It was an hour past the day-meal when word came the convoy had been spotted, and so Parvon knew he had two or three hours to make ready for the new arrivals. He consulted with Baudh and put tentative names beside the list of rooms readied before going to speak with Healer Gaelbes.

'They will be earlier than usual!' she said, smiling. 'And I understand that this convoy brings those who are almost healed now; it should be simple, today.'

'Let us hope.' Parvon smiled. 'Do you still want to offer them hospitality overnight?'

'I think I ought to; and yet, if they arrive tired and do not have anywhere to go, they might be more amenable to the rooms you offer them…?'

'Well, yes. Although the rooms may not be habitable immediately; I've requested furnishings be installed, but have yet to learn the work's been completed. Once I hear the convoy is in, I will give you an hour with the new arrivals; by then I will know about the rooms – and I will come to talk to them myself, if that suits?'

'Thank you, Parvon; that is an excellent idea!'

It suited Parvon's purpose, too; it meant he had a little time to look over the dispatches with Melion and accept the sealed letter handed to him with a smile. Time to retreat to his office and break the wax with trembling fingers, to scan the words; the greeting first…

"Dear Parvon, I hope this finds you well…" and skimming down to the ending: "Be well, Parvon… Your friend, Triwathon…" before folding the letter away; he had work to do, and so the rest of the letter must keep.

But it was there for when he had time.

In order to facilitate the moving-in of the refugees with the minimum of delay, Parvon and Baudh had agreed the rooms should be furnished to a basic standard; if people didn't like what was there, it could be changed later, but meanwhile they would have beds to lie on and chairs to sit on and could move in swiftly, rather than taking up the resources of the Healers' Hall for longer than needed; thus Parvon's immediate task was an inspection of the rooms, making sure the right number of beds where put in place for the correct number of persons, and that the colours of the rugs were not too hideous. To his relief, all was in place, the last bed being assembled when he looked in the final room on his list.

'Just finishing now, Master Parvon!' the chief of the work crew told him. 'Not late, are we? I thought it was tomorrow you wanted it ready for?'

'No, not late; I merely wished to see how the rooms looked. But this is very fine, my thanks to you all.'

Satisfied that the rooms passed muster, and noticing with surprise that it was already time for him to present himself to the new arrivals, he made his way to the Healers' Halls.

'Look who is come!' Gaelbes said, grabbing Parvon by the arm and almost dragging him into the communal area. 'Nestoril is here, she is, indeed!'

'Healer Ness! Welcome home… do you think you have been missed, at all?'

Nestoril shook her head and came forward laughing to take Parvon's hands in a gesture of friendly greeting.

'Parvon, forgive my friend, I cannot quite believe how warmly I have been welcomed…'

'Well, it is good to see you, Healer,' he told her, unable to help smiling back. 'You will be proud of your friends; Gaelbes has been wonderful with our recent arrivals…' He glanced across at Gaelbes. 'In fact, forgive me, it is they whom I really have come to speak to; are they well, do you know?'

'I would say so… and yet it has felt like a long road for some and they are glad to come to the end of it. I am glad that Gealbes has prepared for them to stay here tonight…' An arch look suggested to him that Nestoril had heard, and amended, Gaelbes' suggestion that the travellers move into their rooms at once. '…and we will dine together here, will you be joining us?'

'If I am still welcome, after I have spoken to everyone.'

'Oh, Parvon, you do yourself a disservice, I am sure!'

'Not everyone in every convoy actually wishes to be here.' Parvon smiled and shrugged. 'I understand that many are unhappy… and sometimes people blame the nearest official, and, since I am representing the King's Office again…'

'Oh, and you were not a willing volunteer yourself, I know...' Nestoril gave his hands a final squeeze before she released him. 'Perhaps, if you have time, we might have a little chat before you go back to your next set of duties?'

'I would be delighted,' he said. 'Now, Gaelbes, where have you hidden them…?'

