Parvon reached the outer doors in time to watch Faramir and Beregond mount up set off along the track towards Ithilien, waved off by Govon and one or two of the garrison guards. There was no real spectacle, no posturing to the lord's departure, and Parvon found he rather approved of the Man, after all. Once the two had turned the curve of the track, he stepped out of the shadow and waited for Govon to notice him.

It did not take long.

'It's a bad business, this,' Govon said, heading back inside the cave complex and waiting for Parvon to follow him. He nodded to the guard on duty outside the room holding the gemstone. 'Anyone in at present?'

'No, Commander.'

'Good. No-one's to disturb us, understand?'

'Yes, sir.'

Once inside, Govon gestured vaguely at the room.

'It's the nearest place I could think of,' he said. 'Parvon, you're probably furious…'

'Outraged, frustrated, angry… and ashamed also,' Parvon admitted.

'It's all right for you – I'm now made to feel beholden to Faramir's White Company for saving the day… "It's a good thing Beregond decided to patrol on YOUR side of the road, is it not, Govon?"…"And you really were not expecting these elves, despite the letter they carried, Govon…?" AI, he managed all that in Sindarin, didn't he…?' Govon kicked the table hard enough to send the gemstone rocking in its stand like an egg on the edge of hatching. 'Oh, and not to mention "Never have I ever met elves like you and your Silvans, Govon…" Still, I suppose no harm came to the elves, at least…'

'No harm? One is ill in some manner, they had several days journey alone in great uncertainty and under open skies, only to find themselves with strangers, Men around them? And then to find themselves in a lodging house with no real explanation?'

'Parvon, no, it's not that bad, really. They've got Thindorion looking after them, have they not? And Magorion was unofficially there overnight, so he'll be able to reassure them… there's nothing for you to feel ashamed about, this is all our fault…'

'Well, yes, I am aware that this goes all the way up to the Over-captain at the Old Palace, since it was he who gave Thiriston sealed orders to open only when we were underway. But I should have protested, I should have insisted we return to the proper route, even if it did delay…'

'Insisted? You against how many elves?'

'Not me alone, Triwathon would have stood with me, and I am fairly certain Thindorion…'

'And as for protest, you certainly did that – I've had the full story from Thiriston, and I got Mago talking too…'

'That aside, I cannot help but feel I have let these poor elves down. Even though it certainly should not be my fault, I am fairly sure somebody will make it out to be…'

'Parvon, take a moment to think. You're not going to be here much longer, so it will not matter, will it?'

'Not matter? Of course it will matter, the more so if I am not here to refute slurs on my character! Really, Commander, you have a very low opinion of me if you think I would not care…'

'No, Parvon, really, I don't… I think very highly of you, and so does Legolas, you must know that…'

'Do you not see, however, the ramifications of Legolas' autonomy here? The Elvenking should be made aware of the new route, at the very least. You must try, too, to get him to listen to Daehel, who will become a formidable Advisor, given the opportunity.'

'I'll do my best, Parvon, I will. It's a shame you're going, if only you could stay longer, it would make a huge difference to the scribes, and Triwathon is doing so well with the hunters, and…'

'Could you tell me how to get to the lodging house, do you think? I really should visit the elves and apologise in person.'

It was hardly a delicate turn of subject, but it brought Govon up short in mid-speech, which had been Parvon's intention.

'But you'll see them soon enough, won't you?' the commander went on. 'Tomorrow or the next day? And if they've had a rough time of it, then more new faces might be a bit much… Then I would have to find you an escort, and Triwathon would want to go with you, and I want to see how 'Las is now…'

'Tomorrow. Word has come, the ship sails tomorrow.' Parvon considered. Of course Triw would want to come with him if he went to Osgiliath, but what, then, of his hunter friends? 'Perhaps, that being so, and given that, were I to be needed sooner, I would undoubtedly be sent for, I will wait.'

'I think that's wise,' Govon said (although at that moment Parvon doubted the commander would recognise wise if someone were to hit him in the face with a book containing the combined wisdom of all the libraries of Middle Earth…) 'The hunters will be breaking for their day meal soon. There's a good chance you'll find Triwathon with them, if you want to get something to eat. Try the barracks first.'

