In Legolas' rooms, Parvon began an investigation of the coffer's contents while the two scribes were sent for. Legolas had also sent for wine and sweet cakes, and by the time he'd looked through half a dozen documents, Parvon did indeed feel he was in need of sweetening.

'Why are the notes of meetings always made from memory, after the event?' he asked the prince.

'Faramir's minister – Vanathir – tends to sneer down on those who need notes to keep their thoughts in order. Of course, we do not forget anything that is said, but I do have to tell my scribes what was discussed…'

'So the transmission of information is interrupted; my prince, you do realise that if you ever needed to query any of the meetings, your scribes' notes would not be considered adequate, made after the event as they are?'

'Well, I… I suppose that's so, but Faramir would never…'

'I cannot accept the integrity of an individual I have never met, my prince. Nor should you expect it of me. Ernilen, I do know how the ministerial and advisory mind works, you know; everyone is out for the best they can manage for their lords; I did the same for your father, doing my utmost to implement his will… and although I was comparatively scrupulous, there is plenty of room for misunderstanding where different kinds of people are involved; if we do not properly understand Men, why should we expect them to understand us? They do not have the time to make elves their study!'

'I suppose not.' Legolas hung his head. 'Ai, but I do not have the expertise to counter Vanathir when he says such things!'

'It is simple. You tell him that you have noticed discrepancies between your records and the subsequent interpretation of matters discussed, and that you will present them with a copy of your records after the meeting. You then point out that if they do the same, then there can be a consensus.'

'Can you write that down for me, for after you've gone?'

Parvon was still trying not to laugh when a knock came to the door and two elves tumbled in – or, rather, one tumbled in, dragging the other who, perforce stumbled across the threshold. They had the auburn hair and brown eyes typical to Silvans, and were dressed in leggings and tunics and did not look at all like scribes.

'Good day, hir-nin!' they chorused.

They were Daehel and Saelchanorion, and when Legolas introduced Parvon, they stared at him as if he were both answer to prayer and deadly enemy.

'Master Parvon!' Daehel said, catching her breath. 'I have a copy of your How to Manage Paperwork! I do not know how I would get along without it!'

'I… In fact, that document began life as my personal notes when I began as Lord Arveldir's underscribe; I am glad it has been of use, but it was never intended…'

'Oh, sir, it is wonderful, but I would like to ask, on page sixteen, chapter three, paragraph seven, point four, just how often are you meant to get your Responsible Leader to sign the documents…?'

'Whenever you possibly can, but it is not always easy. There are appendices in which I note some possible strategems, but if you do not have the full set…'

'And this is Saelchanorion,' Legolas said firmly, bringing the other elf forward.

'It is an honour to serve,' Saelchanorion said, his voice polite, but not as enthusiastic as Dahael's. 'I hope you will enjoy your time with us.'

'It is for a few days only,' Parvon said. 'But our prince has intimated that I may be of service in setting up a separate office for you…'

'Oh, ernilen, you mean it?' Daehel turned grateful eyes on Legolas. 'It is exactly what we need here now! Where shall it be?'

'I leave that to yourselves to determine,' he said, smiling. 'And so, if you would like to pack the documents away, Parvon, Saelchanorion can carry the coffer to its new home. Let me know where you're setting up, once you have somewhere.'

'My prince, may I take it, then, that I may appropriate a room or rooms as I see fit?'

'Spare the meeting room, spare the dining hall, do not anger the housekeeper, keep away from my private rooms here and the common room, but yes, help yourself. Within reason.'

Parvon bowed. 'In front of witnesses, no less! Thank you, hir-nin. Daehel, Saelchanorion, shall we go? Daehel, will you lead the way?'

'Yes, Master Parvon! Follow me!'

Daehel almost danced through the corridors, leaving a trail of excited comments in her wake.

'I think I know where we might… or possibly…Oh, but that would be better because… Oh, Master Parvon, this is so exciting…!'

From behind, burdened with the coffer, Saelchanorion gave a muffled sigh and Parvon hung back to speak with him.

'Dahael – your… sister, aunt, friend, fëa-mate…?'

'Friend. We are third or so cousins somewhere along the line, also.'

'Is she always this… enthusiastic?'

'Regrettably, yes.' Saelchanorion grimaced.

'And how did you become involved with the Prince's Office?'

'It is hardly that, as such! Well, knowing I had less of an eye for marksmanship, and more of one for making marks, so to speak, Daehel volunteered me as second scribe. Which I am more than happy to do, Master Parvon, my friend has a better mind for intrigue than do I. For me, I like to keep order…' He paused to shift his grip on the coffer. 'I must admit, I have longed for a chance to properly organise these documents.'

