Late in the morning, Parvon's work was interrupted by a swish of the corridor curtains and a knock at the door. Mistress Gathrodes, pulled up to her full housekeeper stature, two red spots of colour in her cheeks and her hands clasped fiercely together stood in the doorway. Instantly Parvon rose; he had learned long ago that a distressed housekeeper was someone to be soothed immediately.

'Good day, Mistress Gathrodes, is there something amiss? May I help?'

'Indeed, Master, I hope someone can. The Lord from Ithilien is here, with his captain, and they were stopped from entering the meeting room by the guard, on account of them being Men. This has caused some inconvenience, Master, and I do not know what to do with them, because the prince is not to be disturbed today…'

'I see. Thank you for your forbearance, and please have someone bring them here. If they are usually offered refreshments, could those be brought, also? We will be in the large room. I am grateful for your help, Mistress.'

When Gathrodes had left, Daehel stared at Parvon, open mouthed.

'We cannot do that!' she said. 'We cannot meet the lord, we are just scribes…'

'You used to be, Daehel. Now you are Advisor Daehel, while I… today I am authorised, by the Prince's seal, to represent him. I will still be Master Parvon, but I am also an envoy from the Elvenking, and so I will introduce myself. All will be well.'

'You really will meet with Lord Faramir?' Saelchanorion asked in hushed tones, having abandoned his filing at Gathrodes' departure. 'But he is the Prince of Ithilien!'

'Yes; why should I not, as representative of our own prince?' Parvon got to his feet, tugging at his robes and trying to tidy himself. 'Lord Faramir, as I understand, is himself a representative of the king of Gondor. I see no issue here.'

'Ah, that is because you have worked so closely with the Elvenking, perhaps,' Daehel said. 'We are not used to mixing with royalty. But, considering, Faramir is not bad, for a Man.'

'He knows some Sindarin,' Saelchanorion said. 'So if your Westron is dubious, he will be able to understand…'

'My grasp of the Common Speech will prove more than adequate, I should hope. I will speak no secrets, but I will address you in our own tongue; it is quicker, after all. Saelchanorion, I want you at the copy desk, in the corner, making notes for the prince later.'

'What will we say about him?' Daehel asked.

'He is unavailable. That is all the information anyone needs, it is really none of their business. Daehel, you will forgive me if I do not include you in the meeting? But by all means, if you would like to show the lord through, I have no objections to your lingering in earshot…'

By the time that Daehel bowed Lord Faramir and his captain into the largest of the rooms, Parvon had arranged matters to his liking. He had taken his place under the lightwell, and chairs had been set opposite. Standing behind a high lectern towards the corner, Saelchanorion waited with poised writing implement.

'Master Parvon, here is Lord Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, and Captain Beregond of the White Company. The lord is asking after our prince…'

'Advisor Daehel, my gratitude.' Parvon emerged from behind his desk and gave proper, formal bows to the two Men. 'How may the Office of His Highness, Legolas Thranduilion, in Ithilien help you today?'

This was said in measured, impeccable Westron, and as he spoke, Parvon took in the appearance and manner of his visitors. There was something of authority about the lord, for all that his long hair was unbraided and looked as if it had not seen a comb for several days. A keenness, a clarity to his bright eyes, and assured bearing; yes, if this was the landlord, so to speak, then Parvon did not think being his tenant was likely to be an issue… At Faramir's side, the captain was wary and held himself as if waiting for an attack. Probably a good fellow to have at one's back.

'You can help best by informing Legolas we wish to see him,' Faramir said. He had a pleasant voice, and something about him made Parvon think, perhaps, that there was wisdom and sorrow such as the Eldar knew somewhere within him. 'It is a matter of some import. The regular meeting room was forbidden us.'

'The room is in use for a private Silvan memorial ritual today. It is unfortunate you have been discommoded. Unfortunately, however, his highness is unavailable; perhaps I might assist?'

'I can wait.'

Parvon inclined his head and turned towards Saelchi.

'Master Saelchanorion,' he said in Sindarin, paced so that anyone listening who was unused to the language had best chance of following, 'do you know whether the housekeeper can make up fitting lodgings for our guests for tonight?'

