Branch by branch, Triwathon descended from the canopy, his hand ready always to steady Parvon behind him, whether his husband needed his help or not. A final step, and he dropped onto the forest floor.

He held out his arms, and Parvon jumped down into his embrace. Together they turned to look down the path that led towards the New Palace.

'This is the spot where I was brought to wait for the convoy when I was exiled,' Parvon said.

'I'd been assigned as far away from the trail as possible; I tried to sneak away to say farewell,' Triwathon said. 'They caught me before I got within signalling range. I did try.'

'That means a lot,' Parvon said, smiling across the pain of the memory; the long, ignominious wait for the wagons, the sense of shame undeserved… 'Hard to believe it's been almost a year, isn't it, Triw?'

'A year is such a short time anyway... Are we doing the right thing, coming back?'

'It doesn't matter if it's right or not.' Parvon scowled as all the emotions connected with the New Palace, and the way he had been wrenched from it under armed escort, caught up with him. 'I have to, I… didn't have a chance to make my peace with the place.'

'It was awful, the way it happened. I know our king was acting in the best interests of as many people as possible, but… it wasn't good for you.'

'No. No, it really wasn't.'

'You're right,' Triwathon said, breaking into Parvon's thoughts. 'It's not the right thing, coming back. It's the only thing. You're not the only one who left in a bit of a hurry.'

This drew a laugh from Parvon; he'd had the story many times now, of course, from different narrators, about how Triw had abandoned everything to chase after him through the forest.

'Really? And there was me thinking you had dawdled on the way…'

Triwathon gave a very un-elven snort. 'Well, having been told by what felt like every elf in the New Palace that you were sailing, I didn't wait around for long… I'm just glad I caught up with you before you did anything rash.'

'Me? A King's Elf to the core, be rash?'

Now Triwathon's laugh rang out, and he hugged Parvon close and kissed him as if he didn't care who might see.

Indeed, the forest was the only witness, but it really would not have mattered had the king himself ridden around the corner…

'It's important, though,' Triw went on, his mood sobering once more. 'To be here, for the Night of the Names. To remember… him again. And to visit his earth-cave, make sure he's really gone… then I can feel free again.'

'It's been quite a time, hasn't it?'

'Yes! So much of sorrow… and of joy!' He smiled, leaned his head against Parvon's and gave him a hug. 'I have been thinking… what is the likelihood that our king will offer us a chance to serve in the Old Palace again?'

'Quite high, I suspect,' Parvon answered. 'I caught him at the Old Palace, casting us measuring glances from time to time… which is why I suggested we hurry ahead and join the advance party setting things to rights… I want time, Triw, just a little time to look about me without dancing attendance on the king and his guests, time with you, here…'

Finally, Parvon eased out of the hug, smiling at his beloved. 'Should you reprimand the captain, when we get in, do you think, for not having a watch on the flet?'

'Now, there's a thought…'

'Consider as we walk, then, love. We'll be losing the light soon, and there's still a little way to go yet.'

'What do you reckon?' Triwathon asked. They were near the New Palace now, easily within hail of the watch-flet outside the gates. 'A chorus of Heroes?'

Parvon laughed.

'All right. Shall we personalise it a little…?'

Thus it was that the solitary guard on the watch-flet was treated to a somewhat thin refrain coming from the forest:

Heroes coming home,

Heroes coming home

Parvon and Triwathon,

Husbands coming home…

They were on the point of adding a second chorus, Triw whispering slightly ribald suggestions for the wording which made Parvon choke and laugh around the words, when they heard the query hail soaring through the canopy.

Triw sent his identifier back, then cupped his hands to call out.

'Hail, there, Cinir! Were not the words of our song clue enough to our identities?'

'Hail, Commander Triwathon! You and Master Parvon were expected tomorrow! But I think we will pass muster! Proceed to the gates!'

'I should hope they will pass muster,' Triw muttered as the watch sent out a sequence of calls towards the New Palace. 'Or I will have something to say about it!'

By the time they reached the entrance to the New Palace, the gates had been swung back and two hunters waited either side of them.

'Be welcome, Commander Triwathon, Master Parvon. The Captain-in-command is on her way.'

'Our thanks. I am but a captain now, you know…'

'Ah, but you will always be Commander to us!' Captain Durdes said as she came up. 'Well met! Will you come inside, mellyn-nin?'

They followed her through the gates, looking around, looking for changes. The captain shook her head, smiling.

