Snow and Ice

If there was one thing Menna had learned in all her years among wood and stone, it was that the winters of Middle Earth could be harsh, extreme, and deadly. The mountains, caked with the whitest snow, were no different. The temperature alone, the fact it was so cold that snow did not melt away from the rock, was enough to worry her. Even more so was her concern for the small Hobbits, for their bare feet in the frigid mounds beneath them. For as much as she knew they were grown men, adults among their own people, they still looked as small as children and it was difficult not to see them as such when their cloaks were drawn around them and their backs were to her as they followed Gandalf ahead of her.

She was near the rear of their travelling line, with only Aragorn behind her.

She had thought it odd, for all of a moment, when the line formed as it had. She had been certain that no one, especially not Boromir and Gimli, would be comfortable with her travelling at their backs, able to do any number of things to them while they were unaware and unable to see her. But then she realized it was likely to do with the fact that, if she were far enough behind, perhaps she would well and truly fall behind enough. If they were fast enough they could leave her alone.

They clearly did not take her words of being worth 10 women to heart if they thought she would fall behind so easily.

Granted, she had. Lagged, that is.

For all that she expected the men to have difficulties travelling up a snowy mountain, what with their bulk and weapons to carry with them, she found herself moving slower than she would have thought. But Aragorn, for some reason unknown to her, had made his own movements slower to match hers, keeping himself firmly behind her. It could very well have been a ploy, a plan to keep her within sight so that she would not 'attack' the others with their backs to her. But she did not feel that from him. Aragorn had given her no indication of questioning her trust as much as the other man in the group had. He was wary of her, in his own way she was sure, but she felt no ill will or malicious intent from his actions. It felt more like he was keeping her in sight should she stumble, that it was his way of ensuring she kept with the group, than that he thought her about to do anything nefarious.

Whatever the reason, she was glad of it. It pushed her to keep up, to walk faster, to the point where had kept a firm pace the last stretch they'd made. It wasn't that she was tired, no, she had far fewer weapons than the men, and she didn't often keep watch for all their distrust of her. She was much more refreshed than any of those ahead of her, she was slimmer, quicker on her feet as well, she should have easily kept up.

It was her blasted cloak that was doing her in.

With the changing of seasons, she had learned very early on just how harsh the winters could be. She had nearly died from the cold in her earlier days. It had been a terrible and terrifying lesson to learn, a truly trying time in her life where she had never known a greater fear of freezing to death nor a greater pain than that of an empty belly. For all her words to Boromir that she had yet to starve and that she was not as defenseless as he thought her, she had been at one time. She had been weak, she had been starved, and she had been without weapon to guard herself. She had been alone and cold and hungry and...scared. All it had served to do was teach her, force her to adapt even when she wished she did not have to, when she wasn't prepared to do so. The life she had chosen had given her wisdom, learned in the hardest manner, of what to expect out of such a life.

She had been naive when she first set out in this life, her life before that being more sheltered, having ill prepared her for the realities of what lay in the wild, of what it took just to survive. That first winter had shown her what the world was, what the people in it were capable of doing, but also of what she was willing to do to live on. Once the snows had melted and the land thawed, she had worked harder than she ever had in her entire life, had honed her skill enough to steal enough to acquire the one thing she knew she needed to survive the winter.

A cloak, lined with thick fur.

If the first year of cold had taught her anything, it was how long one could last without proper food, weeks really. But also how little one could last in such frigid conditions. She had spent the next seasons after that collecting and gathering and stealing and doing all she could till she had saved up enough to purchase and barter for the cloak she still wore now. She had still been learning, even then, had still been too conditioned to her life before, to the manners and courtesies that others operated on.

She had wanted to BUY the cloak, to make a proper purchase, because she had thought that was right and necessary, despite the means she had used to gather enough coin for it.

It had taken her a while to grow accustomed to the life of a thief. It was not something that came natural to her. Oh she had nicked a possession or two here and there as she grew, but in a familial, childish way, to tease and annoy, always to be returned. It in no way made her the master thief she was today. No. She struggled to pick pockets, she had been caught more times than she cared to remember. She had struggled and stolen and saved her precious coin.

And for what? A cloak she could have just as well stolen instead and saved her money for food or shelter at an inn when the winter snow grew too unbearable.

