In the finish, it was not as bad as it might have been.

From somewhere, Triw had managed to borrow a formal uniform tunic (although happily not the kilt that went with it, Parvon thought to himself) and with his hair freshly braided, and Parvon beside him in his robes of office, the two had presented themselves at supper looking less like a newly-vowed couple and rather more like official representatives of the New Palace.

The company around the supper table was convivial, with the newly-arrived troop happy to catch up on the forest gossip with the hunters who had come up from Ithilien, but it was certainly not a rowdy gathering.

'Unusual,' Triwathon had said softly to Parvon at his side. 'Normally, the blending of two companies, the reunions of old friends, is more exuberant than this. I wonder if it is our presence dampening spirits?'

'Well, only one of us is dressed like a crow, as Canadion told me recently,' Parvon answered. 'Could it be more that they know our purpose, and are attempting to show a respectful decorum, rather than that they are cowed by a King's Office robe?'

'Perhaps. Well, my Parvon. How do we go about this?'

'We eat, my Triwathon, and then Thiriston will call them to take notice. And then we speak.'

This they had done, Thiriston growling the group to sit up and listen, Parvon standing and beginning the tale with the gathering of elves ahead of Yule at the New Palace, the sense of unease, the alarms sounding in the night…

Triwathon took up the tale, recounting the tactics and the logistics of the companies, their findings at the villages. He spoke of the surprise when a dragon fell from the sky, shot by other elves than they, and the delight when signals revealed elves from Imladris were come to help.

'We heard identifiers for Lord Arveldir, and for… for the seneschal of Imladris, the former Lord of Gondolin,' Triw said. 'And we knew our chances of destroying the dragons had increased…'

He glossed over the horror of elves snatched, living, from the ground and dropped for the dragonets to rend mid-air, and when he came to the moment when Glorfindel himself was borne off in dragon talons, he faltered so that Parvon continued the narrative, taking their listeners with them through the forest to find their friend fallen, the dragons dead around him.

'He lay like the hero he undoubtedly was, amongst the wreck of his defeated foes, honoured in his blood,' he said, his voice softly resonant. 'At the end, he was in no pain, for he was attended by Lord Námo to his rest, and died amongst friends. Commander Triwathon was there, and heard his last words, Lord Arveldir, others, too, standing to honour him and watch his passing. He was borne to the New Palace, tended, and lain to rest with all the honour we could afford him. His body lies now beneath a fine beech, where in season the golden celandine will remind us of his sacrifice.' Parvon halted, hearing the sharp little sound of his husband and fëa-mate trying not to weep. 'The world has lost one of its greatest, and we have lost a protector, a warrior, a dear friend.'

He bowed his head, allowing silence to gather, and then raised his gaze, addressed them once more.

'Others will now answer any queries you may have. As befits the status of the fallen, Triwathon and I, in our capacities as former Commander of the Garrison of the New Palace, and Chief Advisor to the Office of the King at the New Palace, will take the first watch with the stone. We will be there presently, and you may all come to make your memories then.'

Parvon bowed to the group, gestured Canadion and Thiriston forward, extended his arm to Triwathon and led the commander out into the cold, bright night air. It was refreshing, somewhat of a relief, and Parvon became aware of how… how stifled he had felt, almost, in the harsh formality of reprising his role as Chief Advisor, how tightly he had held control in order to spare Triwathon excess unhappiness. Now his husband reached for his hand, twining fingers together.

'Not yet, please,' he said. 'Parvon, I can't… I need some time before I… not yet.'

Parvon squeezed Triw's fingers gently.

'Of course not yet,' he said. 'Come, our quarters first. Just to get away from duty for a little while, nothing more.'

The tent felt like a haven, he thought when he got there, leading Triw inside in silence. It seemed his beloved was struggling, and rather than express what he was feeling out in the open, was trying to keep it in, but not trusting himself to say anything more, perhaps. So Parvon had accepted the silence until he got Triw inside, until he had taken off his outer robe and sat down on their bedrolls, tugging his husband's wrist to encourage him to sit beside him and gently undoing the clasps of his formal tunic and sliding it off his body.

'For I know we will need to put on our office again shortly, love, but you need a bit of a rest from it, I think…'

He had more to say, but Triw looked at him with heartbreak in his eyes and cast his arms around him, finally giving in to the grief that still had such a hold on him.

