Amberion smiled at her with real warmth. "You choose well. Would you agree to give this bagful to the Fellowship, and send whatever is on account to your family?"

"There's more on account," said Paks.

"No matter. We are not here to fatten ourselves at the expense of farmers. Now—what's this—?" He pushed at the little bundle of scuffed and tattered old scrolls left in her saddlebags. "I thought you weren't a scholar."

"I don't know," said Paks. "I found them in my things after the elfane taig. I was going to ask Ambros about them, but that's when the caravan was attacked, and after that I forgot. I couldn't read them then—maybe now—" She started to unroll one of them; the parchment crackled.

"Here—wait—" Amberion took it from her. "These are old, Paksenarrion—we must be careful with them, or they'll go to pieces." He peered at the faded script. "Gird's arm, I can't—what do you think that is?" He pushed it back to Paks, who leaned close.

"I'm not sure. 'For on this day—something—Gird came to this village where was the—the—' is that word knight?"

"I think so," said Amberion. "I think it's 'knight of the prince's cohort, and there they—' something where that's rubbed out, and then 'and as he said to me, that he did, and called the High Lord's blessing on it'—" Amberion looked up at her for a moment "Where did you say you found these?"

"I didn't find them, exactly," said Paks. "After the fight underground, the elfane taig got me back to the surface—somehow—and then had me pack up a whole load of things. I was too sick to notice much, but the elfane taig insisted. A day or so later, when I looked through the packs, the scrolls were there. I tried to read them, but—" Paks flushed. "I didn't read that well—and the script is odd."

"Yes—it is." Amberion seemed abstracted. "Paks—this has nothing to do with your training, but I believe these scrolls may be valuable. They're old—very old—and I've read something like this in the archives. Would you let the Archivist see them?"

"Of course," said Paks. "I'd be glad to know what they are and why the elfane taig gave them. I almost threw them away, but—"

"I'm glad you didn't," said Amberion. "If they're really an old copy of Luap's writings—"

"Luap? Is that Gird's friend?"

"Yes. Most of what we know about Gird comes from the Chronicles of Luap. This—" he nodded toward the scroll he held, "seems to be part of that—it's talking, I think, about the battle at Seameadow." He put the scroll down and looked around the room. "That's all, then? Good. Now about your horse—what do you call him?"

Paks felt herself blushing again. "Socks," she mumbled. She had had enough comments to know that it should have been something grander. But Amberion did not laugh.