It was decided that the final ritual for the starlight gemstone of the Lord of Gondolin would take place the night following the breakfast meeting at which the king's message had been discussed.

The ceremony was held in a clearing in the woods of Ithilien, after moonset when the sky was clear and the stars were as bright as diamonds themselves, glittering points of brilliance that stilled the breath in one's throat, so beautiful were they.

It was exactly the right night, Triwathon thought, as he stood at the edge of the woods with Parvon waiting unseen, somewhere on the far side of the clearing, for the proper moment. They had prepared with care, dressing to honour the fallen, and had decided that Parvon would speak the litany, while Triw took charge of the gemstone itself, both of them under Hind's direction. She was out there somewhere too, ready to step forward and formally witness the completion ritual…

('Have you done this before?' Hind had asked, and when he had shaken his head, she had smiled. 'That's all right, True. You will know, when the time comes.')

He took a moment, thinking back to the first moment he had properly met Glorfindel, met him and touched him; it had been after the Battle of the Three Dragons, when Glorfindel, along with several other elves from Imladris, had returned with the company to the Great Wood, and to honour those who had been killed by the dragons, the king's personal guard had been ordered to ride in wearing traditional Silvan warrior paints…

…Glorfindel had asked to participate, and Commander Govon had brought Triw forward, pressed some pigment sticks into his hand.

'Glorfindel, my friend Triwathon would be honoured to help decorate your scars.'

'My thanks, Triwathon; I'll do the same for you, of course. Mind, there's a lot for you to make your marks on…'

…it had been wonderful and terrible, for Glorfindel was marked with whip and sword and fire, and Triw had been anxious lest he make mistakes, or hurt this great hero. But Glorfindel had been kind, and tried to put him at ease and, later, after Triw had been to speak his memories to the gemstone of his dead lover, and had been sad and sorrowing in the garden, Glorfindel had sat with him and been kind then, too, and… that was how it had begun, really. In kindness.

It had ended in kindness, too; Glorfindel had given him up sooner than either of them wanted, to free him for the post of Garrison Commander at the New Palace, and how strange that that one act of kindness had led all the way back to this moment…

This moment.

Now.

Triwathon stepped into the clearing.

For a moment he stood beneath the stars feeling the shiver of the night against his naked skin, a wild Silvan clad in fighting kilt and warrior paints, a band of decoration on his arm declaring the name of his husband, as was the tradition, a similar band on his other arm honouring the fallen with Glorfindel's name scripted in red pigment He looked into the shadows of the encircling trees to a point opposite, and bowed.

Parvon stepped forward from the shadows, and Triw caught his breath. His spouse was wearing his leggings and boots, sleeveless Silvan robes of office over, displaying his bare arms, his sleek torso. His archer's biceps were decorated with pigments; Triw's name on one arm, Glorfindel's the other – and his scars were marked and outlined with bright colours; a round point of an arrow hit here, a knife slash there… His hair was bound back from his face in a single braid, an austere, harsh, controlled style that threw the contours of his face into stark relief in the light from the lantern he carried, and formed a contrast to the wildness of his decoration. He set down the lantern closed the shutters to stifle the light, and in the glow of moon and starlight, bowed to Triwathon and approached.

(…just for a second, Triw wanted more than anything to abandon his task and step forward, to wrap his arms around his utterly beautiful husband, to hold him, pull him close, slide the robe down from his shoulders to puddle on the ground, to kiss away the memory of pain from those old scars…)

Parvon came to a halt within arm's reach of him and waited, holding Triwathon's gaze with the idea of a smile on his solemn face.

In turn, Hind emerged from the edge of the woods, clad in muted green robes, and walked over to stand near, the third point of their triangle.

'We come together tonight to fulfil the ritual for the gathering of memories into the starlight gemstone of one adopted as our own,' she said. 'Where is the stone?'

Parvon tipped his head as he held out a small casket in both hands.