'Very little has altered here; we have re-established ourselves, albeit with just a score of us, mixed hunters and guards. We work well together; the hunters like patrolling the canopy and we are setting things in order, slowly. We have your office and rooms ready, Commander, whenever you would like a tour…'

An interruption; a voice, keen and eager, and a figure running along the corridor towards them.

'Master Parvon, Master Parvon, you are here, you are here…!'

Parvon found himself smiling even as he shook his head; Faerveren.

He lifted his chin and folded his hands in proper King's Office fashion.

'Master Faerveren, well met. Since when has running in the corridors while not on urgent business been part of the Rules and Procedures?'

Faerveren came to a laughing halt.

'I shall have a new statute – When one's mentor returns after a long absence – entered in the books straight away, Master Parvon! Ai! It is so good to see you…! Both,' he amended hastily. 'To see you both. May I offer congratulations in person to you, on your marriage vows?'

'Thank you.' Parvon tipped his head with a smile.

'And… is it inappropriate if, for example, one were to offer a dear friend and former mentor a restrained hug of greeting while his spouse is present?'

Triwathon laughed and gestured at this.

'Go ahead, mellon-nin – if Parvon doesn't mind, I certainly don't!'

Faerveren rushed forward to fold Parvon in a brief, fervent upper-body hug. Being the taller of the two, he had to stoop to do so, and Parvon laughed, patting his shoulder.

'Thank you, thank you! There, it is very good to see you…! But I was expecting you to be at the Old Palace!'

'As we were you and Commander Triwathon! There is obviously much to discuss!'

'There is indeed. I think Captain Durdes wishes to give Triw a look at the garrison – perhaps you'd like to show me how things are in the rest of the place?'

'That's an excellent idea!' Faerveren nodded. 'Captain, shall we all reconvene in the garrison common room for supper?'

'We'll be done long before then, surely?' Parvon asked.

'Oh, yes, I should think so…'

'My office, then, Parvon?' Triwathon suggested. 'I'll head there once I've said hello to the company; join me when you're ready. Captain – lead on!'

'Your rooms were cleared, of course, but have been made ready for occupation. None of the things you liked, though… the rooms are all impersonal now.' Faerveren led the way to the Palace Office. 'If you'd prefer other quarters, of course I can arrange…'

'Thank you; I'll see what Triw wants; his rooms are spacious, I recall…'

'Oh, of course. And the captain was most punctilious on prioritising the commander's quarters once we knew you were coming.' Faerveren pushed open the door to the Palace Office. 'Here we are; while we are in residence, and as there is space again now, I thought to keep the inner room for private meetings, and have my desk in here so that I am ready for anyone who needs our support.'

'It's just as I remember it,' Parvon said. 'Of course, it's only been a few months, really…'

'I tried to put all back to how it was when you were in charge; Ada moved the desks around several times to find his own personal best working practice…' Faerveren pulled out a chair at one of the desks and gestured Parvon to sit at the second desk. 'He did not really settle here. Did you happen to see him, when you were at the Old Palace, Master Parvon?'

'No; we arrived just before supper the one night, and left after a brief meeting with the king the next morning; Healer Ness found us accommodation for the night so we would not be bothered, she said. Although I must confess I did rather wonder not to find you there; when Merlinith told me you had come ahead, it was both a surprise and a piece of good news…'

'Did she also tell you anything more, about Ada, for instance…?'

'No, penneth,' Parvon said gently. 'Your Daerada Merenor made a point of coming to see me. He mentioned Melion had been unwell – another of his little turns, I think he said– and that he was taking a leave of absence.'

'It is rather more than that,' Faerveren said. 'You will forgive me if I take off my formal robes, and gossip my family a little?'

'Yes, of course.' Parvon waited with restrained curiosity while his former apprentice folded his formal robe over the back of a spare chair. 'We do have a lot to catch up with, after all.'

'We do so. Well, what happened was… you remember we had Elder Gomben in the cells here?'

'Very well indeed.'

'Ada… thought matters had gone on long enough, and let him out…'

'What?'

