As one, the hunters dropped down onto one knee, heads bowed. The prince caught Parvon's eye and grinned; Parvon inclined his head, a fractional acknowledgment. Then he dropped his bow and ran across to them, laughing.

'Come, my friends, up you get! You know such things are only for in great halls! There, Abonnessel, rise, and you also, Frond! Cýrion, well met, how is the shoulder? Ah, we are both invalids together today! But we will be well! And you, Dusk…' Legolas put out a hand to lift Dusk to his feet, clapped his shoulder. 'I hope all is well with you, my friend. I will say to you – and it could be said to others – do not blame yourself for things not of your doing.'

He looked again at Parvon as he said this, and stepped back from the hunters, spreading his hands.

'Govon told you about the reason for my indisposition yesterday,' he said. 'I understand he meant well, and perhaps I misjudged matters; it was never my intention to worry anyone; rather, it was to prevent undue concern. I believed that, if you knew, you might fear I would sail, which would be unkind of me, having brought you here. But there it is; I apologise if my reticence has caused you unease. Now, I hope I may join in your work today? I understand Parvon and Cýrion are shooting together, and Frond against Triwathon? Is that so? Parvon, you should take a few shots first; come to the targets with my while our friends prepare.'

'Of course, ernilen.'

Legolas led the way to the very furthest targets, putting himself on the outermost.

'They will have the manners not to follow, I hope,' he said. 'For I really am not at my best today.'

'Your earlier shots would seem to give the lie to that, my prince.'

'That's because each time I shot badly, I removed the arrow and tried again. I did say I'd been here a while, did I not?'

Parvon laughed and selected an arrow from his quiver.

'It is good to see you in spirits, my prince, if not quite in health yet.'

'You noticed that?'

'Just a slight discomfort in your bearing, that's all. And the fact you wanted to put us as far from the hunters as possible, with my target between you and they.'

'It's true, but more for privacy than anything. About yesterday…'

'I was harsh, and you were ill. I owe you an apology.'

'Parvon, it is rather I who would apologise to you. Please, do not ever stop speaking needful truths. Of course, if, in the near future, you are required to do so to Grandfather Oropher, be prepared to duck… but it is difficult, at times, to say the things that are needed. Almost as difficult as it is to hear them.'

'You are most gracious, my prince. And most kind.'

'And about to spoil the impression by saying, Parvon, must you go? I can find plenty for you to do here if you need work…'

Parvon readied his stance, nocked his arrow, took his shot just as Fonor had taught him, the thought of his brother warming his heart. The arrow flew straight into the gold, just a little above the inner circle.

'Ah. I seem to have my eye back in. Your turn, ernilen?'

Legolas muttered something about avoiding questions, and lined up on the target. He took a steadying breath, released his arrow, and hit the inner red.

'We can always swap places, ernilen, if you wish?' Parvon offered, taking his second shot. This time, he found the red himself, his arrow settling almost directly above his first shot.

'No need, I think,' Legolas retorted. 'I'm settling in to it now.'

After the first six shots, there really wasn't much difference between the two of them. Parvon was privately delighted; it was rare he could hope to match the prince, for all he was considered a good shot, and knew this was only down to Legolas' imperfect recovery from his latest episode of sea-longings. No, very little difference really, except in the patterns on the targets…

'Look at that!' Legolas said, marching up to the butts to point at Parvon's target. 'All your shots are above the horizontal; do you shoot high on purpose?'

'A habit,' Parvon said as the memories filled his senses: '…And so, little one… lift your elbow… there, that's fine… now, this target's taller than you, so what should you…? Perfect…! Oh. Oh, not quite so perfect, but you hit the target, at least, now, try again…'

The recollection caused him to smile. 'As is obvious, I am not the tallest of elves. My brother was taller even than you, by half a head at least… when I was a youngling, and he was teaching me my skills, I was even shorter, and he showed me how to aim to hit higher than my height. At times, I fall back into the pattern of those days.'

'He is on your mind much, of late.'

'Of course he is; he is one of my reasons for taking ship.'

'I was sorry to learn of his death, Parvon; his brightness of spirit is much missed.'

Parvon nodded, suddenly unable to speak. He began to pull his arrows from the target with ruthless force. Legolas sighed.

'I am sorry, I know you were close. And although I, too, have lost brothers, mine were still alive when they sailed, at least. Forgive me, I will not press you to stay.'

