'Commander? Commander Triwathon, a word, please?' Faerveren hurried down the corridor towards the garrison offices, trying to keep his proper Palace Office manner and not allow his voice to become supplicatory. 'It will take but a moment...'

Triwathon, half a corridor ahead, stopped without turning, his shoulders rising defensively. He glanced over his shoulder and Faerveren caught a glimpse of dark, haunted eyes before the commander continued on his way, lifting a hand and calling back.

'Leave it with the duty captain, whatever it is. I'm busy!'

He picked up pace, and Faerveren halted and threw up his hands in annoyance and returned to the Palace Office. Master Merenor looked up from behind the duty desk.

'Escaped again, did he?'

'Ai! Almost I had him in the corridors near the garrison! But short of breaking into a run, there was nothing I could do once he lengthened his stride – he was too near his own office!'

'Would you like me to have word, penneth?' Merenor spoke gently, kindly, but was not surprised when his grandson shook his head.

'No, but I am grateful. Although, Daerada, we are on duty and so should keep to our titles…'

'Such as you calling me Daerada?' Merenor laughed at Faerveren's rueful smile. 'I will try to remember! Besides, we've not broken our fast yet, and that, to me, marks the start of the working day. But what will you do?'

Faerveren sighed as he sat on the edge of his grandfather's desk.

'Ai! I had pinned my hopes on catching him, early, so I do not know, quite. But the relationship between the Scribe-in-Chief and the Garrison Commander requires we at least meet formally once in a while, and while the duty captains are very good, and do their best, it is not their job to bring these matters to the commander. And then, so much of what is done here requires discussion between the two of us; we are meant to check and balance each other. When Master Parvon was in charge…'

He broke off with another sigh. When Master Parvon had been in charge, he and the commander had been close friends, so there had never been a problem. Nor was it easy for Triwathon to see Faerveren as Elf-in-Charge, not when so recently he'd just been a filing-and-lettering scribe…

'When Master Parvon was in charge, the situation here was very different,' Merenor said. 'And they had worked together for a while; so it's difficult for him to see you as an authority figure.'

'Or as a friend,' Faerveren said. 'Not that I want his friendship. But still, I have to do something…'

'Well, if there's anything I can do to help…?'

Faerveren shook his head and smiled. 'I think I have an idea. If you could announce a formal high table tonight, insist everyone attend, and then preside after, that will give me the opportunity I need. But if the worst comes to the worst, I may need to steal Daerada Hanben's winkling sticks…'

'Now, what use would they be?'

'Oh, I know how to pick a lock, Daerada; Uncle B… one of my uncles showed me. Just in case I ever needed to know, a useful life skill, really. But let us hope it does not come to that.'

'Let us hope so indeed! Well, if you do need assistance with the commander, let me know.'

'I will, of course, should I need to ask. But I think I my plan will work.'

With Master Merenor presiding over the dining hall, Faerveren was free to sit quietly at one of the lower tables and keep an eye on the mood of the hall. More people were moving back from the eastern village communities to the solid shelter of the New Palace, so that although the hall was nowhere near full, it was lively, at least. While he was eating, an elleth from a table nearby came over.

'Master Faerveren, I hate to interrupt your meal, but I was wondering…'

Faerveren smiled, gestured to the seat opposite, and set down his cutlery.

'What's troubling you, Mistress Puigves?'

'Well, we are supposed to be on the next train down to the Old Palace, to settle, you know. There are three of us, myself, my sister and her husband. But we were expecting the wagons days ago and there has been no word…'

'Ah, I see. Have you checked the notices outside the Palace Office?'

'…In fact, no; I did not see the point…'

'You would have found the information there, that is the point of them. All that has happened is that the wagons are delayed, but announcements will be made, and posted, once there is news. There is always a day's stopover for the team, so you will have time to prepare.'

He gave his formal smile and dropped his eyes to his plate, a gentle hint for her to go. When still Mistress Puigves did not move, he looked back at her.

'There was something more, Mistress?'

