Parvon and Triwathon reached the silent corridors outside the hall before any of the other elves managed to catch them. The commander turned to his friend.

'My quarters are further, yours are more private…'

'Mine, then. And I have a good bottle of wine I've been saving.'

'Excellent! I think after that little announcement we both need it…'

'Indeed… oh, that king of ours!'

'Did Arveldir ever have this trouble?'

'Worse,' Parvon said. 'I've heard stories would make even the smile of Master Merenor fade… still, Thranduil's in our care now… I wish I had half Arveldir's skill with managing him…'

'I think you do amazingly well. We all know he's… challenging.'

Parvon halted outside his door and stared at his friend as he turned the handle.

'Challenging? He's utterly and completely impossible!' He stood back for Triwathon to enter first, didn't notice the commander had come to an abrupt, staring halt as he went on. 'One of these days, I swear, if he were not the king…'

'Um… Parvon… company…'

'Yes, indeed, Master Parvon, perhaps you would enlighten us… if whom were not the king just what would you…?'

Parvon swallowed, bluffed it out as he turned to bow.

'I would commend my king's wonderful sense of humour and thank him for making me part of this grand jest. For, of course, the timing of your majesty's announcement this evening seemed made to cause a smile on someone's face…'

'Although not your own. It is in part because of this that I have taken the liberty of paying you the honour of a visit, rather than summoning you to my quarters… Commander Triwathon, you need not stay.'

'But you can if you like,' Parvon said determinedly. 'After all, I did invite you to join me in a glass of wine…'

'Oh, you have more wine, do you? Splendid!' the king said. 'This is almost gone. And the Valar forfend that I interrupt your busy social life…'

It was as Thranduil waggled a raised goblet in his direction that Parvon realised the bottle he had been so carefully husbanding was set beside the king and almost empty. Triwathon touched his arm.

'I'll bespeak another bottle from the hall servants for you. And I'd better check in on Narunir, so shall I return in about half an hour?'

'Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you!'

'Make sure it is the best wine,' Thranduil said.

The wine delivered by a tentative servant, the king's goblet refilled and his own beaker of wine ready for sipping, Parvon took a seat at his own fireside and gave Thranduil a sidelong glance.

'Oh, do not look so worried!' Thranduil said with a touch of asperity in his tone. 'You were not expecting me and I suppose, given the circumstances, you might be excused your fit of pique…'

Parvon took a steadying mouthful of wine.

'Sire, obviously you wish to discuss something with me…'

'The announcements in the dining hall this evening.'

'In fact, if you will pardon me, a discussion concerning that would have been better held before the release of such startling information to the populace…'

'Very true. But through all the statements taken by our good Master Merenor, one thing recurs – a sense that in some way the attack was your fault. No, do not attempt to defend your position, there is no need… simply hear me… not consulting you first was deliberate, as was my independent exploration of the region where the dragons roamed. The village elders now cannot say you have been complicit in my decisions and, indeed, you did look as startled as any…'

'Sire, while it is noble of you to attempt to deflect blame away from me and from Commander Triwathon, this probably was not the best way of going about it…'

The king gave an infinitesimal smile and sipped at his goblet.

'It worked for me,' he said. 'No doubt you will be overwhelmed with questions from the populace; I will have the elders to a formal meeting tomorrow, where they can air their views and, no doubt, blame you and the good commander to their hearts' content. I wish you, and Commander Triwathon to be there, too. Master Merenor will also be present, as will his documents, and I am not so blind, or foolish, or lacking in memory as my subjects imagine, sometimes; I well know how hard you and Triwathon have tried to protect the villages, in spite of the best efforts of the elders. After all, it was I who allowed them to refuse the services of hunters stationed roundabout.'

'Sire, I… yes, they are foolish, and short-sighted, and stubborn, and I would love to point out where they were wrong, and blame them, but… the best I can hope for is an agreement it has been a confusing time. If nobody had been hurt, perhaps then I might be able to lay the blame where it belongs, but… elves have died, elflings orphaned and… it seems harsh of me to do so.'

'True. I am not sure whether or not I made plain my plans for the New Palace?'

'Sire, you may have done, but I think I stopped listening after you said we'd no longer support the satellite villages…'

'Well, for once I will hold you excused. But you must have already deduced that the New Palace is no longer viable?'

'If there are no villages to support, and if the king is not in residence, yes, I do see that. But we could have coped with the dragons if the message had come when it was meant to…'

'It is not the dragons, Parvon. It is the reminder that this part of the forest is so near to the dwarves. Nor do I accuse them of seeking to make mischief, at least not in this instance; of course, if one finds dragons on one's doorstep, one will try to kill them or drive them away. And the dwarves did destroy several. No, this has been a deliberation for longer than I have known of the dragon threat.'

'I thought it was going well,' Parvon said, his voice wistful.

'Indeed, so did I, and had high hopes that this would be an ideal future centre of governance. However, many elves in the region of the Old Palace are reluctant to move in any case; they feel that after all the energy and effort expended as we fought to keep the forest clear and the Sacred Grove safe, and that we should stay where we are. So, sadly, the New Palace must diminish to a staging post and, perhaps, a training garrison. It is no reflection on you, or on Commander Triwathon.'

'I appreciate that, my king. But…' Parvon sighed. 'We have both invested so much here…'

'I know. Still, given your expressed wish to accompany those Silvans who wish to cross to the Undying Lands…'

'Sire, that was my suggestion for a way you could punish me for my part in the death of the messenger…'

But Thranduil had the bit between his teeth now, and, given that Nestoril had singularly failed (refused, she had told him she refused…) to enquire as to why Parvon wished to sail, and as Master Merenor had not seemed to have anything to say on the matter, he had determined to conduct his own investigation. The arrival of Commander Triwathon from his meeting with Narunir just then, and bringing with him further supplies of wine, provided an easy way back to the topic.

'I wonder what the commander thought of your suggestion, however…'

'Sire?' Triwathon queried, setting down the bottles.

'About Parvon sailing for the Undying Lands, of course…'

Parvon cringed as Triwathon turned hurt, betrayed eyes on him before looking back at Thranduil.

'But, my king, Master Parvon has always said that everything he needs is here and that, like me, he would choose not to sail, I…'

'Oh, were you unaware of this apparent change of heart, then?'

'I was, sire… but we have not had much time for idle chat of late…'

'Triwathon, it's not…' Parvon tried to interrupt, to explain. 'It was about the… the death, that in recompense, I would… as penance… but…'

'Do you recant, then?' the king asked. 'Dear me, this is a surprise… you would go as far as the Havens, I hope?'

'If my king wished it, I would, but I fear there is a mis…'

'Parvon! You would do that, cross the mountains, leave the New Palace in Faerveren's hands…? Or… unless… is he going too?'

'What? Triwathon, this is all just…'

Thranduil cleared his throat, an amused glint in his eye.

'Well, it has been an interesting evening. And I have a meeting tomorrow at which you will both attend.' Thranduil rose smoothly to his feet and snaffled one of the wine bottles with practised ease. 'I will bid you goodnight, then.'