'And may I ask what matter you wish to bring to the king this day?' Parvon asked the elf before him.

'It is about our living arrangements; we were told there were no larger rooms available, but then there seems to be plenty of space for the elves from the New Palace, yourself excepted, of course, Master Parvon.'

'I see. And is this not something best dealt with by the King's Office, perchance?'

'We tried and Master Melion said we had accepted the rooms we were in decades ago and if they have been suitable for all this time, we should not complain now simply from envy, but it is not that…'

Ah. Had the elf come to him, or even spoken to Baudh, perhaps the same answer, phrased more tactfully, would have had a different response. But too late for that now.

'Would you be willing to allow me to enquire of our accommodations elf?' Parvon suggested. 'As you can see, there are many elves waiting this morning…'

'No, because I don't think the Elf-in-Charge will allow us to be helped by anyone. He seemed to disapprove.'

'I can quite see you are unhappy with the situation. Very well, I will try to put you towards the start of the morning, if you will take a seat here…' Parvon ushered the elf towards the bench where he was putting the priority elves; several supplicants were already in place there, and the unhappily-housed ellon joined them. 'Good, and if you will excuse me…'

He continued around the room, sorting elves onto different benches according to priority. Not everything was easily quantifiable, and so he tried to keep matters interesting for the king by mixing up the various problems. Several elves he sent on their way with recommendations that they simply read the information boards, or that their problems were not something his majesty could help with, but even so there were still eight elves waiting by the time he had finished sorting them. He made a note of their names and order of going, in case he had to turn the duty over to Master Oldor, and waited for the nod from the guard that told him the king had entered the Hall of Audience by his private access.

He approached the king, bowed, and ushered in the first querent, introducing their concerns briefly and then waiting by the doorway to be either dismissed by the king, or to attend to his instructions concerning the matter brought.

When he left the Hall of Audience to usher in the third supplicant of the day – the same whose accommodations were now inadequate – he found Master Melion outside. He murmured a greeting, unsure whether Melion's business was over and he was come to take over, or the Elf-in-Charge was simply making sure Parvon was where he had said he would be, and was about to beckon to the elf when Melion spoke.

'How long is the delay this morning, Master Parvon?'

'Everyone here is waiting for their audience, Master Melion. No more than an hour, I should think, probably less.'

'I do not have time to waste waiting…'

'Then allow me to send for Master Oldor and…'

'I seek audience with his majesty.'

'Oh, I see. If you would take a seat, then, Master Melion, I will mention to our king that you are here and ask his pleasure.'

He tipped his head, once more gestured for the unhappily-housed elf to join him, and ushered him into the king's presence; he did not see why he should simply let Melion push in…

Thranduil heard the supplicant out in silence, his hand supporting his chin. When the elf faltered to a stop, and bowed, he raised a silvered eyebrow.

'Really, Parvon? You have not sorted this matter out yourself?'

'It was not I to whom this supplicant spoke, sire, or I may have been able to be of service.'

'Very well. You.' The king pointed at the elf, who swallowed hard, uncomfortable. 'Have your accommodations shrunk?'

'N… no, sire. But… but my family, as I thought I had mentioned, is about to increase. My wife and I are last kin to two elflings whose nearer relations died in the recent disaster, and although they are not with us yet, we expect them once the healers in the New Palace think them well enough, and so we wish to be prepared.'

'I see. The kingdom is grateful, then, that you will take under your care these children of the forest. Parvon, speak to Master Baudh to arrange a meeting with this elf and his wife, and see what you can do.'

'Gladly, sire. If I may mention, my king, Master Melion is outside and intends seeking audience…'

'Is it important?'

'To Master Melion, no doubt.'

'It can wait, then, until the end. Very well. Bring the next elf forward.'

'As my king desires.'

It was not what Melion, desired, however, nor Parvon. The Elf-in-Charge scowled each time Parvon came out of the Hall of Audience, and so fierce was his expression that two of the waiting supplicants decided they could defer their business until another day, and fled.

'Why have you kept me waiting?' Melion hissed, as Parvon left the Hall of Audience with the last of the supplicants. 'This is not what I expected of you, Parvon!'

'In fact, it was his majesty's suggestion,' Parvon said. 'But our king will see you now, Master Melion.'

Melion lifted his head and entered the Hall of Audience, bowing low to his king.

'Melion? We met this morning. Why would you require pubic audience?' Thranduil asked.

