Several days had elapsed between the conversation with Thindorion about the renaming of 'Glorfindel Blue' when word came that a group of four elves had been seen on the Old Road, and contact had been made by the guards on flet-duty in the area. In due course, a more formal party of warriors, resplendent in dress uniforms, were sent out to meet them at the boundary between the inner perimeter and the outer, and bring them in.

Parvon, snatching a hasty day-meal with Thindorion on the day of the expected arrival, talked as he ate.

'…but fortunately, Master Melion spoke to his majesty, and the wagons for the next convoy have not been sent back, else I would have New Palace elves to settle as well as important guests to support. It was not done for my benefit, though, but so that as soon as the memory stone is ready to go north, the wagons will be here, ready to take it. So when the gemstone returns again, it will have resettlers for company… and then my next task will be to sort out the last details for you and your travelling companions…'

'You make it sound as if I'm off for a jaunt in the woods, not leaving Middle Earth forever,' Thindorion said, trying to smile.

Parvon paused, aware he'd been rattling off words without his usual caution, an effect Thindorion seemed to have on him of late. He considered before replying, and when he did, he spoke with deliberation.

'Well, no, I appreciate the seriousness of your decision, Thindo, and I hope you do not think you are just an item on a list; of course you are not. I have of late wondered myself what it would take for me to change my mind and sail, and I am a little in awe of those of you who are ready.'

'You know, for a moment there, I thought you were going to offer to come with me!'

Parvon shook his head, smiling. 'I am still needed here,' he said. 'Besides, there is no reason even for me to accompany the group, as you are now so adept in all the recording protocols.'

Thindo threw his head back and laughed. 'Ah, and what a wonderful way you have of deflecting me and turning the subject! First you honour me by using my short name, and then you flatter me.'

'In turn, I am the one flattered. Now, I am afraid I should get back to my desk; it is fortunate I am not part of the deputation meeting the Imladris elves at the perimeter, Master Melion has had everyone, including the warriors, practising their best greetings... If you have nothing pressing, feel free to use the excuse of needing to double-check the abbreviation system as a reason to accompany me.'

'Ah, I wish I could!' Thindo sighed. 'But Naru wants me around the workshop. What you said – that he was jealous of the time I spent with you – it was almost true. Last night he confessed that he would miss me, that he had been plucking up courage to speak out, and then before he could, I ran away to Triwathon, and then came back and befriended you… then he had heard some bizarre tale that you were lodging with me, so he thought it was more! I am glad he spoke, it has cleared the air on many fronts, but I really do not know how I am meant to behave towards him now…'

Parvon shrugged.

'As you ever did,' he said. 'That is how Triwathon was around me, when he knew. Initially, it was uncomfortable, but we learned to take each other at our word; I acknowledged he would not change his mind, and he accepted I could not change my heart. Assuming you have not suddenly found he is your one true love…?' Parvon waited for Thindorion to finish a vigorous protest. '…then the only thing that is different, is that you know his heart. Besides, you do not have to worry about him for long.'

'You comfort me. No doubt I will worry, but… to be frank, I tend to think it is the very fact that I am leaving which makes him bold, and convinced he has feelings for me. Once I have gone, and he is busy with work, he will soon forget me. It sounds callous, but…'

'You cannot be responsible for another person's emotions, Thindorion. The shortening time available has, perhaps, focussed his mind. Well, I will see you at practice tomorrow, if not before.'

He pushed away his plate as he rose and nodded to the dyer, his mind already on the score of matters on his 'urgent' list.

The King's Office was quiet, Melion's room empty, no sign of Baudh or Oldor (who were doing a final last check on the chambers for the guests) with just a faint lilt of sound from the Matters Matrimonial Department as Mistress Araspen and Mistress Merlinith talked lightly; it was the perfect background for Parvon to help him concentrate and he was soon lost in advanced sailing timetables, emergency provision, bedrolls and similar concerns.

Abruptly, he set down his writing materials, his mind straying to the conversation with Thindo.

…what would it take to convince him to sail…?

Parvon sighed. Perhaps not as much as once it would, he admitted to himself. But there was work to do, and he really should not allow himself to daydream…

'Master Parvon? What are you doing here?'

