At just about the same time that Parvon, far away in the Old Palace, was sipping his glass of spirits and trying to recover from his unexpected mood swings, Triwathon reached the door of the duty office and looked in to find Narunir keeping a very relaxed watch on the desk. He smiled to himself and spoke briskly.

'Everything nice and quiet, Narunir?'

'Commander!' Captain Narunir sat up abruptly, recovering from his semi-slouched, halfway-to-reverie doze. 'Yes, sir, all is well… I didn't expect you back tonight… I mean, before I stood down for the watch, I mean, you were visiting your… um… old friend…'

Triwathon laughed and perched on the edge of the desk.

'We're not that sort of old friends, Narunir! Again, my thanks for taking the watch; and I will be at the ranges to lead the practice, as promised. Goodnight, now.'

'Goodnight, sir.'

Triwathon pushed the door to after the captain before taking a seat behind his desk. He checked the papers in front of him – nothing of note – and allowed himself to sigh. No. He and Thindorion hadn't been that sort of friends at all, although it did seem now as if Thindo might have liked it to have been different… and truth to tell, after the relief of purging himself of so much lingering hurt and grief, Triwathon would have quite liked the safe haven of a warm and friendly pair of arms…

But not tonight. It would have been too easy, but at the same time, it would have been unkind, in a way; Thindorion's affectionate friendship deserved more that to be turned to just for solace…

('Will you be all right?' he had asked, as Triwathon had set down his wine cup and risen to leave, and, 'I will be fine,' Triwathon had told him.)

'…I would like to spend time with you tomorrow,' he had gone on to say, 'but, alas, I have to break my fast at the garrison table… although, if you would like to take a turn at the archery butts, I am giving a training session afterwards…?'

'Ai, now, there's a thought!' Thindorion laughed. 'Yes, and why not? After all, you have to work and I won't be here beyond the return of the convoy…'

'I can free the evening, if you wish. We could eat together privately, my rooms or yours, whichever you prefer…'

'I'd like that; there's still much I'd like to say to you, so many of the old stories to go over again.'

'I will look for you on the archery range, then. Goodnight, Thindo. It really is good to see you again.'

He had wanted to open his arms, to hug his old – and very dear – friend in farewell, but Thindo hadn't actually said, no, he'd never thought of Triwathon as his fëa-mate, and the hug could so easily have grown from friendly contact to embrace and so he had smiled and stepped back with an excuse about needing to check in with Narunir...

Now, with a little time to kill before the duty captain for the next watch came to take over, Triwathon reached for writing materials. He had another old friend whose company, even at a distance, was comforting.

"Dear Parvon," he began. "Thank you for the warning about the visiting elf with the convoy. And, indeed, thank you for sending him! In fact, I am the old friend with whom he wished to connect… it has been very good to spend an evening catching up with him; he knew me when I was very young and foolish – about the same time I came to your attention, in the King's Office, giggling away like an idiot while he whom you call 'The Poacher' smirked his way through yet another reprimand… Thindo was far too wise to join the guard along with us, or to get into any of our most embarrassing scrapes!

"We still have Elder Gomben locked safely away; we tire of him, he tires of us, and so I am hopeful that when good Master Hanben speaks to him tomorrow, Gomben will agree to return on the convoy, since he has now experienced what the alternative is. I expect we will have to send extra guards along, if so… another reason for the archery practice tomorrow; I will be leading it, and Captain Narunir had already suggested it be a mixed session, garrison and non-combatants together, so my old friend will join in the practice.

"Well. It is almost time for the duty guard to take over so I will pause here and continue later with any tales arising from the session; it should prove interesting…"

…and it had been interesting; the mix of garrison, village, and palace personnel made for a range of abilities that kept Triwathon alert, enabled him to play off one group against another, to banter and tease and pull better performances from everyone because of the archer at the next station along, and all had been fine and easy until Thindorion had shown up…

(Thindorion with a bow almost as old as himself, an open-throated shirt and a snug tunic, his hair braided out of the way but showing off the bones of his fine face, his throat and neck and the elegant sweep of his ears… how long had his face been so beautifully-structured…? and Triwathon standing behind him, cupping his elbow, touching his shoulder, adjusting his stance, so near, inhaling the fresh, warm scent of him, and why would Triwathon tremble, now, when they were here, in public, and nothing could be done…?)

Time between the archery session and the evening somehow passed, although Triwathon could not have said how he had occupied himself or what orders he had given – certainly, his part-written letter to Parvon lay neglected in the drawer – instead he was wholly overthrown by the intensity of his responses to Thindo's proximity during the practice… which led him to thinking how naturally they had fallen back into talking last night, how Thindorion had been so easy to open up to, so kind, how wise, how…

How he had said he liked Triw more now than he had back then…

How he had not definitely said, no, I do not think you are my fëa-mate but had left the answer to the question unsaid…

Somehow that was the thought that preyed on him; all the rest seemed to combine to make more of it; the trembling when they touched, the recognition of Thindorion's attractiveness, the memory, now, of all his kindnesses when Triw had been so young and so foolish he couldn't even refuse a drink from Red, let alone other things… but always Thindo had been there to say, did you really mean to go there, Little-elking, did you really want to drink so much, to be so foolhardy, to pick that fight…?

And now he was here.

But tomorrow he would be gone, and in a few weeks, a couple of months, perhaps, they would be forever sundered.

The satisfaction of having touched a nerve in his king kept Parvon quietly, gently satisfied all the way back to the King's Office. He greeted Master Baudh with a smile and a nod, and paused to speak with Master Melion, reminding himself that to speak of Melion's offer to uproot his family on Parvon's behalf would be a breaking of his word to the king… although he was sorely tempted, for Melion looked out of sorts, his usual smile missing and his eyes fraught.

'Master Melion? Is there anything in particular you need me to work on this morning?' he asked, as near an offer of help as he dared risk without being too blatant. 'I have some work from our king, but it is not desperately urgent…?'

Melion forced a smile back onto his face.

'You are very kind, Master Parvon. At present, no, but if anything arises, I will call on you. Did your meeting go well, do you think?'

'It is never easy to say…' Parvon sighed. 'I am now leading something called the Division of Matters Transitional, apparently. It is a grand title, I think, but does not quite trip off the tongue…'

He paused as, from the doorway to his workroom, Baudh sniggered and Melion smiled more naturally.

'If I confide in you that Baudh here suggested your department be called the Office of Comings and Goings, you may find yourself warming to the title, I hope?'

'Ai, yes, that sounds like somewhere I would not want to work, in all truth! It is something, to have a divisional name, I suppose… and, rather delightfully, I proved to his majesty that my sense of humour – or of endurance – was greater than his, for once. And so, now I am officially instructed to do so, I can no longer avoid delving into the logistical mysteries of getting a group of elves, and their baggage, to Ithilien… on foot is apparently important, so they might properly say farewell to the forest.'

'Then I will wish you a joyous morning, Master Parvon,' Melion said, 'and Baudh has already found the maps for you and put them on the table by your window.'