Consumed as he was by the encounter with Triwathon's "old friend" Thindorion, Parvon moved through the newly-arrived elves as if sleepwalking. He spoke greetings and welcomes, he knew his face smiled just the proper amount, his questions were appropriate and well-received. Around the room, Oldor and Baudh engaged the elves in conversation; he heard laughter, easy conversations of which he was no part. A glass of light wine in his hand, and no idea who put it there…

'Master Parvon? Sir?' A touch on his arm; Oldor bowed to him. 'I think we're almost ready for your address.'

Ah, yes. That. His welcome speech.

'Of course. And well done, Oldor; you have put the room at ease, and acquitted yourself well.'

'Thank you, Master Parvon. Um… shall I call them to order for you?'

'I must first check something with Master Baudh.' He caught Baudh's eye and made his way across the room. 'Master Baudh, Healer Nestoril has a suggestion about accommodating the elves today, rather than tomorrow, if that is well with you?'

'We're ready with the rooms… yes, it is a good plan. Master Parvon, if you have other duties, I can take the speech for you…?'

'Take over from me, perhaps, to explain about the rooms, once I have broached the topic. And, if you were willing, you and Master Oldor could escort the elves to their new homes? I would not ask, but I have to meet with an elf who was not here for the briefing about the trip to Ithilien…'

'Ah, the lovely Thindorion? He will be a loss to the forest, and not only for his decorative dyes; he is rather decorative himself, do you not think?'

'I hardly know,' Parvon said. 'Perhaps Master Oldor will have an opinion, if you ask him?'

'Now, I wouldn't have you thinking I don't value the elf I have, Master P… Oh, you were teasing! I beg your pardon! No, I will take care of my dear friend Oldor and leave you to make friends with the handsome Thindorion, even if your idea of friendship isn't quite the same as mine.'

'I think the many forms of friendship that exist between elves of all natures and preferences can only enrich our lives, Master Baudh, but I prefer to sample fewer of them than other elves do, it may be. And so, the welcome speech. But there would be little point befriending an elf who is so soon to leave us.'

He made his way to the front of the room and signalled to Oldor, who quieted the room for him. His words he kept simple, much the same as he'd already said personally; a welcome home, his regrets that their new lives had been disrupted but an assurance that their wellbeing was paramount to the king and, therefore, to the King's Office. He added how carefully the new rooms had been chosen, and mentioned Baudh as the person who had seen to the fittings and furnishings.

'In point of fact,' he went on, seeing an opportunity, 'Master Baudh is willing to escort you to your rooms this afternoon, should you wish to do so. Of course, Healer Nestoril has assured me that, as is the usual practice, if you wished to dine and sleep here tonight, you will be very welcome, but arriving so early, there is not the need as with previous convoys, some of whom were injured from the fire and had made uncomfortable journeys. I will leave the choice to yourselves. Master Baudh is also the elf to speak to about the furnishings you may wish to change or add to, in days to come. Master Oldor, as some of you will know, was formerly resident in the region of the New Palace and if you have any questions about settling in, he is the elf to speak to, for he has done so himself. Meanwhile, if any of you should decide you wish to sail, perhaps, then I am at your disposal and will be glad to discuss the practicalities with you. And now, I will leave you with my good friends Master Baudh and Master Oldor, and of course Healers Nestoril, Gaelbes, and Gyril.'

That said, he bowed and smiled, and left the Healers' Hall before anyone could beg for a brief moment of his time.

In fact, there was still more than an hour before he could expect Thindorion at his workroom door, but he might need all of that time and more, perhaps, to collect his wild ideas and try to make them form coherent, logical thoughts which he could approach and process in a sensible, calm manner.

There was also an opportunity to show Melion he had taken his scathing words to heart, simply by knocking on his door and announcing he was at his desk; but it might have been misinterpreted and, really, he did not want another encounter if he could avoid it. Reaching his workroom without interruption or notice, he sat down behind his desk, dropping his head into his hands and allowing himself to sigh.

There was so much to take in, to assimilate, to… to supress, and he did not know how much more he could absorb before the strain began to show; in fact, he was rather worried he already was failing to mask his lack of equilibrium; Baudh offering to help (and, indeed, taking over some of his duties), Healer Nestoril had looked into his face as if expecting him to collapse and even Melion had seemed to be trying to support him… (may the Valar save him from Melion's kindness…!)

No. It was imperative that he master his emotions at the earliest opportunity, although the only way to do so was to face them, however unpleasant.