She had been young then, too moral. She had bought the cloak instead of stolen it. Time had taught her though, taught her that she could still more than just scraps of food or a bit of coin off a tavern table. She learned from that, wasted no coin on anything so large after. She grew her skills, her cautious eye, her patience. She had learned to do as she pleased, that one did not need to always purchase items, that just as easily as she nicked a coin or two she could too steal something more.

But for all her folly in actually purchasing the cloak, it HAD served her well and long, had kept her alive to reach the point she was at now. It had lasted her many years for she kept it well maintained, she had to. It was all she had to keep her well in the winter, that and the learned skill of building a fire as well as a small tonic composed of dried Kingsfoil she took in heated water to keep her health up. Only those three things had kept her alive through the winters.

The cloak could be bothersome, as it was proving itself to be now.

It was infuriatingly long.

When she had first managed to have it made, she had insisted it be longer than she was at the time. She had thought to grow into it, not wanting to have to scramble and save to purchase another. It had been clever, at the time, the extra length had given her more layers when used as a blanket. As she grew older, grew into it, the cloak had been nearly the perfect length for her…if she kept her posture straight and shoulders back that was. It just barely brushed the ground, her boots just peeking out from the bottom of it.

It did not help going uphill though.

Going uphill meant that the bottom of the cloak was constantly getting caught under her feet and she found herself stepping on it. And she didn't want to just hike up a part of it, not around the others. They were all maneuvering well enough, she didn't want to be seen as though she couldn't handle walking up a mountain, even if it was the cloak. Even less did she want them to question her about her cloak or why it was the slightest bit ill fitting. All it would do was lead back to questions about her and she would rather not be the focus of their attention again.

She wasn't sure if she felt better or worse to realize she wasn't the only one struggling to climb up the mountain when Frodo slipped and fell backwards, rolling down the mountain just a few feet till he stumbled into Aragorn's arms just as she herself had reached out to try and slow him, managing to grab hold of his arm while Aragorn gathered the rest of him. The two of them quickly helped Frodo stand, Menna brushing the lingering snow off of the Halfling.

Frodo put a hand to his chest, panting a bit from his fall, his heart pounding against his ribs at the fright of it…when he realized something was missing. A quick glance up at Menna who was busy brushing the snow off his shoulders with BOTH hands, showed him that the sudden disappearance of the Ring from his neck was not her work. This time at least.

He looked over to where he'd been standing only to see the Ring lying on top of the snow a good few feet away, sparkling in the bright sun.

He had only taken a single step forward, when it was lifted from the bank, dangling from its chain…in Boromir's hand.

Menna frowned when she saw Aragorn's hand come to rest on the hilt of his sword and turned, her lips thinning into a hard line as she watched the look that came upon Boromir's face, the man's gaze locked on the Ring, enthralled by the shine of it.

"Boromir?" Aragorn called cautiously.

But not even the call of one of his leaders could draw his attention from the dangling gold circle, "It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing," Boromir mused, his voice growing softer and softer as he stared more intently at the ring, "Such a little thing."

Menna swallowed hard, seeing Boromir's other hand slowly reaching up as though to caress the ring, "Boromir!" she snapped, her voice harsh and cutting, louder than she intended but she could feel her heart racing, recognizing something inside him, and fearing something else she saw.

"Give the ring to Frodo," Aragorn ordered quietly when Boromir's gaze snapped away from the ring and over to them at Menna's sharp tone, his own grip on his sword tightening as he saw Boromir hesitate.

A moment later though, a smile made its way onto his face, a smile that made Menna's skin crawl at how…calm it appeared, "As you wish," the man murmured, a forced lightness in his tone, before he stepped closer, almost appearing as though he were staggering, struggling to move towards Frodo but unaware of it, "I care not," he held the ring out to Frodo who quickly snatched it from his hand. Boromir just offered him a smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair, before he turned and made his way back up the mountain without another glance.

Menna glanced down at Aragorn's hand as it loosened its grip from his sword and squeezed Frodo's shoulder she was still holding, "Go on, Frodo," she murmured, nudging him on, up the mountain before her and Aragorn. She reached out a quick hand to grab Aragorn by the arm when he tried to follow, stilling him, not through the power of her grip or any strength of her own but his own choice to pause at her action, "You ought keep a wary eye on Boromir," she spoke quietly to him, her gaze flickering to the others as they continued on.