'Here is the starlight gemstone of our friend, the Lord of Gondolin. Lately he was the lover of Melpomaen, but previously, he had been the dear friend and lover of Triwathon. He is the beloved fëa-mate of Ecthelion, and was a friend to many, and a much-honoured honour-son of Eryn Lasgalen.'

Presenting the casket on one palm, Parvon lifted the lid. Triwathon stared at the gemstone as if for the first time, taking in once more its soft, golden lustre, how perfect in its flaws…

Parvon continued his part in the ritual as Triwathon reached out to take the gemstone in both hands.

'Memories have been spoken to this stone, received into its heart and now we make an offering of this gemstone to the stars…'

Triw lifted the yellow diamond above his head, holding it poised between his fingertips, pointing up towards the glittering sky.

'Bright Queen of the Stars, Lady Elbereth, we who do not sail have no hope of reunion lest death takes us, and brings us together after we have passed through the Silent Halls. And so, Star-Kindler, Bright One, we gather our memories and offer them up, a jewel of the earth in echo of your sky-jewels. Take them, Star-Kindler, hold them in your heart, and by your greatness allow our fallen friend to know how he was remembered.'

Here Parvon paused to take a breath… and drew in a gasp, instead. For the heart of the gemstone was kindling, somehow, a small point of white fire gleaming and twisting, growing and expanding until the stone shone with a golden glow.

'Find your star, Lord of Gondolin!' The words seemed to emanate from deep within Parvon's fëa, pulled from him by the sight of the glowing gemstone. 'Find your star, allow the gathered memories release! Let the Lady Star-Kindler take them, and you, home!'

'Look!' Triw exclaimed with quiet urgency, turning to the west of the visible sky. As Parvon followed the direction of Triw's thought, he saw that one point of light amongst the sky-skein dotting the constellations was glowing, twinkling, glittering and expanding. Rays of pure scintillation, gold and silver, split out from it, and it seemed that somewhere between the forest and the sky, they met and entwined and suddenly, abruptly, the light cut off, the star – all the stars – dimmed, and he was left trembling and looking at Triw and seeing his own bewilderment echoed in his husband's eyes.

But the ritual was not yet done, and Parvon brought his attention back to the now-quiescent gemstone.

'Lord of Gondolin, friend and honour-kin to the Silvans of Eryn Lasgalen, know that you were loved and honoured, and that you will always be remembered amongst us for your sacrifice and courage. We salute you.'

He proffered the casket and Triw set the gemstone back into its nest within. Hind spoke.

'The gemstone has received the memories of the friends of the Lord of Gondolin The ritual is completed and these have been offered to the Lady Star-Kindler, in token of our esteem, and she has sent a sign to show they are accepted. On the Night of the Names, we will remember him once more, and until then, the memories spoken will show he is honoured amongst us. May he complete his time in the Silent Halls and live anew in the Lands Undying in bliss until the end of time.'

Parvon closed the lid of the casket, bowing again, and turned to lead the way from the grove. Triwathon and Hind following.

As he reached the edge of the woods and the path back to the gates, he paused; Govon stepped out from between the trees. He was dressed, as Triwathon was, in traditional warrior paints and fighting kilt, and when Parvon drew level with him, he dropped silently to one knee. Acknowledging him with a nod, Parvon did not know what else to do other than continue. But a few yards further on, Cýrion, also in warrior garb, stepped to the edge of the path and he, too, dropped to one knee as Parvon, and the gemstone in its casket, passed. And so it went on, all the way along the path, every few yards, a hunter would step out and honour the passage of the stone. Not only that, but when they reached the gates, Canadion and Thiriston were there to swing them open, Thiriston a confused splatter of colours all over body and limbs demonstrating his multiple scars, Canadion with small flowers on one side of his face, a delicate tracery of fine leaves and tendrils on the back of a hand.

Beyond the gates, the company which had escorted Parvon and the gem down from the Old Palace was lined up either side of the path, again in traditional style, spaced at intervals so that the gemstone and its honour guard had an escort all the way back to the caverns where, clad in their robes of office, Saelchanorion and Daehel were waiting.

