'And just what have you been saying about my father, Master Parvon?' Baudh demanded.

Parvon blinked. Although said lightly, the smile on Baudh's face was forced, nowhere near as friendly as usual, and, having expected his usual greeting, a joke, perhaps, when he'd arrived to tour the accommodations, this gave Parvon a moment's pause.

'Nothing, that I can recall; I am very fond of Merenor, he has always been very kind to me… Oh. Could this have something to do with the conversation I had with Melion last night? In fact, when your brother suggested, in a roundabout sort of way, that you and Oldor together in the King's Office would make it an indecorous place, I simply suggested that he should add decorum to the office rules, and his Ada should read them too… I meant no offence to good Master Merenor… only to good Master Melion who, I am afraid, wore down my patience last night.'

Baudh gave a sniggering laugh and his smile grew much friendlier.

'Ah, I did wonder! Yes, that sounds much more likely than Melion's account… I think he is finding the present situation a bit difficult? He's worried about his work here, and that he might have to go away for a while, and…' Baudh grimaced and slapped his hand to his forehead. 'Rather like you, in fact, but my brother has a loving spouse to support him and is without all the distress of seeing people dying and everything… Sorry, sorry, I'll stop talking now, shall I?'

Parvon found himself smiling.

'That won't be necessary, Baudh. Melion and I are both awkwardly placed, I think. And while it was generous of him to once express the thought that he and I are equals, the sentiment works better for him as a theoretical framework rather than a working model, perhaps.'

'Well, I'm glad I didn't have to fall out with you over Ada, I am too grateful that you managed to get Oldor into the King's Office; it pleases us both. And we will be perfectly decorous, I promise! Even to the point where this morning, he's helping Melion with filing, I hope you don't mind? It's almost as if Melion wants to show Oldor isn't going to be just your helper, but generally involved in things.'

'I expected no less. In fact, it integrates him rather more firmly into the King's Office, I should say. Now, the arriving elves' accommodations…?'

'So. We have several families coming this time, I thought to keep them grouped together – away from the single elves – and the elflings can all run about together in the corridors that way… there are gates…'

'I do hope they will not be housed too near my rooms?'

'Nowhere near either set, no. Come, let me show you…'

They had reached the last of the planned family homes when Master Oldor appeared in the open doorway.

'There you are! Baudh, Melion sent me to tell you that the mail's in from the convoy…'

'Good, thank you, ah… come in, shut the door…' Baudh glanced across at Parvon. 'I'll let you tell him, shall I?'

'Tell me what? Have I done something wrong? If so, I am sorry…'

'Sit down a moment,' Parvon said, indicating a chair and himself following suit. 'Do not be anxious! You cannot be expected to know unless you are told, or have seen for yourself, so this is information for you, that is all. You have done nothing wrong, therefore, although you may have mis-spoken slightly…'

'Oh, I… sorry, Master Parvon…'

'No, it is well. Firstly, when you are on the business of the King's Office, you should use formal address. So even though Baudh is your friend, you should use his title as you used mine just now.'

'I see. Yes, that makes sense, although there wasn't anyone else to hear…'

'This is true. But to get into the habit early is wise. Secondly, for an underscribe, it is important always to follow three basic principles; be explicit, be exacting, be accurate. When Master Melion sent you to give a message to Master Baudh did he add "and Master Parvon" to it also?'

'No, he didn't, sorry, but I thought he just meant that he expected Baudh to be on his own, I…'

'Really, it is fine,' Parvon said firmly. 'It is more likely that Melion has not thought to be sufficiently exact in his phrasing. In future, you could simply draw the recipient of your message to one side before passing on the information. There may be occasions when, as now, it is unimportant, but there may be other times when the message is sensitive. Always do exactly as you are asked, to the letter, that is the way in the King's Office.' He paused to log Baudh's half-hidden grin. 'Or at least, and I would not say this in front of Master Melion lest it seem a criticism, it was in my day.'

'Well, the New Palace always seemed very organised, even in crisis.' Oldor looked from Parvon to Baudh. 'Master Parvon, I believe Master Melion was expecting Master Baudh to return with me, although he did not say so…?'

'You learn swiftly,' Parvon said. 'Now you may return to Melion and say the message is delivered, and if he queries where Baudh is, offer to return for him.'

'Although that might annoy him,' Baudh said, grinning easily. 'Just say I've something to finish and I'll be with him as soon as I can.'

Oldor got to his feet and bowed. 'Yes, Master Baudh,' he said.