Aragorn frowned at her for her words, "Boromir was not the one to take the Ring from Frodo," he reminded her, pulling his arm away from her.

Menna's jaw tensed at the reminder, "I returned it."

"Just as he did," he countered, turning to walk on.

Menna's eyes narrowed, "Not easily," she called softly, making sure to keep beside him even as they lagged behind the others.

"Nor was it for you."

"I did not need someone to tell me to return it," Menna countered, feeling almost insulted by his words, that he was so easily casting off her concern.

She knew she wasn't seen as entirely trustworthy by the others, but she had thought Aragorn, at the very least, would heed her words and at least take them to heart even in a small way. But he seemed to be waving it off, it was infuriating because she could not help but feel like what she saw in Boromir needed to be watched by others as well, it needed to be seen by Aragorn. None of the others would believe her if she expressed her fears to them, but they would if it came from Aragorn.

"Aragorn," she huffed, staring at him a moment, her expression growing hard, "You think it easy, returning the Ring to Frodo? You've no idea how strong the pull of that power is. All you know, as do the others, was that I was tempted by it," she shook her head, "But I had it, in my hands, I possessed it and it was mine and I could have left with none of you the wiser for it. I wanted to. Yet I returned it, without command. Of my own will."

Aragorn glanced at her as they walked, "You think Boromir would not have."

"No."

"Then how did you?" he couldn't help but look upon her as he spoke.

He could admit it, he had seen the change in Boromir, he had seen the difference between how Menna looked at the Ring to how Boromir did. Even their reactions afterwards, after returning it to Frodo spoke leagues to his careful eye. Menna had been horrified, shaken even, startled and scared at how the Ring had affected her, disgusted. Boromir…he had appeared more disappointed he had to give it away, reluctant, too forced in his careless tone. It appeared that was something Menna had noticed as well, she saw the pull the Ring had had on her in Boromir, but she too had seen how different a manner they had returned the Ring in.

He would not lie and say he did not fear what his own reaction would be if he had opportunity to have hold of the Ring of Power. He had expressed his fears to but one and been reassured that the weakness of his ancestors was not a weakness he possessed as well. It was difficult to believe, to have faith, that he would return the Ring if he'd had it in his possession. Two already had been given that same opportunity. One had only reluctantly parted with it, the other could not cast it aside fast enough. He needed to know, he needed to know what she had done, what strength she had to have in her soul that had allowed her to part with the Ring without compulsion or order to force her hand. He had seen it in her words, her posture, when she had taken the Ring, she had not truly believed they would attack her for it, she had been in no danger, in her mind, she had no reason to return it to them. She HAD had it before they'd even realized she'd taken it, she could have escaped, but she remained, intending to return it. HOW? How had this woman been able to muster the will to do so when he feared he would not.

He looked to her now, for guidance, for strength. She gave the Ring back, that was all he wanted to be able to do if the test ever came to him. Words spoken of his strength by one too close to him could not assuage him. To be as close as his reassurer had been could blind them to the truth, make them see a strength they wished to see, make them hope he would not fall to that temptation for fear of him. They could be kind words, words hoped for but not fully believed. He needed to hear what it was like from someone that HAD been tempted and given it back, someone that did not know his fears or feel that close to him. He needed to know how Menna had done it. Boromir was the closest he could call to kith and kin on this quest, a man of his city, a warrior, a human, and Boromir had been tempted, had nearly not released the Ring back to Frodo. If Boromir could succumb to that, why not fear he himself would as well? Even more so given his bloodline?

But if Menna could return it, this woman, nameless and without a home, not a hardened warrior but something softer, something more prone to theft by mere nature...if she could return it, perhaps HE could too. He saw hope for himself in her. He saw a strength to be admired as well.

Menna was silent a long while, looking away from him as they walked on, "It stirred ill-gotten memories I had hoped long since buried," she spoke quietly, staring down at the snow instead of anything else, "I have felt poison such as that in which the Ring is steeped. I have no desire to subject myself to that ever again."

Aragorn opened his mouth to inquire more about what she had said, but Menna quickly picked up her pace, putting herself ahead of him, closer to the group so he could not voice a word.