'Thank you for your advice, Commander. I shall consider it.'

He returned to the offices, nodding approval at the updated notices, and let the scribes know his plans.

'When you are done for the morning, perhaps add a note that you will be back tomorrow. Do you have the record of the meeting yet, Saelchanorion?'

'The outline is done, Master Parvon, and the proper record is almost made. What shall I do when they are complete?'

'File the proper record, have the outline delivered to the prince, marked 'urgent' and mention in the wording that the full account is in the files. When you see him next, you can ask him his thoughts. This gives you the chance to tell him, in brief, what happened, if by then he has not yet read your document.'

'Thank you, Master Parvon. Will we… we know it is your last day here, but will be see you tomorrow?'

'At breakfast, certainly.' Parvon allowed his smile to be friendly. 'If I am in my crow robes, you know to expect me here. If I am not, join us for the meal and conversation anyway. Until then, good day.'

A soaring whistle arced through the air, bounced off the trees. The hunters looked up from where they'd been taking their day meal out-of-doors, and Cýrion grinned at Triwathon, who had stopped eating as the call had ended.

'Was that your husband's identifier I heard?' he said.

Unaware of the smile on his face, Triwathon nodded, getting to his feet.

'It is, it is indeed. Is…? May he join us, or is this glade private to the hunters?'

'He may indeed, and welcome. Call them in, then. Petals is with him.'

He did so, sending his own identifier swooping and rising, adding the call for 'well met' to his signal, and went to the edge of the glade, eager to glimpse his husband as soon as possible. Soon he appeared, Canadion swinging a basket at his side.

'Parvon, well met! Canadion, thank you for bringing my husband to me!'

'I was told you might be in the barracks eatery, but when I got there, I learned otherwise. Canadion was good enough to bring me to you.'

'And your husband has also brought food, and beer from the kitchens,' Canadion said, laughing as Parvon presented him with one of the bottles. 'I am grateful, there is no need, but I thank you! Enjoy your meals.'

He loped off along the path, and Triwathon took charge of the basket.

'Come, join us; we have not long begun to eat. What did they put up for you?'

'Enough beer for you and I to share a bottle, and two to pass amongst our friends. Bread, and meat, fruit and cheese…'

'A feast, indeed!' Triwathon laughed, indicating the meal he'd been sharing with the hunters. 'Very much like to ours, I think. Shall we keep the beer for later, yes? No need to hurry,' he went on, seeing Parvon's hands moving swiftly amongst the provender. 'We will meet Rowan company here, and only then will we go on.'

'Our thanks for the beer,' Dusk said. 'There is never quite enough, is there? Or at least, it seems so! But Follow is right, Master Stern! There is plenty of time!'

Triwathon smiled and handed Parvon his own cup to drink from, saw him supplied with food from the basket. He would have taken his beloved in his arms, if he dared, for there was something in Parvon's manner that suggested all was not well with him.

'Did you have a difficult morning, my dear pen-pusher?' he asked. 'Although I hope you have cast off any such cares along with your crow robes!'

'It was… interesting.' Parvon chewed slowly at his bread and cheese. 'We had visitors; the lord of Ithilien and his captain…'

'Oh?' Dusk was suddenly crouching beside them, eyes intense. 'Is all well? Did they say? Can you tell us, Master Stern, is there danger?'

'If I tell you, can you pretend not to know, if I should have kept quiet?' Parvon asked, playing for time (since Dusk's swift interest had been a little startling) and earning a smattering of laughter from around the company. 'Well, the lord went off++-* to speak to Govon, so he will know, and I am sure will tell you…'

Groans of disappointment, exaggerated and good-humoured. Triw nudged Parvon's shoulder.

'You have to tell us now, love!' he said. 'If this is what's dulled your mood…'

'Not as such. Well, in short, the soldiers of the lord – the White Company?' Parvon paused for nods, indicating they knew who he meant. 'They found an orc-pack, and took care of them all…'

'How many? What wounded did they have, any dead? Where? Do you…?'