'What do we make of that?' Baudh asked softly when Oldor was out of earshot. 'You're usually the elf who gets told about the despatches…'

'Officially because it is forewarning of the arrival of displaced elves,' Parvon answered. 'I would say, either Melion is trying to avoid me after last night's awkwardness, or there is something in the missives he does not wish me to know about. Or there has been a message to say the convoy is halting for their daymeal before pressing on, in which case they will not be here for several hours and so no need for me to be alerted yet. It is probably nothing to worry about.'

'I'm sure you're right, although I think it's just my brother getting huffy. You know, he's not like this when Adar's here…'

'Your father is much missed, I am sure. Really, Baudh, I meant what I said; Merenor has always been a good friend to me, and while I was in charge, he took pains never to do anything that might offend any visitors to the King's Office; I would not have you think…'

'I know, it's just Melion paraphrasing. Well, I'd better go and find out what's in the despatch bag, I suppose.' He nodded briefly. 'I'll try to let you know if it's something you'd be interested in.'

Parvon watched him go and then allowed his shoulders to sag. The only real reason he could think of that he had been passed over in favour of Baudh was that Melion had decided to work to the letter of the procedural manual – which was quite specific on scribes receiving personal mail amongst the official despatches, and the last thing Parvon wanted was a confrontation about letters from Triwathon, especially today, when he really, really wanted to hear from him…

When Parvon arrived at the King's Office, he found Baudh busy explaining something to do with the double-logging system to Oldor; he raised his head briefly and gave Parvon an intense grimace, but before any words could be exchanged, Melion emerged from his private office.

'Master Parvon, I require a moment of your time, if you would?'

A definite diminishment of courtesy and increase of formality in Melion's tone. So. Parvon inclined his head.

'I have several moments available, Master Melion. How may I serve?'

Melion bowed and gestured Parvon into his office, waiting to close the door after him. Ah. Private, then. Now, that was either considerate, or else Melion wanted no witnesses…

'The dispatches are in,' Melion began without preamble, indicating a chair and seating himself opposite. 'And… you may perhaps be concerned to learn there is no personal communication for you this time…'

What?

No letter from Triwathon, was he well, what had happened, was it just…?

'…which is why I didn't let you know straight away, I wanted to be sure there was no mistake. But no, there is nothing for you of a private nature.'

Parvon gathered himself internally, remembered all the words he had said on the subject of behaving to standards in the King's Office. Melion had paused and had rearranged his face so that his expression was sympathetic and waiting… just waiting to be kindly understanding… (Ai, Valar save him from Melion's pity, especially when it meant Melion could demonstrate his moral superiority by being magnanimously supportive instead of hurt, still, from their last meeting…)

Parvon, also, waited, as if it didn't matter, as if he wasn't heartbroken and worried and sick to the stomach with some undefined, roiling emotion…

Finally, Melion continued.

'No, for once all the messages are on the King's business, the garrison letters have already gone to the Over-captain's office…'

'Indeed?'

'And so, you see, I thought to mention it to you privately so you would not be too disappointed; I know you value the letter from your friend… perhaps there is something for you with one of the convoy, it may be that it is too private to go in the despatches bag…'

Melion was trying hard, Parvon noted through his numbness. No. He would not give him the satisfaction of… of being kind to him…

'Or maybe it was noted that it was not an official communication,' Melion went on, 'after all, we do not generally used the despatches for nonessential…'

No. No, that was enough. Parvon was not going to let himself be lectured, after the fact, when there was nothing to be lectured for, not this time, not now… there had to have been something at the New Palace that had needed consultation between the Garrison Commander and the former Elf-in-Charge…

Yes. There had been a matter that had been part of the correspondence, and never mind that it had been more like gossip than consultation…

'One of those awkward jurisdictional matters,' Parvon said, hoping his voice was stronger than it sounded in his ears. 'It has been under discussion in the letters between myself and the Commander of the garrison. There may have been no progress on the matter, in which case, there is nothing to communicate.'

'I do not see what it could possibly be, Master Parvon, I had thought your friend…'

'Why should you? It was our business, not that of the King's Office… Commander Triwathon…' (he did not falter on the name, he was pleased to note) '…has someone in charge in the cells. A village elder, who had been commanded by the king to return to the Old Palace as soon as he was recovered from his injuries. He declined a place with the first convoy as he was not quite healed, yet although he was definitely fit to travel for the next, he refused, and grew so unpleasant to Healer Maereth that he was taken from her care and put under lock and key. Of course, what to do with him next is the problem; he has refused to travel and yet matters must be arranged. As Chief Scribe when the king's order was given, it is still, in part, my responsibility. I can only think that the Commander is awaiting the king's desire.'