~8~

If Menna thought it difficult to maneuver up a mountain in a cloak that caught her foot with almost every step, it was nothing compared to trying to maneuver up a mountain with four Halflings hidden under said cloak.

Once they had reached the Pass of Caradhras, the weather had taken a turn for the worst. The wind was biting and strong, the snow was falling heavily, the path was completely blocked by mounds of white that made it difficult just to walk. Gandalf, Gimli, and Boromir were ahead, trying to push the snow away to carve a path, Aragorn bringing up the rear to ensure none of them slipped or fell back down the mountain again, while Legolas, the elf that he was, walked above the snow, keeping watch ahead for any worsening conditions.

Menna gasped as she shuffled forward after the trio ahead of her, slow going with the four bodies huddled against her, nearly cuddling close as they tried to all fit under her furred cloak. She bit her lip as she felt something and stilled at where she'd felt it, "Whoever's hand that is had best remove it," she warned, "NOW."

"Sorry!" came Pippin's squeaked shout, muffled though it was through the cloak, and the hand that had found its way towards a lower part of her back anatomy was quickly jerked away.

Menna rolled her eyes skyward for a moment, these Hobbits would be the death of her. The moment the cold had gotten too much for them she had offered to share her cloak with them in turns…apparently they had thought they could all fit under the cloak at once.

Aragorn seemed amused despite the harsh weather conditions. At least at first.

It just seemed like everything was getting worse, the air colder, the wind harsher, the snow heavier. The blizzard that stormed around them was getting steadily more blinding with each passing moment.

Legolas seemed of the same mindset for he rushed ahead of them, staring out into the darkening distance, "There is a fell voice in the air!" he shouted back to them, his elf ears picking up something on the wind they could not hear.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf warned, clutching to his staff as thunder began to rumble above them.

They all looked up, trying to shuffle back as rocks began to fall.

Menna stumbled, avoiding a large shard of ice that had fallen too close to her and the Hobbits for comfort. Her arms moved around what she thought was Frodo and Sam, yanking them back with her as she moved. She would have toppled over completely, nearly tripping over Merry (or was it Pippin?) behind her, had Aragorn not reached out to steady her.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn yelled past her towards Gandalf, "Gandalf! We must turn back!"

"No!" Gandalf cried, stepping forward and lifting his staff, chanting against the wind as loudly as he could, "Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho I ruith. Sleep Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath!"

But it wasn't enough, the winds grew louder, the howling upon them starting to form words that all of them could hear now. Before any of them could blink, a crack of lightning flashed in the sky, the line of which was clearly visible as hitting the top of the mountain directly above their heads. Not a moment later a massive slide of snow fell down upon them, roaring and rumbling as it tumbled down the mountain, leaving them powerless but to watch in horror as the snow fell upon them.

Those upon the mountain threw themselves back, Menna grunting as she twisted to try and keep from crushing whichever Hobbit was behind her against the cliff face, pushing them just to the side so they could all gather as close to the side as they could. The snow crashed down around them, piling on top of them, nearly sending them falling over the side but they pushed closer, gripping those they could reach to hold tight and close. But even those actions proved fruitless as the snow buried them on the pass.

The winds only barely began to calm at the apparent victory in ceasing the quest to destroy the Ring, when hands began to push through the top of the snow. Weapons soon followed, along with shields, all frantically trying to push the cold whiteness off of them, clawing their way towards the breathable air on the other side.

Aragorn gasped as he managed to break free of the snow, looking over when he saw a feminine, though calloused, hand reaching up through the snow and moved quickly to help push the snow away, revealing Menna's face.

"The Hobbits!" she panted, wiggling to try and push the snow away from her, just barely noticing Boromir and Gimli behind her rushing to do the same. Within minutes they were able to push enough snow away that she could open her cloak and free the Hobbits, all of whom were rosy cheeked, their eyes wide in fear and confusion.

Menna nearly sagged against the wall of the pass at that, at seeing them alive and well, if a little shaken. She expected little else of that though, they had been hidden under her cloak, only able to hear what was going on around them and of that there wasn't much with the wind as loud as it had been. To them it must have been more like being jostled around in the dark and then pressed far too close together for comfort and then having their air cut off for a moment.

"Are you well?" she looked down at the Halflings, her hand resting on Pippin and Sam's shoulders in concern.