'Just… we were wondering… when is Master Parvon coming back?'

'I understand he has taken up a position in the King's Office again, so he does not expect to return here. But then, as you will be removing thence shortly, you will be able to speak to him in person, will you not?' Out of the corner of his eye, Faerveren saw Commander Triwathon, his face empty and blank, push away his plate and leave the his place at the top table. 'And now, if you will excuse me, I have a meeting I must
attend.'

Faerveren rose, abandoning his meal, and left the dining hall. He picked up a basket he'd left in a side room and hurried towards Commander Triwathon's rooms, hoping the commander would follow his usual routine and stop at the duty office before heading to his quarters, thus giving Faerveren chance to get ahead of him.

To his relief, he arrived outside to find no glint of light from under the door, the lantern set in its niche outside the rooms waiting for the occupant's return.

Excellent.

He settled himself into a dim alcove to wait.

Distantly he heard voices which ceased, then gradually footsteps, growing louder and nearer and just as Triwathon arrived outside his door, Faerveren stepped forward, put himself in front of the doorway.

'Commander Triwathon, good evening. Forgive the interruption, but there is something I need to share with…'

'Leave it with the Duty Captain, Faerveren,' Triwathon said with a sigh as he tried to push past to the door.

'Who might that be tonight, Commander?' Faerveren reached carefully into the basket. 'I do hope it is my Uncle Canadion, he would appreciate this.'

He drew out a bottle and two wine cups, allowing them to clink.

'…It is a rather fine Dorwinion that was found in Elder Gomben's belongings, although how it got there he claimed he did not know… we confiscated it and, since he does not admit to owning it, he has no claim on it so I thought to put it to good use. Commander, there is a discussion you and I have to have, for the good of the community here, and it is my hope the wine will help the conversation go more smoothly.'

Triwathon blinked and stared and shook his head at the temerity of this pretender to the role of Elf-in-Charge, the sudden emergence from the shadows. About to protest that this was his personal time, he had been working all day, he was not in the mood for such audacity, all was swept away by one over-riding thought that left his mouth before he could stop himself.

'You do not drink!'

'Indeed, I do not drink spirits; I am very fond to a small glass of excellent wine, once in a while.' Faerveren gave a small, confined smile, the sort of smile that was there and not in an instant. 'Of course, that will leave a considerable burden on you to see the bottle does not go to waste…'

Triwathon stared for a moment, then shook his head once more.

'Oh, you are good, Master Faerveren! You are really growing into your role, are you not?'

'Thank you.' A small bow. 'I have benefited from excellent tutors. Now, will you invite me in, Commander, or shall I invite myself? It need not take long, I do not intend to force you into small talk or any other such sociability against your will. But it must be done.'

It was not what Triwathon wanted, he had wished to spend another evening alone with his thoughts, but there was a part of him that was uneasily aware that he had been neglecting his duties…

Besides, the Dorwinion would be so much more pleasant than the bottle of standard wine he had expected to come home to…

He capitulated.

'You'd better come in, then.' He led the way, carrying in the lantern, lighting the other lamps, poking the slumbering fire, waving at a place on the sofa; the chair by the fire had been Parvon's seat, and somehow it would have felt wrong to suggest Faerveren sit there. 'And tell me what's so important it cannot wait.'

'Nothing, in fact. Technically. Except that it has been waiting already for a week, in some cases, and so has become more urgent.'

'A w…?'

'With the Duty Captain.'

Triwathon sighed, accepted the beaker of wine his visitor had poured for him. Faerveren had taken a small serving for himself, and raised his cup before sipping.

'Does it meet with your approval, Master Faerveren?' Triwathon asked, finding he could not help but smile at the prim, neat way his guest drank and set back down his cup.

Faerveren crossed his legs, smoothed his robes, nodded.

'A fine vintage; I do hope you will agree. Now, to get to the most important matter first – for I appreciate your time is limited – we are in expectation of a visitation from Imladris.'

'Yes, I suppose we are. It won't be before spring, I think, once they're sure the passes are clear… you're shaking your head and wearing an expression I don't think I like… what?'