'Because, sire, I wish this to be a matter of public note. I am grateful that there is opportunity to discuss matters, of course, at our morning meetings but this is a different topic.'

'Very well. Parvon, you need not stay.'

'But, sire,' Melion spoke up before Parvon had bowed himself from the room. 'The matter concerns Master Parvon. He ought to stay, if it pleases you.'

'Nothing about this pleases us, Melion, it strikes us as unnecessary. Very well.' The king lifted a languid hand. 'Commence.'

'It is to do with your majesty's King's Office. There is an elf there whose behaviour has become intolerable. He is secretive, unreliable and does not take orders well. Matters have come to such a pass that I feel obliged to personally ensure the work with which he has been entrusted, has been done. It is coming to the point, sire, where it is either him or me; if he does not go, then I fear I must!'

'I see. And you have consulted with other members of staff concerning this elf?'

'No, sire, it is not necessary.'

'Master Parvon, come forward. What do you make of this? You look somewhat outraged…'

Parvon came forward, shaking his head as he tried to master his expression.

'Sire, I do not know of anyone in the King's Office whose behaviour has not been appropriate at all times, unless Master Melion is referring to me. We have had some issues, but I had thought we were working through them to mutual…'

'Sire, this is not quite accurate, I have done my utmost to be accommodating, but…'

'If it were not obvious from your stance, and tone, Melion, I would suspect you of collusion here.'

'Sire?'

'Of attempting to demonstrate your dissatisfaction with Master Parvon so that I will give in to his recently-unspoken but still present wish to return to the New Palace. However, this is not the case, I deem. Very well, Master Melion, having made clear your position, we will consider it. You may go. Master Parvon, you may stay.'

It was an uncomfortable wait, with Thranduil's eyes on him until the door closed behind Melion. Even then, it was a few moments before the king exhaled and sat more upright in his regal chair.

'I hope you understand, Parvon, why I do not wish you to return to the New Palace?'

'In fact, sire, I do not. But my understanding is unnecessary; my service and obedience to my king does not require me to comprehend your majesty's intent.'

'Very well. I do not quite know why Melion seems to have decided he does not like you, Master Parvon, but I was sore tempted to tell him to pack, I assure you.'

'I am grateful, my king. I shall endeavour to…'

'It is not something you need do anything about, Parvon. Attempting to coexist will make the palace more peaceful, perhaps. Melion shall hear my thoughts on the matter in due course. In the interim, continue as you are. Well, your colleague has had sufficient time to leave the outer hall, you should be able to go without him haranguing you, Master Parvon.'

'Thank you, my king.' Parvon bowed. 'We all know, of course, that haranguing is your prerogative, sire, and not a task to be devolved to a minion.'

The king fought against a smile.

'Quite,' he said. 'That is all for now.'

Parvon left quietly, relieved to find Melion hadn't decided to wait for him, and made his way to his small, private rooms to think things through.

At least the topic of the morning was different from that of last evening; it had taken him long into the night to process the chaos of his mind, to calm himself to the thought of Triwathon and Thindorion, to accept the dyer's offer of friendship as just that. It would not be without its difficulties, of course; befriending the latest lover of the one you loved was hardly sensible – but knowing the association was over, as far as Thindorion was concerned, had given Parvon no real reason to refuse the big elf's kindness. And if reports were anything to go by, he really did need to learn how to shoot properly…

That dealt with, the morning had brought a sort of resigned calm with it. Parvon had been trying not to notice the thought that kept creeping back, that, now Triwathon had moved beyond the glamour of Glorfindel, now he had realised he could be intimate with other elves, he would find the chance to do so, and surely it would not be long before Triw's name would be romantically coupled with some elf or other… but at least, in his vulnerable time, he'd had a friend to guide him through…

The day, then, had started with Parvon tired from lack of proper rest and thoughts of Triw tormenting him still, unsure whether it would be worse to be present, and see Triwathon fall for elf after unsuitable elf, or to be unaware of what was passing, who might be taking up his spare hours, his nights. Now, though, Parvon's thoughts had been given another direction and were more immediately centred… Melion's verbal attack, made in presence of the king, no less, had been completely unexpected and, really, out of character… nor were all Melion's claims unfair, if one chose to read them in such a way. But Parvon had not thought it more than a temporary clash, something that time would smooth over… to hear Melion was prepared to lay down such an ultimatum was not only shocking, but obscurely distressing… he really had not done anything to deserve it…

Perhaps it was just as Nestoril said, that Melion was prone to occasional lapses. Yet the difference between his behaviour on Parvon's arrival, and now, was really quite marked…

There was not time, however, to linger and ponder; he had matters to attend to, whether Melion liked him or not. His first visit ought to be to the Healers' Hall, to thank them for their attentions to the new arrivals… oh, and he needed to ask if he could have a practice range set up in their gardens… although, at present, the last thing Parvon wanted was to spend an hour teaching someone to shoot, even – or perhaps especially – Thindorion.

