Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters and sceneries belongs to JRR Tolkien.

CHAPTER TWO – THE FIGHT

Revenge proves its own executioner.

John Ford, The Broken Heart

And Glorfindel had been right in many of his ideas about the near future, among them the fact that Enel would be in the last trial of the day. The warrior from The Gulf of Lune was among the most efficient soldiers that this Tournament had seen, and Glorfindel was worried because he'd been unable to observe Enel's techniques. As Elrohir's mentor, he was not allowed to depart from the concentration sector, not even to watch other disputes. This area consisted of the training field, the fighting field, where their bouts were held, and also their resting places. All the other participants were accommodated in the visiting guests area; little constructions neighboring the main house, which were built to settle whoever came to the city for a few days or even seasons, and that is where they were obligated to stay when they weren't training or fighting. Since Elrohir lived in Imladris, his resting place was his room in The Last Homely House, so when wasn't involved in tournaments activities, he and Elladan, as well as Glorfindel, were confined to staying in the house.

Now Glorfindel was worried, since he was unaware of the arts of war that the auburn-haired elf from Cirdan's lands might possess. Yes, the soldier whose eyes were the color of a storm concerned him greatly; especially considering that many rumors were running in Imladris, saying that the warrior was able to turn each moment of his fight into a spectacle, amazing the crowd.

Yes, Glorfindel had many reasons for being interested and worried about Enel Baradobel's abilities, including a fact he was having difficulty believing: His stubborn dark-haired pupil had actually surpassed all expectations. Despite being clearly disadvantaged by fate in the lottery that day, as he had also been in the days before by being made to face the worst opponents, Elrohir had managed to get through those most difficult trials and achieve the place as the challenger of the second captain of the Grey Havens. They would face each other in the ultimate duel from which the official champion of the Valley Tournament would be decided.

And that battlefield was never so full of people, even after the trials had extended late into the night, and many people were nearing exhaustion from a too long day. If the rules of such an event had not been used for millennia just as they were, the Council organizer would have requested to postpone the final conflict for at least a few hours." But the written rules were clear, and the ones who remembered having to follow them since the Millennial Tournament were even more emphatic about the guidelines. A good warrior should always be prepared for a battle, no matter how many other trials he had been in previously.

And they were prepared. Both Enel Baradobel and Elrohir vehemently shook their heads when hearing about the possibility of such a postponement. When it was obvious that the match would be held as scheduled, the members of the audience were divided, not knowing which of the great warriors to support.

Elrohir, as the representative of the hosting house, was the first to enter the field and was waiting for his opponent. He was cheered with songs of praise and good wishes, which he responded to with slight nods, placing a hand on his chest as he walked across the field with his helmet under his arm. In friendly competitions the use of a complete set of armor of war was unnecessary, because the warriors used blunted swords, but in official tournaments like this one, some protection was necessary, given that no swordsman dispensed with using his closest companion, his weapon of war.

"He's really amazing," Galadriel observed proudly, watching her focused grandson, walking thoughtfully in his crimson and silver armor. His gaze met hers briefly and they exchanged small smiles. "I would not want to be the one to face him in the final."

"Neither would I, my Light," Celeborn said from beside her, offering a slight nod when his grandson's eyes sought him out.

"But you are among the Alcarinqua, my wise spouse," Galadriel said with a subtle provoking smile, without really looking at her husband. "The chance that the Council will summon you for the final trial is something to be considered."

Celeborn didn't have an answer to that, but if his wife's attention hadn't still been so keenly drawn to her grandson walking onto the war field, she would have seen his worried expression. It was customary that, for the finals, the Council called the most improbable opponent, who, just by his mere presence, would subdue the challenger being tested. The chance of that person being a close relative of the champion, or someone for whom he felt an extreme admiration, was great.

"If my heart would allow me, I would not support him in this fight," Celebrian commented beside her mother, reading the concerns in her parents' faces.

"I do not know which loss would be worse for him. Enel plays a provocative game that makes him an opponent by whom it is quite unpleasant to be defeated." The comment came from Erestor, who, as one of the official rapporteurs, had attended all the trials that he could.

Suddenly the public cries grew and the figure of the Haven's Captain rose, accompanied by his two assistants. Enel Baradobel was not a newly formed apprentice, so no mentor accompanied him. He was only attended by his weapon master and his healer.