'I apologise for my expression, Commander. A message came. In fact, a party of four elves has already set off; it comprises…'

'What, when? When were you going to tell me?'

'In fact, I did try. Five days ago, I left word, as you requested, with the Duty Captain…'

The commander sighed again, took refuge in his wine. It was, indeed, an excellent vintage and did seem to take the sting out of Faerveren's words, his own sense of duty neglected.

'…We are told Lords Celeborn and Elladan, with Masters Melpomaen and Lindir, were expected at the borders imminently. Subsequent messages indicated they were in the forest, passing through, and the latest communication suggested they would be arriving at the Old Palace the following day. I presume from the last message they have already arrived, since that communication arrived here two days ago.'

'Two…? And, let me guess… Duty Captain?'

Faerveren nodded and Triwathon exhaled into his wine cup, shaking his head.

'I have been busy, you know. I rise before daybreak, visit the barracks, check the watch, sit at my desk and read the Duty Reports… well, perhaps not all of them, I'll admit… after I break my fast, I go out to the work that's happening in the forest, and I am there until it is time to return for the later meal; I have no time…'

'Indeed. One might suggest, if it is not an impertinence, that you could discuss this with the person who arranges your schedule.' Faerveren dropped his eyes and sipped demurely at his wine, knowing full well that Triwathon, and Triwathon only, was master of his daily routine. 'However, be that as it may… there is a matter we must discuss with regard to this deputation. They are bringing with them the Starlight Gemstone of the fallen Lord of Gondolin, and once it has been offered to the persons of the Old Palace for their memories, it will be brought here. Now, Healer Maereth has suggested setting her Quiet Room aside for the gemstone, but I recognise that perhaps the garrison would like to have the stone to themselves for a time?'

'Perhaps. Bring it to the garrison for the evening, let them drink their memories to it.'

'That sounds acceptable, but we will need to think about the timing; it is not to stay here, you see, but will need to return to the Old Palace in time for the departure of those elves who are sailing. It will go to Ithilien with them for our Prince Legolas and his colony to speak their memories. In due course, the gem will return to the Old Palace – with the next guard change, one supposes. The point being, it will be here only two days. The stone aside, however, the party themselves… the chief mourners will no doubt wish to see the earth cave where the remains were laid to rest…'

'True.'

'…as well as where he fell.'

'No!' Triwathon started up in his chair. 'Impossible, that is not possible! There are still noxious substances, the remains of the dragons, and the ground is polluted all around, and… our orders are not to let civilians into the forest, it…'

'It is upsetting, I know...'

'And out of bounds!'

'I suggest you remind the King's Office at the Old Palace of that fact. If you wish, I will write my personal doubts as to the acceptability of allowing them to visit that part of the forest as well; if they are sensitive, they may find the site too distressing. But my point was really this – who will escort them? The Old Palace is sending a representative from the King's Office, who might be persuaded to go along, but unless they know the way, someone must accompany them. By rights, it ought to be you, or me, Commander, or even both of us…'

'What do you mean, a representative? Who? They will send P…' Triwathon seemed to splutter over his wine. 'Parvon, surely? Or who? Why send anyone else, someone who doesn't know where the earth cave is?'

'I understand his majesty the king wants Master Parvon at the Old Palace, and so my father, Master Melion, will be coming.'

'I see. And while we're on the subject of journeys and travel from the Old Palace, in case you've been wondering, I've sent word round for the perimeter guards to let me know when the wagons are sighted; they're a little late, but I hope it's just the cold snap we've had. If you've anyone who's worried… there's that look again…'

'I am not quite sure what look you mean, Commander, but if I tell you that there was word from the Old Palace that the convoy wagons are delaying their departure until they can bring the Imladris elves, then you can stand down the watch…'

'And why was I not told about this…? Oh, let me guess… Duty Captain?'