But when Parvon put the notion to Healer Nestoril, she thought it was a very good idea.

'To give the elves who will sail a chance to brush up their skills without the guard watching, it is a very good thought,' she said. 'I will arrange for a brace of targets for you for when, did you say?'

'For the hour of the daymeal,' Parvon replied. 'Although to begin, it is just Thindorion. He asked my aid, or I would not push myself forward…'

'But it is an excellent opportunity to involve the other elves who are sailing, which would make it part of your official duties, and then you are a fine archer, Parvon. And, if I may say, Thindorion is one of my favourites, not that I am supposed to have any…'

'I understand. He does seem to have a way with him that some elves might find… no matter. The convoy elves, did any stay with you overnight?'

'In fact, no, they were all happy to be shown to their new rooms.' Nestoril smiled. 'It was wonderful to see Baudh and Oldor working together. I think the idea of introducing them to each other was little short of inspired!'

'I am glad they are happy with each other, and in their work,' Parvon said. 'Until later, then, Healer.'

He left the Healers' Hall and decided on courtesy calls to the newly-arrived elves, in part to apologise for not staying all afternoon with them the previous day, and to make sure all was well.

'For I had to attend his majesty this morning,' he told more than one family, 'and was concerned lest you felt abandoned…'

But the elves were comfortable and content, and there was much praise for 'Young Master Oldor, it is so nice to have friends from the New Palace here, Master Parvon, and the rooms are bigger than we had expected, and perhaps having stone over our heads is better than dragons…'

Privately, Parvon wondered how long it would be before the dragon attack faded from thought, longer for those caught up directly in events than for those to whom it was just a story and glimpses of burned trees, no doubt. This took his thoughts back to Triwathon, and he wondered if his friend was coping with still being there, so near to where Glorfindel died. He shook his head at himself, and tried to leave the thought behind him in the corridors.

At the last place on his list, he heard familiar laughter from inside the room and, when he knocked, the door opened to reveal Baudh on a settle in the corner, having his braids tugged by an enthusiastic elfling.

'Ah, I was just come to see how you are settling in,' Parvon asked. 'I can see my colleague is at home, at least!'

'Oh, we are very pleased with everything, Master Parvon,' an elleth said, rescuing Baudh and cuddling her braid-tugging elfling close. 'It already feels like home.'

'That's good to hear. No, Master Baudh, there is no need to disturb yourself…'

'But I was merely playing with the little one, and accepting the hospitality of our new friends,' Baudh said, rising to his feet. 'Although there is a matter I wanted to put to you, if you have a moment, Master Parvon?'

Making appropriate farewells, they left the new family, and when Parvon would have led off towards the King's Office, Baudh hesitated.

'Could we talk in your rooms, is that possible?' he said. 'Only Melion may be at his desk…'

'Of course we may, if you wish.'

Once there, seated in the chairs in the small living space, Baudh began.

'It's Melion,' he said. 'I know he's being odd… and, I should warn you, he was talking about an audience with the king…'

'That was this morning,' Parvon told him. 'He insisted on my being present. It was not a comfortable discussion, unfortunately.'

'Well, he went to see Naneth a few days ago. She had a suggestion – that he sail with her. No mention of Gilrin and the family, just Melion. And, somehow, Gilrin heard, and there have been… discussions, and another talk to Naneth this morning, which I thought was why Melion wasn't leading the order of audiences…'

'It would solve the problem of a proper person to keep records of the journey, I suppose. But I would not have thought Melion would want to go? He was so vocal about not travelling with Master Ravomen?'