'I am sorry, I have few details.'

'But you must know something…!'

'Dusk!' Triwathon interrupted, laughing. 'Do the warriors of Men tell members of the office such things?'

'No, it's fine, Triw! The Commander knows, so I'm sure it will be well. The captain claimed a dozen orcs, but said nothing of his own numbers or injuries or losses. He did say they…'

'A dozen? Where?'

'In the Brown Lands, they said. The orcs had been tracking elves, whom the company presently found, and escorted in. One of their number was injured in some way, and the captain said they arrived back last evening after ten days bringing them home.'

'That tells me very little! Come, what else did they say?'

Triwathon heard Parvon give a small sigh, the one that meant he was so exasperated he was near the end of his patience.

'Nothing more to the purpose, unless you wish to enquire what the elves were doing in the Brown Lands, in which case I would be forced to point out that that is most certainly not something I am free to discuss with anyone until I have consulted with our prince. And I am loath to have to say such a thing, since my husband likes you and your friends very much, and I have nothing but respect for you; it already makes me uneasy not to be able to help you more, friend Dusk. Forgive me, but I am not responsible for the reporting practices of captains of Men.'

'Of course you are not,' Abonnessel said, joining them. 'I know you are aware that we lost two dear friends, and that others of us were injured. But, given the numbers Beregond has, there will have been at least twenty of them, do we not think? Is it not their practice, four scouts, a score of soldiers, and their captain? And if there were elves in the Brown Lands, they would be on the road, or near it. So we can work out the probable location, given the timing and allowing for some delay as one of the elves was hurt and would therefore be slower. Are they recovered now, do you know, Master Parvon?'

Her words seemed to gentle the mood, and Triw felt Parvon's ire subside a little. His husband seemed tired and more distressed than lost elves could account for.

'I think so, Faramir said they'd been in the care of healers and were well enough to join the rest of the company at the lodgings. Our friend Thindorion, and Captain Magorion are there, so I know they will have friendly elves to support them there.'

'Are we going to look in on them?' Triw asked. 'We could go later, if you like?'

'No, I've already talked it over; they've had a lot of stress and enough new faces for one day, I think. We'll see them tomorrow.'

'Will we?'

Parvon just nodded at Triw's question. Well. Later, he'd ask later, when he had time to get his lovely crow relaxed, perhaps see about locking off the bathing pool again, a little tenderness. He was learning; Parvon had spent so many long years as a King's Elf, had passed such an age of his life without someone to confide in that it did not come naturally to him to open up. But time together, gentle affection, and having Triw's full attention usually seemed to encourage him to talk.

'So, this afternoon, the plan is for Rowan and Ash to work on hand-to-hand and quarterstaffing. I think I'd rather watch, to be honest; the only elf's hands I want on me are yours!'

'Triw!' Parvon protested, but he was laughing as he did so, and his eyes were warm. 'But I'd like to watch, along with you, if your friends won't mind.'

The company had all finished eating and had begun to pack up when an identifier came from the trees to the north, and the hunters of Rowan Grove slid into the clearing.

'Did you hear? Dusk said at once. 'The White Company found orcs in the Brown Lands…'

At Triw's side, Parvon suppressed a sigh. Triwathon caught up his hand.

'Don't mind them, love. They are still distressed by their losses.'

'I know, Triw, I do understand. But there's nothing more I can add.'

'Then Dusk will tell all.' Struck by a sudden idea, Triwathon loaded up the basket to make all tidy, then jumped up, holding his hand out to Parvon. 'Come, we will go ahead and wait for them, that way you cannot be pestered overmuch!'

Cýrion nudged Abonnessel and laughed.

'Newly vowed, you see!' he said loudly. 'Cannot behave in public for more than five minutes!'

'Ai, do not tease!' Abonnessel said, her smile warm as she gave Cýrion a friendly shove. 'They behaved perfectly well for hours together, when we honoured the gemstone together, after all! No, let them be. Follow, Stern – we will give you ten minute's head start, and so listen out for our signals! You know where the grounds are?'

