Triwathon woke. At least, he thought he woke; he may not have slept at all, this all might be a wondrous waking dream. But Parvon was close against him, curled into his embrace, his hair loose and free, and Triw extricated himself with care to look down at the elf he had come to love so dearly.

His heart ached with joy, his body sang and thrummed with contentment. The night had been wonderful, better than… everything was better, now Parvon was his fëa-mate. Nothing had been awkward, nothing had gone amiss, and Parvon, although self-conscious at times, had not been shy, or reluctant. In fact, he had been curious, enthusiastic, embracing all that was new with warmth and love, and so it was no wonder he was tired…

He smiled a fond smile, looking down at Parvon's dishevelled hair; if his neat and tidy and precise fëa-mate knew how wanton such wild hair made him appear, he would be horrified…

He hoped that when Parvon woke, he would not be horrified, he hoped he would wake as happy and content as he had seemed when they kissed goodnight, finally. He hoped Parvon wouldn't regret the vows, but would want proper, permanent, forever-vows…

A low, whistled call came from beneath the tree. It was soft, intended not to wake, but to warn of a presence in the area. There was a pause of half a minute or so, and then a query signal.

Triwathon grimaced to himself; he did not want any interruption to the moment, to the magic of his first night married, but if he didn't respond soon, the calls would get louder, and that would disturb Parvon…

He rummaged around for his leggings, hurriedly pulled them on, and slipped from the shelter. From the outer edge of the flet, he sent a soft response: 'What?'

From below came a muted laugh, followed by a summons. With a sigh, he descended, saw Canadion beckoning from a respectable distance. He loped over, the forest floor cool and vital under his bare feet.

'Forgive the intrusion,' Canadion said. 'Ai, never have I heard a response signal that sounded so cross! But I am charged with saying the cooks have put up breakfast for you and your beloved, and to warn you we are breaking camp in an hour. So you do not have much time, not if you want to eat, as well.'

'I am grateful, but I think we have some lembas and so need not…'

'Come on,' Canadion said, almost dancing off through the forest. 'If you do not come, the cooks and the entire company will bring the food to you!'

Parvon woke alone and lonely and could not understand why, at first. Memory came back, slowly, shyly; vows, kissing Triw as if he would never stop, thinking that perhaps he might not have to… a blur of faces and good wishes, wine, and cheering, and being led to the foot of a tree and left there with Triw…

…and on the flet, as much comfort as the company could provide; a shelter, a fire-pot, more wine, even some beer (Triwathon had looked at it, sighed, and pushed it away saying he did not think they were quite ready for that, yet…) lanterns that, when lit, made mysterious the planes of Triwathon's face, his body, his muscles as they undressed each other, and all those things Triw had promised, everything Parvon had expected and thought couldn't possibly be pleasant were real, and wonderful, and felt right and proper and loving and, oh, Triw…

…settling, after, feeling the warmth of Triwathon's chest against his back, hearing his whispered words of love, replying to him, the sense of being loved and of loving right down to his fëa…

He sat up carefully. Yes, the space beside him was empty and cold, and through the narrow opening of the shelter, a sliver of light glowed; it was morning, and he was alone.

But why? He had thought everything had been fine, wonderful, perfect, so why would Triw leave him? It must be as he feared, Triwathon had realised that a brave warrior and a pen-pusher, a king's advisor, were not a good match; he was not good enough for him, not experienced enough, not bold enough, or muscular enough, and so he was abandoned while Triw tried to work out how to deal with this; he'd left him, just when Parvon had been starting to think he ought to admit that he didn't really need to sail, not now...

But now he was glad he hadn't said such a thing. For it seemed as if the ship, Ithilien, would be the only way he could hold onto his pride and self-respect; it was obvious Triw would try to let him down kindly, but…

Yes. It was good that there was still the option of sailing. At least now he had a wonderful night to console him, to live over in memory…

'You're awake, good!'

The entrance to the shelter gaped wide, and Triwathon, dressed in leggings and with his hair chaotic and loose, dropped down next to Parvon and kissed him with cold lips.

