A little background information should be offered at this stage. The Winking Skeever in Solitude was largely a respectable establishment, with only occasional duels to the death and rare nudity. Soldiers often favoured the place for its peaceful and pleasant patrons. During a thunderstorm, late on a Fredas evening early in Frostfall, a lone, golden-haired figure crashed through the doorway.
She was delighted to be there.
"Oh no." said the owner of the Winking Skeever.
"Attention, everybody, can I have your attention, please, you wretched ugly bastards. I've just got back from my Strategic Politeness Course at the Embassy and so my head is f***ing battered."
"I'm a soldier attached to the Thalmor Headquarters, so technically I can have you done in for heresy, even if you didn't do it. Does anyone want to go on a date with me?"
"Well, just like last week, then. I'll try again next week. Just buy me a drink and I won't kick you on the shin. Don't worry, I won't blow any of our informants' covers. I just want a strong drink because my Ambassador is a malevolent salmon."
It would take too long to explain how, in the next few minutes, an East Empire Company warden became concussed.
Aranwen was very keen to relax after her long week perfecting the basis of diplomacy under the instruction of Ambassador Elenwen.
"Hello there." said a merchant. "Would you like another drink?"
"I'm a hundred and five years old." said Aranwen.
"I could be your granny. Does that make you feel all wrong inside? I've just seen someone I know, out of the way, out of the way!"
"Will you stop shouting?" said the elf at the corner table.
"Vixi, Vixi, your hair looks nice and you're the best mercenary in Solitude, I need to borrow some... oh, you're having dinner with a tramp... I need to borrow some money, I saw a hat today."
There were a great many elves in the city of Solitude. Some of them made hats. Some of them were talented minstrels. Some of them were stationed at the Thalmor Headquarters, and some of them were successful mercenaries. Most of them ended up knowing one another.
"It has four blue tassels, and a shiny top." said Aranwen. "But I spent all my money on the other hat, and I've just realised that it makes me look like the princess of Cloudrest."
"You don't look anything like the princess of Cloudrest." said Vixi.
"No returns." said Taarie, the owner of Radiant Raiment.
"And another thing." said Vixi. "Hey."
"Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I do like your muscles." Aranwen was explaining to a pirate.
"But I didn't ask you if you..."
"Vixi, I am going to get drunk with this pirate, don't go anyw.... Hey, what is this Impudent Human doing here, this Impudent Human has stolen my chair."
"Don't get too drunk, you're going to have the guards in here."
"They'll have to wait their turn." said Aranwen. "Don't go away, I still need to talk to you about the hat."
"I'm not going away, I live here."
"'Scuse me, funny Bosmer, 'Scuse me, unconscious Imperial, and hello Puss puss puss puss puss puss." Aranwen said, to a hugely respected Khajiit artist.
Aranwen was one of the only members of staff at the Bureau of Advanced Communications to be taking advantage of the substantial training budget.
The others were having trouble deciding which new skill to learn.
Her direct commander, Agent Aralina, had asked permission to attend an Escapology Course at Northwatch Keep, but Second Archivist Eldaline had said no.
Second Archivist Eldaline was learning to fly a gryphon. They had rescued the gryphon on their last adventure.
As for Aranwen, called Aranwen of Holly Falls, it had clearly been a very strenuous week for her.
She could happily dance all night after such a trying few days.
"If you don't stop making a spectacle of yourself, I'll tell the Ambassador, and the Second Archivist." said one of the Bureau door guards.
"Nyeh." said Aranwen.
She felt certain that there would be repercussions for her evening of fun. But they could wait. The night was long.
The next morning, Bureau of Advanced Communications. Aranwen's location unknown.
"So, I'll bet you hoped Eldaline would make you her library assistant, instead of me." Skavild suggested, by way of the awkward conversations he knew the Altmer enjoyed.
"Oh." said Archivist Halthir. "I believe she will, one day."
"Well, don't you think you'll have to kill me to get that post?"
"Oh, no." said Halthir. "That would be very violent and impatient behaviour. But when you die of old age, I will have reached my intellectual prime and I believe I will have learned enough, from observing you, not to disappoint Second Archivist Eldaline."
"I see." said Skavild. "Well, I suppose that's not as bad. Only, you do realise that being a library assistant involves a lot of smashing skeletons to pieces with a big sword, don't you?"
Archivist Halthir said, "That is true. I do not know how to do this. Perhaps, when it is convenient, you could demonstrate, and allow me to take some notes?"
"Better than that, you can help me with the actual fighting and write me an essay when we get back."
"But, the long tradition of Archivists has never been to partake in such displays. Supposing Junior Archivist Linvel thinks I'm a brute?"
"Yes, supposing." said Skavild.
"Hm." Skavild considered something for a moment. Then he said, "You know, it's convenient right now. Go on, get your armour on. I'll show you how all this works."
"I regret that I have none." said Halthir.
"Then go and scrounge something from your headquarters. And a weapon. Biggest one you can lift."
"But the Thalmor soldiers will ask me what I want it for and the Justiciars are deeply upsetting people."
"Thalmor too scary for you? You followed 'em all the way across the sea to organise their damn libraries and now you're too polite to ask to borrow a helmet. Ask the one at the desk to get you something. This is vital training for a librarian attached to the Bureau of Malicious Communications, I mean Advanced Communications, so meet me down in the market in an hour."
People are going to learn new things, even if I have to drag 'em kicking and screaming through every forbidden temple and crypt in Skyrim. Thought Skavild. He'll thank me in the end.
"This is me taking a wild guess." said Skavild, an hour later. "But I think you went up to the desk at the Thalmor Headquarters and the other elf asked you what you wanted and you made up a silly excuse and left and then you raged around Solitude for an hour feeling angry with yourself until the gardener at the Blue Palace felt sorry for you and gave you a basket."
"Yes." said Archivist Halthir.
"Well, we can work on your assertiveness later." said Skavild.
"He didn't just give me the basket, though. He lent me a rake as well."
"This is how my day goes." said Skavild. "We look at these bulletins to see if anyone needs help. Check the names. If any of these people are from the Bard's College or Winterhold or Synod or Whispers mages staying in Solitude, they'll be searching for rare books. Only, they're too weedy to fetch 'em from the place they've tracked it to. Then I go and fetch it, and instead of taking it to this weedy mage, I take it to Eldaline, and now she has a rare and ancient tome, without ever having to do any research herself. Clever, isn't it? Here's one."
"Oh... and there's a delivery for my Ma. She lives near the sawmill. We can do that on the way back."
Continues!