'The circles west, I think?' Triwathon fought down a momentary dread, lest he really had forgotten where they were meant to be headed.'

'That's it. Remember – ten minutes!'

'Something on your mind, Triw?' Parvon asked as soon as they had escaped the glade and were surrounded by trees. At once Triwathon stopped to pull Parvon into his arms and hold close against him. 'Steady, my love! We only have ten minutes…!'

This caused Triwathon to laugh, and release his hold. 'I thought you looked in need of a little tenderness, my pen-pusher!'

'I can't argue with that.' Parvon entwined their fingers with slow deliberation. 'I have some news, and after what happened when I mentioned orcs, I want this to be private, at least at first.'

'Oh? Is something up? Something else, I mean?'

'Not really… well, not unexpected… the ship, love. It sails tomorrow on the evening tide.'

Tomorrow.

Triw sat down at the side of the trail, heedless of what might be there to support him.

Tomorrow. It was too soon, much too soon.

But it was always going to be too soon.

He looked up into the eyes of the elf he loved so much. More than anything, more than anyone, ever, he loved Parvon. And he owed him so much…

'Triw, love? Are you all right?'

'Did we finish the beer?'

'We didn't even get around to opening it!' Parvon knelt beside Triwathon, found the beer in the basket, pulled out the cork. 'Here.'

Triw took the bottle, forced a smile as he lifted it.

'Here's to sailing with my beloved husband. Where you are, there I am happiest.'

He drank and handed the bottle over. Parvon seemed to hesitate as he raised the beer in salute. 'To being with you, my beloved tree-creeper. It's strange, isn't it? This is why we're here, and we knew it would be soon, but somehow… it seems sudden. And I do not quite know why…'

Parvon drank, handed the bottle back, and so they went, sitting on the cold ground at the side of the track and not-talking about the voyage ahead, with the trees behind them and the sky blue and intermittently cloud-silvered, until the beer was gone.

'If we hurry, we might get to the training circle before the hunters come past,' Triw said, sliding the empty bottle into the basket and getting up from the ground. 'Unless you want to wait here and for me to claim I forgot the way?'

'Or we could run?'

'Isn't running unseemly for a representative of the Prince in Ithilien?'

It was Parvon's turn, now, to grab Triw's hand. 'Let's run,' he said.

They reached the practice glade with ample time to spare, and more than twice ten minutes elapsed before Abonnessel's identifier came trilling through the trees. Time enough for the shock of the news to have worn off a little, but not enough for Triwathon to be easy enough with himself to speak of it to Parvon. Or, so it seemed, for Parvon to raise the topic with him, either.

Triw snuggled himself closer in to Parvon's side. To any watching, they would seem to be sitting close together, and, indeed, there was nothing inappropriate in their posture, but it felt nice to press together, hip to hip, and to have his arm around Parvon's back, just holding him for a moment.

'Here they come,' Triw said, reluctantly easing away and getting to his feet to wave and call. 'There you are, at last! We were beginning to wonder if we'd come to the right ground!'

'We're here now,' Moss said, gesturing for his Rowan hunters to take places around the circle. 'So. Ash against Rowan, open-hand? Who's first up against Sloe and Minnow?'

Two from Ash stepped forward, paired up with the offered opponents, and stepped into the circle where they began to wrestle, not the formal style practiced amongst the warriors of the Old Palace garrison, but something faster, lighter, less structured. It wasn't a contest, as such, and Moss, from the sidelines, sang out instructions and praise by turns, favouring neither Ash nor Rowan, and frequently calling them to pause and reflect.

To Triwathon, it was fascinating, watching how the hunters interpreted the moves, how they wove together and apart, the speed and accuracy of their dancing blows, but Parvon, at his side, was less engaged, and so after the first two pairs had stood down and fresh pairings came up to repeat the same dance of arms, he gave the bout but the appearance of attention and slid his arm around Parvon's back to rest his hand on the outer edge of his hip.

'When will we leave the colony, have you thought?' he asked.

