I wasn't sure at first, but then, you work together, you have that in common. And he hangs on every word you say, he's…'

'No, Commander, no, I don't know where you have this idea from, but put it from you at once! Faerveren has never given so much as a hint…'

'No? All this "helping" and "supporting" he's been doing?'

'With all the extra responsibility of the last few days, he's seen he can do more than he realised and he's keen to push himself, that's all it is.'

'After the ceremony this morning. He touched you…'

'My sleeve, in fact, he tugged my sleeve to get my attention… Triwathon, whatever is up with you?'

'Nothing, just… you deserve something in your life other than work and he's friendly, good-looking, obviously in love with you…'

'In fact, Faerveren is not in love with me, or anyone, and has stated more than once that he simply wishes to be able to do his job without gossip following him around.' Parvon picked up the pace, heading back towards the New Palace as quickly as he could. 'I begin to agree with him; if your notions got out, Triwathon, it could be very awkward for him. And for me, but that's not the point, it does not matter for me, I've lived with gossip most of my life, but… and that's another thing… do you really think I would do that?'

'Do what?' Triwathon asked, hurrying to catch up.

'Do I seem the sort of ellon who would settle? Compromise my values, and another elf's morals, by settling? Do you really think I would take advantage of someone so much younger than myself, someone I knew I could never really love because my fëa was already smitten with another's, knowing that without my intervention there would be every chance that elf would find his own fëa-mate in time? Is that your opinion of me, Triwathon?'

'That's not what I meant at all, and if you think to draw a comparison between my own arrangement with… with…'

'No, I didn't mean you and Glorfindel!' Parvon said sharply. 'Really, Triwathon! Not everything I say has you at its centre, you know! Simply, Faerveren is young, excellent at his job, and deserves someone who deserves him; he ought to have the chance to wait for his fëa-mate, whether that be ellon or elleth, it is nobody's business except his and I will not have you, or anyone else, dragging his name around; to do so besmirches the Palace Office, and by association, the king himself.'

'All right! But don't worry about being gossiped over yourself, Parvon; you're not that interesting.'

'I know,' he said quietly. It would have hurt more, had it not been true, had it been no less than Parvon had thought himself over the decades. But that was it, when you worked for someone as interesting as the king himself; you allowed your own personality to recede, kept it tucked out of sight. But he'd always believed Triwathon knew that, had seen through the veneer of the job to the ellon within, at least some of the time. He thought they'd been friends, after all… 'And so, here are the gates. If you will excuse me, there is much for me to do before the day-meal is set in the hall. Thank you for your escort home. Good day, Commander.'