'I really am rather relieved I no longer work for his majesty,' Arveldir said, shaking his head. 'He was always… difficult, but he does seem more than usually trying at present.'

Parvon tried to smile. Merenor had been as good as his word, and Parvon had been back in his private rooms for only a few minutes when Arveldir had arrived, bringing with him Erestor and a wealth of quiet, calm sympathy.

'Sometimes I wonder how you managed for so long, Arveldir… he is… I just do not have the way of him at present…'

'He would make the most outrageous suggestions and then, if I seemed offended, later would claim he had been joking and I had obviously lost my sense of humour. My usual retort was that yes, I generally did lose my sense of humour when I found myself called upon to double my workload, or indulge his whims and foibles…'

'I don't know him well enough for joking, I do not think. I doubt I ever shall, really.'

'Well, I am sure all this will pass, and you will be back here in a few weeks.'

'By which time we will be gone, of course,' Erestor said. 'We are already making preparations. Our friends at home still do not know about our dear Fin. I can manage around the palace with just a stick now, and only then for the longer corridors.'

'You will both be missed! Of course, it is wonderful that you are so much recovered, Master Erestor… and I do not envy you the task of repeating the sad news; it is not an easy thing to do. You will feel his loss more keenly there, perhaps.'

'It will be new and fresh again, I fear,' Erestor said, his eyes unhappy. 'But Melpomaen and Lindir deserve to hear in person, and we have all supported each other for so long that we will each draw comfort from the other. Of course, I have my wellspring here,' he added with a little loving glance at his husband. 'But even so…'

'And then there will be the memory stone to come back again,' Arveldir said. 'I do not think I shall accompany it, however; his majesty might once more offer me gainful employment.'

'I do not suppose you have need of an assistant, at all?' Parvon asked quietly. 'Even the most junior of positions…'

'Now, Parvon, do not despair!' Arveldir said briskly. 'Just remember the king always needs a good advisor more than any advisor needs a king. But if you do find it too much of a struggle, feel free to send word, or invite yourself to Imladris. There will always be a welcome for you.'

Once his visitors had left, Parvon turned to the task of packing. Really, he didn't want to take anything; he wanted to stay here instead. But if he must…

The king's suggestion that there would be the chance of a ship returned to him and, once more, he considered it. But perhaps he had better wait, see how things worked out in the Old Palace…

However, if he were to sail, then he might not be able to return to the New Palace first; most of the voyages west now began from Ithilien, and so with more care than he had anticipated, he decided to go through each drawer, every coffer and box, with a view to taking his life with him, so to speak.

Even so, there wasn't that much, not really. Clothes, braid clasps, his knives (one for his belt and one for his boot) and bow and arrows, wrist guard. A few books and bits and pieces, not enough to weigh down a wagon, not much more than he could comfortably carry.

It was a little sad, when he looked at the small, neat stacks of clothing, the few other items…

A hasty tapping at the door turned him away from his sleeping room and sent him to answer. Faerveren entered in a flurry of gestures and a stream of words.

'Master Parvon, Master Parvon, oh, I am so, so, sorry, for it must be my fault and I do not know what I can do, but… oh, and they say I am not to be alone with you and so here is my Daerada, but tell me, if I go to the king and explain, will it help? I want to help, I do not want you to go!'

Parvon, retreating before this onslaught of words, took a step back before he could smile and spread his hands.

'Be welcome, Faerveren, and be calm. Sit down, get your breath. And Master Merenor, come in. Now, penneth, this is not your fault. It is the king's fault, his will is that I return to the Old Palace. I am sorry you won't see your parents, but at least you have your grandfather and uncle here.'

Merenor nodded as he closed the door behind him, setting down a tray.

'We brought you the day-meal,' he said. 'Faerveren would not be content without coming to see you; I hope it's not inconvenient?'

'It's very kind,' Parvon said.

'But it is silly that you have to be here, Daerada!'

'Perhaps it is a bit silly,' Parvon said. 'But Master Merenor is as welcome as you are.'

'I don't understand!' Faerveren said. 'It is not right that Master Parvon has to go!'

'There's your advisor-in-training lesson for today, then,' Merenor said, smiling to take away any sting. 'You can't always understand the king's orders – you just have to trust that he knows what he's doing. Thranduil usually has a plan.'

'Although sometimes it isn't a very good plan,' Parvon said, sighing. 'But all you can do, as an advisor, is keep quiet about it until you understand, or perhaps can give the king more information to work with; he's never wrong, you see, he can never be wrong or people might begin to lose their trust in him, and we need to be able to trust our king.'

'So… if we could find out what he really needs to know to stop Master Parvon having to leave, Daerada, or to bring him back sooner…?'