'I have brought the elfling's teaching room into use today; it is friendlier, I think, than the entrance hall and we are so excited to have dear Nestoril back again… they have all been given tea and honey cakes.'

'To sweeten them for me? Thank you, Gaelbes.'

Three families with elflings, two married couples without, and half a dozen single elves were waiting in the teaching room for him. All looked up as he entered and closed the door softly behind him; he tried to read the expressions on their faces; tired, hostile or friendly? Or the more usual mixture of all at once…?

'Well met,' he began. 'I hope your journey was not too arduous; you have certainly made good time.'

Nobody seemed inclined to answer him, perhaps expecting him to not require a response. With a nod, he continued.

'And so, tonight you will be guests of the Healers' Hall; tomorrow you will be able to take possession of the rooms allocated to you…'

At this, they broke silence all at once.

'New rooms? But we have our own rooms, in the North arm of the second level…'

'…near the housekeeper's wing…'

'…west sector next to my good friends…'

He let them speak and fall silent and took a breath.

'You were expecting your former homes to be available? Yes, so was I, when I arrived back.' Reminding them that he, too, had been uprooted was no bad thing, he was learning. 'But unfortunately, it is not so. Yes, I understand, believe me, I do! I have had this discussion myself with those in charge of the King's Office when I arrived; they told me there had been changes; improvements, they called them. And, I suppose, my new rooms are pleasant. But they did not feel like home at first; I am still adapting, as are those from preceding convoys. However, I am afraid there is no real alternative; our former homes are no longer habitable…'

'Why?' one of the elves interrupted, cuddling her child closer. 'What has happened to them?'

Parvon shook his head.

'I have not been able to find out, not for every home. My own quarters were turned into a very nice storage area for fabrics, so I'm told. But the case is different for everyone; there was a cave-in, I understand, and a wing lost to that… if you are really anxious to find out the fate of your previous homes, you could approach Master Baudh in the King's Office; he will try to help, but currently his main focus is to provide new, and hopefully better, rooms for everyone. They are to a very high standard and although they are not talain, they are set aside for you and prepared already.'

'But… will we not have a choice?' someone else asked.

'The rooms have been carefully selected according to each family's requirements,' Parvon said. 'I wasn't given a choice, if that helps; I was told the King's Office staff all live in the same corridor… now, as you may remember, the King's Office largely is run by Master Melion these days, and he has a lovely, large family… and I an elf alone, so it is very lively in my neighbourhood…'

Even the parents smiled at this.

'Ah, Master Parvon, it is good not to be alone, yes?'

'Ah…yes,' he answered, smiling swiftly. 'So, tomorrow morning, once I have early duties out of the way, I will come for you and take you to your new rooms.'

'But what if we don't like them?' another voice asked. 'How long will we have to wait for new accommodations?'

'In fact, I have been informed that these rooms have been specifically selected with each person, and family, in mind; the furniture of course you may send away and order replacements, but the rooms themselves are already assigned to you.'

'But…'

'You cannot just expect…'

He took a steadying breath and shook his head, bracing himself for more outrage.

'As it was put to me,' he began, once they had quieted a little. 'I was told, there are only so many rooms that can be made ready in a few days, which is all the time there is between convoys. Our king is trying to bring as many people home to safety as swiftly as he can…'

'Safety! We were perfectly safe…!'

'Or we would have been, if the guard…'

'…if…'

Parvon spread his hands and raised his voice, just a little.

'Now is not the time to apportion blame; our king has that all in hand,' he said firmly. 'To continue. Our king has said he understands that there may be some reluctance to return to the Old Palace, and while the rooms are not negotiable, the location of your resettlement is. It may be that some of you may prefer to journey to Ithilien, and to settle there with our prince and his husband, and their elves; there are humans there, but friendly ones, but certainly the Silvan colony live in talain in the trees there. Or there is always the opportunity to sail across the Undying Seas and reunite with loved one long lost or sailed themselves…'

He paused to let them mutter and protest and settle again.