'I am grateful, my prince. Shall we go again? Or have we warmed up enough to go to where we can be watched?'

Afterwards, it felt to Triwathon as if it had been an almost magical morning. He had shot Frond into oblivion, almost, and Cýrion could not match Parvon, which gave Triw much reflected honour, even though he laughed it away.

'No, no, for I did not teach my husband; he was this good when first I saw him shoot.'

Against Legolas, he almost had the glory; but for someone taking a fit of coughing after he'd loosed his last and before Legolas had lined up his shot, perhaps he might have held the prince to a draw, but as it was…

There was a general air of good humour throughout, despite that, and really, Triw did not begrudge Legolas the victory; it was good to see the hunters in such heart.

Their hour on the range was up, and Dusk began calling for order.

'For the Rowan hunters will be here soon, and they deserve their chance to shine for their prince! That is, you are staying, ernilen?'

Legolas laughed and nodded.

'Yes, I will stay, and watch, and petition Moss to let us all shoot together, for fun. Parvon, I assume you're going to torment my poor scribes again this morning?'

Although phrased as a question, Parvon heard the request behind the prince's words, and tipped his head in a short bow.

'Indeed, they will be expecting me shortly. Thank you for the match, ernilen; it was a joy to almost match you! Triw? Enjoy the rest of your morning.'

'I'll walk with you, to the gates.'

Halfway there, Triw slowed his steps, pulled Parvon off the track and into the lee of a friendly elm. He put his arms around his husband and pulled him close.

'Is all well with you, Triwathon?' Parvon asked as Triw buried his face in his neck, his breath hot and juddery.

'Yes, I simply… it is an odd sort of day, but holding you makes all well.'

Parvon returned the embrace, kissed his husband with careful affection.

'I can defer my visit to the scribes, we can take a little time together…'

'No, it's fine, my fair crow! We can take the daymeal together, after all. Well, I am delaying us. Would you like to run the canopy, just to the gates?'

'If the trees will welcome us, why not?'

And it was fun, freeing to be up high in the canopy of Ithilien's trees, to run along the branches with Triw's hand steadying him, to learn the song of southern woods…

Too soon they were within hail of the gates, and Parvon sent out his identifier, descending to the ground trails again and to part from Triwathon.

'I will see you in two hours, a little less,' Triw said. 'Back at our rooms. I will beg food from the kitchens, and we can eat in private while… while we pack.'

Parvon nodded, touched Triw's shoulder fleetingly.

'Trounce Cýrion for me, will you?' he said. 'Leave them with something to think about.'

He had plenty to think about himself, for Daehel and Saelchi had stored up questions for him concerning the proper running of an administrative centre. He answered as best he could, investigated the new filing system using all the little awkward searches that confounded simple systems, and found the underscribe had risen to the challenge and created a method that linked and linked back and referenced other potential files and was entirely suited to purpose.

The time hurried past and suddenly a swish of the curtain and a knock at the door.

'A message for Master Parvon from our prince,' the servant said with a bow, handing over a folded note. 'And, Master, he said he insists.'

'I see, thank you…' He scanned the message, which held nothing less than an invitation for him and Triw to take the daymeal in the prince's quarters. 'Very well. If you are to take an answer, please let his royal highness know that we will attend.'

Although Triw wasn't going to be happy about it…

'It seems my morning has changed,' he told the scribes. 'I had intended meeting Triw, but an invitation from our prince means I will have to go home and change first, so I must be going. Will you be…?'

His question was interrupted as Daehel launched herself at him and flung her arms about his person in an incoherent hug. About to protest and back away, he found himself broadsided by Saelchanorion, who threw arms about both of them.

'My friends, this is too much!' Parvon said, his voice muffled against somebody's shoulder. 'Please… do not distress yourselves…'

'But, Master Parvon!' Daehel managed to wriggle out of the tangle. 'You are leaving!'

'I have only just got here, you know.' Parvon extricated himself from Saelchi, who had been clinging somewhat. 'And in that short time you have both become very dear to me – Daehel, do not sniffle! It is not becoming in an Advisor…! You will both do very well, I know you will take good care of the prince, and the office… and each other. Now, I must go and prepare. You will be at the gates to see us off, I hope?'