Elrohir went to the center of the field as soon as he saw him and stayed there waiting motionless as the rules required him to. He had studied everything about the original contests of this type, especially the first one in anyone's memory called the Millennial Tournament, and he was one of the few not to take any punishment for breaking or violating the harsh and rigid rules of the event. This fact was something that particularly aroused the admiration of all, especially those who knew his cranky spirit, but it created more reasons for concern in the hearts of those who wished him well. It was clear how seriously the young elf was taking this test.

Enel passed the entrance hall with his eyes already fixed on his opponent. His set of armor was one of the most beautiful Elrohir had ever seen, a bluish silver that reflected a perfect tribute to the beautiful ports he represented. Elrohir breathed in slowly when he felt the provocative glow in his opponent's eyes settle on him. However, one very important piece of information of which Enel did not have knowledge, was that this type of opponent, one who relished antagonizing his foe, was exactly the sort that the younger twin most appreciated facing. He preferred to disguise himself as an enemy and fight as if he hated his opponent, than to be forced to confront someone who treated him with consideration and respect.

They took their positions then, facing each other in the center of the field. The judge of the dispute, an elf chosen among the other captains, who happened to be one of the members of the Lothlorien staff, positioned himself in front of the opponents and fulfilled the protocol, reminding them of the rules and charging them to extend a formal greeting to one another before beginning. Elrohir answered promptly, placing a hand on his chest and bowing, but Enel took a few moments to do the same, as he kept staring at the host's son for as long as he could. Only when the judge made a brief sound of disapproval, did Enel repeat the courtesy of his challenger, yet he did not look away from him at all during the short time it took to observe the reverence.

However, to his displeasure, Enel realized that the young, and in his eyes inexperienced elf, worried little about the veiled threat that had been present in his purposely provoking act. Quite the contrary. Elrohir merely returned the gaze received, not escaping or avoiding it for a moment, not even when Enel's lips drafted a wry smile and he muttered the word "boy" in a tone that was meant for only the twin to hear.

After that the little communication between them came from the sound of their swords. Elrohir waited, as he had been taught, for his opponent to take the initiative, but the next several actions came almost totally from the twin. The fight was getting more and more fierce, while Enel's eyes narrowed, looking incredulous that this battle could be so hard.

With time Elrohir showed the Mithlond captain what his master had taught him, and Enel stopped feeling he was fighting against a novice fresh out of training with wooden swords. He forced himself to accept that he had indeed found a powerful opponent. When Elrohir, after many less risky maneuvers, swung his sword and brought it up in an unexpected and rapid diagonal, jerking his opponent's weapon upward and out of his hand, Enel felt his growing doubts had substance and were coming true sooner than he had expected.

But he was not the second captain and one of Círdan's favorite warriors for nothing. Therefore, Elrohir's last act had barely materialized when his opponent jumped, recovering his weapon in the air and spinning his body in a surprising maneuver that quickly took him out of his rival's field of vision. The twin had a moment of astonishment at observing a movement which he had never seen. However, when Enel fell back to the ground repositioning himself to hit his opponent from behind with his sword hilt, Elrohir thrust his body upward and mimicked the movement recently learned. Using Enel's slightly bent back as support, he made a full circle in the air, falling again in front of his opponent and stealing all sorts of sounds from the surprised spectators admiring what they saw.

And awakened an ire in Enel that hadn't been caused by any opponent for a very long while...

"Thief of swords. Rapist and usurper of sacred territories. How long do you think your impertinence will generate sounds of approval from those around you?" he found himself asking, narrowing his eyes once more. When he'd heard this competitor's name as his next challenger, he'd promised himself he would not let the boy, who in the past had been the specter of his nastiest nightmares, steal his peace again as he had for so many years. But now he was realizing how much that promise weighed and how impossible it was going to be to fulfill.

Elrohir did not answer the question since it was not really directed at him. Actually he'd known that sooner or later, Enel would come up with such a speech. Glorfindel had warned him about it; in fact his mentor almost made him insane enunciating day after day all the barbarities he thought the captain would have the courage to taunt him with. The twin breathed deeply, remembering he'd felt the desire to punch his mentor, but now he could only thank Glorfindel for teaching him a lesson well learned.