Parvon jumped. It wasn't often his majesty deigned to visit his own King's Office, but when he did, it was never just to pass the time of day…

'Sire? I am currently quantifying emergency supplies for…'

'I meant,' Thranduil said with ice in his tone so sharp one could cut oneself on it, 'rather than being on the way to meet the delegation from Imladris. Explain.'

'Oh. Your pardon, my king did not know you wished me there; nor, I think, did Master Melion, since he took the duty upon himself…'

'Yes, he did, did not he…? Of course I would want my most experienced advisor present! It is too late, I suppose, for you to hasten after them…? No, the party will by now be on their way home…' Thranduil compressed his lips in displeasure. 'Very well. You must attend at the main gates instead once word comes they are nearing the bridge. Then, when Melion offers to take charge of Celeborn and Elladan, as no doubt he will, your duty will be to attend Masters Melpomaen and Lindir; I understand they are to be considered the chief mourners of the party?'

'That is so, sire.'

'Attend them well, Parvon. Their comfort is paramount, whatever other duties you need to delegate.'

Dusk was falling as Melion led the party across the final bridge, and if he was surprised to find Parvon standing before the lantern-lit external palace gates, he hid it well, signalling the halt and waiting for Parvon's formal greeting.

A bow, courteous and deep.

'My lords, be welcome to the Halls of his majesty Thranduil, Elvenking. If you will be pleased to dismount, your horses will be taken to stabling and yourselves to comfort.'

Melion swung down from his saddle and gestured towards his fellow-advisor.

'Indeed, my lords Celeborn, Elladan, if you will come with me, his majesty wished me to bring you before him immediately… Parvon, will you assist the rest of the party…?'

'Master Melion, of course.' Parvon gave a formal, courteous smile with another bow towards the elves indicated, taking in their appearance as well as he could without being obvious. Although he had met Lord Elladan once or twice, and knew Celeborn to be Thranduil's distant kinsman, the other two were known to him only by repute, and that mostly from Triwathon's gossip. The commander, on those occasions when he talked of time spent at Rivendell, had talked of Lindir's wonderful voice and skilled musicianship, had even mentioned Melpomaen as one who loved to hear travellers' tales… 'You are most welcome. Please, allow me to assist?'

There was a travelling harp in its wrapping fixed to the saddle of the furthest elf from where he stood, which meant the elf who now looked towards him must be Melpomaen...

Melpomaen. Whatever Parvon had expected of Glorfindel's latest lover, he had not expected him to be quite so beautiful.

Soft grey eyes and hair like shadows falling, a gentle olive sheen to his skin and a generous mouth, currently trying to smile despite the distress that tugged at him. He dismounted, fluid and free in his movements, graceful and feline as he leaned in to caress his horse's nose.

'Her name is Silverdrop,' he told the waiting attendant, 'and she likes dried blackberries.'

'She will be well cared for, Master Melpomaen,' Parvon said, taking the opportunity to step forward and smile in a less-formal way as his attention turned to the other elf; he, too, was very attractive, with huge, gentle brown eyes and rich, brown hair that shone like polished mahogany. 'And you must be Lindir. Welcome to the Old Palace of Erin Lasgalen; I am sorry you see it in less than happy circumstances.'

'You are very kind.' In turn, Lindir dismounted and gave over his horse. 'I do not know what I was expecting, but…'

'…but not this. I understand Imladris is rather beautiful, but very much a community of buildings. As you will see, we live a little differently here. If you would both follow me, I will take you to the rooms selected for you. We hope you will be comfortable, if not, if anything I or my colleagues may do to assist, we will be glad to do.'

Lindir and Melpomaen drew together as Parvon led the way. They seemed overawed, disinclined for conversation, so he filled the silence with simple courtesy, explanations and information as he took them into the palace complex.

'To the right, most of the corridors lead to private living quarters. The left wing mostly is set aside for practical needs; housekeeping, sewing rooms, the kitchens… Further along, that corridor leads off to the Healers' Hall…'

'Is there a Healer named Nestoril?' Lindir asked. 'I met such a lady after the Battle of the Three Dragons…'

'Yes, she is our Healer in Charge, and much honoured amongst us,' Parvon said. 'You will see her, no doubt, while you are here, for the Starlight Gemstone will be placed in one of the rooms attached to her Halls so that everyone who wishes may speak their memories and pay their respects. Our way takes us down this central passage; it leads to the public, communal areas; the gardens, the Feasting Hall and the King's Office are all along here.'