The underscribe's eyes widened and he swallowed hard as he set down his pen and nodded.

'I can enquire, Master Parvon, but…'

At the door, a knock, and Daehel bowed her way in, standing aside for servants with a tray of refreshments, beer and wine for the most part, with a variety of cups and goblets. Faramir took advantage of the interruption to cast a glance at Parvon and another at his captain.

'If Legolas is likely to be busy for long, is there another we can speak to?' he asked as Parvon poured wine for him and beer for Beregond.

'There is me, your lordship. I act on behalf of the prince, under the authority of his seal today. Of course, I understand if you do not deem me not suitable since you know nothing of me…'

'What of Govon, is Commander Govon free? I know it is unlikely, but there is something he needs to know at once. Or someone else with authority in your soldiery?'

'Ah, that is an easier matter.' Parvon switched back to Sindarin, scribbled a hasty note which he folded and passed to Saelchi. 'Master Saelchanorion, pray have this taken to Commander Govon at once.'

'Yes, Master Parvon.'

Parvon masked a smile as he noted Saelchi's eagerness to accept the errand; the underscribe seemed curiously eager to escape…

'As I said, your lordship, you do not know me, but I have worked for many years in service of the royal family of Eryn Lasgalen. I am a former Elf in Charge of the New Palace and more recently, Advisor-in-Chief to Thranduil, the Elvenking. In my younger days, I was personal advisor to Prince Legolas, until my mentor retired, and I took over his role. Presently, I am the Elvenking's envoy, having been responsible for the journeying arrangements for those elves who will sail. In fact, I travelled down with them.'

'So you would know if there were any communications from your king, after you left?'

Now, that was really none of Faramir's business, but something about how the question was asked, and in the interests of establishing openness, Parvon replied.

'There were, after a fashion. We were met on the road by Commander Triwathon, who had led the garrison at the New Palace, and who came to meet me on a personal matter. He had passed through the Old Palace on his way, and brought greetings from friends there, including the king. But there was no formal communication as such… I am afraid I do not quite understand your interest, Lord Faramir?'

Faramir gestured away from himself.

'When Govon gets here, if you don't mind. How was the journey?'

There was an ease to the question that did not fit with the curiosity in Faramir's eyes. Parvon spread his hands, prevaricating until he could guess what the Man's intent might be.

'As such journeys are, in the cold and the wet of winter – slow, with some impatience from those eager to sail. Towards the latter stages, we perforce detoured from the route planned… I wonder if I am right to assume that you expected that some word from the Elvenking should have come to the convoy, although the reason for your interest escapes me…'

Beregond stirred in his seat, and Parvon rose to refill the drinking cups, filling the time more than anything. But then the door opened and Govon strode in, head high, every inch the Commander of the Royal Guard of Prince Legolas. He nodded to Faramir and Beregond.

'Parvon, thank you for speaking with Lord Faramir. Is there another cup…? Ah, yes, my thanks.'

Govon took the wine offered, tipped the goblet to Faramir in salute, and drank. Behind him, Saelchanorion found another chair, brought it to the side of the table at Parvon's gesture for the commander to sit.

'What's going on, Parvon?'

Govon spoke in Silvan, and Parvon wondered if he had ever bothered to properly learn Westron. He himself replied in Silvan, and saw the slightest furrow on Faramir's brow, as if he was struggling with the unfamiliar accents and contractions.

'We were waiting for you, Commander, before discussing the reason we are honoured with our present company. I have explained that our prince is unavailable, and the lord wanted speech with you. We have been chatting about my journey down here, the lord was courteous enough to be interested.' Swapping to the common tongue, he bowed from the shoulders across the table towards Faramir. 'You will excuse the use of my own language, I hope; I cannot yet think fluently in Westron.'

'You speak it so well, in fact, that that surprises me.' Faramir said. 'To cut to the point, then – we are all busy people – Govon, the trouble you had with orcs, when was it? Remind me?'

The commander's delay in reply may have been from counting up, although Parvon thought it was more to do with trying to find the proper grammar.

'The time of the waxing moon.'