Faerveren nodded. 'Four days ago. I understand the plan was decided on without consulting the mourning party… and, in case the final piece of information I wished to impart has not reached you either, it is assumed that the elves of Imladris will perhaps stay here for a few days and then depart directly home without returning to the Old Palace. I was informed you would be asked to furnish two escort riders to see them on their way to the forest boundary, lest they stray in the forest. And…' Faerveren paused, his mouth more than usually prim, as if he was trying not to smile. 'That information has been on the boards since we at the Palace Office were first made aware of the fact…'

Triwathon swore and drained his wine, reached for the bottle. He tipped it slightly towards Faerveren's cup, lifting an eyebrow.

'Thank you, just a small amount, please. I do not often drink more than one measure, but it is rather fine wine.'

'About all this miscommunication…'

'It has been unfortunate.'

'Yes. That. And, well… all the messages from the Duty Captains end up on my desk, I can only think…' Triwathon sighed. '…that perhaps I am not at my desk as often as I think I am. It has been difficult, but you are right, the smooth running of the New Palace depends on communication between garrison and Palace Office. But I don't know how to do any more with my day than I do at present…'

'We were distracted from the matter of who will escort the elves to the Lord of Gondolin's earth cave; I suggest we leave that for our next meeting. Usually the matters I need to bring to your attention will only require formal acknowledgement, for one of us to know the other is aware of what might be happening. Perhaps the hour before the late meal would be useful?'

'Or breakfast meetings. We could start those again. Of course, we would not need one tomorrow…'

'True.' The fact that to do so would get Triwathon out of having to attend a meeting the very next day was not lost on Faerveren, and so he countered the suggestion by expanding on what it might involve. 'Of course, breakfast meetings, in the Palace Office, would probably need to include Masters Hanben and Merenor…'

Triwathon pondered the advantages of a day's peace with the disadvantages of an early meeting with Master Merenor flirting around and Master Hanben tutting about it, all framed against the backdrop of Faerveren trying to do his job while his grandfather and his husband listened in. He decided on the lesser of two evils.

'Probably best if you seek me before supper, then. Tomorrow?'

Faerveren nodded, took another sip of wine, set down the cup.

'Tomorrow, then, Commander. Enjoy the wine.'

(A/N Chapter 84 follows; due to the vagaries of it has been problematic to update a chapter, and so this is a workaround solution. Apologies for any confusion)

Chapter 84: Letter-Writing

As he had said it would be, it really was very early when Parvon knocked on the door of the rooms that Lindir and Melpomaen had taken for their sleeping chambers.

Melpomaen opened the door, his eyes heavy, and tried to sound welcoming.

'Good morning, Master Parvon and… yes, as you warned me, it is early. I will get the gemstone… shall I?'

'In fact, to stick to the letter of the agreement, it must be Lindir who hands the Starlight Stone into my care. It is inconvenient, perhaps, but were Master Melion to learn of it, he would be most displeased.'

'Of course.' Melpomaen turned his head, called Lindir's name softly. 'Master Melion, you say? I thought you were equally in charge, so Healer Nestoril told us, when we asked.'

'Nominally, we share the responsibility, but on a matter such as this, it would have been proper for Melion and I to consult together first. However, I did not wish to disturb him so late last night.'

'Tomorrow, we leave, they are saying?'

'Indeed. You will find a warm welcome in the New Palace and, of course, Master Melion will be with you, as custodian of the gemstone, and several of the guard, in charge of the wagons.'

'Wagons? We will be on horseback,' Lindir's voice said from behind Melpomaen as he came to the door clad in a dressing robe. 'I do not understand.'

'Much was lost following the destruction of the villages and so the wagons take emergency supplies up to the New Palace. They return full of elves who are coming to settle in the Old Palace again; it has been decided that the region of the New Palace is less safe than previously believed, so our king is bringing everyone home, a few families at a time.'

'I will bring the gemstone.' Lindir retreated, returning a moment later, and bowed as he handed over the stone. 'It is as it was when you gave it into my keeping, Master Parvon.'