'Let us take it now,' Daehel said. 'We'll keep it safe until it's called for again.'

Parvon bowed over the casket and handed it over.

'I am grateful,' he said.

'Come.' Govon slapped Triwathon on the shoulder, included Parvon in his glance. 'The barracks common room. Legolas is waiting for us there.'

'I would rather…'

'Oh, we all know what you'd rather, Parvon; hide away from the centre of attention now you're not on duty. But we want Triw with us, and so you have to come!'

'How nice to be wanted for my own personality,' Parvon muttered, but Triw laughed and, formalities over, slid his arm around him beneath the formal robes, cold, painted skin on warm.

'No, love, he's right; I don't want to be where you are not! But you know Hind and Cýrion and the others all like and value you; ignore Govon, I expect he's just miffed because he didn't get to the bathing room before it shut for its inspection.'

'And you did, of course?' Govon asked, shaking his head.

'We're all going to need to wash our paints of later,' Parvon said, trying to turn the subject. 'Perhaps, Triw, you and I should just go home?'

'You will be looked for.' Hind stepped forward. 'You, and your husband, and I, we led the ritual. There will be questions.'

'Questions?'

'Yes, True, for I do not think there is a hunter in Ithilien who did not witness the spectacle of the stars reaching out to the gemstone of the Hero of Gondolin.'

Before Triw could ask further, she turned back towards the barracks. Parvon caught his eye with a grimace and a shrug and a sigh, somewhat hampered by the still-enfolding arm Triw had about his waist. Reluctantly, he slid away, taking Parvon's hand instead.

'I don't know either,' Parvon said as they followed Hind along the track. 'But I feel a little shaken after that; I wasn't expecting that to happen, the gem glowing like that…'

'And the star reaching out!' Triw shivered against Parvon's side, but not from the chill air.

Parvon pulled him closer.

'Let's get you inside, in the warm,' he said.

'It's not the cold, Parvon.'

'I know. But… indoors, out from under the stars. I feel they're watching us too closely tonight.'

'Then they will see your name on my arm, and know I love you, will they not?'

Parvon looked down, and Triw saw the shy, almost embarrassed smile that he knew Parvon kept just for moments when their fëa-bond overwhelmed him. Triw focussed on the love he had for his formal, neat advisor with the wild Silvan archer hiding within, hoping that some of what he felt would get through.

'Thanks, Triw.' Parvon tugged him close. 'You look wonderful tonight, and with the light coming down and spilling all over you… that's why I don't really want to socialise tonight. That's why I want to get you home.'

Triwathon felt a warm glow expand from his heart.

'Well, perhaps we won't need to stay too long,' he said.

A world and a half away, in the silent Halls of Waiting, Lord Ecthelion had decided to eschew the advice offered by Lord Námo, and rather than taking a book with him to read while he sat and waited for Glorfindel to complete his healing, he read his beloved instead. He took in every detail of Glorfindel's face and form as his injuries shifted and his scars faded, erased themselves from the representation of his flesh. Thel had lived with many of those scars in life (for Glorfindel had borne injuries long before his encounter with the Balrog), had kissed them, stroked them, known them as intimately as he knew the elf bearing them… to see him now, his form clear and clean and the skin softly peach-tinted… he had never known Glorfindel look more naked, appear more vulnerable.

A shimmer of light, a suggestion of a golden glow lit his beloved's fëa-form from within, and Ecthelion started; all the time he had watched, Glorfindel had lain still and silent, unchanging but for the slowly fading marks of whip, sword and fire. But although the Lord of the Fountain held his breath, metaphorically speaking, this was the only change that happened through the long, long stretch of his watch. After, there was nothing more and he sat and contemplated and waited… and waited…

'Chess board's been set up long enough to need dusting,' a clipped, brusque voice said from the doorway. 'Getting tired waiting for you. Might have to play with our host, and you know he cheats.'

The Lord of the Fountains did not sigh; he knew enough of Oropher by now to see this as a friendly overture.