'Please, don't, Faerveren!' Parvon put in quickly. 'Too many other people could get hurt if you dig into this too deeply. You. Your uncles, your grandfather… as well as the people involved… it is all right… I am growing accustomed, it will be well.' He said it firmly and smiled, allowing his eyes to begin warmly and then slide into a distant formality to change the topic. 'You brought me the day meal, you said? For us all to share, I hope? And as we eat, there are one or two points of business which might not already be covered on the noticeboards or in the files…'

Mid-afternoon, and Parvon had been alone again for long enough that everything he was taking with him was packed. It all went easily into two saddlebags, apart from bow and quiver which he would, of course, wear as he travelled. The contents of his drinks cupboard (a bottle of summer wine, half a bottle of spirits, a few small bottles of wheat beer and a flask of winter wine) he put in a box and wrote Triwathon's name on; he hoped at least that Triwathon would still be able to visit him that evening; it was the only thing, really, he had to look forward to, even though it would almost certainly be painful.

A brisk and formal knock at the outer door, followed by the respectful tones of the housekeeper.

'Master Parvon, if you are not busy…'

'Come in, Mistress Lhéves.' He opened the door. 'I am glad you are here; I can go through things with you. Mostly I am organised, but there is a coffer with items I am not taking; they can be disposed of as is best, perhaps some elves are lacking in clothing after the fire… although perhaps they won't want my shabby remnants…'

He said it with a smile, but found Lhéves looking at him sternly.

'That is not what I am here for, Master Parvon,' she said, her voice formal. 'As you are leaving, however, I wished to learn whether I might reinstate my former assistants to their rightful posts, to be told by young Master Faerveren in the Palace Office that no, you had left instructions they are to remain in place; it is most unfair, Master Parvon, especially as it stands, with you going, why should they not come back?'

'Commander Triwathon likes them where they are,' he said, making a mental not to ensure Triwathon was warned about this. 'If you're that concerned, take the matter up with the king. Otherwise, leave them in the garrison. So, while you are here, and as I am going tomorrow, thank you for your work in the New Palace. Personally, I have had nothing to complain about from the way you run matters, and so I shall say in my formal letter to the king. Let's keep it that way, shall we?'

'It seems… unfair to Iochon and Haechor...'

'Nevertheless. Thank you, if that is all, I am sure you must have other work somewhere?'

Lhéves made the most formal curtsey he'd ever seen from her, and walked stiffly from the room.

Parvon sighed as he fastened the door. He'd no wish to part on bad terms with anyone, but even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't very well have agreed to the reinstatement of the two servants, not with the interpretation of their initial relocation now being skewed to take attention away from Triwathon and Lumormen…

Well, he had the evening to look forward to. Perhaps he'd have an hour or two to himself now, at least…

…and the first hour was fine, the second, well, by then he'd started to think about his return to the Old Palace. The King's Office there would be very different from how he'd left it; now Melion, Master Merenor's third son, was Chief Advisor, assisted by various scribes and underscribes. Merenor usually held sway in the Division of Matters Matrimonial, his husband Hanben headed the Office of Innovations assisted by Merenor's second son, Baudh; it was becoming almost a family affair… and where Parvon was expected to fit in, he'd no idea…

He suspected that Thranduil didn't, either, and that it would be left to Melion to find suitable duties for him. Filing. There was always filing.

The second hour passed…

Outside, the light filtering through the window dimmed and softened towards evening, and Parvon lit the lamps. There was a while to go, yet, until he could reasonable expect Triwathon…

…time continued to roll onwards, as was its wont. Soon it became appropriate to listen out for the familiar, wanted knocking, but it didn't come.

And didn't come.

Eventually there was a knock, not Triw's, though, and a note slid under the door to say his evening meal was outside.

He sighed as he fetched in the tray; his appetite was lacking as was the presence of his expected guest.

It was growing chill, and he knelt to light the fire, taking longer than necessary to coax the flames into robust life as he wondered what Thranduil had done to keep Triw away, what tales he'd been told… of course, it wasn't that long since Triwathon had been accusing Parvon of spending too much time with his assistant… would matters now make it seem as if he'd been right, was that it?

Or was Parvon just making himself seem more important to the commander than he actually was?

He sat with a small cup of winter wine and his sad thoughts until disturbed by an unusual sound. Not the door – and not from within his living room – but from the sleeping chamber beyond. Setting down the empty glass with a sigh, he went to see if something had fallen down, and entered the room to find a figure climbing stealthily through the open window…

…into the room.

The figure turned and laughed softly, sliding down the window.

'Sweet Lord Eru, Parvon, what in the name of all the Valar have you been doing?'

'W…what? Triw? Are you breaking into my rooms?'

'Of course I am! There's a guard at each end of the corridor… not from the garrison, and looking fed up… oddly enough, this afternoon I suddenly found myself with late patrol around the perimeter… and wait, no, not, what have you been up to? More, what does Thranduil think you've been up to?'

'I thought you weren't coming!' Parvon shook his head. 'I… nothing, I honestly have done nothing…'

'I didn't think you had, somehow; I'm sure I'd have known.'

'W…what?'

'…working as closely as we do… sorry, have done. Really, though – what's going on here today?'

'Come through. I'll try to explain… what I know, anyway.'