The battle continued tirelessly and the viewers were confronted by all sorts of emotions. Sometimes Enel's sword passed inches from the twin and other times Elrohir almost managed to repeat his first movement and steal his opponent's weapon again. But these were not just any warriors, and the captain of the port city was now struggling not only as one who tries to win a fight, but as someone who wants to restore his integrity. Elrohir felt it in him, in the sudden change in the look the elf lord directed at him. There wasn't anger in it anymore, an anger Elrohir actually preferred to see. Instead of that emotion, he could see extreme concentration, as if the soldier had decided to treat him now as the opponent he actually was; a dangerous opponent that could lead him to ruin.

Elrohir now coldly analyzed his adversary and, as he had noticed in his first maneuver, Enel had in his battle techniques precise movements of fighting that his master Glorfindel, who preferred a conflict on the ground, had not taught his disciples. And Enel was using them now, employing abusing blows in the air, escaping from Elrohir's attacks with magnificent leaps that made the dark-haired elf's weapon meet only air.

Enel wanted to beat him by exhaustion. Exhaust him until the precision of his movements was compromised.

Enel, however, did not know two important facts about Elrohir: The first was that the younger twin never got tired. The second...

…was that he learned very quickly...

After Elrohir avoided Enel's next aerial maneuver, the warrior had an unexpected encounter. Elrohir also jumped, and his half-human body, though heavier than Enel's, moved up with equal skill, meeting his opponent in mid-air, only to collide shoulder against shoulder with him and knock him to the ground.

Enel fell so quickly and heavily on the sandy ground that, in an unthinking instinct of defense, he moved his sword as soon as Elrohir's feet dug into the earth, his body erect in front of him, hitting the younger elf, cutting his leg in an extensive wound and stealing the first sound from the twin since the conflict began.

Elrohir fell to his knees, placing his palm on his bloodied thigh. The tournament armors were of the perfect weight to not be heavy or uncomfortable, but only to protect the vital parts of the warrior's body. They used a light armor; a helmet with no visor, a breastplate, pauldrons at their shoulders, cops, but no heavy cuisses or greaves which the warrior dispensed of in favor of more speed in the fight. There was no real protection for the legs except for tall boots. For this reason Enel's attack, though unintentional, would be converted into a grave mistake, an act of extreme irregularity, considering that his opponent was not prepared for it.

Enel rose immediately, already holding Elrohir's arm before the others arrived, but the young elf freed himself at the same moment, in an instinct more of defense than of genuine reprisal.

"I won't harm you, boy," Enel said as he raised his right hand, displeased that his intention had been misunderstood. "I did not mean to hurt you."

Elrohir had a very short time to look at his opponent before Elladan's arms were around him and he felt the reassuring presence of his brother, but the message that his eyes directed to the captain was more than clear.

He was not a boy. He was not that boy.

"Elbereth, Elrohir, let me finish."

"It's not that serious. The pain isn't bothering me so much," Elrohir said as he held his brother's arm tightly, so much so that Elladan was having a hard time trying to convince Elrohir to lie down. The young healer finally decided to just tear his patient's pants away from the injury, so that he could see and treat the wound rather than wait for any cooperation from him.

"Let me finish," Elladan repeated once more, trying to find the patience he needed. However, the fact that he hadn't said a thing about Elrohir's comment just unnerved his brother more, giving Elrohir many unpleasant and somewhat elusive meanings for what his twin's intentions were.

"You will not declare me incapable of continuing, do you hear me?" he said, then tightened his hold on his brother's arm. "If you do, I'll never speak to you again, Elladan."

The threat, after all the other complaints that preceded it, finally took the older twin's patience away. Elladan dropped the bandages before he'd finished wrapping them around Elrohir's leg and looked his brother in the eyes.

"I do not tell you how to train, Elrohir. I do not tell you how to win your fights. Do not begin to tell me how to do something for which I have been preparing myself at least as long and as hard as you have to reach this point. Because if you say another word I leave this room and ask the official healer to take over the care of you."

Elrohir was silent, his bright eyes still fixed on his brother's. Elladan breathed in deeply, turning again to his task, but Elrohir realized that his twin's hands were shaking now. He reached out and held them and said:

"Forgive me, Dan."

Elladan exhaled, still nervous.

"This is a very dangerous area, Ro..." He shook his head without looking up, remembering the horrible feeling he'd had when he saw the amount of blood that flowed from his brother's leg when he went to help him.

"But you have already done the suturing..."

"You cannot use this leg…"

"I can. You know I can."