'I think not, Oropher; I feel certain something will change soon.'

'Yes, you'll become one with the chair and not move again. Don't like seeing you turn into furniture, Ecthelion; what would your king think?'

Rising to his feet, Ecthelion turned to give the old, dead king a small smile.

'I rather think Turgon will have other matters to consider than I. But I appreciate your concern; as you see, I am not yet fused with our surroundings. I will come presently, Oropher, unless my dear friend stirs, you will have your game then.'

Across the Sundering Seas, in the barracks' common room, a fire was brightly burning in the borad hearth, wine and cups were on the serving tables, and Legolas was, indeed, there to greet the hunters and warriors who filtered in. The prince hurried to the tables and began pouring wine and handing out filled goblets as if they were all his friends, guests at his fireside.

'Well met, mellyn-nin! Parvon, what happened? I saw the glow of the stone, then the sky took fire…! Never have I seen such a sight, nor heard tell…'

'Nor I,' Triwathon said. 'But we are all pretty much of an age, I think? Perhaps one who has lived longer and perhaps witnessed more of these events…?'

'Not I,' Govon said, shaking his head. 'No, the only completion ritual I saw was that of my father, and it was… very different.'

He took the cup Legolas gave him and drank deep, shaking his head and turning away to stare into the flames in the heart. Legolas' eyes turned on his fëa-mate, but he let him be.

'I could ask my father, I suppose. He will be interested, anyway, but… this is not known to me…'

'I've seen it.' Thiriston came forward with his fëa-mate, his arm loosely around Canadion's shoulders. 'The necklace they made for the dead of Dagorlad, the ones whose families weren't found. The one the Dwarves kicked up the fuss about…'

'The necklace of Lasgalen.' Hind nodded. 'It was beautiful, first made, held up for us by your mother, Legolas. How it sparkled! And as the completion ritual was performed, every stone in its setting blazed forth blue fire, and the skies answered! All the warriors' memories found their home, even if they were remembered only by those who did not know their names. And… one other, I know of… your mother. Our king sent the stone to us, her people, the Elk-Tamers. He said it felt right for us have her back to honour her. They say her stone was beautiful, bright, and that Oromë's horn was heard in the forests around, sounding to carry her home as the stars shone out for her. They burned like tears, that night,' Hind said. 'Our shaman oversaw the ritual. Your father did not stay to see, but all he had to do was look up, and none could miss it.'

She tilted her head in a small bow, and stepped back and away, dismissing herself.

'My prince?' Parvon passed a goblet of wine to Legolas. 'Come, you have served us all before yourself; it is your turn to drink to the night.'

As he spoke, his subtle hand under Legolas' arm led him towards the hearth where Govon stood, wrapped in memories.

'Commander, you are remembering your father, and now, I think, your husband is remembering his mother. Perhaps you might wish to continue your memories together somewhere more fitting?'

Govon started at being addressed, swallowed hard.

'Parvon, that's a good idea. Yes, perhaps we should leave. Will you walk back with us?'

Parvon smiled and shook his head.

'I think Triw is needed here for a little while. I'll come back with him presently.'

'Ai, we are neither of us wanted!' Govon said, a rueful tone to his voice.

'In fact, I think you and I are very much needed, Commander. But we were part of something rare tonight, something beyond our comprehension. Those who do understand have different frames of reference than you and I. Try not to mind; it is not that we are not wanted or needed, simply that we lack the grounding to meet our friends with the same degree of appreciation. You and I, we both saw the gemstone light up, the sky answer. But I only spoke the words, Triw was the conduit, Hind the catalyst.' He turned to Legolas with a small smile. 'Take your husband home, my prince. If it pleases you, we'll postpone the breakfast meeting for once. Take some time together.'

'I…'

A hand on Legolas' shoulder, another on Govon's, and Parvon steered them towards the doorway.

'No, my prince. I will make the announcements in the dining hall, and you can speak to them at supper. Goodnight to you now.'