Almost a week had passed since the king's arrival and Parvon knew for a fact that the reports had been handed to Thranduil for his perusal some days previously.

Yet no summons had come to accompany his majesty into the forest.

While in a way this came as a relief – Parvon didn't think he could bear to see that destruction again – he was also concerned, for the mood of the New Palace was growing impatient and, of course, the Palace Office was the first door knocked on by complaining elves.

But whatever might have caused the Elvenking's reticence in visiting the scene of the disaster, suddenly Thranduil sent word that Parvon was to issue a summons for as many elves as possible to be present at the night meal, for he had an announcement to make that would have bearing on them all.

This was alarming in itself; but now Thranduil sat in state in his elaborate chair wearing his winter silver-and-berry crown, and the top table was as full as Parvon could arrange it without people sitting on each other's laps.

Nestoril was at the king's side and around him the usual court was assembled; Triwathon and Parvon were to Thranduil's left with Maereth and her assistant Othwen on Nestoril's right; Merenor and Hanben, Rusdir and Elrohir, Erestor and Arveldir, Narunir and several Galadhrim filling the remaining spaces at the top table; Faerveren was also present, attending but not seated, presiding for the first time with the king at table.

Thiriston, Canadion, Celeguel and Amathel were on the second table close to proceedings, and the room generally was as packed as Thranduil could have wished.

Once the food was eaten, the wine drunk, and Thranduil glanced at Parvon to signal to Faerveren, who called the hall to attention with only a slight tremor in his voice.

Thranduil lifted a hand and addressed the company.

'While we have been here, we have seen for ourselves the devastation and destruction of the area around the three villages of Ash, Oak and Beech…'

Parvon frowned. Had he? If so, it had happened without Parvon attending… or had Triwathon taken the king out…? When? He looked the question at Triwathon, who shrugged and shook his head.

'…it was important to us that we had only impartial companions, and so we were attended by Master Merenor and Master Hanben, with former Captain Rusdir who had been staying in one of the villages with his family. Merenor has been diligently taking notes from those caught up in the tragedy, while Hanben has seen for himself some of the injuries sustained… in the light of these recent events, and given the circumstances… after taking all things into account we have come to a decision.' Thranduil put firmness into the last word, getting the full attention of everyone in the room. 'Good. You are listening, I see. To begin with, the announcement I am about to make is settled, decided. It is not open to debate, nor is it negotiable in any way, shape or form. Moreover, it is my pronouncement, decided upon without the advice of any incumbent of the New Palace… in other words, do not seek to trouble Master Parvon or Commander Triwathon on this subject for they are neither responsible, nor to blame, and nothing they may say or do will alter this decision, do I make myself clear…? Very well.'

Parvon glanced across at the king; there had been something in his voice that suggested he was actually enjoying himself… The advisor felt a wave of dread rising in him, and he could see Arveldir, across from him, lifting his eyes heavenwards… of old, Thranduil had been given to making announcements which Arveldir then had to explain or put right or simply implement in the face of adversity; he would sympathise with Parvon about whatever was coming next…

'The area around the three villages will not be rendered habitable again. Instead, it will be made safe and given such healing as we can, and left as a memorial to those who lost their lives in the dragon attack.'

Consternation in the hall. Mutterings from homeless elves who had hoped to go back and resume what was left of their lives in their old homes. The king ignored them and continued.

'Moreover, the dreadful nature of this attack makes us concerned for the safety of all elves out here; despite the best work of the garrison, warnings did not get through and so we feel we cannot, in all conscience, support the lifestyles of those elves in the villages between the New Palace and the Old…'

More stirrings, actual mutterings came from the hall now. Accusatory glances towards Triwathon and Parvon; the commander took a sharp breath in, and Parvon winced.

'From this point on, the villages can no longer expect support and help from the garrison here; their task will be to restore the memorial zone and support and assist any elves seeking to take ship across the Sundering Seas to the Undying Lands… I know, I know: you are Silvan, you do not sail… but some of you have said you would like to, in spite of this. Those elves made homeless will find new lodgings in the Old Palace and its environs, where there are a number of talain settlements which are within the perimeter, if life in the open forest is what they seek. If there are any questions, give them to your Village Elders and have them come to a meeting tomorrow, the time and location of which will be put on one of the boards as is the usual pattern. Very well. Goodnight.'

Thranduil pushed back his chair and stalked from the hall, Nestoril hurrying after him. Parvon and Triwathon stared at each other.

'What did he just do?'

'Made our lives impossible, I think. Come on, if we hurry, we can get away before they corner us.'

Like two naughty elflings, Parvon and Triwathon almost fled from the table. Faerveren looking after them in bewilderment. His grandfather put a hand on his shoulder.

'You too, Faerveren. Run. Run for your rooms and lock your door and don't peek out before morning… you'll be besieged else…'

As Faerveren made good his escape, Merenor put his friendliest smile on his face. All those elves who had told him exactly what they had thought about the whole dragon business were now headed towards him as the last member of officialdom left in the hall.

'Merenor.' Hanben came to stand with his husband. 'I rather fear there are some elves with questions wising to speak with us.'

Merenor smiled up at his beloved.

'It really is a good job I like talking to people, isn't it?'