'We will be in your entourage,' Saelchanorion said. 'Just in case you change your mind and wish for company to ride back with.'

Parvon felt his spirit lift as he approached the door to the room he shared with Triw, knowing it meant his husband was already within. It meant he could enter with a smile on his face and allow himself to receive a much nicer hug than had been the unexpected embrace from the scribes.

'Hello, Triw,' he said, pressing close. 'Did you beat Cýrion for me?'

'I did, indeed. And Frond. And I lost to the prince, but it was really, really difficult as he's not on form today…'

'It's kind of you.'

'What's up?' Triw asked, leaning back in Parvon's arms to look him in the eye. 'I know I'm not as tuned to you as you are to me – yet – but there's something?'

'Nothing serious. Just… we have been asked to take the daymeal with Legolas and Govon.'

'Oh, that. I knew he wanted to, of course, and he said he'd let me bring the message, but that might make you late hearing if you were in the middle of something… so it's all right, I do know about it.' He grinned suddenly. 'I did say something about getting bathed first, after working all morning, but apparently there's an intermittent problem with the bathing pool, the maintenance elves can't find anything wrong, but…'

He grinned and Parvon laughed.

'Shall we risk it?' he said. 'Just for washing?'

Their hair was still damp when they knocked on Legolas' door and waited, hand in hand, to be admitted. Govon opened the door, looking, Parvon thought, much happier than he had in the breakfast hall.

'Come in, be welcome… Food's on its way.'

Legolas was waiting for them in the sitting area. He'd taken time to shed his hunter garb for something more formal, but not overly so, and waved them towards the table as he rose to join them.

'Come, sit yourselves. Some wine? Help yourselves. Parvon, I hope the rest of your morning was as much fun as ours was. I think it did me good to spend time with the hunters; do you know, they said… well, one of them, speaking for all, I think – Abonnessel, she's not afraid to speak out, that one! She asked me why I kept sending them away, was it so they wouldn't see me when I was ill? I hadn't realised they thought that, I just wanted them to have a chance to go home if they didn't want to stay… but they do, they do want to stay, and they want me to recall the rest of their companies! We will have the elves we need… it is good news!'

The servants arrived then with the food platters, and discussion was halted while the dishes were set down and wine poured before the attendants were dismissed with thanks.

'Our last meal together,' Legolas said with an innocent smile as they began to eat. 'That is, if you are determined…?'

'Not our last in Middle-Earth, however,' Parvon said. 'There is still some distance between here and the Mouths of Anduin.'

'And Harlond is not far,' Legolas continued. 'You could go ashore there and dine with Aragorn – King Elessar as he his to his people. Arwen will be there, too, of course…'

'And is that intended to be an incentive?' Parvon gave the prince a courteous smile. 'No, I think it would be a needless delay, and how would the captain respond?'

'Well, there is good reason to stop at Harlond in any case…' Legolas paused as Govon cleared his throat; it seemed to Parvon as if the commander was trying to convey something secret to the prince. 'What? Oh, of course…'

He took a sip of wine and apparently turned the subject.

'Forgive me asking, Parvon, but when my father sent you with the gemstone, did he mention what was meant to happen to it afterwards? Does he want us to keep it here, or send it back, or…?'

'In fact, I think the stone coming here was an afterthought,' Parvon said. 'That is to say, your royal father did not take well my request to resign in order to sail. He saw my unhappiness, however, and would not insist. Rather, he gave me the task of bringing the gem to you so that I might have time to reflect on my choice. But of course it must go back to Eryn Lasgalen, to sit in the shrine with all the other gemstones of the fallen.'

'Yes, of course, but… not immediately, surely?'

'Perhaps when Thiriston and Canadion return to duty in the Old Palace they can take it; I am sure it will be safe with them.'

'Yes, I suppose.'

Govon changed topic, asking Triwathon his thoughts on Abonnessel's request.

'For while I think it's a good thing – and I was surprised how strongly the hunters feel about short duty rounds – they are not exactly a small number, those of Ash Grove, and Rowan Grove hunters have almost as many; all we need are two companies.'

'But did not Legolas say he wanted more elves here?' Triw replied. 'Let them come! If it were my duty, I would make plain they were to keep up their skills and fill the duty numbers themselves.'