'I have.' A thinking sigh from Parvon. 'There is certainly no need to go today, and I am assured it's not a great distance to the moorings. Tomorrow afternoon will be ample time, to judge from the tide times, and allowing an hour to get under the feet of the mariners.'

'So we have the morning, you for your scribes and me for my hunters. It's good, for I promised to find time to match against Frond; we played with knives this morning, and…'

'Knives? As in, hand-fighting? Triw!'

'No, no!' Triwathon laughed at the horror on Parvon's face, and cuddled in for a moment. 'Target practice only! One of us had an off-day, and so we want a rematch.'

'Oh. That's a relief! Not that I mind how you spend your time, but I'm glad it was not actual knifework!'

'So am I, in fact; unlike our prince, knives are not my favourite weapon! On which topic; is there news of him?'

'There wasn't, when I came away. I'm sure Govon would have said something had there been any significant change. If nothing else, he would have been smiling when Faramir left. Instead of which he spent a goodly length of time kicking the table in the meeting room again.'

'There's more going on here, isn't there?'

This drew a sigh from Parvon.

'It is the whole situation, I think; tensions between the colony and the Men which I understand Legolas didn't expect, the miscommunication between the colony and the Old Palace, with only the warriors as messengers… the ship is going to be more crowded, which will make our elves unhappy… and by now they will probably have realised they are sharing the ship with Noldor…'

'Noldor? Did you tell me this? Did our travelling companions not know?' Triw swallowed. He was over-reacting, he knew he was, it was just one more thing to add to the long list of reasons he'd prefer not to sail… a moment, he just needed a moment… 'Sorry, love, that's silly of me! It's a joint-venture, I knew that. I suppose I hadn't really thought what that meant… I don't… I don't mind Noldor, some of them are nice…'

'And some of them have a history of making poor value-judgements which then embroil other elvenkinds in their messes…

Triw grinned, and Parvon suppressed a laugh.

'Melpomaen and Lindir,' Triw said presently. 'I liked them.'

'Yes, if you remember, I thought the liking between you and Melpomaen was rather more than simple friendship…'

'Ah, but he's in love with Lindir. Which is doomed, because Lindir believes he likes females, and human ones, at that. So, not all Noldor are a problem. It will be fine, I am certain, and if not, well, I am sure you will quell them quite easily.'

'Quell… and how am I to do that?'

'With your eyebrow, perhaps? You have a very interrogative eyebrow, my love. I think you must have learned it from Arveldir, his was the same…'

'Thank you; I think our first king Oropher was the instigator of the eyebrow, and it has since been passed down, so to speak… Let us hope I have no call to use it on board. Really, though, I have known of the Noldor contingent since the early days of planning, but our king suggested most strongly that it was best not mentioned, lest it discourage those who otherwise might wish to sail. I had intended dropping significant hints once we neared the colony but, to be honest, I was distracted… in the best of ways – and somehow found I had lost interest in the Noldor altogether. At any rate, Thindorion is there to keep order, he has authority and final say in all the billeting arrangements, so I am sure it will be well. So, tell me, who was it who had the bad day with knife practice? Not you, surely…?'

They continued talking lightly on random topics, steering clear of matters concerning ships, until the open-hand practice drew to a finish. While several of the hunters went to fetch quarterstaffs for the next session, Cýrion came to join them on their fallen tree trunk.

'It was just practice,' he said. 'Not interesting to watch, not unless you understand the discipline.'

'My husband was rapt,' Parvon said. 'But, alas, my own experiences with hand to hand are limited… I much prefer archery. I hope we did not appear discourteous.'

'Were we rude?' Triw said. 'It's true, I did enjoy the bout, but there is other news, and we had to talk it over…'

'Not rude,' Cýrion said. 'And if our hunters noticed your occasional lapses of attention, well, they should have been working harder, should they not? News, you say? It must be significant, if it intrudes so much! Is it our prince, is he recovered?'

'We would have shared news of the prince immediately,' Parvon said. 'In fact, it is more pertinent to us than anything. The ship is sailing tomorrow, on the later tide.'