Elladan shook his head again.

"Ilúvatar, Elrohir... Why? Just tell me why. Lord Enel committed an infraction. If I declare you unable to continue due to injury, which would be the truth, the fight would end here and the Council would probably be obliged to declare you champion."

"Being declared champion does not make me champion indeed."

Elladan clicked his tongue, disgruntled.

"You fought bravely. You didn't commit any infractions at all. You were as precise as I have ever seen you be."

Elrohir looked down, then sighed in displeasure.

"Enel was winning, scoring points in his favor with those escapades that left me in the dust."

"I do not think that kind of defense is considered so valuable by the judges in this tournament," Elladan said, after thinking about those irritating fighting movements that Enel used as his major tactic at the end of the dispute, and it made him shake his head again. "Furthermore, Lord Enel committed a serious fault. If he did indeed win some points, he lost some when he injured you. You did not commit any fault. He was on the ground because you found a way to escape from that irritating trap that he insisted on setting. He did not play a very fair game, Ro. It was obvious he was trying to tire you out so that the conflict would be easier for him."

"I do not want to be the winner by a stroke of luck."

"Oh my good Elbereth!" Elladan cried, shaking his head with more vigor now. "And since when is being hit in the leg by a razor sharp sword, by an opponent using tactics that may not have been unfair, but were certainly illegal, be called a stroke of luck?"

"I want to win on my own merits, Dan."

Elladan just shook his head again, as he had been doing with every word he'd heard since he brought his twin back to their bedroom, his attention now focused on getting finished tying the bandages. After doing so, the young elf rested both hands on the protected wound and concentrated his healing abilities over the injury. A few moments later the pain was almost completely gone.

Elrohir parted his lips, amazed as he always was when seeing his brother use his abilities. Lady Idhrenniel, a very experienced healer, was the first to praise Elladan's skills. Some of them were so exceptional that even Elrond was surprised with the precocity of his firstborn, as well as with the means Elladan used in his acts of healing, so different from many of the other professionals in the city. Elladan had the spirit of the old healers.

"I doubt that any member of this Tournament has a better healer than I have," he said, and Elladan twisted his lips in disgust, thinking that his brother was flattering him only so that he would cooperate with his absurd idea. However, when he looked at him, he found him with a subtle smile that he rarely used. Elrohir was being sincere and that touched his brother's heart.

"Any healer in my place would not allow you to fight," Elladan said in spite of this discovery, and Elrohir looked down, nodding his head in agreement.

"All right. I will concede defeat then."

"You have nothing to concede. Victory is yours."

"I will offer it to Lord Enel. I can do that. He is superior to me. It will be interesting to see him facing one of the Alcarinqua tomorrow."

Elladan twisted his lips again.

"Do you want to willingly offer the competition prize to that arrogant elf from the havens?"

"He's a good fighter; if that was not so, he would not have gotten this far."

"He can be a good warrior, but he failed in his last challenge."

"I also failed; I was hit."

"You were hit by something unexpected and unacceptable. How could you protect yourself from something that should not have actually happened?"

"I should have anticipated it. Glorfindel tirelessly repeated to us that the moment that requires our utmost attention is precisely the one in which the opponent is already on the ground. I should have remembered that."

Elladan then snorted.

"You were not in a real conflict, Elrohir. This was a competition. A competition with rules, clear rules, rules that Lord Enel disobeyed. He failed."

"But tomorrow he will fight a good fight. He will not make the same mistake twice. I will give him the chance to not commit it."

"Elrohir."

"It will be better this way."

"Better for whom?"

"Better for me."

"Better for you? How is giving up something for which you have been preparing yourself for so long a time better for you?"

"It's better than coming into the final bout of a competition such as this one, and feeling as if I've stolen in by an unlocked window."

Elladan stopped for a moment, his lips parted in a search of an answer, but his eyebrows drew together in lack of comprehension.

"What nonsense is this?" he finally asked.

"I am the son of the host. Ada is a member of the Council, daerada and Glorfindel are also, in addition to other friends of our father, of our family. Do you think it won't come to everyone's mind that I'm being favored?"

This time Elladan looked incredulously at his brother.

"You don't mean that, do you, Elrohir? Who would think that? You've had bad luck in the lottery during the entire competition. You faced very difficult opponents. Lord Enel did not have to do half the work you had to in order to reach the semifinals. At no time could anyone in the tournament think you were being favored. Not anyone."