Parvon nodded.

'Don't belittle the usefulness of an eye for order, Saelchanorion. At the New Palace there was an underscribe who enjoyed filing more than any other part of his duties. He is now Joint-Elf-in-Charge of Thranduil's own King's Office.'

'May the Valar save me from such a fate!' the scribe exclaimed, causing Parvon to smile.

'It is true, it can be a challenging task, but yet a worthwhile one. Then again, it can be thankless and frustrating. We were not only expected to serve the king's administrative needs, but to demonstrate a sense of humour while so doing. It became an interesting challenge, to entertain him with stiff words and not resorting to base humour. My former mentor, Lord Arveldir, was a master of the judicious riposte. I fear I will never attain his level, but then, I do not need to.'

'We are here, we are here!' Daehel danced around the end of a corridor, pushing open doors, lighting lamps from the wall sconces. 'Three rooms, one each! Straight on, Saelchi, there's a ledge you can set the coffer on! Good, now you've got your arms free, we will need tables each, and chairs… see what you can find round and about, will you? Or ask Gathrodes for help!'

Once her friend had left, Daehel turned her full attention to Parvon.

'Well, Master Parvon, what do you think? This can be your room, and I will take the left, and Saelchi can have the right…'

'I am not going to be here long enough to require a personal office,' Parvon said. 'I am lately married, and I and my husband are sailing with the others.'

'Oh.' Daehel's bright enthusiasm visibly dimmed. 'Oh, that is a pity!'

'I take it you mean the fact that I am sailing, not that I have found my fëa-mate? Not for me; it is a much-awaited chance to reconnect with my dear brother who died protecting the forest, and his king. However, this is a perfect room for the main office, when you need to impress visitors; the lightwell illuminates this area perfectly, so set the main desk here, and have the chair behind it higher than the one set for the visitor. This will reinforce the authority of the chief scribe… I think you both – while I am here, we three – should share a room, then have another simply for filing. Then you would keep this room for audiences, visitors, enquiries. There should also be a sign made, informing people that this is the Prince's Office, and you must have a notice board for all the relevant and recent news and orders – those Legolas makes at his morning address, for example, plus anything from the garrison… a list of the hours you can be found here and where, outside hours, people can take their concerns.'

'We should have a door across the corridor, too,' Daehel said, nodding her eager agreement. 'Or a curtain. That might be easiest, until we are sure these will be our permanent rooms. Chairs in the corridor, do you think, for waiting?'

'Set the curtain as far from our doors as possible, then there will be space for chairs outside the rooms for visitors. So, what are the other two rooms like?'

'Dark,' Daehel admitted. 'Not ideal for copying documents or drawing up pronouncements…'

'We can ask about windows, or lightwells. Or permit appointments only during set hours, and then the main office can be used for scribal works.' Parvon moved past her to examine the two side rooms; the one to the left was more spacious than the lightwell chamber with good, almost equal proportions, while the one to the right was long and narrow.

'Yes, this chamber would be ideal for filing. Shelves for storage of scrolls, perhaps have some cabinets made in due course… in the interim, tables for the coffers to be set on – you will need several, to properly organise the documents – make sure lanterns are taken out when the room is left empty, just in case of accidents… it is not ideal, but it will do to begin.'

Returning to the squarer room opposite, he paced out the walls. 'Two desks will fit admirable side by side here,' he said. 'Both facing the door. In time, have a doorway let into the adjoining room, so that one may pass from here into the main office without being observed. There is also space for a worktable opposite the desks, where large projects may be spread out and left while in progress. Yes, I think this will do very well. All we need is a name, and your most helpful friend to return bearing furnishings.'

At the same time that Parvon was mentally organising the layout of the filing room, Triwathon was standing beside Govon and watching a bout of open-hand fighting from the shadows of the trees.

The one in charge saw them, but did not let those participating know. Instead, she continued in her light-hearted railing, encouraging and exhorting them to better efforts in much the same way that she had been before she spotted her commander and his companion lurking in the undergrowth.

'Come, there!' she shouted. 'I am sure a child of Men could do better! Watch your stance, Laboron! Haew, your grip is dreadful! If you were in combat, you'd be dead by now! Counting down, bout ends in …five, and four, and three, and two, and one, and…'

She gave a shrill whistle and the elves broke apart, glancing across at the trees to see if Govon was about to make his presence known. He shook his head at her, stepped back, drawing Triw with him.

'What do you think?'

'Laboron is sloppy, Haew is nursing an injury to a wrist that meant he couldn't keep the grip strong. But better, the elleth in charge… she spotted us, I think, but didn't let it distract her from her job. I think there's a potential captain for you.'