'Yes, against the king's express orders… Even so, it might not have been too bad, but of course, the Elder was not content with staying around the Palace, and found his way to his former village, seeking his former home. When he found it dismantled, its tree trying to recover from the damage inflicted in the fire, and made worse by himself, he raged through the forest, wrote in complaint to our king, and… well, he is now in the cells of the Old Palace, but Ada's judgement was called into question…' Faerveren sighed. 'At first his majesty said he was eager to allow Adar to share accommodations with Elder Gomben, but fortunately, it transpired that he was simply in jest. I will confess I used all my influence with his majesty to point out to him that his sense of humour is sometimes difficult for other elves to comprehend, and some of his friends – Healer Nestoril, for example – might not find it amusing, and nor would Masters Merenor, Hanben, Baudh and Oldor either. And that while I would, of course, hold myself neutral as was my duty as King's Elf, I could not suggest to my relatives that they act against their own personal loyalties… together, we worked out a compromise.'

'Thank the Valar for that…!'

'Indeed, for although my father had acted impulsively, he really had no treasonous intent and indeed, Elder Gomben was put in the cells once he returned from his home visit. However, Adar could not continue in post, the stresses were too much and so our king suggested he resign. He suggested it most strongly, and although I argued that the New Palace needed leadership and that once Elder Gomben had been… relocated, there was no reason to think Adar would not be more settled there. However, I was unsuccessful on that point and, indeed, on reflection, we in the family believed that a little rest followed by a return to the trade might be good for him, probably towards the southern settlements. May I ask, and please, do not think the question at all connected, but is there a ship sailing soon, and if so, how many berths are free, for I happen to know of a large family who are… considering their options…?'

'Really?' Parvon saw hope and anxiety mingling in Faerveren's open, guileless face. 'I don't have the numbers to hand, but there is always another ship, and the colony at Ithilien would welcome an industrious family who had trade links, for example, be it for a season while a ship was readied, or longer, if they liked it there…'

'I was most interested, too, to hear you have begun an apprentice school there, since it could be we may have openings for more advisors soon…'

'Do you think so? I see. Of course, if your parents were to return to southern trade, you could always come to Ithilien yourself?'

'Thank you. Yet I have settled in, at the Old Palace. I do not like the full responsibility, but Daerada Hanben helps with that, but people seem to like me, and the king approves my formal training. And Mistresses Merlinith and Araspen are very kind.'

'I am sure you would be an admirable tutor for some of the apprentice scribes…'

'Oh, I could not possibly…! That is, I am not sure what I have to offer, besides filing systems…'

'You have grown in confidence, I think, and your experience – rising from scribe to Chief-Elf is a fine example to all.'

'Ah, I was… lucky? In the correct place at the proper time and with the most wonderful support and mentoring…'

'…and I could add, you learned all there was to know about coping in a crisis, discretion, managing kings… you do manage him, from the sound of things? But on the subject of filing systems, I was fortunate when I arrived in Ithilien that there were two very helpful scribes who had been trying to keep on top of everything; Daehel and Saelchanorion. Saelchi…' He paused for effect. '…has a system of triplication for records so sophisticated that even Legolas can manage to put things away without utterly fouling up the system…'

Faerveren seized the change of subject eagerly.

'No…! That's witchcraft, surely!'

'Something like it, certainly. And he has wonderful scripting abilities…'

'Master Parvon, you sing his praises as if you were a matchmaking elleth with a child to marry off…!'

Parvon laughed.

'Never fear! I rather think Saelchi and Daehel are one day going to discover they are more than just workmates who understand each other's systems almost automatically; be easy, I know you are not seeking a special friend just yet.'

'Your establishment does sound tempting… I could learn, even if I could not instruct… Yes, then. If our king will permit it, then I will gladly join you for a season or so. And then, perhaps, I could travel down most of the way with my family, to the southern trade posts.'

'That is excellent news! The apprentice school is situated in the cave system where our prince first settled; the colony moves around from woodland to woodland, as the seasons and the condition of the trees requires. But there is always a small band of hunters nearby, and we are supplied from Osgiliath, which is around an hour away. From thence you could come back to the Old Palace – or, indeed, you might like to settle in Ithilien, if it suits you.'

'Ah, that is a tempting thought; but to leave our king without support… Now, the best state rooms are ready – and without the help of Mistress Lheves, who seems to have retired… for not just our own king, but for the visiting king and his queen, and I cannot help but wonder what such nobility is doing, coming to our poor, derelict New Palace…'

'King Elessar grew up in Imladris, and it was from the Balrog-slayer that he learned his swordsmanship. While it would not have been appropriate to admit a Man to our private rituals, our prince perceived a need to make some acknowledgement to the King of Gondor – they had travelled together and were friends. Commander Govon having remarked that Men liked to have memorials – tombs and sepulchres and such –this was put to our king, who, seeing an opportunity for a visit of state, decided that the anniversary of the dragon attack, and the Night of the Names, would be a fitting time for the royal couple of Gondor to see where their friend died, and was laid to rest.'