'I am sorry, truly, I am,' he gasped out between sobs. 'This is unfair of me, I love you, I do, but he…'

'He was so much to you.' Parvon stroked Triwathon's back, soothing with his touch, trying to find more words to say, I don't mind, you're mine now, as long as you're mine, it doesn't matter, in fact he was so much of a person that to think you love me now, that is a comfort indeed…

But none of that would do. He tried, anyway.

'I know you love me, Triw. And… you were there, you've just had to relive it all over again for them, and of course it hurts you. I would take the pain from you, if I could, but… but perhaps that would be wrong. Because pain means he mattered, Triw, and I think that's all he wanted, if you understand me? I think he wanted to matter to someone, not as this great, golden hero but just as himself, an elf who was lonely and hurting, and who found solace and comfort with you, love. All the elves around him, all his opportunities, and he saw how wonderful, how special you are, and he took your friendship and gave it back with both hands; I saw you change, and blossom, and grow, and… no, not change. You just… he allowed you to be more you. And for that, I can only honour him, thank him, and do my best to follow his lead, and care for you gently and give you a safe harbour to grow…'

Triw clutched him closer, his sobs increasing. There was nothing for it; sympathy and love wasn't helping…

'Come on, love. We'll be sailing soon; you'll be able to see him again, see him whole, and healed, and happy with his own love.'

'That's… that's true.' Triwathon took in a shivering unsteady breath. He stopped clasping quite so close to Parvon, shifted just a little, and pushed himself back to look Parvon in the eye. 'And he will see I am loved, and that you are generous, and loving, and fond, and that there is no need for him to worry about me. And I will have no need to worry about him; that will be Ecthelion's job, won't it?'

He said this last with a lift of the brow and curve of the lip that was an attempt to show light-heartedness. Parvon wasn't fooled – there was still an agony of hurt in Triw's eyes – but allowed himself to accept the pretence in good heart.

'Yes, indeed. Let us hope that Ecthelion realises it, yes? Now, come. Set sorrow aside, if you can, for I am certain our friend would consider himself quite wept-over enough…'

'Are you certain?' Triw said, replying as lightly as he could. 'For he was the first to admit, he did like to feel appreciated…'

Parvon saw the real smile on his beloved's face and smiled broadly in return.

'And you did appreciate him, dear one. As do all of us who benefited from his sacrifice that night.'

'Well, if you are ready to stand watch, my love, I think I can brave it now.'

'Good. Come, then. Let me help with your tunic.'

There was nobody in the pavilion when they got there, and that was as it should be, for they were, after all, the honour guard.

Parvon bowed to the gemstone, hand over heart.

'I remember the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, the Hero of Gondolin, the Seneschal of Imladris, and friend to Silvans. I remember how he walked with us, broke bread with us, and then later, when we were sorely pressed, he returned to give his life for us. As Elf-in-Charge of the New Palace, I remember, and I honour him.'

He stepped aside to take up a station to the left of the stone as Triwathon in turn bowed.

'I remember my friend,' he said. 'The one who showed me that my worth was more than I thought. The one who said I saved him, when I think perhaps we saved each other. Certainly now I am in his debt, for he died saving my friend and my elves in the forest. I will honour him, and I will not forget him.' He glanced at Parvon with a sad little smile. 'It would be wrong, else.'

Parvon nodded as Triwathon came to stand at the other side of the gemstone. As if waiting, as if alert to some unseen signal, the opening to the pavilion was drawn back from outside, and Thiriston entered, bowing to the gemstone.

'Remember him well,' he said as he approached. 'Good warrior, good drinker, good wrestler. Dubious sense of humour, but full of honour. Others are coming, Canadion and I will take over from you after the hour.'

Departing, he was followed shortly by one or two of the escort company, then others from the barracks arrived. They made a slow, respectful stream of memories, some pausing to comment on what the elf before had said, others waiting, and leaving together with friends and speaking in soft, respectful tones as they left. Almost before he thought it possible, Parvon saw Thiriston and Canadion bow before the stone and prepare to take their places.

'There is a rota drawn up,' Canadion said. 'The stone will be honoured through the night. More wish to take a turn, in fact, than there are hours. When you see him, be sure to tell him, Triwathon. He will like it, I think.'

Parvon cast his spouse an anxious glance. Triw had held up bravely through the hour, stoically silent, but this was almost too much. He tried to nod, but his head dropped, and he looked at Parvon with a need for rescue in his eyes. At once, Parvon went to him, gently drawing him from his place.

'Come, Triw. Let Thiriston stand where you stood, come away. You have done enough this night.'