'I am sorry I was not here, though. They signalled me – breakfast for us, so I went to fetch it.' He pointed to a basket, visible just outside. 'I had to endure some teasing, but it is meant well, and I do not care, because I have married the elf I love and I feel perfect and right and it is wonderful!'

'You… you're here!'

'Of course, where else would I be?' Triw smiled. 'You were not worried, were you? Oh, my love, I only went for breakfast! Let me get the basket, you need to eat and keep up your strength… and, if we have another night like this, so must I!'

'Let me help.'

To cover his relief, Parvon reached across to the opening of the shelter and pulled the basket inside; Triw took advantage of the moment to wrap his arms around him and hug him tightly.

'Thank you, Parvon,' he said. 'Now, we have time to eat, and to love, before they call us. Which do you think we should do first…?'

They had to be called twice, the swooping signals with Canadion's identifier summoning them back to reality; Triw balanced through the rail of the flet, hanging almost upside down and bare to the waist, signalling out for time, time, time…

He came back up with a rueful grin, found the rest of his garments, and descended to the forest floor with a promise not to be too long. He returned a few moments later with news.

'They have already broken camp, and now want our tent to pack up! And you have been offered a seat in the wagon, with many sideways glances; I told them we were both capable equally of walking or riding, and not to take liberties with me or my husband… that sounds so well, I will never tire of saying it, Parvon, my husband! Now, we need to make haste… are you…? Is all well, my Parvon? You seem… quiet.'

Parvon shook his head, smiling as he found his travelling clothes and folded away his wedding finery.

'It's just that I find all this so hard to believe,' he said. 'I find myself wondering, is this one of those waking dreams that we hear of, and I am sleeping as I move, and none of last night happened…'

'Parvon, I thought the same when I woke. We are both of us sharing the dream, if so. No, here is your token, and here is mine, and it all happened as we remember. If you are in doubt, just wait until you see the expressions on our friends' faces as we join them.'

There were grins, it was true, but a glance from Parvon, even though he was not wearing his formal robes of office, quelled them, and he answered the laughing enquiries for his health by saying he rather thought marriage was good for him, but he might be too busy to join the hunting parties from henceforth.

'Which minds me,' an elf began, one who usually drove the supplies wagon, 'there is room for you on the seat beside me, if you're… tired. We can even find a nice cushion for you…'

A smattering of suppressed laughter, which Parvon quelled with a glance.

'No, for there would be no room for my husband also,' he said. 'I would travel with him, so I thank you for the kindness, but I must decline.'

'What about walking, Master Parvon?' Magorion asked. 'For we need to make a start, and I am about to gather the rest of the Walkers…'

'Walking will be pleasant, Captain; the day is fine and so we are ready whenever the rest of the company can be organised.'

They walked, and it was pleasant, with Triwathon at his side. For decorum's sake, when in sight of other elves, they tried not to hold hands, but sometimes forgot, as new as hand-holding was for Parvon. Left to themselves, they would have lingered, that first day, towards the back of the march, but other elves, curious as to what Master Parvon and Commander Triwathon might be saying, or anxious lest they were behaving improperly, slowed their steps, falling back to be close to the newly-vowed couple, and had they, in turn, slowed down, soon the entire company would have been at a standstill.

Halfway through the morning, Thindorion joined them.

'Magorion suggested I bear you company,' he said. 'Since three walking together might seem less interesting than two together. For we need to press on.'

'We can walk more swiftly that this,' Triwathon said. 'Faster, still, in the canopy.'

'Ah, but you are with a Walker now, Elkling, and so must walk with him. No, the captain's orders are that during the march, Walkers walk and the company, as needs must, might use the upper trails. Mago told me.'

Parvon raised an eyebrow.

'Mago, is it? I am glad you are making friends, Thindo!'

'Well, since my two favourite elves have paired off, what else can I do? Besides,' Thindo added with a wink, 'he offered to console me for my disappointment, and then spent much of the night trying to find out if he was able to… it was entertaining.'

'And successful, I hope?' Triwathon asked, laughing.