'This is the first I have heard of the matter…!'

'Perhaps you can mention the situation to his majesty at your next meeting? But after all, it has been between the Garrison and the Palace Office, acting for the king. Why trouble you with such things?' Parvon steadied his nerve; his hands, clasped together on his lap and shielded by the edge of the desk, were trembling. 'Is there anything further, Master Melion?'

'Not at present, Master Parvon.'

'Very well. Did the one who brought the despatches say when the convoy is expected to arrive, perchance?'

'In fact, yes. The plan is to press on after the shortest of pauses; they will be here by mid-afternoon at the latest.'

'Thank you; I shall go to the Healer Hall and make sure Healers Nestoril and Gaelbes are aware of the fact.'

'And are you expecting to be at your desk at all today, Master Parvon?'

'That rather depends on the arriving elves, Master Melion; I would hope so, perhaps after I have seen the Healers and before the arrival of the convoy, if there is time. Should anyone look for me, Baudh or Master Oldor will be able to direct them to me.'

He rose and nodded, leaving swiftly and determinedly not making eye-contact with Baudh on his way out. Almost he expected to be followed, for Baudh had looked anxious on Parvon's arrival, and so, knowing his preferred place of solitude was not secret from good Master Baudh, who really was kind-hearted and friendly, he headed for his formal rooms and shut himself in there instead.

He arrived with relief, for he still found it difficult to tread these passageways, to think of Triwathon having gone along here to visit Glorfindel in the rooms now Baudh's, but today there had been an especial bitterness to the walk.

Alone, finally, and reasonably certain he would not be disturbed for a little while, he cast himself down on the too-big bed and stared up at the plain ceiling above as he tried to settle himself.

It was difficult. He kept travelling the same mental trails, like paths in the forest that would lead the unwary back to where they had started.

Triwathon had not written. He had a garrison to run, of course, and might simply have run out of time. (Or he was too busy with his new lover to write.) It was not like him, though, to not share his joy in anything, even something that would cause Parvon pain; Parvon had always been honest about his feelings and adamant he would not let his emotional attachment intrude on their friendship, had insisted that he expected Triwathon to make no allowances, and so, taking him at his word, Triwathon had made none…

So why not write to say, this one has come into my life, and I am no longer sad? After all, the knowing that Triw was happier would bring gladness to a true friend, and Parvon had always tried to be that…

He remembered his joy and surprise when the first, unexpected letter had arrived, how his spirits had lifted and how much it had meant to him… but still, it had been an unexpected kindness, and surely he had no right to now expect a letter every convoy, he was, perhaps, being greedy and demanding…

Even so, it hurt that Triwathon had not written. But he had been so happy a few days ago, happy and… and relaxed, and then… nothing. Although he had not sought contact, Parvon had not felt the mood of his friend's fëa since then… one did not, of course, always know what another fëa was feeling, usually just the excesses of danger or despair or delight – but Parvon had been so swamped with guilt over the deteriorating professional relationship with Master Melion that it was no wonder, really, that he had not been open to more from his friend…

But if Triwathon was content, that was enough. (It would have to be enough…) He may simply have been too busy, too… too happy. (Or it might be that his new lover might not look kindly on him writing to a friend…)

Parvon could write to him, of course, ask if he was well, busy, how was the duty, what was the situation with Elder Gomben… he had the rest of the day and all of the morrow during which to compose a letter; it need not be much, it need not be… be needy… it could be, how are you, I expect you are busy, but are you well…?

A part of him recoiled, however. If Triwathon was wrapped up in a new love, then a letter from Parvon, not in reply to one from him, would seem…intrusive, perhaps. Or desperate, might make him seem a figure of fun… (Or again, the new lover might not like that Parvon was writing, might take exception to it, and Parvon would not cause problems for his dear friend…)

A note, though, just a few lines, it would have been enough. (Parvon could have made it be enough.)

Too much time passed as he tried to rationalise his disappointment and worry, and with a start, he realised that he ought really to have been at the Healers' Hall an hour since, but he could not just go, not as he was, he must tidy himself, remind himself that he was a King's Office scribe, and as such, he represented the king and there was no place for personal emotion during working hours…

Presently, he was calm enough, his reflection looked calmer, more like himself, and he was able to head off towards the Healers' Hall, outwardly composed, to ensure Healer Nestoril and her company were in expectation of the convoy.

Perhaps one amongst the company would have news, if there was news to tell.