Seated either side of the fire, each with a glass of wine – Triwathon had brought a pack filled with bread, cheese, fruit and a bottle of the best red ('Arveldir stole it for me, he said he'd blame Elder Gomben if he was asked…') Parvon gave his friend the details of his awful, awful meeting with the king and subsequent seclusion as they ate and drank.

'If there's now a watch on the corridor, it's my guess our king discovered I'd been receiving clandestine visits – clandestine, chaperoned visits,' he added. 'Since there is a tale – or shortly will be a tale – that I have been too much in company with Faerveren and so am being sent to the Old Palace in apparent disgrace. But the youngster wanted to apologise, for he blamed himself…'

'Ai, Parvon! And after what I said to you on the matter, and even as I spoke I knew it was wrong of me…! If this has come to the king's ears, then it is my fault, not his…'

'It is neither your fault nor Faerveren's; our king is just… ai, he is impossible! But it suits his purpose to send me away, and so I must go.'

'I am sorry to hear it. So you will have had no other news today, then?'

'Not since the day meal, which Faerveren brought, bringing also with him his grandfather…'

'And what does that say about the truth of the king's story, then, if the one from whom you are being protected, has come to see you?'

'I wonder if this may be why I am now blessed with corridor guards… but is there other news?'

'Thranduil had a private interview with Lumormen, who has decided to withdraw his Galadhrim friends and his service. He's done so with offended dignity and barbed reminders of the former friendship of Lord Oropher with Lord Celeborn… I hear Thranduil was not impressed, but so… the rest of our friends from Imladris are waiting for Erestor to recover fully before they leave, while Erestor himself says he will willingly go in an elf-barrow if it gets them home more swiftly…'

'I begin to be glad I was not in the office today, but my poor friends…'

'Well, Master Merenor can take care of himself, and his grandson – and he has Captain Thiriston to back him up, of course! As for me…! I have not quite decided if I am meant to be prevented from speaking with you, or if it merely must seem as if I have not… but whatever, I do not wish to play our king's games for him. Parvon, this is outrageous!'

'Indeed it is.'

'What's more, I have had a written request that Iochon and Haechor be returned to their corridor duties as soon as you have left the palace… I spoke to the two ellyn myself and told them how very much I enjoyed watching them work and how we simply could not manage without them… then tore up the message and returned it to Mistress Lhéves in pieces with a cover note to say I couldn't understand a word...' He burst out laughing. 'Ai, I ought not; it was childish, perhaps, but I have word that you did not support a return to their earlier duties…'

'Thranduil will be unhappy,' Parvon said, shaking his head and smiling. 'For it is his intent, I think, to make it seem I sent them away so that they could not observe my alleged behaviour… and I have left instructions in the Palace Office not to bring them back.'

'Well, I will keep insisting for as long as I can.' Triwathon grinned. 'Why make it easy for him?'

'I am grateful. Oh, I have something for you – nothing exciting, but I thought you might find a use for it…'

He indicated the box which he had set aside, and Triwathon looked in.

'Very kind of you! Yes, if you left it, no doubt it would simply go to waste; it certainly wouldn't find its way back to stores… shall we breach this bottle, before I leave? It will be less for me to carry back through the window…'

'If you wish; I must admit I have no great hurry to retire tonight.'

They sat over their wine, watching the fire and talking randomly, for far longer than was strictly necessary. When the fire had sighed and the embers began to settle, Triwathon too sighed.

'Well, my friend, I need to be heading for your window, I am afraid,' he said, stretching. 'Would that it were not so, but I am instructed away in the morning, to be at the far perimeter by daybreak… one would think, if one were so inclined, that matters had been arranged so that you and I might not meet in time to make our farewells. As it is, I must be early in wishing you well.'

'I am grateful, Triwathon. Your company this night has been more than welcome. I shall miss our evenings.'

'And I, I shall miss your friendship. I doubt Master Merenor and I will treat as easily together, for all that he is a most friendly and approachable ellon…'

'Indeed! But that reminds me – in the Palace Office, in what used to be the cabinet where I kept all the plans of the New Palace and its environs – Asfaloth's saddlebags. They have the personal possessions of… of the Seneschal of Imladris. When his friends come, returning his Starlight Gemstone…'

'Or they could go back with Asfaloth himself,' Triwathon said. 'But thank you for thinking.'

'I do feel for you,' Parvon said softly. 'I had expected to be the one to greet the return of the gemstone… as it is…'

'I'll cope. After all, this latest lover… we both have our grief in common, and I know… I know my friend was less lonely because of him.' Triwathon sighed. 'But I could wish you might be here to help.'

Parvon found a wry smile twisting his face as he rose to accompany Triwathon to the window.

'Indeed, my friend, as do I. Be well.'

Triwathon reached out and squeezed Parvon's shoulder gently before climbing onto the window sill and taking the box of assorted alcohols from Parvon's hands. He smiled, a kindness and warmth in his eyes Parvon thought he'd remember forever.

'And you, Parvon. It will not be the same without you.'