'I am grateful for your care of it, Master Lindir.' Parvon took the stone from him with a bow of his own. 'I will take it now to the Memory Room, and meet you presently in the Feasting Hall.'

'Shall I come with you?' Lindir offered. 'I am not quite ready for the day, yet…'

'Then do not hasten, on my account.' Parvon smiled. 'There is no need for you to hurry.'

At the Healers' Hall, Healer Gaelbes was on duty.

'Oh, good morning, Master Parvon,' she said as she came out from behind her desk to lead the way to the Memory Room. 'I am surprised you have the duty again today; Healer Nestoril said it would be Master Melion, or perhaps Master Oldor…'

'That is my understanding as well,' Parvon said. 'I am merely bringing the stone from its safe housing.'

'Then you are not staying with it?'

'No, indeed. But I will try to find out which of my colleagues will be standing watch.'

Yet another failure of communication, Parvon thought, heading to the King's Office to leave word there of the situation. He wondered whether he would get the blame for this, as well. It seemed likely.

He arrived to find the place empty, and was in process of writing a message for Melion when Araspen and Merlinith entered.

'Oh, there you are, Master Parvon!' Merlinith said. 'We had a messenger asking for you…'

'Another one? I am sorry you keep being disturbed, Mistress Merlinith…'

'This time it was from Melion, so we are blaming him. He's lost the gemstone again, and he is meant to be taking it to the Memory Room…'

'He and I agreed, I had understood, that I be the liaison for the stone. It is already in the Memory Room, waiting for someone from the King's Office…'

'That's something else Melion said; he has duty with the king so will be unable to… and you did not know this?'

'Somehow, I was not informed. But I have other duties this morning…'

'We can go,' Araspen said. 'It will be nice to stand watch for him.'

'Yes, it will be our pleasure,' Merlinith said.

'He was so very decorative,' Araspen said, her voice wistful as she smiled. 'It will be no hardship!'

'Sometimes I wonder about you, Araspen!' Merlinith said. 'Well, we will go directly.'

Entering the Feasting Hall shortly after, Parvon scanned the tables for sight of Melpomaen or Lindir. They seemed not to have arrived, so he organised a table and then retired to a position close to one of the entrances to wait.

From where he stood he could see the other doorways and noted Lords Celeborn and Elladan enter and be ushered to their seats by Master Melion. The latter caught his eye and gave a very formal short bow, waiting until his charges had settled and been served before making his way over.

'Master Parvon, what are you doing here?' he hissed at Parvon. 'What of the stone?'

'It is in the Memory Room, attended by Mistresses Araspen and Merlinith.'

'Those ellith! They take too much on themselves!'

'In fact, I asked them to stand in for whomever was down for the duty.'

'But it was meant to be you…'

'Yesterday, yes. Today, it was to be either Master Oldor or yourself.'

'But I am busy with the Imladris elves!'

Fortunately, Parvon spotted Lindir and Melpomaen walk into the hall and look around.

'In fact, so am I, Master Melion. Good morning to you.'

Bowing, he walked away from the potential confrontation with relief to greet his charges.

'Melpomaen, Lindir, we will be seated over here… unless you wish to be nearer your friends from Imladris?'

'No, that's all right; we spend a lot of time with them at breakfast at home, don't we, Mel?'

'Indeed we do. Lord Celeborn had been ill – tired – out of sorts, and only returned to health when… at around the same time, we think, that our friend died. It has been a sort of comfort to see him well, but he and Elladan are particularly close,' Melpomaen said. 'They are grandfather and grandson, you see, so we are standing back and allowing them to have time together.'

'I thought so. Lord Celeborn and my king are kinsmen, of course. Now, come, choose your meals; the servers will bring it over.'

Parvon had deliberately selected a table where he and his guests could look about them, but not be too conspicuous, hoping to avoid attention. It was not entirely successful, for presently Melpomaen looked up from his meal.

'Master Parvon,' he said, 'there is an elf coming over, I think he wants something…'

Parvon turned, saw Thindorion bearing a tray and heading towards them. The dyer balanced his tray in one hand so that he could wave, and continued over to stop close to the table.