'How high the rock is overhead, and so many passageways!' Melpomaen said. 'It is very… spacious.'

'It can seem bewildering to visitors, but don't worry; as you can see, there are signs between the wall sconces to help all find their way. And there is a room at the end of each corridor where one of the palace attendants will be stationed; you can always ask there for directions, or anything you need. Here on this side is the King's Office; it is where my workroom is, and Master Melion's too; we post information notices, as you see, so that palace residents can keep up with the latest proclamations. Along here, to the right, that is the way to the Feasting Hall.'

'M… Master Advisor, I do not think I heard your name?' Lindir said, his melodic voice tentative.

Parvon smiled. 'Parvon,' he said. 'Simply Parvon, there is no need for formality. And we are here.'

He gestured towards the corridor to the left, led them past two doors, and opened the third – Baudh's former rooms – before passing to his former doorway on the other side of the passage and opening that, too.

'Both are equally furnished,' he said. 'This one has a larger bathing pool, and both have crystal lightwells and washing cascades.

His old room had been beautifully appointed, no trace of his short occupancy remaining, which was quite as it should be, of course – and Lindir walked in ahead of Melpomaen, looked around.

'It is very comfortable,' he said. 'Are these rooms near those of Celeborn and Elladan, do you know?'

'They are in the next corridor along.'

'Oh. So not… there are no adjoining…? or neighbouring rooms available?'

Parvon spread his hands. 'Unfortunately, we did not have four proper guest rooms all on one corridor…'

'And you have had injured and frightened elves to house, I am sure,' Melpomaen said with a smile. 'It must have been dreadful for everyone! Arveldir said he thought many families had lost their homes entirely.'

'We are supporting them as best we can,' Parvon said, wondering whether Melpomaen had just adroitly changed subject and if so, why. 'If it is not an intrusion, might I ask…? How is Arveldir, and particularly, how is his husband? Master Erestor was injured, and the journey must have taken its toll?'

'Ah, it is kind of you to ask! It minds me, though – we were given a letter for you from Arveldir…' Melpomaen reached inside his tunic and took out a small, wax-sealed document which he handed to Parvon. 'But yes, they both are well. Erestor had ridden too fast and too hard, and spent a night in the infirmary, but he was back to normal when we left.'

'That's good to know. And thank you, I am very grateful for the letter; I will read it presently, when I can devote my full attention to it. So, if you would both like to follow me into the other chambers…'

Parvon left his old rooms and led the way into Baudh's former quarters, glad to see no trace of former occupancy remained; Baudh had been a little less particular than Parvon himself, but empty rooms always looked tidy, and the comfortable seating, bright rugs, and fire burning softly in the hearth gave a warm welcome to the room. Yet the comfort and ease seemed rather lost on Lindir in particular, who was suddenly looking rather tired and worn.

'This room was selected deliberately,' Parvon said. 'Not because it is opulent, or vast, but because, many years ago when your friend the Seneschal of Imladris came to stay after the Battle of the Three Dragons, these rooms were his.'

Silence. Then a choked gasp, and Lindir turned away, weeping, Melpomaen instinctively reaching to hold him, his own eyes filling with tears. He nodded over Lindir's shoulder, an apology, perhaps thanks.

Parvon bowed his head and gave the two time to recover by speaking his own personal tribute.

'The New Palace was in my care, mine and Garrison Commander Triwathon's, and we had limited resources. Your friend's help was invaluable, and so we honour his memory, and we are grateful for his sacrifice. It is useless to say so – it will not bring him back, or ease the pain of those who loved him – but there are elves and elflings in these passages and halls who would be dead, but for his courage.'

Melpomaen shifted his hold on Lindir so that his arm was around his shoulders. He led him to the sofa, and sat with him.