Govon nodded.

'Yes she's on my shortlist. Next, the archers, just through here there's a good glade with open space…'

Fully a dozen hunters were at the targets, managing amongst themselves without a captain keeping order.

'They do not need it, of course,' Triwathon said when he had commented on this. 'These are elves who are used to working with and against each other. Are we looking at an entire hunter company here?'

'Almost complete. They had losses; a local skirmish, a small orc enclave trying to flee into the former Dark Lands ran into them. The pack died, but took the lives of two, while a third is still recovering. The group is trying to adjust to the gaps amongst them.'

'That's a hard task. So you won't be promoting from amongst them?'

'I've been waiting to see if anyone is reluctant to stay in the troop, or if anyone steps up to support the others more than the rest; it's not happened yet.'

'Was their captain killed?'

'No, that's the thing… he's lost heart, I think, has stepped down from leading, but not asked to leave the company. It's difficult for them all; we hope he'll find his courage again. No, not that – he didn't lack courage to fight.'

'But sometimes it takes more courage to continue, to look at the empty places and wonder if you could have avoided it, if you could have done more…You know this yourself.'

'I do, enough to see that the hunters feel it particularly keenly.' Govon sighed. 'Well, I will give them a little longer before I ask what they want to do. Perhaps you could take a turn at the targets, see what they make of you?'

'That depends, Commander.'

'On what?'

'On whether they close ranks when they see me, or hail me like a friend.'

While Saelchanorion was busy scripting a carefully-chosen title for the new administrative offices, Parvon was sitting on a newly-arrived chair at the newly-arrived table, Daehel on another chair opposite.

'How do you find things here?' he asked her. 'The prince and his husband, how are they to work with?'

'Pinning Legolas down is always tricksy,' Daehel admitted. 'Which is why we settled on morning briefings; that way he gets everything over for the day, barring emergencies. We eat first with him, and Commander Govon.'

'Let me see, enough food for an extra two persons…?'

She laughed. 'Indeed, the commander takes a hearty breakfast!'

'Yes. Commander Govon always did respond well to food.'

This caused Daehel to giggle in a most un-King's Office manner.

'Ai, you make him sound like a hungry canine!'

'At the Old Palace, when I was Legolas' personal advisor, Govon would forever steal my toast; I took to ordering copious stacks from the kitchens and somehow there was never any left…'

'Oh, we learned the first morning, when he took the plate and looked at us and said were we not eating with them…? The prince was highly amused, he said that even though he had not wanted a meeting at all, the look on Saelchi's face was worth the disruption.'

'I suppose we should just be grateful that he allows you to do even this minimum of work for him…'

'In fact, it is only because Commander Govon has to keep records of the garrison and sent the reports back to the Old Palace, I think, that our prince has capitulated to doing the same.'

At the doorway, Saelchanorion cleared his throat.

'Master Parvon, the sign is drafted. Would you like to see what you think?'

'Excellent, thank you, Saelchanorion…'

'Would you like to call me Saelchi, as does Daehel? It is easier…'

'Indeed, and when we are not working, then I should appreciate that. But in and around the office, we need to be formal, even when it is only us here. This helps to set a proper tone.'

'Yes, of course, forgive me, I am so…'

Parvon shook his head.

'We also do not apologise to each other publicly. This shows a united front, although in this instance, no apology is necessary. Now, let me see your work? I must admit, I am eager to see your skills.'

Spread on the table in the main scribe's workroom, a banner in both the Fëanorian Tengwar bore the legend:

The Office of the His Highness, Legolas, Prince in Ithilien

'Thank you,' Parvon said. 'That is lovely work. We will need a translation into the Common Speech, but that will pin to the wall or one of the boards, so that it will not dilute the beauty of your script-work, Saelchanorion. Now, that is our formal title, but we will shorten it to the Office of the Prince in Ithilien. It makes clear his place and status without making false claims, and acknowledging his heritage without boasting.'

'It is entirely suitable and proper,' Saelchanorion said, still glowing from the praise of his handwriting. 'It reminds us that we belong here, and to the prince, and his father the king in Eryn Lasgalen. And yet, it is formal and impressive enough for the Men who come.'

'Good. So, shall we get that put in place? And will you write a title banner for the board for the day notes? After that, we should all look at how you might wish to organise the documents, and that will be all for the day. Tomorrow, Legolas will require one of you to draft a document of authority for the one who is to oversee allocation of berths on the ship. If he does not mention it at breakfast, please bring it to my attention and I will delight in reminding him.'