'You see, had I said so, he might not have suggested trying harder another night…' Thindorion tried, and failed, not to join in the laughter. 'No, I am very content with my new friend. He has even brought up the subject of sailing, asking me what there may be in Valinor to recommend it. Apart from me, of course!'

The morning passed in the strange mixture of acute awareness – Triw beside him, his voice, his smile, his presence – and a disassociation from the other Walkers, so that it was as if only he and Triwathon were on the trail. But reality dragged him away from his half-reverie when Triw stopped and released his hand.

'We're halting for the day-meal, Parvon,' he said. 'The captains have offered us to join them.'

It was an effort to come back to reality, to blink and nod and look around him.

'We can, if you like, I don't mind.' Parvon smiled. 'As long as you're there.'

Triwathon laughed and led off.

'They said this morning,' he began, pulling Parvon after him, 'that they would look after our meals, lest we be too distracted by marriage to eat!'

'It's good of them,' Parvon said. 'And good to see you surrounded by your friends, Triw.'

The meal passed in easy, laughing conversation, asides and sly grins from some of the company, which Parvon ignored with grave dignity that made Triw burst into laughter.

'It is not fair of them to tease you so, my love, but it is a token of esteem! No, really, because you are a good shot, and have, so I hear, previously joined in the hunting expeditions, they treat you as one of us…'

'…which means they feel free to tease. Very well, I shall try to endure it better. I should be flattered, I suppose. Certainly, I am grateful for the privilege of not having to eat my own rations.'

'I think it is kinder than the looks we would get from the naneths, though, do you not agree? And so, we are invited to always join the escort's camp, if that pleases you.'

The thought of the disapproving looks of the naneths made Parvon shudder inwardly and wonder if, perhaps, the light, easy banter of the escort was preferable after all…

'Then that's very kind of them. If you like it, Triw, then certainly, we would be happy to do so.'

The afternoon passed in more walking, and almost before Parvon realised it, they had halted to make camp. As before, the escort set up Parvon's tent away from the rest of the Walkers; however, his usual shelter had been replaced with a larger pavilion.

'For you are sharing now,' Canadion said with a bubble of laughter in his voice, 'and so need more space.'

'And privacy,' Triwathon said, once the captain had gone and he'd stowed his and Parvon's packs and spread their bedrolls. 'And so, however will we spend the time between now and the supper call?'

'We could talk, if you like,' Parvon suggested as Triwathon reached out to take his hand and encourage him to move closer. 'There was something about the paths we were on today, not what I had expected from this part of the forest…'

Triwathon closed in, lifted Parvon's hair away from his neck, folded his arms around him.

'We've been talking all day. And walking. I think now is a time for resting together. Perhaps for some… how do you pen-pushers phrase things…? Ah, yes. Some non-verbal communication?'

Parvon smiled as Triw's mouth found his throat.

'A good idea,' he said.

Rejoining the company around the cookfires was, if anything, more daunting to Parvon than facing everyone that morning had been; he was sure that everyone must realise what had been going on, for it seemed impossible for Triw to be discreet whilst in the throes of passion. As he passed his fellow-travellers, he tried hard not to catch anyone's eye, and thought wistfully of the air of authority he could have had simply by donning his King's Office robes. But it had seemed too formal, somehow, and besides, Triwathon did not seem in the least concerned.

'Oh, I'm used to the staring,' Triw said. 'Decades of getting in and out of trouble, remember? Although at least now it's for a good reason. Come. You'll feel better after food.'

'Are you sure?' Parvon asked with a laugh that drew more attention. 'Ah, I doubt I will ever get used to this!'

But as the evening drew on, he relaxed, and night followed, and next morning they joined the escort company for breakfast, and as time passed, Parvon did, indeed, become less self-conscious. The days passed in walking and talking, gentle companionship, learning to know his friend at a different level, and the nights passed in yet more discoveries, and all told, Parvon was happier than he had ever known, and he felt Triw's contentment and fed from it, fed into it, giving off as much love as he felt, and time passed in a drifting idyll of bliss as the forest parted around them and closed after them, wrapping the two newly-vowed lovers in its shelter as they walked.