'You should know, Parvon, that although he was my dear friend, he was to Lindir as to a brother, so we both feel his loss greatly…'

'I have lost a beloved brother. I feel for you both… but now, I intrude, so if…'

'No, don't go,' Lindir said, with more urgency than manners as he sniffed hugely and wiped his tears with the back of his hand. 'We want to thank you, and… something.' He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a cloth-wrapped object. 'This is the stone, we've been talking to it all the way here, and telling our memories, and… well. We weren't sure the one who met us – Melion? would approve, we don't want to do anything wrong…'

'What my friend means is, we would be very grateful if you would share your memories to the stone with us. We understand that you were there, when he… at the end?'

'I was indeed. It would honour me to remember the Seneschal of Imladris for you.'

Lindir unwrapped the stone with trembling hands, and Melpomaen took it from him, nestled it amongst its cloths on the table while Parvon sat in a chair close to their sofa.

'I remember him,' Parvon began. 'I remember when first I met him, and my friend Triwathon was so enraptured with him… at the time, of course, Triwathon and I were not so close as we later became… but I also remember that most of the Old Palace was equally admiring. He had a kilt – blue leather, a gift from Triwathon – and he wore it to great effect…'

'Ah, we all remember the kilt!' Melpomaen smiled.

'…but I also remember how unstinting he was with his time, how he offered his help wherever it was needed. And then, of course, after the War of the Ring, after everything… and then…'

(And then he had to show up and play the hero! As if Triwathon and the garrison couldn't have managed a few dragons…

Except, of course, they had needed all the help they could get…)

'Arveldir was there, he will have told you already how bravely your friend fought, how he ignored his own safety to protect the rest of us, cut off by fire as we were becoming. He made it possible for Erestor and Celeguel to carry the elflings to safety, and at the end, he killed the last of the creatures including the dam…'

He paused, reached across to pick up the gemstone. It was as it had been when he selected it; large, unfaceted, glowing a soft amber yellow and with tiny imperfections in its depths.

Somehow, though, it felt heavier now…

'I forget who was first there; Triwathon, I think, the rest of us chasing through the forest trying to follow… Arveldir and I got there at the same time, different paths, some Galadhrim arrived… Triw was supporting his head, talking to him, some wanted to move the dragon off Glor… off your friend's legs, Arveldir wanted them to wait but he… your friend… wanted it moved… I saw him look over Triw's shoulder and smile, and I dropped to my knees and saw him… stop. His smile, so relieved, so peaceful… we all wept, well… the Galadhrim did not, they simply looked confused by us weeping, but who could not but mourn his passing? I stayed with Triwathon and tidied the area around, helped arrange your friend more comfortably while others took the sad news back. We escorted him in honour to the New Palace, where he lay in state and we gave him all the honour we could. Later, we took him to his rest in the forest. He is under the most beautiful tree in Erin Lasgalen, a fine beech. In season, flowers bloom yellow around its roots, it is a lovely place. I remember him, and I honour him, and on our Night of the Names, I talked of him with my friend Triwathon. He is much missed, he was much loved; I am sure that is as great a legacy as any could leave, be they hero or otherwise.'

Melpomaen nodded and took the gemstone back from Parvon.

'This,' he said. 'I know precious stones, a little, and I recognise how rare is this gem. Some in Imladris wondered, when they saw it, but it is perfect for him; it is golden, it is imperfect, but for all that, it is beautiful. The one who chose this must have known him well.'

Parvon shook his head. 'Not well, for it was my honour to select the gemstone. But I saw enough of him to know he would not have wanted a perfectly-faceted diamond, that he would rather his legacy was to be seen as he was, not as the songs had him. I am glad I chose well for him, for your sakes.'

He looked up, tipping his head to one side and wondering which of these two elves would be the easiest to approach, decided it was irrelevant, and pressed on, changing the subject himself now.

'I also know he would be honoured by the journey you have made for him, and would wish you to have every comfort. Bearing this in mind, I do hope one of you will tell me how I can put right whatever is amiss with the rooms I have shown you. For there is something wrong, and if I have erred in supposing you would wish to be here, where your friend has been, or if…'

'It is my fault!' Lindir said, shaking his head. 'Forgive me, I did not mean to sound unimpressed, they really are very good rooms, I am being silly, it is just… nothing. The rooms will be fine.'

'Yes. But will you? I am charged by his majesty, too, to ensure your comfort, Master Lindir.'

