Those determined elves whose questions hadn't been satisfactorily answered by Masters Merenor and Hanben presented themselves early at the Palace Office to find no answers there either; a note pinned to the door decreed the office closed until after the king's audience with the village elders. The same information was placed on all the boards throughout the palace, and so a steady stream of disgruntled elves was wandering through the corridors while, behind the locked doors of Master Parvon's rooms, yet another breakfast meeting was taking place.

Faerveren had arrived breathless with scared eyes.

'There are elves everywhere!' he said, perhaps exaggerating just a little. 'I am so glad you sent word last night, Master Parvon, and suggested I did not put on my robes of duty yet! I do not think I could have faced the office today!'

'With everyone else called to the meeting, it did not seem fair. Not that you are not perfectly able, Faerveren,' Parvon said. 'But nobody deserves to face hordes of annoyed elves alone.'

'Especially not before breakfast,' Merenor said from the corner where he and Hanben had placed themselves. 'Are we all here now?'

'We await Commander Triwathon. An invitation was extended to Lord Arveldir and Master Erestor, but was declined; Arveldir said he did not feel himself sufficiently embroiled in events to leave his husband's side…'

'Very wise of him,' Merenor said. 'Shall I bespeak the meal?'

Triwathon arriving at the same time as the servants bearing food, the company was soon settled to discuss their breakfast.

'There is no point discussing anything else at present,' Parvon said. 'But I thought, to gather before the meeting, to share the meal and try not to worry about what our king will do next…'

'And it affords some shelter for my grandson, for which I am very grateful,' Merenor said, smiling. 'I'm going to walk him to the elfling's study room later, so that Canadion and Thiriston can bear him company…'

'Daerada, it is very kind, but I'm sure I can cope; all I have to say is, nothing will be decided until after the meeting and both the garrison and the Palace Office will, of course, follow the orders of the king to their utmost…' He gave an anxious smile. 'Only I am glad I do not have to say it before breakfast.'

Gentle, general laughter eased the tension that had unaccountably built in the room. Merenor looked across at Triwathon and spoke as if without thinking.

'You're looking a little on edge, Commander – is all well? Apart from the disaster our king has just landed on top of you, that is?'

'Is that not enough?' Triwathon tried to smile. 'I am tired, my reverie was hardly easy, as I am sure was the case for others of us. Our future here utterly demolished, elves left without safe harbour, their careers ruined to the point where they see no hope in staying… and…' He broke off abruptly. 'My concern should be restricted to the garrison's business, I know. But I have… friends, who are entangled in the king's notions…'

'Ah. I'm sure many elves will be disrupted, even those who were simply minding their own business and working in the palace. But upheaval has visited the kingdom before, and we have readjusted.' Merenor smiled with a confidence he didn't quite feel. 'And once this meeting is over and done with, at least we can all get on with finding working solutions to the king's demands.'

Triwathon nodded and tried to retreat into the background of discussions. It was true that he had not slept well. But weaving in and out of his thoughts all night had been the fear – the dread – that Thranduil might actually have held Parvon to his rash suggestion and insisted he sail. And then, last evening, to have Parvon say the things he had… to accuse him, almost, of jealousy, to point out what they both knew so well, that they were only friends… why did it bother him so much? And, oh, the sting when Parvon had said not everything he did had Triwathon at its centre, well, he knew that, but… somehow, unexpectedly, the remark had smarted and burned and kept him from rest… almost it was akin to the hurt he had felt whenever Glorfindel had left, and that was just… just impossible… No, it must be simply that they had relied on each other so much, Commander and Chief Advisor, each wielding power and authority to keep the New Palace running smoothly, and all this – the disaster of the dragons and not keeping people safe… it was both their responsibilities, and…

He became aware of a waiting silence. Guessing he had been asked something, he shook his head.

'That is not so easy a question as it might seem,' he said, playing for time.

Master Merenor twinkled at him, waving a toasting fork. 'Indeed, Commander, for while more toast would undoubtedly assuage your appetite, it will take a little longer than passing you the untoasted bread would, but there is something satisfying in the crunch of toast, and so…'

'But you see, the excellent blackberry paste that you brought as a treat for us is better on toast, Daerada,' Faerveren said. 'And it may be that the commander does not quite know how drippy it might be on soft bread…'

Parvon shook his head, tried to restore order.

'Yes, it is indeed momentous! Stop teasing, if you please! Commander Triwathon has many matters weighing upon him, and I doubt it was breakfast that kept all his concentration! Toast, Merenor, Triwathon prefers toast at breakfast…'

'One might wonder how you know that, Master Parvon…'

'Simply because there have been many, many breakfast meetings held in these rooms, quite often with Master Faerveren and Captain Narunir present as well as the commander, Master Merenor…' he turned to Triwathon. 'My friend, I, too, spent a wakeful night. But it is useless to ponder what will happen at the meeting; the king is present, there are far too many possibilities to cover them all.'

Triwathon nodded, suddenly unable to speak for a huge lump in his throat, not really knowing why he felt suddenly so emotional. Surely not just because Parvon knew his breakfast preferences? No, of course not, more likely it was simply tiredness, anxiety… and they were staring at him again…

Parvon broke the impasse with a sigh, took from Merenor the plate he'd just offered to Triwathon and himself passed it over.

'Toast, Triw. With butter. Here's the honey, help yourself. Now, Masters Merenor and Hanben, has the king, by any chance, let slip any hints of matters that are going to cause headaches for me later? If so, a little forewarning would be very much appreciated…'

Merenor, now a little chastened, exchanged glances with his spouse. Hanben nodded.

'Yes, my rascal, I think it is better said here.'

Parvon sat more upright. Triwathon stopped eating.

'So there is something?' Parvon said. 'I knew there would be…'

'Mind, I tricked the information out of his majesty and he may well have decided against it. But he said something about… restructuring, I suppose you could say…'

'Thranduil's already told me the New Palace isn't viable,' Parvon said with a sigh. 'If that's all…'

'Well, mostly. Except he said he'd heard a rumour, Master Parvon, that you had expressed an interest in taking ship…'

Faerveren gasped. Parvon squeezed his eyes closed and counted silently to five.

'It was not a rumour…'

'Oh, no!' Faerveren exclaimed. 'That is…'

'…not a rumour he heard, for I told him myself. I offered to go because I had been involved in the death of the messenger and at the time I spoke to our king, I thought I would be found culpable, if not responsible, and thought that to offer to sail would show how deeply I regretted the death… but I did so knowing that his majesty might well expect me to go through with it, and I was never more glad than when I was cleared of blame. But if our king said he'd heard a rumour, Master Merenor, then it was he started it.' He turned to Faerveren who was still looking shocked. 'Be easy, Faerveren. I was not commanded to set off for the Havens, my offer was met by amused tolerance…' He took a breath. 'If I were able, I would continue on here and have things as ever they were. But I doubt that will be possible, not now. Too much have changed for that.'