Very well. Triwathon… had freed himself from the glory of his Balrog-slayer, had found someone he could be close to, so it seemed, so Parvon had felt from his fëa… and that was good, surely? It meant that Triw was healing, at last, would not be so burdened with grief, would be happier thus… and, when Parvon had sensed the lifting of Triwathon's spirits, he had wondered who it might have been and had not been able to recall there being anyone suitable, anyone whom he would have trusted to be kind, to be careful with Triw's fragile heart and fëa. Perhaps – if it was right, if his guess was more than just a huge, mistaken and inappropriate assumption – if Thindorion, the "old friend", had been the one to talk him out of his grief and help him through, then… well, that was better than someone who might have used him, yes? Or one of the younger members of the garrison, from hero-worship of their commander, who might then become needy or bitter, or have approached out of a hope that it would help them to a promotion? No, that would not have been good at all… at least if it were the dyer, then…

If it had to be someone…

So. It was just that it had been difficult to face the elf he could not help but think of as Triwathon's seducer; it was almost a natural reaction, really. No doubt Parvon would feel equally uncomfortable when Thindorion arrived for the meeting, but he must, at least, try to be civil… it might be best not to mention Triw more than he had to… try to keep to business, the ship, sailing, but oh, Triwathon, was that why you didn't write to me, was it too much for you to share with me? That, friend to you as I am, I wasn't friend enough for this...?

Or was it simply as Thindorion had said, there had not been time, between balancing garrison duties and his "old friend's" visit, for Triw to scratch down a note?

A surge of bitterness rose up in Parvon and he rose from his desk and stalked his office, trying to shake it off. No, whatever the truth of it, he had to get beyond this hurt; he had a job to do, a position to maintain, his own dignity demanded it of him, he could not, would not give in to bitterness or unkind thoughts. Even towards Triwathon's seducer, for Parvon had a reputation for fairness and he would maintain it at all costs.

He prepared his desk, gathered up the maps and documents, the logistics of the walk to the ship and set them neatly together to the side of his workspace, fussed with the arrangement of writing materials and was ready and waiting when there were voices, outside.

'How may the King's Office help you today…?'

'I have an appointment with Master Parvon…'

'Ah. I am Melion, the Elf-in-Charge. Perhaps I can assist you? What is the nature of your…?'

It would have been unfair to enjoy Melion's discomfiture, and so before the conversation could become too embarrassing, Parvon opened his door and nodded a greeting.

'Master Thindorion, please come through.'

'Thank you, Master Parvon. And you also, Master Melion, kind of you to offer to help.'

'The King's Office is always happy to serve. Master Parvon, if you have a spare moment later…?'

Parvon inclined his head, but made no other answer to Melion as he opened wider his door and closed it after his visitor.

'Please, be seated.' He tried to be briskly business-like, to avoid any awkwardness. 'And so, sailing… it is not something to undertake lightly – I am obliged to say this to all the elves who consider it – although I did hear from the Lord of Gondolin that the ships can travel in both directions, if they must, this is not widely known or, indeed, encouraged. So once your ship casts off from the shores of Middle Earth, you will have left the Greenwood, and all it holds, behind forever…'

'When you put it like that…'

'Indeed.' Parvon smiled formally, but when one considered the matter…

When one considered the matter in such fashion, it could be considered as rather appealing; no more Melion, no more watching in fear and anguish as Triwathon lurched from one lover to another… if one had a relative already there, for example, a dear brother… and, there must be work for an advisor to do, even in Valinor someone must need organisational skills…

'I suppose it is a very big step. But it's the right one for me, now. I knew that as soon as Triwathon refused to sail, saying he had palace duties…' Thindorion's voice slowed on the last two words, and he paused. 'Now, that's a funny thing, isn't it?'

'I do not follow?' Parvon said. Triwathon was a topic he had hoped to avoid with Thindorion, but as he had brought up the name, Triw had best be talked over and then set aside…

'Well, does he have palace duties? I thought he was in charge of the garrison… Slip of the tongue, perhaps.'

'Perhaps so.' Although Triw did tend to be accurate in his manner of speaking, particularly with regards to his areas of responsibility. 'As you know, we are friends, and he has been always adamant that he will not sail; he is tied to the forest, he has told me.'

'And you, Master Parvon, are you tied to the forest?'

'Ah, that is not the point!' Parvon waved the question away. 'I am tied to my service, and that is far more demanding than the forest ever could be! Now, since you still intend to sail… I have gathered a few documents together for you, a map, a copy of the itinerary – the company will be escorted by the hunters and warriors going to duty in Ithilien, hence the timing of the march… it will take weeks, with elflings in the company, but his majesty is supporting this venture, and so those taking part must follow his wishes… some elves are travelling privately, I understand, but…'

'I think I'd rather take my time and wander down with the company,' Thindorion said. 'And I have how long to prepare?'