"Because they watched me fighting and winning." Elrohir moved his bright eyes to his brother's once more, his voice affected by emotion. "It was the only way that I could erase from people's minds the idea that I was in the tournament in the first place because of who I am related to. You know that, Dan. You know how hard the first trials were; no one thought I would advance at all in this competition. They thought I was favored even to be chosen to compete. The young apprentice recently got a sharp edge on his sword and already wants to be a warrior in the Grand Tournament," Elrohir said, repeating the insinuation he had heard several times. "Damn it, Dan, the audience was not by my side at the beginning; and many of them were our own people, Elves of Rivendell. They really thought I was being benefited, that the other members of the Council had allowed my presence because of our family. It took an incredible amount of work for me to gain the trust of our folk... It took a lot of work for me to get some credit... And that only happened because I respected all the rules, even the most insignificant of them, and because I won..." Elrohir completed his outburst, his eyes already wet with sadness and anger. "It was exactly what I wanted. I wanted to reach the final by fighting and winning."

Elladan sighed sadly, resting his palm on his brother's leg.

"You succeeded, Ro. You fought and won."

"I fought, I got hit and now I will be favored because my opponent made a totally understandable mistake."

"It was not like that..."

"Of course it was, Dan. I refuse to perform in that role. Lord Enel can go to the final. Nobody will judge an elf with his history."

Elladan opened his mouth to offer opposition, but then he shook his head again, as a fleeting idea crossed his mind: that Elrohir was using this outburst, though fair and sounding reasonable, using indirect pressure to make his healer brother do what he wanted him to.

"All right. If you think it is fair to give the victory to Enel then do it. I will not say another word. You know what is best for you," he said, pretending to agree, just to see how far his brother would take this maneuver.

But Elrohir closed his eyes, and then covered them with his left arm. His skin was pale and his brightness was decreased by an intense sadness. Elladan frowned, surprised to realize that his brother had spoken seriously. Elbereth, he would really prefer being judged as a coward of an elf who gave up on a trial on the eve of victory than feel favored.

That was how Glorfindel found them, after finally being able to leave the Council room, where the case was being judged.

"How is he?" he asked in a low tone as he entered, judging the twin asleep.

Elladan looked at his brother one last time before answering.

"He will be fine."

"But he can't compete anymore, can he?" inquired the blond elf, already rushing to place a hand on his pupil's wounded leg. Elladan, however, stopped him before he found his mark, and the cautious movement of the older twin brought his mentor's eyes to him.

"Elrohir will continue. How long do we have?"

Glorfindel frowned, but that information had not awakened only his air of surprise. Elrohir slowly moved his arm away from his eyes, as if he had not believed what his brother had just said.

"You must be joking, Elladan." Glorfindel understood more than he wanted to about what was happening here, so when Elrohir hastened to get up, he grabbed him by one arm.

"I can continue," the youngest twin quickly said. "Dan has sutured the wound. And I'm not in pain."

The blonde elf did not even bother to respond to that. All he did was place his hand on Elrohir's injury, and using only slight pressure, was able to steal a grimace of pain and a barely contained moan from the warrior.

"Of course you are not in pain. And I'm Thorondor, King of Eagles."

Elladan got angry then. He pulled his mentor's hand away quickly.

"You need not be cruel, Glorfindel."

"Of course I need to," Glorfindel exploded. "I was negotiating the outcome of this conflict with the Council before I came here. Enel committed a grave infraction. Period! He had already exceeded the acceptable level of provocation he was using. Period! He was clearly buying time trying to get us to spend ours. Period!"

"These are war tactics," Elrohir said.

"War tactics he can use at his home on the edge of the Gulf, with those elves full of patience, who spend the day counting how many gulls perch on the pier."

"Glorfindel..." Elrohir tried to argue, but his mentor seemed to already have heard enough.

"PERIOD, Elrohir!" he said raising his palm and the tone of his voice. "He could have hit you in a vital region, a nerve, an artery. But the rules say that he could not do so. This was a competition field and not a battlefield."

"A competition field is a battlefield."

"And in what place have you read this nonsense, elfling?" the blond leader wanted to know, his angry face even more fierce.

Elrohir clenched his teeth and visibly swallowed the answer he wanted to give. Glorfindel subtly tilted his face then, knowing well what that attitude meant and disliking what he understood of the situation. He continued to stare at his pupil from the corners of his eyes.