'That is soon indeed! How foolish of us! For even though we knew when you arrived, for we heard the announcements, that you would be here for a few days only, we had assumed there would be time for a week or more's training with your Triwathon! I think it is because we are only ever here for a month or two at a time; we lose track more easily! When must you go?'

'Tomorrow. But you may tell my friend Frond I can still match knives and targets with him in the morning.'

'About that. I had thought perhaps your husband would like to join us? Master Stern, would you like to bring your bow, and you and I will shoot together, whatever your husband chooses to do, knives or bow?'

'That would be pleasant indeed. I might need to look in on my friends Daehel and Saelchanorion, but if I come early to the range, they can have the rest of my morning, if that is good for you. Because once I get there, they will be loath to let me go.'

'That's agreed, then. After the breakfast announcements, come to the barracks common room, and we will go across together.'

'We will do that, thank you.'

'Company,' Moss announced from the grounds, his tone abrupt. 'Someone on the path.'

A whistled song, almost an afterthought, announcing himself, and Govon came into view, his usual energetic stride tempered a little. He lifted a hand in greeting, and joined Triwathon and Parvon on the fallen tree trunks, nodding to Cýrion.

'Is something amiss, Commander?' the hunter asked.

'When the bout's over, I'll talk to everyone then. It's good to see them engaged.'

'We've been working, Commander,' Cýrion said. 'Those of us who are not injured, of course.'

'Of course. I meant nothing personal, Cýrion, it chafes to sit out while we heal, but it's important. You're able to draw again, at least?'

'Yes. I'm practising with Master Parvon on the morrow, in fact.'

'Good, glad to hear it. Are they stopping soon?'

'They will stop whenever you ask them, Commander.'

'That's true.'

Govon got to his feet and made his way over to where Dusk was overseeing the bouts. A nod, and the hunter called out across the noise of clashing staves.

'Everyone! Circle in, attend the Commander!'

Triw, Parvon and Cýrion joined the cluster of hunters to listen to what Govon had to say. The first part of his announcement didn't come as a huge surprise.

'Mellyn-nin, by now you may have heard that we had a visit from Faramir and Beregond today. I'm holding a full meeting to discuss his visit in the barracks common room as soon as we're done here. But first…'

He paused and some of the authority went out of his bearing. Glancing around, he shook his head and gestured towards the makeshift seating.

'I need to sit down for this.'

Once Govon had settled himself, the hunters ranged around and with Triw and Parvon discreetly at the edge of the group, he lifted his head and addressed them again.

'There's something you need to know about our prince. Legolas doesn't want me to speak, he doesn't want any to worry about him, but… but it's gone on for too long now, and I don't like the secrecy, it's getting in the way of things. In short, Legolas is affected by the sea-longing.'

He paused, more because it was too difficult to go on, it seemed to Triwathon, than for any other reason. Abonnessel spoke into the silence.

'We knew there was something amiss. Our sympathies, of course. If we, his hunters, can help in any way…'

'I'll pass that on. When he's forgiven me for telling you, that is.'

This caused a few smiles and murmurs of amusement, and Triwathon wondered if the rupture between Govon and the hunters would now begin to slowly knit itself up again. Yet such things took time, and if the hunters were to be on their way to Eryn Lasgalen again in a few weeks, it could be a very slow repair…

'So. Legolas acknowledges that he needs to sail, but he insists he doesn't want to. He has promised his friend the Dwarf to sail with him, at the appropriate time. But meanwhile, his duty to the colony, his love for his father, his responsibilities to you, his hunters, all combine to make him determined to fight to stay, if he can.' Govon looked up and nodded. 'I may need your help. I will certainly need your understanding on those days when he's ill and my thoughts are fixed on him, not on being in charge. So. Thank you for hearing me. That's all. Now, I'll see you in the common room shortly.'

He rose swiftly and strode out of the glade back down the path. The hunters were still for a moment, then slowly gathered themselves into little groups. Some put away the quarterstaffs, others stood talking. Abonnessel came across to Triw and Parvon.

'I am glad he told us,' she said. 'Now all we need do is pretend we didn't already know. Are you coming to the meeting?'