'That does not, however, explain why they are making a stay of several nights here, when surely just a brief overnight stop would be enough? True, they will have been on the road from the Old Palace for two nights or three, but are they not hardy enough to rest just briefly here?'

'We may not be aware of Thranduil's full intent,' Parvon said. 'One might almost suspect mischief. Certainly, that this visit has entailed the royal company travelling at the dark of the year was deemed unfortunate.'

'Still, this first anniversary is a fitting time, however uncomfortable the journey. After, of course, the New Palace will be carefully closed up and we will not officially return.'

'As we were told when our king first announced the settlements would be disbanded. But still…' Parvon drew his brows together in thought. 'However, you did say "not officially"… which begs the question, and unofficially…?'

'Unofficially, our king acknowledges that people are still going to want to visit the places where their loved ones rest; even though their physical remains have been absorbed, yet the essence of them will infuse this part of the forest for ever… the caves are too good to simply infill and abandon, they will offer safe shelter to any in this part of the forest… official visitors will be told where a key is to be found.'

'Unofficially-official visitors? And where, under a convenient rock at the main gates?' Parvon lifted an eyebrow and grinned. 'I do hope there is a better plan?'

Faerveren laughed in response and reached for his formal over-robes as he rose to his feet. 'Indeed, a key will be kept in the King's Office, and Healer Nestoril will keep another; they must be formally petitioned for, however, and a hunter patrol will be alerted to that part of the forest when visiting elves are expected, to make sure they do not try to trouble their former homes as did Elder Gomben. We think it is a good plan. So, come and see what we have done so far… rooms for four state guests; our king, and Nestoril, then the Gondor royal couple. One would expect them to share, of course, being married, but then perhaps the King of Gondor – or maybe the Queen – tend to snore? The sundry servants and attendants will have to make do wherever we can fit them in; the guards will put up in the barracks, of course. We will need to prepare the Hall of Audience, too,' Faerveren said. 'Our king does like to use the best resources to hand, and he will be aware that there is a king to impress…'

'Oh, I think Elessar is already impressed!' Parvon said. 'He hides it well, but I think he may even be a little daunted; he has met Thranduil before, after all.'

'What do you make of him, Parvon, this new king of Men?'

'It hardly matters what I think; the age of elves is passing, the age of Men is here. We will perforce step aside and led them order things as they will…' Parvon allowed himself a shrug. 'He is a Man, but from a long and noble line, surviving in exile. He was adopted by Elrond, but he seems to have turned out well enough, for all that. Of course, he had the benefit of Erestor's wisdom and the teachings of the Balrog-slayer to support him. I have met him several times, while in Ithilien. He seems a good sort, he is kind to his horse and courteous to his servants, and Lady Arwen seems content. So I hope this visit will go well.'

'As do I!' Faerveren laughed. 'It has been a task of work to ready the building, and there is still much that could be done better… and with no housekeeper…'

'Our king will overlook a little dust in the corners, privately at least. And the King of Men, he… well, if you saw him in travelling clothes, without his insignia, you would take him for a vagabond; he is not above himself and will sit beside a campfire as easily as on a throne.'

'I am not quite sure what to make of that!'

'Nor was I, until I bethought me of how our own king used at times to visit the woodland villages when he needed a little simplicity; he stood on no ceremony, was never above his company, and was welcomed with love, not awe.' Parvon took a moment and then qualified his statement. 'However, no matter how long Thranduil travels the forest, he always looks the king. Still. Come, you must tell me, is there aught I can help with?'

'Tonight, no. But…' Faerveren favoured him with an almost shy, sideways look. 'That is, can you assure me the royal company is sticking to its intended timings; it would not do if they decided just to ride out after you, would it?'

'Indeed not! No, the company still intended to wait a full day before departing, and Triw and I travelled swiftly. We should have two days clear, I hope.'

'Good. Now, is there anything in particular that you see as your own task, Master Parvon? I would not like to suggest you work somewhere you'd prefer not to…'

'It's thoughtful. And I must confess, Triw and I were hoping that we might be permitted to attend the beech tree and earth-cave beneath which the Balrog-slayer was laid to rest; we can ensure all is tidy, as much as a forest may be tidied up, of course.'