'I await a messenger hawk, or word from the Over-captain as to when the relief company will leave. He thinks less than four weeks, perhaps no more than two.'

'Two weeks…! I can do that, I can manage easily… my apprentices might be rather shocked, though. That is to say, who could be ready in so short a time? Could you, for instance?'

Parvo leaned fractionally back, startled by this appeal.

'I could be ready in two days, if I had to, not that it is relevant. After all, how long does one have to prepare, when Lord Námo calls one home?'

Thindorion grinned, shaking his head. 'Ai, I do love a cheerful outlook in an elf! But then, your dealings with the king, I suppose, make you privy to all manner of difficult matters; perhaps that is why you look sad so much. Well, I suppose I could make a start on things tonight… there's always a drawer full of odds and ends, is there not? Oh, a thought…' The dyer rose to his feet, gathered up the papers Parvon had pushed towards him. 'When does the next convoy go back? That is, could I send a letter, a message when it does?'

'I do not see why not. Strictly speaking, there is little personal correspondence between the New Palace and the Old, and you would be better served, I think, passing it to one of the escort guards. There is usually a full day to rest the horses and prepare, and they leave the following morning.'

'You guessed I intend to write to Triwathon? I want to thank him again for… everything.'

'Everything.' Parvon was unaware he'd spoken aloud until he noted Thindorion looking at him.

'Yes, we were good friends in his green youth, and he welcomed me back into his life as if I'd never been away, gave me time, his company, even tried to show me how to shoot straight again… Master Parvon, I know you're a private person and I don't want to be impertinent, but… but I need to know before I sail… Have I caused you harm, in any way?'

'I… that is an unexpected question… what would make you think…?'

'I… maybe I shouldn't press, but I don't want to carry this away with me, I…'

'There is no need to…'

'Are you the one? I… forgive me, that is, Triwathon said there was an elf who thought they were fëa-mates, he did not say who, but… but he said there was nobody in his heart except his dead friend and I was so eager to hear that I didn't want to know about this other elf at the time, but if… if I have harmed your fëa, or brought you unhappiness by my actions, I am sorry.'

He placed his hand on his heart and bowed.

'Master Parvon, I truly have no wish to hurt anyone, least of all you.'

'I… there is no need for this, I cannot think what…'

'I do not know how I know, not really, but… Palace duties, Triwathon said. Yet he stumbled over the start of the word. I think he was about to say, when I asked him to sail, that he couldn't leave Parvon. Perhaps he meant, with all the work still to do, but… but then there is that unhappiness about your eyes, Master Parvon, and I felt awkward, when we met this afternoon, in a way I had not felt before. Then, too, as I was leaving the New Palace, I said to Triwathon not to worry, that while I was here I would cultivate your friendship, and for an instant, he looked as if he might cheerfully murder me… and so I believe, Master Parvon, that you are the elf who is Triwathon's fëa-mate, and for some reason, he hasn't seen it, or didn't acknowledge it, and I am sorry...'

Parvon's throat closed and he looked down, nodding once. He did not want to acknowledge this, did not want to betray himself with an unseemly display, but… but…

But to be able to speak of this, albeit obliquely, would be such a relief to his fëa…!

'The situation between Commander Triwathon and… it is complicated. We have been friends for decades, and working so closely together made it imperative we understand one another, so there was a need for him to be aware of my… we simply worked around any awkwardness. I… in my day, you understand, elves of the King's Office did not expect a life outside service and duty; I began my training fully expecting never to find a spouse. I… if your visit to my friend the commander has lessened his grief, then I can only be glad for him. But as for anything more...'

Thindorion shook his head. 'You are a good friend to him, but… do you not see? It's different now. I'm sailing, he's not bound to me in any way, or to anyone. Your way is clear, you can go and speak to him, he can't keep hiding from his heart, I am sure of it…'

'You misunderstand, I fear. It is not that simple. Apart from any other considerations, Triwathon is serving at the New Palace and I am confined to my situation here.'

Thindorion shook his head.

'And you will not even try? I am sure, if you were to try…?'

Parvon was silent for a moment, torn between shock at the effrontery of this and acknowledging the genuine kindness that lay behind it. He fell back on formality, disregarding the appeal.

'Is there anything else the King's Office may help you with, Master Thindorion?'

'I'm sorry, Master Parvon, I meant no offence. It is just, the more I talk with you, the more I am sure Triwathon is wrong, and that you are right for each other…'

'Well. As I said, I have long since come to terms with life as a single ellon. I am sure Triwathon will find companionship again, in time. He has proven himself adaptable.'