Melpomaen cleared his throat and put a protective arm around Lindir's shoulders. For a moment, Parvon was struck by the picture they presented, how beautiful together they were. How automatic was Melpomaen's care for his friend; he recognised something in it, saw there was more to Melpomaen's attention than simple friendship; it was a glimpse of love.

'There is something one does, when one cannot sleep. Or if there are …dreams,' the elf said. 'One taps on the wall, and one's friend in the next room, hears, taps back…'

Dreams. Parvon remembered the night Triwathon had knocked on his door, seeking escape from dreams…

'Many elves of the New Palace were visited by evil dreams, after the dragons. Warriors, many years after their battles, are haunted yet in their sleep. It seems a good idea, a way to offer support without intruding.'

'It is something Glorfindel used to do,' Melpomaen explained. 'He and Lindir lodged in adjoining rooms for a time. I have said, they were like family.'

'Mel!' Lindir protested. 'His name, you know we are not supposed to…! Master Parvon, have we done something terrible?'

Parvon smiled as reassuringly as he could.

'We accorded Glorfindel full Silvan honours. But as to whether that means he will hear his name, I could not tell you. However, I do not think he would mind. May I make a suggestion, on another note?' He waited for Lindir to nod. 'If you do not mind the rooms for what they are, I can arrange to have a second bed brought in. The seating could be moved elsewhere, this can serve as a second sleeping chamber, and you might use the other chambers during the day, for sitting, talking together, however you pass your time, if you wished. But you could both, then, share these rooms, and tap away to your hearts' content… although I hope you will sleep well, and without the need for such consolation.'

'That would be wonderful,' Melpomaen said firmly, glancing at Lindir as he spoke. 'We have shared a room before now, so these quarters will be perfect. Both of us will be within reach of the memory of our friend's presence.'

'We are not… we do not… only a room, you understand…' Lindir said with considerable dignity despite his broken words. 'There is a lady… we are sundered, she is far away, but she is in my heart.'

'I quite understand,' Parvon said, remembering a vague snatch of gossip about the minstrel and a human lady which had come to him via Triwathon. 'Perhaps now that travelling is become less dangerous again, you will be able to seek each other again. Be that as it many, since you and the Seneschal were as brothers, and he and Master Melpomaen were close, surely that makes you and Master Melpomaen honour-kin. Why should you not share a room, or a set of rooms?'

'Why not indeed?' Melpomaen murmured. 'Master Parvon, thank you! That is all we need, I think, to make our stay as pleasant as it may be.'

Parvon rose to his feet and bowed.

'Then I will speak to the corridor attendant, and someone will come to escort you to the Feasting Hall; you will hear the bells sound. His majesty will wish for your presence at the top table, to honour your friend. If the gemstone could be brought, I think the intention is to display it in place next to the king.'

'You do not want it now, do you?' Lindir asked, looking as if he wanted to snatch the gemstone and clasp it to him. 'Because we have not finished, there are still things…'

'I imagine you must have many memories,' Parvon said as gently as he could. 'This is the purpose of the gemstone, of course; to be a repository, a source of comfort and shared grieving. Normally, the gemstone stays with the family for as long as they need it.'

'How long, usually, would they keep it?'

'It varies, in truth.' Parvon sighed. 'My brother… it was four days, I think before we allowed the gem to go to the barracks; he died in battle, you see, and his fellow warriors wanted to speak of him.'

'Four days!' Lindir shook his head. 'Was that long enough?'

'I will never be done missing him, wishing I could speak to him, wanting to share my day with him as sometimes we did, but for the stone's purpose to be fulfilled, yes, it was enough. But each family is different, and some take weeks, and others only need a few hours to say what matters to them most… if it will help, I will come personally to escort you to the Feasting Hall, that you may keep the gemstone as long as possible, and then, of course, it will be displayed so you may still speak to it in the days to come.'

'Thank you, Master Parvon. It's very kind of you to be so understanding,' Melpomaen said. 'Sometimes, it is hard to let go.'

'Yet sometimes, one must, for one's own sake as well as for the one lost. I will see you later, then. Should you need anything meanwhile, speak to the attendant in the room at the end, and if you need me before, have him send word to my workroom; I will be only too pleased to assist.'