'When the elves from Imladris came, bringing the gemstone home, Mistresses Merlinith and Araspen sent silk flowers to strew around the site of his final breath, and his last resting place. They have been working again, and have sent a goodly store of beautifully stitched daffodils and celandine. If you and Commander Triwathon would be so good as to visit both sites, and place the flowers, that would be most helpful. It could be done tomorrow, if you wished to pay your respects sooner rather than later, for the forest will take care of the flowers for a few days at least. Besides, if a breeze were to blow, it would make them look more natural, would it not?'

'That sounds exactly the kind of task I was seeking; yes, I will speak to Triw and we will go tomorrow, if we may. After which, any way we can help…'

'Thank you.' Faerveren rose to his feet with a smile. 'So, you will be glad of a little time before supper. Shall I walk you down to the Commander's rooms, or can you remember the way?'

'Yes, we can do that,' Triwathon said, when Parvon put Faerveren's suggestion to him. 'I hope to visit, as you know, although it will be…uncomfortable, to be where he died, but if we can go from there to the earth-cave, that will give a measure of solace to the task. How… how does it feel, to be back?'

'Rather odd,' Parvon admitted. 'It feels a little like… rather as I did on arrival at the Old Palace, that there is no place for me here… I am delighted Faerveren is taking the lead, do not mistake me, but… the place has forgotten me, if not the people.'

'I know your meaning. My rooms, here, my office – they have not been brought back into use for Captain Durdes, she has a workroom of her own – simply, they were left, and only readied when it was learned we were coming.'

'And the rooms that were mine,' Parvon said. 'Faerveren says they are impersonal, now. It doesn't matter.'

'I was thinking… I have spent the night in your rooms on occasion… and although we used to talk for long hours, you never really stayed over. It might be… nice.'

Parvon laughed.

'Yes, I think you're right,' he said. 'Shall we go and unpack, before supper?'

'Well, that won't take long. We may have to find another way to fill the time…'

Supper was a lively affair, particularly for the garrison component. Triw joined in the conversations easily, extoling the virtues of life in Ithilien amongst the hunters, but Parvon found it harder to catch the mood. Triw was seated to his left, Faerveren to his right, and others of the company who were not hunters or warriors beyond, and it was really from them that the subdued mood came.

'It is hard, I suppose,' Parvon said, nodding to the elves beyond his former apprentice. 'Coming back here, knowing it is but for a short, short time, and remembering the hurts of the region, …'

'And all is cold, and damp, and feels unloved,' one of these elves said, nodding. 'Yet it would not have been hard, to leave a few here, just to care for the place.'

'I have said so myself,' Faerveren said. 'When we finally left – Elder Gomben had to be carried to the wagons in bindings, he still would not submit… our king said, no, nobody. But it was high summer, and dry, and all was left in good order – I was permitted to return myself, with Daerada Merenor, to make sure all was safe a month after – and so what has happened, I could not say. Perhaps the wet months we have recently had, or possibly mischief… still, it is sad, and one would not willingly inhabit these rooms again. And really, who would do such a thing, as to come to the New Palace to leave the shutters ajar in the store rooms? It is unthinkable, and just good fortune that the coffers containing the royal linens was spared…'

'…and there is your answer,' Parvon said under his breath. 'You perhaps have not worked directly with our king long enough to see how… determined he can be when he needs to keep his people safe.'

'You really think our king would have…?' Faerveren's voice was equally soft. 'Well! I do not know if I ought to respect his determination, or be wary of his ruthlessness…'

'What you could do, of course, is greet his majesty with regret, but inform him of the damage and say that all the good linens perished. If he is not behind this… mischief, he will not care, and if he is, he will not dare to comment…'

Faerveren laughed softly, the sound changing the mood of the sombre end of the table.

'Ah, how I have missed your quickness of thought, my friend! Yes, I will keep that in mind, and perhaps remove the coffer myself.'

'I'm pleased to hear you have found your courage with the king, my friend. It took me far longer.'

'It was a chance remark of Mistress Merlinith's, after a difficult breakfast meeting. She told me to bear in mind that, like every other babe ever born, our king, too, was once dangled by the ankles and his bottom gently slapped to get him breathing. The image has stayed with me through many a challenging encounter. Alas, I fear it is unshakeable…'

'I fear you are right,' Parvon said, when he stopped laughing. 'I am not certain of the veracity… but one would hesitate to doubt Mistress Merlinith's store of knowledge.'