'So three weeks or so?'

'Yes, I think. Nothing since, we've increased patrols, as agreed.'

'As did we. You know Beregond, Captain of the White Guard?'

Govon nodded. 'Yes, indeed. Well met, Captain.'

'Commander.' Beregond's voice was less pleasant than Faramir's, strong and sure although touched with tiredness. 'Was on patrol with the company, ten days ago in the Brown Lands, we crossed the trail of a company of orcs. Following, we found they were themselves on the trail of a group of elves…'

Parvon stared. From his corner, Saelchanorion bit back a gasp. Govon took a moment to make sure.

'You tracked orcs tracking elves?'

'We killed the orcs,' Beregond said with dark satisfaction. 'A full dozen of them. The elves we met some hours later; they had camped for the night. Three adults, but one sick, and unable to walk, with two youngsters almost grown. We deemed it best not to speak of the danger they had been in, lest it distress. They said they had permission to join the ship and sail West.'

Govon stared at Parvon, looking for help.

'Commander, were you expecting three elves with younglings to arrive, wanting to sail? From the southern villages, perhaps? For I was not.'

'No, only your group, Parvon… What happened?'

The last he managed in the common speech. Faramir took over.

'Beregond's company escorted the elves to Osgiliath, where they arrived late last night. The healers took care of them overnight. Thence they were taken to the boarding house this morning. You were not informed, Master Parvon? Not told to meet them on the road?'

'We were not,' Parvon said. 'When we left the Old Palace, it was with elves enough for our full allocation of berths; by my reckoning, there would not be room aboard for more, so these elves are a surprise to me…'

'One carried a sealed missive from your king,' Faramir said, reaching into his coat and dropping a document on the table. The parchment was grubby, but the seal was intact. 'He said they had been sent to wait on the way your elves would pass, and when no elves came, they decided to make the journey anyway, since they did not wish to miss the ship…'

Parvon stared at the document. By rights, given that he was wearing Legolas' seal ring, he ought to open it. But in part he baulked at doing so under Faramir's steady gaze.

'What does it say, Parvon?' Govon asked.

With a mental shrug, Parvon broke the seal.

'It is in Faerveren's hand,' he said. 'He took the role of Joint-Elf-in-Charge after I stood down. I trained him at the New Palace, he…'

'What does he say?'

Parvon shot Govon a quelling glare.

'It is brief, really. From the King's Office, Old Palace, and by the wishes of the Elvenking, Thranduil Oropherion of Eryn Lasgalen, greetings.

For as it may concern you who read this, the bearers have permission and leave of our king to embark on the vessel currently building in Osgiliath, to sail West. Since it is our king's understanding that several of his subjects have turned back and, indeed, are once more ensconced in the forest's safekeeping, the bearers will take over the places thereby released.

For the King,

Faerveren, Joint-Elf-in-Charge. He has the epistolary style, at least.'

'I don't see…'

'No doubt all will become clear.' Parvon refolded the parchment. 'Lord Faramir, we are most grateful for the care you gave our friends. I will visit them personally, as soon as my duties permit, to make sure they have all they need and to try to discover exactly what went amiss. Immediately his highness is available, I will apprise him of events.'

'I'd appreciate that. Govon, can I talk to you outside?'

'Yes, Prince Faramir, whenever you wish.'

Faramir nodded to Beregond, and the two rose. Out of respect and courtesy, Parvon, too, got to his feet.

'It was good to meet you, Parvon,' Faramir said with a smile that seemed genuinely friendly. 'I hope we meet again soon.'

'Good day to you, Lord Faramir, Captain Beregond.'

As soon as the guests had been gone long enough for Parvon to be certain they would not return, he let go of the control he had been exercising and proceeded to drag his hands painfully through his hair and release a stream of invective that caused Saelchanorion to call out to Daehel, and to hurry to Parvon's side.

'What is it, what is amiss?' the underscribe asked. 'Are you suddenly injured, or…'

'No, it is worse, far worse than that, it is… Ai! When the king learns of this…!'

'Why, whatever is the matter?' Daehel patted ineffectually at his shoulder. 'Saelchi, is there wine left? Bring some for our friend!'