'Parvon, well met, my friend! My apologies for intruding on your meal. I will not stay, you have company, but I wanted to ask about archery practice…'

'On the public range, the usual hour. I will try to be there today.'

'Well, I will not interrupt you further.' Thindorion bowed towards the Imladris elves. 'Please accept my apologies once more, but my friend Parvon is a busy ellon and I could not be sure of catching him later.'

'No, that's all right,' Melpomaen said. 'Won't you join us?'

'I… you're very kind, but…'

'Are you friends with Parvon?' Lindir asked. 'Please, do sit.'

'That's very good of you… but I don't want to intrude…'

Parvon mentally shook his head. Neither Lindir nor Melpomaen seemed to realise Thindo was angling for an invitation.

'Too late for that, Thindo!' he said, allowing himself to smile. 'Very well, come, sit. Masters Lindir and Melpomaen, this is Master Thindorion, a dyer and, yes, my friend.'

Thindorion took a seat at the table and unloaded his plates and dishes.

'Thank you, I am grateful. I saw you yesterday, when I went to add my memories to the gemstone. You were close friends with the Balrog Slayer, I think?'

'Very much so,' Lindir said, nodding. 'Melpomaen knew him all his life, and I from my young adulthood. His loss has been terrible.'

'I feel for you. And of course, you have to share that loss, because he was so famous, so renowned.'

'Perhaps.' Melpomaen considered for a moment. 'And yet, you see, the Glorfindel we knew was not the same person as the famed Balrog Slayer.'

'Mel!' Lindir gave a little gasp. 'The name, you said…'

Thindo laughed. 'Don't worry about it too much! You're not Silvan, we don't expect you to follow all the customs.'

'Well, we are trying. But how did you know him?'

'Ah, well, now that's an interesting story…'

Parvon sat back and relaxed as Thindo launched into a long and rambling account of his friendship with Triwathon and the commission for the kilt; it was good, in a way, not to have to bear the burden of conversation for a time.

'…so I invented that particular shade of blue just for him. In fact, we called it 'Glorfindel Blue', but now we wonder if should change the name…'

'Oh, that would be a pity!' Lindir said. 'I like the sound of it, Glorfindel Blue! And it was such a kilt, everyone noticed him when he wore it.'

'I'm sure he made sure they did,' Thindorion said, laughing. 'You know, if you're free later, mellyn-nin, why don't you come to archery practice with Parvon and me? Triwathon said something once about you being a good shot, Lindir; I am very average, but Parvon is a master!'

'Oh I would not go so far,' Parvon said. 'But if you would like to join us, you would be welcome.'

'I am not sure,' Lindir said. 'I had thought I might do… something else.'

'But that would keep. We could all go,' Melpomaen put in. 'I would like to see if I can still shoot fairly straight. Yes, I will come, certainly.'

'Then of course, I will come too,' Lindir said.

'That's settled, then.' Parvon nodded to Thindorion. 'We'll meet you on the practice grounds.'

Presently, Parvon excused himself, promising to collect Lindir and Melpomaen from their rooms in time for practice. 'And I will have a request to make of you,' he added, when it looked as if Lindir might protest. 'One which I do not wish to make publically.'

'Of course,' Melpomaen said. 'We will be there.'

Leaving the Feasting Hall, Parvon made his way to his workroom, mentally reviewing the achievements of what had been deliberately more than breakfast; he had succeeded in keeping Lindir away from the gemstone, and from its associated sad thoughts, for at least an hour, and thanks to Thindorion's interruption, and invitation to the archery session, had managed to make that into another two hours… then the time he would take with his own request, entailing Lindir's absence from the Memory Room for yet longer…

It was not that he wished to prevent the elf from spending time with the gemstone, but rather that it seemed to be harming the minstrel to some degree; perhaps the different commemoration practices of Imladris and Eryn Lasgalen made it harder for the minstrel to cope with his sorrow and, if Melpomaen's assessment of the situation was correct, than he could not really help himself. By gently, imperceptibly limiting Lindir's time in the Memory Room, Parvon hoped to equally limit the excesses of emotional distress linked to it.