"Yes," Pippin gasped, patting her hand, "Thank you, Menna."

"We nearly got crushed to death," Sam shook his head, "We're the farthest thing from well!"

Boromir agreed with him over that, turning to look at Gandalf and Legolas, both staring out into the distance, scouting for Saruman, "We must get off the mountain! Make for the gap of Rohan and take the West road to my city."

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn called out, warning clear in his tone that that was not a path they could make for.

"We cannot pass over the mountain," Gimli turned to Gandalf as well, "Let us go under it. Let us go through the Mines of Moria."

Menna could tell just from Gandalf's look of concern that that was a path he was desperately trying to avoid. For whatever reason the wizard had for it, she was certain it was a good one. He appeared very fond of the Hobbits, especially of Frodo, he would never put the lad in unnecessary harm or danger, and that was exactly what he considered Moria to be.

"Let the ringbearer decide," was all Gandalf could offer.

Menna reached out to place a hand on Frodo's back, waiting till the Hobbit turned to look at her, "Consider it well, Frodo," she warned.

There was something about all of this Gandalf wasn't saying, something dangerous he was trying to keep quiet about, but he was reluctant to enter Moria, and that was enough to put her on edge. She could work out well enough what one possibility was. She had run enough tricks and plots to see one unfolding before her eyes. She had often made cause for opportunity to arise. A carefully felled tree on a road, a well-timed distraction, a blockage down a path. She had made use of it all in the past to corner a mark, to push someone in one direction where she would be able to get to them easier, lure them one way to a trap.

She couldn't help but feel as though this were the same thing. Saruman had sent scouts to the south, blocking the road, he had caused a near avalanche on a mountain, blocking that path, he would know the lands, he would be able to tell the options they had. He was pushing them towards a goal, she could feel it in her bones.

She moved her hand to his shoulder, squeezing it lightly, "There is a reason this path was blocked from us, as was the south. Someone wishes us to be out of options."

Frodo swallowed hard, not having realized that till she had spoken the possibility. The weight of the choice put upon him was clearly weighing heavily. He looked around, noting that Aragorn and Legolas seemed equally as hesitant as Gandalf. Gimli was, however, overjoyed at the prospect of going to the mines, was hopeful and eager for that venture. Boromir seemed indifferent while Menna seemed to carefully be controlling her expression though her eyes were warm and understanding of what this would mean. It HAD been his choice to include her in the fellowship after all, it had been left to him and she understood exactly the weight of what it meant. His trust in her word, his forgiveness for her stealing the ring, it was on him if her inclusion turned sour. If was on him if she betrayed them.

It would be his fault if anything happened in the Mines that threatened the quest.

But it had already been threatened, all the paths they had tried so far had been blocked to them. And would it really be a trap if they KNEW it was? If they prepared for danger at every turn? If they went in expecting the worst and were ready for it?

In the end, it wasn't the gleam in Gimli's eyes, the promise of a safe trip, that made his decision for him. It was not even the naïve thought that the Mines would be as safe as Gimli thought they would be. It as Sam, it was Sam and Pippin and Merry, and how badly they were shivering in the snow, the tips of their toes turning blue from the cold.

No matter the danger ahead, they could not continue on this current path. It would be the death of them all, it would kill his friends and family to be trekking through the snow in bare feet with only Menna's cloak to keep them safe from the chill. It wouldn't last long, they couldn't continue this way. Saruman had already proven his power there, had already ensured that if they push on the mountain would crumble beneath them or above them.

"Frodo?" Gandalf's voice cut through his thoughts. The look in his eye was not hidden from anyone, his blue eyes were sparkling with hope that Frodo would continue on the mountain, but were also filled with a deep fear that he would choose the other path.

Frodo steeled himself as he met Gandalf's eye, "We will go through the mines."

Menna couldn't help but let out a breath at that, glancing at Aragorn to see the same concern in his eyes, his fear that this was a trap.

Gandalf swallowed hard at that, but nodded his assent to the will of the ringbearer, "So be it."