'In short… thank you.' Parvon paused to take a swallow of wine, took a second to think of his phrasing, made himself breath more slowly. 'When we left the Old Palace, our route was set, certain, established and known to the King and the King's Office scribes. Moreover, it was his majesty's express command that the company walk through the forest, following the route agreed, so that all had time to see what they were leaving behind. This would have taken us across the Dwarf Road and into the lands now ceded to the Woodsmen, and would have served as a reminder that we do not live alone here, and that we would be mingling with Men in Ithilien. Is all clear so far?'

'Yes, Master Parvon, but I do not quite see…'

'No, Daehel. Bear with me. How much you heard of the discussion with Faramir, I do not know. But he spoke of elves tracked by orcs, elves who had been waiting to meet up with our convoy… because they had been told we would be in a certain place on the road only to find we were not there as expected since, unbeknown to the Old Palace, someone had ordered a canal built for easier journeying, and neglected to inform the king…'

'…and you took the river down instead of the trails, oh my stars…!' Daehel's eyes grew wide and she glanced across. 'Saelchi, give me that wine!'

'…against his express command, I should add, and resulting in those poor elves trying to get to Ithilien on their own! This is… it is an outrage, it is shocking, they were within an hour or two of being attacked, they would have been killed, or worse… and it is my fault, mine, because I allowed myself to be distracted, and although I noticed we were not quite where I thought we should be, by the time I realised, it was too late to do anything other than complain…'

'It's not your fault, though,' Daehel said. 'It really isn't. I know the orders that were given, Legolas agreed it would be quicker for your people, Govon sent word to the guard company to bring you here the quickest way…'

'Ai! You really must do something about our prince, Daehel!'

'I think you're right, Master Parvon. But he's not used to listening to me… couldn't you…?'

'I will have words with him about this, never fear…' He shook his head, scowling. 'Not today, of course; I cannot today, not while he is ill. Although if there were an attack, for example, the orcs would not just ask nicely if everyone was well enough to fight, now, would they?'

The smiles from his companions were weak, but they did, at least, smile.

'Well, you will be running out of time soon, Master Parvon,' Daehel said. 'While you were closeted up with the lord, this came.' She set a document before him. 'I opened it.'

'Of course you did, you are Advisor to the prince, and unless a document is specifically addressed to one or other of you… oh.' Parvon reread the words he'd just skimmed. 'I see. You know, then, that the ship sails on the evening tide tomorrow.'

'We will miss you, Master Parvon.'

'And I you. Bizarre, is it not? We have only just been made known to each other… but you have done well here, your filing system is on the way to being organised, you are learning how to behave on the prince's behalf… if you are in need of further advice, I suggest a note to Master Faerveren, asking for an old copy of the Routines and Practices would be worth your while; he is a very willing and helpful person, and would do his best to assist you. In fact, if you could convince him to journey down and stay with you for a month, he is the perfect exemplar of how combine friendliness and helpfulness with formality and authority.'

'Thank you. But… I think we'd rather have you, Master.'

Daehel said this shyly, and Parvon suddenly found he needed to clear his throat.

'Master Saelchanorion, if you have a moment, the information about the ship…'

'It needs adding to the board, Master Parvon. And then a fair copy of today's meeting, utilising my notes and this latter discussion?'

'That would be very helpful. But just a brief outline will do first, so that if the prince is well enough to read, he can hear of this as soon as possible.'

'But will not Commander Govon mention it?'

'Undoubtedly. But he was not here when the lord arrived, and will miss the subtleties of the questions he asked of me.'

'At once, Master Parvon.'

'I can help with the notice for the ship, then,' Daehel offered. 'It will use our resources better. And you, Master Parvon, you'll need to pack?'

'It will only take me a short while, and can wait until tomorrow,' Parvon said, thinking of other times he'd packed in haste; to leave the New Palace under duress, to take his leave of the Old Palace… 'But I think perhaps I should see if Commander Govon is done with the lord yet. And then…'

And then he would need to find Triwathon. He was not really looking forward to breaking the news that they would be sailing on the morrow.