'These are the alternatives his majesty the Elvenking has offered when it was put to him that some people may not like the rooms allocated to them. On first hearing this, it sounded almost like a threat, I thought,' he said. 'So I understand that you may be startled by these choices offered you. But many elves now feel that this new age is the age of Men, and that we must either mingle with them or leave these shores. There is, in my office, a list of some score of elves who have come to enquire about a ship; they do not have to sail, but they have decided it is what they would like to do.'

'What… what are you saying?' one of the single elves said, coming forward. 'Master Parvon, you know me, I am Oldor, we… we spoke together lately and you know I am suffering the loss of a… friend. Are you advising we sail? Or what are you suggesting?'

'Nothing of the sort; if I am suggesting anything, it is this; that everyone takes a little time. My rooms did not feel right, at first; they did not fit me. But a little time to settle in has shown me how I may fit them, instead. You have all had a tiring journey on top of disturbance and loss; it would be unlikely for any of you to be happy anywhere at first. If, in a month or so, you are truly still unhappy in your rooms, come to me and I will try to help. You may, perhaps, be able to swap amongst yourselves, but initially, it is our king's wish that you accept the quarters apportioned you.'

The door opened and closed quietly to admit Healer Nestoril and the gathered elves stirred; before any could speak, she came to Parvon's side and tucked her hand into his arm.

'After all,' she said, 'Our hunter troops and warrior companies, they do not select their own lodgings; by the generosity of the king are they housed, as are we.' She smiled and glanced at Parvon. 'Now, I must steal away our friend here; there is a matter I must discuss with him.'

Outside, Parvon turned to Nestoril.

'How can I help, Healer?'

She shook her head and took him through the corridors to her study. 'Ah. In fact, I was thinking to help you…' She gestured towards a seating area near the window where a tray of refreshments was waiting. 'You'd been in with my journey-friends for quite long enough, I think!'

Parvon shook his head, laughing softly as he took a seat. 'It certainly felt like it! But I understand some of their concerns, at least, and I am learning how to best present our king's ultimatum – for so it is, however I try to dress it up.'

Nestoril sighed as she poured herbal tea into cups.

'Yes, and it is not just the inhabitants of the villages whose lives have been rearranged for them – Parvon, I do feel for your plight!'

'My situation,' Parvon said carefully, 'is different from those made homeless in many ways. It is true, I did not want to leave… but harder for me is the knowledge that all I have built there is to be taken from me; had I known, never would I have left the Old Palace…' He broke off with a helpless gesture. 'But then, I suppose none of us would have gone, had we known. For our king would not have allowed us to put ourselves in danger…'

To his surprise, Parvon felt a lump in his throat, an upsurge of angry, despairing emotion he had not expected; Nestoril's kind hand on his arm didn't help his control.

'Forgive me,' he said. 'It has been a trying time in some ways. I would rather have stayed, and perhaps faced more threats than this… ignominious return…'

'If I can help in any way…' Nestoril pressed her lips together and shook her head, sighing. 'No, it is all very well to say that, but I do not know whether you would ask for aid; instead, I will say, tomorrow I will come with you to look over the rooms with my journey-companions. I may be able to soothe the way a little with the new inhabitants.'

'Thank you,' Parvon said. 'That's the kind of assistance I can accept. I am grateful.'

Later, unwinding after sharing supper with the Healers and with the newcomers, Parvon sat for a moment and filled himself up with his letter from Triwathon.

"…so, I promised you a tale; I did not like to tell it in my last letter, since I was in haste and really, the tale was incomplete; it is so still, for that matter.