Parvon became aware that there was something bothering him, something that had almost escaped his notice during the busy, demanding schedule he'd been managing recently, niggling in the back of his mind.

He ran through the various matters in hand, extended the thought beyond his own concerns, and found himself thinking about Faerveren at the New Palace.

Although there had been a discussion as to whether or not Faerveren would wish to see his grandmother before she sailed, Parvon had not been made privy to any discussion of how this would be achieved and he was curious as to what Melion might be doing, or not doing, about it. Even if the actual discussions of how to best facilitate a meeting between the Faerveren and Mistress Cullasbes were none of Parvon's concern, he was surprised Baudh – who as Melion's brother and Faerveren's uncle ought to be in the know – hadn't gossiped about it generally enough for Parvon to hear from someone, which gave rise, in Parvon's mind, to the uneasy suspicion that Melion might not even have mentioned it to his own brother…

Returned to the King's Office, Parvon tapped his most respectful knock on Melion's door, properly arranged his features into the least-likely-to-annoy and most-likely-to-get-a-clear-answer expression he owned, and entered on the summons.

'Master Parvon! And still you are not on duty at the Memory Room…?'

'I will serve there after the day meal, Master Melion. Forgive the intrusion, but I have a question, a fairly straight-forward one, more curiosity than anything…'

Melion made a point of setting down his pen.

'You had better hurry it out, then, for I have work to do here – I leave for the New Palace tomorrow…'

'Yes, in fact, my question is about that, and please, do not think it an impertinence… but other than to accompany the gemstone and be a proper associate for the lords and masters of Imladris, have you another purpose?'

'Well, my son is there, and I wish to be sure he is coping with the duty. And I will, of course, be staying until the Imladris elves leave, to make sure all is well during their visit. Is that all?'

'No, and I am grateful for your time, Master Melion.'

Parvon bowed himself out, deep in thought, and headed through the corridors to the rooms Baudh and Oldor had marked as next on the list to be prepared for occupation. Sure enough, he heard voices and the rhythmic banging that always seemed to accompany such work.

'Master Baudh? May I ask you something?' he said, standing in the doorway, but not venturing in due to clouds of rising dust. 'That is, if you are there somewhere?'

'A moment, Master Parvon!'

Baudh emerged, clad only in leggings and boots, his hair tied back in a working braid, his skin sprinkled with white, glistening mica particles.

'What can I do for you, Master Parvon?'

'Would you happen to know how Faerveren took the news of his grandmother's sailing, perchance?'

Baudh drew the door closed and gestured the next doorway along, ushering Parvon in to a large, empty room that looked more like a cave than a dwelling place.

'No, I don't, as a matter of fact. But I don't understand?'

'No more do I. You see, some time ago, Melion and I discussed whether Faerveren would wish to say farewell to Mistress Cullasbes before she leaves. The general consensus was that he would not, but Canadion would, and so too would Master Merenor. Yet I have not been informed as to whether or not any of these elves are making the journey to do so. It had occurred to me that part of Master Melion's intention, in going to the New Palace at this time, is so that Faerveren could return to make his farewells… Of course, in the interests of limiting my workload, I presume, such matters as mundane correspondence between the palaces has ceased to be my duty, and so I was just wondering whether or not Master Faerveren will need rooms, or if he will stay with Mistress Gilrin, or even in the family rooms…? I had assumed that, since you are family, you would know. But if you do not…'

'No, I don't, and now you say it, it does seem a bit odd that Melion didn't mention it to me… of course, he doesn't really think of me as being a responsible King's Office elf, so perhaps he seeks to… yes, as you say, limit my workload. And, as you might have noticed, Melion isn't really being very friendly at present, even to family… Want me to ask?'

'No, it is fine. I am sure we will be able to accommodate Master Faerveren somewhere, will we not? Thank you for your time, Baudh. Enjoy your constructive destruction.'