Thindorion laughed. 'Oh, he has that…! And so, I yield! But, Master Parvon, if you will have it so, then there is no occasion for there to be any awkwardness between us, is there?'

'That is true, Master Thindorion. Even if it were any of my concern, I would bear you no ill-will for your friendship with our mutual friend.'

'Then there's no reason we can't be friends ourselves, is there?'

'I… it is flattering, but I am not quite sure how you are interpreting friend here…'

'In the most innocent manner possible, Master Parvon. It is true, I will leave soon, and you may wonder, what is the point? But I have it on the best authority that you are an excellent shot; I am dearly in need of some coaching with the short bow, ahead of the journey, and I would rather not do so in practice along side of experienced hunters and warrior-archers… what do you think?'

'I am not sure it would be appropriate…'

'But how is it inappropriate, may I ask? Shall we say tomorrow, then? Perhaps during the break for the daymeal, I expect you are busy outside of that… perhaps you know somewhere we can practice where we will not be overwhelmed with catcalling hunters?'

Parvon sighed, giving in. In fact, the thought of taking his bow out was strangely appealing; he had not practised for weeks…

And it would be good to have a friend who was not connected to the King's Office, for however short a time.

'Very well, then. Come to the Healers' Hall at that hour; I expect I can persuade Healer Nestoril to set up a target or two in her gardens.'

'I will be there. And I'll be in the Feasting Hall for the later serving tonight, if you're dining late…?'

'I am not sure how long my meeting with Master Melion will take.' Parvon gave a small smile. 'While I am grateful for the thought, do be sure not to delay your meal on my account.'

'I'd better not keep you, then,' Thindorion said, smiling. 'The sooner you begin your meeting, the sooner it will be over and I may see you later…?'

Parvon shook his head, but found himself smiling as he rose from his seat.

'I can walk you out, at least. And, Master Thindorion, I am grateful that you are still a friend to Triwathon.'

'It was my pleasure, Master Parvon, I… apologies, that sounds wrong. He was telling me about visiting Galadhrim, can you imagine…?' Thindorion shuddered as he gathered up the documents Parvon had prepared for him. 'No, best not, really. Good evening, then, until tomorrow.'

Once Thindorion had gone, Parvon closed the outer office door and squared his shoulders. Melion. It was not so long that all had been easy between them, but now, every encounter seemed like something Parvon had to brace himself for. He knocked on Melion's door and was summoned inside the office.

'Before we begin, you didn't think to let me know you were in your workroom, Master Parvon?'

Almost impossible not to sigh…

'I felt that to do so may have been misinterpreted, Master Melion. But you may tell the elves who clean that my robes have nicely dusted off my chair, they need not trouble.'

As an attempt at humour, it was meagre, Parvon realised, and so was unsurprised when Melion did not respond.

'What I wanted to discuss was his majesty's pubic audience tomorrow; I have another commitment and so cannot take it, you will need to attend. I know we said that when there were newly-arrived elves, you would not be required to take the audience, but the elves in question are going to their rooms tonight, I understand. Therefore they will not want you in the morning.'

'Their first day here, I need to be available to them, Master Melion. Oldor cannot substitute for me, these are the first arrivals since he joined us; he needs time to learn the potential issues. I know he could not help with the audience, but Baudh…'

'…is entirely unsuited to the task! No, I need you to do it, for what else should I do, defer the public audience? Or just let all the elves mill around and find their own way in? His majesty will be most displeased when I tell him!'

'It is unfortunate; I hope he will not be too angry with you.'

'With me? It is you who are refusing to take the audience! And from the sounds of what I have overheard, so that you can be sure to have time free for your new friend…'

'But you arrange the times of the audience, Master Melion. I have no say in that, nor in the timing of the convoys from the New Palace. I do assure you I am not putting my personal life before my duties. I could have told you earlier, had you asked, that I need to keep the morning free for the elves...'

'But I can never find you, Master Parvon!'

'I have been in the Healers' Hall all afternoon, until I left to come to my workroom; you saw me there yourself. I was hardly in hiding, Master Melion.'

'Not today, perhaps. But other times…? I am beginning to wonder what you do when you are not here…'

Parvon bit back a hot reply. Nestoril's words concerning Melion came back to him and, however much he resented this intrusion, however misplaced Melion's enquiries, the truth was he had been unavailable, hiding in his small, old rooms… and he did not want their working relationship to deteriorate entirely…

'Well, I will attend early, assign an order to the supplicants' interviews, and leave word with Master Oldor. If I am needed, he can then inform me, and if there is a clear order of audience to follow, he should be able to cope with that. I hope that is an acceptable compromise?'

'I suppose it will have to suffice. Very well. You may go.'