"…Well. Our old friend Elder Gomben has been in Maereth's healing rooms, as you know, suffering a broken leg and an excess of nasty thoughts… he is now healed, and at the time of my last, was to be released to the convoy coming down with the king… Gomben claimed he felt 'too weak' for the journey and so Maereth suggested he could stay there until the next convoy… however, as soon as the king left, Gomben complained at being kept to the healing rooms, and so we put a guard on him; our king had told us all not to make matters easy for him. He kept complaining, of course, and Maereth and Nestoril have had a very trying time with him… Master Hanben was drafted in to take turns on the desk, and I understand took the chance to tell the complaining elder he was being ridiculous…

"So time passed and the wagons returned, and now, perhaps because the king is not here to make his wishes known in person, Gomben has refused the trip again. And, since he became offensive and verbally abusive (towards poor Healer Mae…) I had him arrested and thrown into the cells. Of course, we had to empty one in order to do so and unaccountably, it was the one that had sheltered the animal fodder; it is quite aromatic there, more so than, say, the cell storing the wine and ale…"

Parvon smiled to himself. Yes; he could imagine Gomben's annoyance at being constrained and then restrained – and to end up in the garrison cells, where any complaints about the alleged behaviour of the garrison commander would be heard only by those loyal to Triwathon… it was fitting, really.

Although he did feel sorry for the guards on duty at the cells.

"…What will become of him is uncertain; perhaps he will be released to the eastward settlements, I do not know; Master Merenor has written to formally apprise the king of the situation. Perhaps I will have orders to bring Gomben in irons before his majesty…

"…talking of whom, I have heard – from the lady healers, in a roundabout way, that good Healer Nestoril had made her opinion known to our king as to the treatment you received, especially the rumours that attached to you subsequently, rather than landing where I had expected them to, on my amply broad shoulders… I rather feel that his majesty was sent home with strict instructions to make amends to you in some way… I am not sure if this has been the case, since it seemed to me that your last letter suggested that our king was simply keeping you busier…"

Parvon swallowed hard… he was so emotional today! It wasn't fitting, really, for one in his station to be so easily moved almost to tears, and although he was currently alone, that really was not the point; there was no reason, was there, for him to feel so out of sorts…?

"…I hope this company of elves doesn't give you too many problems; these who will come with Nestoril are the least willing of the displaced elves. But perhaps the bother with Gomben has acted as a warning to them; I would be interested to hear if all went well. After this group, we will be sending elves from the eastern settlements and the New Palace itself, and we are calling for willing volunteers… they, of course, will need wagons for their belongings, for they have not been touched by the fires…"

Least-willing? Yet there had been nothing in the attitude of the new arrivals at supper to indicate any ill-will towards him or his office; the meal in the Healer's Halls had gone well, he'd thought; the refugees had talked to him easily enough, and although they asked questions over supper, it was not the interrogation he'd half-expected. In fact, by the end of the evening, it had seemed as if most of them were now looking forward to seeing their new quarters… perhaps, as Triwathon thought, Gomben had been a salutary lesson… and he had been pleased when Oldor, who had earlier asked whether Parvon was advising them to sail (and who had visited Parvon's New Palace commemorations for the Night of the Names) had come forward and greeted Parvon kindly, warmly, in fact, and had spoken of how much better he felt now, for sharing, and he didn't think he wanted to sail, not after for coming home.

Coming home.

Was that what Parvon had done?

It was starting to feel like it, except for his life's work…

And Triwathon, of course.

(…if Triwathon came home, it would be better…)

He turned back to his letter.

"…I think we will be the poorer for lack of Healer Nestoril, although Maereth has no need of extra help in her healer's rooms now; there is hardly anyone left in her care, and Master Hanben to assist her, if needed… Master Faerveren is looking happier these days; I think his grandfather does much more than just the filing, but Faerveren is reassured by his presence, I think… still, you are missed…

"…Well, my friend, time has crept up on me and I have a scant hour to finish this, seal it, get it to Faerveren to put in the despatch folder and take myself to the garrison to watch them ride out. I hope this finds you well. I look forward to hearing from you soon."

"Your friend, Triwathon."

He was missed. The thought made him smile even as his eyes unaccountably filled with a glisten of moisture; perhaps Triw had just meant he was missed in the Palace Office, but… it didn't feel as if that was what he'd meant.

Suddenly, the prospect of settling in the least-willing of the displaced elves didn't seem quite as daunting.