Faerveren didn't know what to do; it was startling, to watch Master Parvon's gentle eyes change, take on a dark wince of pain. A restrained enquiry and an offer to escort him to Healer Maereth, was met with a kind refusal; Parvon wanted him to stay and take care of the office…

And normally, he would have followed instructions; it was in his nature to do as he was bid, but he could not let Master Parvon go unescorted through the corridors, as anxious and distressed as he suddenly seemed. Yet an offer of his company would, no doubt, be declined with as much courtesy as had his offer of assistance.

Therefore he waited for a moment before setting off after his master, keeping close to the shadows as he had observed others of the Kings and Palace Offices do, and by the time Parvon reached the chamber where the body of Glorfindel had lain in state, Faerveren had still escaped notice.

But what could this be about? Surely Master Parvon was not visiting an empty room to see where Glorfindel had rested…?

Ah. No, but perhaps someone else had.

Parvon's hand extended towards the door and on impulse Faerveren stepped forward.

'Master Parvon?'

'Faerveren? Is it important? I have to…'

'No, sir, I just wish to help.'

Parvon opened the door and looked in. What he saw seemed to distress him further. 'Unless you know how to stop someone fading, which is what I fear will happen if I don't intervene…'

'Keep them warm and remind them they matter,' Faerveren said promptly. 'I shan't intrude, sir; I'll make sure there's a fire in your rooms and then return to the Palace Office.'

'Thank you, Faerveren. I know I can trust your discretion.'

'Always, sir.'

Faerveren tipped his head in a formal bow and turned to be about his business. Of course his worry had not been lessened – would Master Parvon be safe, if there was someone within so close to despair? If that one had decided to fade and follow Lord Glorfindel, and if that one happened to be a noted warrior, then any intervention might have risk… but if, as seemed logical, the occupant of the room was Commander Triwathon, then no wonder Master Parvon didn't want anyone helping… and no wonder he felt able to deal with the matter alone.

He sighed. It was all too much for a very junior underscribe, even one who had been thrust forward in a time of crisis. But visiting Master Parvon's quarters and adding another faggot or two to the embers, stirring them to life, that was within his capabilities. So was asking the corridor servant to please have some mulled wine prepared for Master Parvon and his friend. The servant bowed his head.

'If I don't presume, Master Faerveren, does this mean our two friends are sharing observances together after all?'

It seemed a good excuse, so Faerveren nodded.

'Yes. Yes, we are through with our office observances early, and as Commander Triwathon decided to leave his other friends to celebrate privately themselves, it is… back to normal. If I am wanted, I shall be in the Palace Office.'

'Very good, Master Faerveren. Nice to see it all back to normal.'

Normal…! As if matters could ever be normal again after all this death and destruction! In peacetime, too… and so many misplaced persons, so many to rehome and so much to re-establish…

He reached the office and had almost shut himself in when he remembered he would still have to preside if anyone came to share their memories; it had been interesting, earlier, but just now he felt too tired to be of use to anyone… for a moment he wondered if he ought to try to overcome his distaste for strong spirits, but common sense prevailed and he allowed himself a small cup of wine, hoping all was well with Commander Triwathon, and that Master Parvon would send word. Nothing else to do now but stir the fire and settle down to wait.

He rested his head on his hand and watched the small dance of the flames until he fell into a half-reverie, his mind drifting back over the day… time spent with his uncles, family was so important… it was a pity Master Parvon didn't have any kin, he never showed he felt isolated or alone, but there had been hints that evening, just before…

The wine cup being eased from his fingers brought him back to wakefulness. Mindful of his duty, he had hardly sat up before he was gasping out, '…and how may the Palace Office serve?'

'It's all right, penneth, it's just me,' a known and loved voice said, and Faerveren blinked clear his eyes.

'Daerada!' He surged to his feet and his grandfather gathered him in for a hug.

'It's good to see you, Faerveren. Are you well?'

'Oh, Daerada, it has been awful! So much loss and destruction, and… yes, I am fine, I was safe in the palace all the time, and Uncle Canadion is fine, too,' he added dutifully, knowing how close was the bond between Daerada Merenor and his youngest son. 'And Uncle Thiriston. They helped bring home injured elflings, and… but you know what happened?'

'Let's have a sit down and if you're not drinking that…? Thank you, penneth. I'm glad you're safe, and your uncles, thank you for mentioning them… the message said dragons, and listed some deaths… it is very sad. I remember Rhoscthel, and Landaer, of course. And an ellon called Hethurin, he came to me for advice and, poor chap, I told him to follow his heart... and it seems he followed it all the way out here…'

'Oh, Daerada, and Lord Glorfindel of Imladris… he was so brave, they said, he killed most of the dragons for us, but he died and Commander Triwathon was…' Faerveren stopped himself. Daerada was so easy to talk to, sometimes too easy. 'But poor Master Parvon, a dreadful thing happened, and, indeed, it was not his fault. But it happened after the hawk had been sent, and so the king does not know, so he is worried in case…'

'Now, why don't you slow down a bit, eh?' Merenor smiled at his grandson. 'We've plenty of time before your Honour-Daerada Hanben joins us. As soon as the news was known, the king asked for volunteers, so we offered… Hanben's healer training comes in useful sometimes… and we brought some spider cauls with us for the healers, and I just sort of tagged along… and as soon as the Old Palace has recovered from its Night of the Names, our king is coming to see how things are for himself. So, help's on its way.'

'No, help is here, Daerada! I am so glad to see you!'

'Well, maybe I can help out in the offices, give you and Master Parvon a bit of a rest, eh? What were you saying about him?'

'Oh, it was dreadful! Of course, he wanted me to put him in the cells, but we decided house arrest was enough…'

'Whatever happened? He's such nice, kind, gentle ellon.'

'Well, he… the messenger is dead. As I say, it was after the hawk left… and it was an accident, Lord Námo told Lord Arveldir…'

'Arveldir's here?'

'And his husband. But…'

'That very handsome Noldo? Oh, lovely… so, go on, penneth?'

'I am trying to… Commander Triwathon was sitting with Lord Glorfindel's remains, and then he was attacked by the messenger…'

'Dear me! Was he all right?'

'Well, yes, because Master Parvon happened by, and he saw what was happening, and he pulled the messenger away and hit him… and he slipped and broke his neck as he fell. So we are anxious lest the king find him – Master Parvon – to blame, but he really wasn't.'

'Now I see. And your Master Parvon is the sort to blame himself… Poor chap! But if Lord Arveldir has the authority of such a witness as Lord Námo, I am sure our king will accept that.' Merenor finished Faerveren's cup of wine. 'Oh, that was what I needed! I don't suppose you've anything to eat, have you?'

'Yes, of course, Daerada… I will just send out to the corridor servant. And, Daerada… it is wonderful to see you, did I say? Everything will be all right now you and Daerada Hanben are here.'