"You're angry at the wrong person, elfling," he said coldly. "By the way, you are angry without reason. Victory is yours."

"I didn't win the fight."

"Not all fights are won with fists and weapons."

"But I wanted to win this as a fair fight and not by being favored because of a stupid rule."

"Be respectful, boy!" Glorfindel raised his finger at his disciple. "When you studied the Millennial Tournament in all its detail I do not remember seeing you classifying any of the information you read in this particular way. Quite the contrary. I only heard your praise for the rigor of the process and the sense of justice that was established."

Elrohir looked down at his hand that was resting atop the bandage on his leg. He was sitting on his bed, but his desire was to rush out of the room. He then took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but eventually ended up shaking his head indignantly.

"I can fight. I want to fight."

"You are in no position to decide what you will or will not do," Glorfindel said incisively. "What kind of nonsense do you have on your mind, Elrohir? Enel was not joking, and I doubt that he would change his tactics in this or any fight. I know warriors such as he, who used to win battles by the most unexpected and questionable ways. There is no credit in a fight that does not happen on the ground. I've never understood this technique. It seems stupid to me, more of a gutless maneuver than a tactic of war. The biggest proof I have that this kind of escape turns the warrior into a coward is that once feeling threatened, he hit you on pure instinct of defense, without even thinking about what he was doing. He could have harmed you greatly; he could have harmed you permanently."

"But I am not harmed permanently," Elrohir said between his teeth, his eyes closed, as if he counted to ten.

"But you could have been."

"But I am not!" Elrohir almost cried, unable to contain his frustration and standing up just to show his mentor the truth of his words.

"Do you want to be so? This must be your desire if you want me to let you go into the field after being injured."

"Others have been injured and have returned to fight."

"Because their healers stated that their wounds were not of extreme gravity," completed the blond elf, who narrowed his eyes in displeasure when Elrohir lifted his chin toward his brother, as if to remind his master of what his healer had just attested. Glorfindel shook his head then, offering to Elladan a look that anyone would be able to understand very well.

The older twin took a deep breath.

"He can fight, Glorfindel," he repeated, but the uncertainty of his voice just added more spicy seasonings to the blond master's mood.

"You want to drive me insane, don't you?" he said. "What was I thinking when I decided to bring an inexperienced warrior and an equally inexpert healer for such a serious Tournament?" he completed, walking to the door.

This time it was Elladan who felt offended. He breathed in deeply as if for the first time he would finally face down his mentor. However, all he ended up doing was lowering his head again and shaking it sadly. He knew that Glorfindel had reasons to question his decision, but even so, his criticism brought the younger elf a worse feeling than any he'd ever had when he'd heard his master's acid comments in the past.

"You could trust our judgment," he said, trying to disguise the disappointed tone in his voice.

"And you could trust mine." Glorfindel turned back, already at the door. "I think my years of experience speak louder than the knowledge of you two together. Especially since your knowledge is distorted by this foolish pride that is guiding you both now."

This time Elrohir, who had been trying not to lose his mind since the tournament started, saw all of his efforts be for nothing.

"I will fight, whether you want me to or not," he said.

"You are still my disciple and not a master, like many here. The one who decides if the disciple fights or does not is not the disciple or his healer. It's his master."

And those were the words that seemed to be what caused an already boiling broth to finally overflow.

"You know what?" Elrohir walked around the room, inadvertently demonstrating no trouble in doing it. He then stopped in front of his mentor, staring at him with a pair of darkened eyes. "If you do not let me finish my fight I will give the victory to Lord Enel. He can fight with one of Alcarinqua tomorrow. I hope they choose you to face him."

Glorfindel's eyes darkened as well and in a way that Elrohir had never seen before. He breathed deeply, holding his pupil's gaze with his.

"You can fight if you want to. But not under my banner," he said, and then left without waiting for an answer, slamming the door behind him.

I'd like to give thank to all friends who decided to be with me in this new story: Gwedhiel0117, world-classgeek,sokkergurl, Glory Bee, Evereven, DreamingIn2Eternity, LalaithElerrina, SilvanShemesh,Lia Whyteleafe, Pitybe. Hope you have appreciated this chapter. Hope new friends come to be with me as well. Many thanks again to Puxinette, my kind and patient beta.