A/N: So now we see a bit of what Menna went through in returning the Ring. It was a struggle for her, she was sorely tempted, but it acted almost like a trigger to her. The feel of the Ring triggered dark memories for her and it was an instinctive reaction (a very deep one) to throw it away as far from her as she could. Had it not been for that triggering, she probably would have kept it and run away with it :(

But we also get to see a little of Aragorn taking notice of her too. She had the ring, she threw it away. It's something he looks to for hope now, for himself. Arwen's words that he's stronger than he thinks are all well and good but she's never held the One Ring, she's never been offered it, she cannot possibly know what it's like of how tempting it'll be. Menna HAS been tempted, and if SHE could give it back, even if Boromir struggled to do it, then maybe he can too. I think it's the start of a little admiration on his part, he's recognizing her inner strength, even if she's fully convinced it's because of her instinctive reaction to the darkness of the ring.

Though, how long Aragorn's 'admiration' will last may be tricky }:) Let's just say Menna has a few thoughts about kings and Aragorn's 'plans' for his future that she's not about to keep quiet from voicing lol ;)

Some notes on reviews...

We'll definitely find out more about Menna's past in the second story. She may find herself a little more open about herself when there are less people around her ;) Menna, the actual name, is one that has no meaning to it, it's sort of represents 'unknown' so it doesn't relate to a family or a title or a word with meaning which gives it the nameless quality ;) I can say there's a bit of a fib about the necklace and the princess of Rohan, Menna's story about it will change at one point so I can't say much about it just yet, not till we hear the true story about how she acquired it ;)

Aragorn's age won't be much of an issue, it will actually be something that Menna brings up in a context that irritates Aragorn in a later chapter ;) I think he was about 87/88 during these events and he lives to about 210 in the books (but that's not to say he may not pass earlier if his heart was broken by the loss of someone he loves in this story). Menna is young, compared to him and even Boromir, about her early 20s and probably still has about 70 more years to go. Her life experience and things that she's endured will make her wiser and more mature than she should be which will help balance a relationship with someone older, like Aragorn. I normally don't agree with very large age gaps between pairings, which is why I'm so against the Doctor from Doctor Who and any Human Companion, but that's playing into a modern setting. The Doctor with a modern human, being set in the modern day, but also with a very large (like centuries large) age gap. For Middle Earth, there's a distinct Medieval feel to it and women then were married off as young as 12 to middle-aged men. In that context (even though I find that disturbing too), it's not quite as out of the norm for a girl like Menna to be married to a man 3 or 4 times older than her. For the stories, there will be 3 stories in this series, one for each movie, and there probably won't be one after the last one about their lives in the future though ;)

Menna's background }:) I feel like it should be more heartbreaking than it actually is given how she builds it up. I don't want to give away too much, but I can say her life in Middle Earth after 'becoming nameless' was more heartbreaking than the events that actually led her to flee and become nameless in the first place lol, we'll have to wait and see what those events were }:)

I'm glad you like it so far :) It could be Eowyn, it could be Eomer, or it could be a complete lie we'll have to wait and see };)

I'm definitely trying to keep the twists coming and to really make the story unique, to take what might be common tropes and put a new spin on them and have them be different than expected if they do appear :) I'm very much looking forward to Menna and Aragorn's relationship building up :) A lot of it will be founded in talking, in some sharing, and even some hard truths to face which I think is a great way to start, especially with Aragorn's feelings for Arwen still lingering around. I always got the impression he fell in love with her first because of her beauty and while that's all well and good, I feel like we didn't really see much of it in the books beyond that, here he'll really get to know Menna first before he starts to fee attraction to her appearance ;)

I couldn't picture all of the characters just falling for Menna or trusting her after the impression she made lol :) I feel like that is very real too, they're on this quest and they can't afford to trust everyone and they all have such different personalities that immediate trust in her just seemed really unbelievable :/ She may never win over all of them, but she may be able to slowly gain some sort of trust as the story goes, but definitely not instantly. Even here, Frodo thought Menna stole the Ring again for a second, it's going to be something she struggles with because she can't fully trust the others either so it's hard for her to gain their trust without trusting them in return, but she also gets frustrated when they don't trust her about something she thinks is important lol :) She's complex and I'm glad you like that about her :)

Aww thank you! I'm really glad to hear you say that. I really try to use each story and the reviews about them to improve as I go and it means so much to hear that you feel like each story gets a little better than the last :') That's what I'm aiming for and it's very touching to hear that it's paying off :')