'Not in the circumstances, not without Gilrin and some of the family, at least. He's being pulled every way possible, and he doesn't know if he wants to stay, or go, and Gilrin isn't keen to leave yet… I don't know what Adar would say, or Canadion, and Faerveren would be unhappy… but Melion always knows what to do, you see, he's always been sure of himself, and his life, and now suddenly, he doesn't know what's for the best, and whatever he chooses, someone is going to be unhappy, or annoyed, or such, and he's used to being popular…'

'My parents did not even think to ask my opinion,' Parvon said. 'Let alone enquire whether I would wish to accompany them. I can sympathise, but really, if this is the reason Melion has been so out of sorts, he needs to recognise that his private life and his private life are now in conflict, and it is not helpful to anyone with whom he has to work…'

'That's true enough.'

'But as far as it goes, there will not be room on this ship for all the family. Really, the lists are full, and I have more elves than I officially have berths for them; I might be able to find a place for one more, if that one were willing to go where he was put, but that is all, really. He would have to wait for the next vessel if he wished to take anyone with him.'

'Do you have any idea how long that would be? Only if Melion carries on like this, I'll be sailing myself, if I can talk Oldor into coming with me…'

'No, Thindorion, you need to lift your line more, strengthen your centre body and become part of the ground, allow yourself to…'

'Parvon, why don't you just show me what you mean?'

Parvon left his place next to Thindorion to stand further in front and a little towards him, careful not to get in line with his bow and the target. 'Stand so, and…'

'I meant,' Thindorion lowered his bow, 'Triwathon stood behind me and moved my elbow to the right position, and it was much easier…'

'Thindorion, you are talking about an elf who formally tutored short bow. Now, if you want to be tutored by an elf of the guard, that's fine, but I was taught by my brother, and he was a better shot than I…'

'All right! Perhaps I was just trying to encourage you to be more tactile…'

'And why should I wish to be? There is no need, if you comprehend the lesson, you will then feel the stance. Try again, lift your bow… not so high… feel the link between every part of your bow and arrow and your body, and the ground, and see how the target is also connected to the ground and then breathe, hold, sight and release…'

The thunk of the arrow hitting the home caused Parvon to nod. 'Very good, you see? You do not need mauling around to find the target!'

'It's the outer, though. Imagine what I could do with a little steering…'

'Perhaps I can help there, since Master Parvon is reluctant?' Nestoril called from the door into the Healers' Hall. 'May I join you? I have been watching you, and remembering how much I enjoy taking my bow out. I could do with a little practice.'

'Please do, Healer,' Parvon's smile was genuine, and he tried not to admit to the relief he felt. It was just Thindorion's way, it seemed, to be so friendly that it could seem lightly flirty, but it still made him a little uncomfortable. 'It is the least we can do, since you allow us to use your gardens.'

'I am glad to help. Will you come again?'

Parvon glanced at Thindorion, who was grinning.

'If it is not an inconvenience, Healer, I think perhaps we will.'

'Let me get my bow, then, and see if I can still remember which bit of the arrow goes where.'

'Tomorrow, same time?' Thindorion asked while they waited for the Healer's return.

'I am not sure I can. Tomorrow I must be available to those who intend sailing…'

'Of whom I am one, so if you are available to me, that counts as work, does it not?'

'It will if I gather other elves to practice, I suppose.'

'Ah, but I liked the privacy of our session… not that I mind Nestoril joining us, of course, but…'

'I am beginning to believe you are incorrigible, Master Thindorion, and no matter how much I try to be accommodating, you will just ask for more…'

'Ah, the use of that word 'Master' shows I have offended you…'

'Not in the least; I seek merely to preserve the distance between us to its proper levels.'

'But as you have said, I'm incorrigible. So would it not save time if you were to give in?'

'A thought: I will lead lessons for those who will sail, of which you will be one, and thus I can spend two hours working with everyone, and then, we can have supper in the Feasting Hall privately, if you wish.'

'Ah, but my idea of private dining would be in your rooms, or my rooms…'

'You see? You take what is offered and reject it for the impossible…'

'But did you not just say that if I aim, I am more likely to hit my target?'

'Which you will never do, if you stand so sloppily! Now come, brace your back and feel the tension, lift your bow and nock the arrow, watch how I do so and…' Parvon held his breath, let fly the arrow, and gestured to the target where his shot was still reverberating in the gold. 'Thus is it done.'

Applause, from the doorway, and Nestoril, carrying her own archery equipment, came across to join them.

'Well done, Parvon, well hit, indeed!'

Parvon bowed. 'Ah, but you are my superior in every way. Please – if you would show Thindorion…? And do feel free to physically adjust his positioning, apparently he does not mind…'