'Yes, that would make them feel they had some independence,' Govon said. 'Ithilien is better suited to them than to the regulars, but we need them too…'

'For show? Can Legolas not have a smaller honour guard from the formal army, and a personal guard from the hunters?'

'That would suit me,' Legolas said. 'For I have more affinity with hunters, these days.' He gave an almost invisible shudder. 'I cannot see formal weapons without recalling the armies of the War of the Ring…'

'Indeed, for all you are an invited presence here in Ithilien, why should you change to suit the Men? I can see that there may be some need, but surely not when you are home, in the trees allotted you?'

'That's a reasonable comment, Parvon. Perhaps I have been a little too eager to be accommodating. Well, I will bear your words in mind. Certainly I would rather have a dozen hunters about me than an entire division of Men…'

'There is a kindred spirit amongst the hunters,' Triwathon said, looking down at his plate as if in inward thought. He smiled shyly, almost the same way he smiled at Parvon, sometimes. 'They have done me a great honour, Parvon; I had not time to tell you…'

'Oh?' Parvon slid his hand across to rest on Triw's wrist as he smiled at him while privately wondering whether it was something Triw hadn't wanted to voice in private for some reason. 'Then if you can share with us all, I would love to hear it…?'

'They have a tradition. Abonnessel said they wished – the Rowan hunters – to adopt me into their kindred, to be known as one of the Ash Grove hunters. It doesn't matter that I'm sailing, she said, it's just a way of saying, I belong to them, they belong to me, always, and… and even when some of them are far away in the Greenwood, and others stay in the woods here, being part of the group keeps them together in their hearts. '

'How kind! Of course, they are the winners, for to count you amongst their numbers is a fine honour for them, also.'

The smile Triw gave him was strangely relieved; beneath the table he shifted so that he could take Parvon's hand and squeeze his fingers affectionately.

'They didn't offer you the same courtesy, Parvon?' Govon asked.

'Why would they? I am an administrator, not a hunter, after all…'

But Legolas laughed and shook his head.

'Don't mind my husband, Parvon, it is a sore point with him; they have never offered him the honour, either! Triwathon, I am glad they have taken to you so. Now, more wine, anyone? Oh, and Triwathon, I heard a tale that you ran from the New Palace all the way to the middle of the forest seeking Parvon, and didn't even stop to pick up a change of clothes!'

'That's not strictly true, my prince; I did have spare garments…'

'But not many? I seem to think, Parvon, that none of those sailing have much with them…?'

'Partly your father's idea, my prince. Everyone had to carry their own packs, and so there was an incentive to travel light; thoughts of the markets kept many elves in heart.'

'And space on board the ship will be limited. But still, we have had Stores look out some things for you both and arranged for them to be delivered to your room. Nothing much; just a parting gift.'

Back in their room, Triwathon sifted through the neat packs of garments, his attention elsewhere as he examined shirts and tunics, shaking them out and dropping them down in untidy, loose heaps. Parvon, noticing, said nothing, simply finding those items in his size and folding them tidily down into small shapes for stowing into his pack.

'This was kind of the prince,' Parvon said. 'Not that I really need more, but… ah, how curious! A garment similar to those Daehel and Saelchanorion use as formal robes… I must remember to thank them… What do you have there?'

'Just more things; shirts and tunic and leggings. Parvon, you meant it? You don't mind, about the hunters?'

'No, of course I do not.'

'Good, that's good, I didn't think you'd mind. Not really.'

'But whyever would I?'

'My… Red – the poacher – you know who I mean… he would have minded. And all we did was share a wine cup, and pass it between us all… when that's done, it means you're brother-in-clan…'

He fell silent, reliving the memory, the warm sense he had had of belonging…

He belonged to Parvon, too, of course, fëa and body and heart.

'I hope you know that I am rather different from your poacher, love,' Parvon said. 'I hope you know I don't mind you having friends. In fact, I think it's wonderful that the hunters warmed to you as they have.'

'They gave me a new name, too. Because I'm not just following you blindly, but because I love you and they see my loyalty to you, so they're calling me True, now, not Follow.'

'That's wonderful.' Parvon gathered Triw – True – in his arms. 'It is kinder than Follow, and it is right for you. I know you were trying to set your first name aside.'

'I think if they could see you now, love, they'd stop calling you Stern,' Triw said. 'Your smile. And I am honoured, I am grateful to them. It is a fine parting gift.'