I swear I haven't abandoned Dragon's Destiny. I'm in the middle of the chapter for that one and it's a particular bitch. If I'm not careful the entire house of cards I've built out of that plot could crumble around me, and I don't want that to happen. So while I was thinking out a specific part, I went ahead and tapped out chapter 9 of Dream.
Many answers and much more questions arise.
Chapter 9 - Where the Dream Takes You
Cerena gently stroked Visht's face. The swelling in his neck and face was starting to go down now, and his features were less distorted. When the pain had been deadened and his breathing had relaxed, he had fallen into an uneasy sleep. He would mewl pitifully every so often, and Cerena hummed softly to him. Sometimes she could feel the king's eyes on her, watching as she interacted with Visht. Elrond was talking with the orc-king still, asking questions about the various history of the High Orcs.
"Who made the orc rings?" she heard Elrond ask softly.
"He was a grand master of the forge named Bûrzûbardh, named for the black silver he was famous for. He was known to catch the essence of life in his creations, though exactly how nobody knew…" the king's voice trailed off as Gandalf came up to where she was sitting with Visht. He eased himself into a sitting position beside her, his joints popping and protesting, and then finally sighed when he could draw his legs underneath him and rest his staff across his knees.
"How are you?" he asked her. She looked up into his kind, bearded face, but then looked away, back down at Visht's face.
"I'm okay. I wish I would have moved faster. Visht didn't deserve to be hurt like that. I would gladly have taken another arrow to keep him from being hurt," she said. Gandalf reached out and put a hand over one of hers, closing his wrinkled fingers over the top of her hand in a grandfatherly way.
"You saved his life again. And I have no doubt that you would willingly put your life on the line for the boy. You are a great person, Cerena. Your heart is amazingly open. You took an old man you did not know into your home when you felt you had slighted him. You have accepted your situation with surprising grace and poise. You asked no questions when Visht's mother asked you to save him, you merely acted. Whatever Eru's Will for your life is, I have no doubts that they will reward you handsomely for it, whether it be in this life or the next," he told her. She smiled shyly at the old wizard. "Perhaps when all is said and done, there will not be a need for so many of the elves to sail. Perhaps all children of Eru can live in peace…"
Gandalf's voice trailed off in her hearing. As soon as he had mentioned sailing, everything seemed to tunnel out sharply in Cerena's sight. She was looking at Gandalf one moment, and the next she was no longer in the leafy clearing.
She looked around at her surroundings, her eyes wide with awe. She was in a beautiful garden, surrounded by lush and lively plants. A fountain sat in the center, water cascading over stone flowers and rolling artfully over curves in the stones. The water tinkled sweetly as it played.
"It is good to finally see you,"
She jumped at the sound of a voice and whirled around, seeing a man standing by the fountain. He was tall and slender, and every movement he made simply oozed elegance. His hair was shiny and black like a raven's wing, and was braided away from his face. A circlet sat on his brow, a simple stone pressed into the center and shining like a star. His eyes were the color of a cloudless sky, twinkling and mischievous as they looked her over. His mouth was turned into a lazy, perpetual smile that made him seem warm and inviting.
His robes were voluminous, draping in swaths of green and blue that was like seeing the sky through a forest canopy. After staring dumbly for what felt like hours, Cerena finally managed to draw in breath to speak.
"Where am I?" she croaked nervously. The man approached her and she took a few steps back. He paused his steps, looking honestly aggrieved at her fright, before holding out a hand.
"You have travelled the Olórë Mallë. Do you know what that means?" he asked her gently. The phrase sounded familiar to her, but she could not remember from where. "In the Common Tongue it is known as the Path of Dreams," he clarified. Cerena's dark brows knitted as she thought, before her eyes went wide as she looked at him in shock.
"If I…then this is….and you!" she stuttered. He laughed lightly, and yet held his hand aloft for her. "What do you want with me?" she whimpered. There was much understanding and gentleness on his face.
"We have asked much of you already. And yet you have not failed us. I ask you now to trust me," he said. Cerena swallowed hard, debating on what she should do. For several moments she stared at his outstretched hand. She nibbled at her lip and poked out her fangs before taking a deep breath and reaching forward. She placed her brown, clawed hand into his pale, warm palm. He smiled and turned slightly, leading her by the hand. At first it was awkward and uncomfortable for her to walk like this with him, but she found if she concentrated on the scenery it wasn't so bad.
He led her down a path of the lovely garden, surrounded by trees and flowers and filled with the rustling of them and the sounds of little animals that lived there.
"I bet there's a lot of squirrels here," she piped up, and then could have slapped herself. Of all the asinine-,
"Yes. There are. Arômêz keeps their numbers under control, though," he returned in the same kind, gentle way. "He likes to see how far away he can hit them with his bow."
"Fun," Cerena said lamely. The man made a humming noise.
"For him, maybe. Not so much fun for the squirrels," he retorted, turning to her and giving her a wink. Cerena flushed darkly and laughed nervously. She could suddenly hear talking ahead.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her nervousness returning.
"You must trust me," he said softly. They finally emerged in a clearing, and Cerena saw many people sitting on stone benches and lounging on blankets strewn across the ground. Some of them were dressed in fine robes, though not as fine as the one who led her, and some of them were dressed plainer. There was an inner beauty about these people that struck her as familiar. She finally caught what it was when one of the nearby women turned her head and revealed the tip of a delicately pointed ear.
"Elves!" Cerena whispered.
Several of the elves stopped talking at the sound and turned. Eventually the entire clearing had ceased its noise, and they were all looking at Cerena.
"Is that her?" an elf asked. He stepped forward, looking at her curiously. His hair was so light that it appeared white, and was braided back in a complicated style. Many clasps of gold and silver twinkled in his hair, and his eyes were bright and blue-grey, like steel. The most notable thing about him was a beautiful blue cloak. The rich fabric was fastened with a large blue broach that showed twelve stars against a blue background. She stared at the broach and then at the elf. "Is this what we're waiting for?" he added.
"Patience, Artanáro. All will be revealed in time," the man said. Cerena's mind went into data retrieval mode. She knew this elf. If she could but remember his other names! Let's see…Artanáro…blue cloak….twelve stars…Sweet Corn-on-the-cob!
"Gil-Galad," she muttered, only half to herself. The white-haired elf looked startled.
"Do you know me? I cannot say I have ever truly met an orc before. I've killed a few, but never talked to them."
"And that's a shining example of what not to say, Ereinion," another elf said with much sarcasm. Gil-Galad pursed his lips and turned to the elf that had spoken.
"You should put a cork in that wine-hole you call a mouth, Oropher," the elf snipped primly. Cerena's mouth dropped open.
"You have no dominion over me, Noldo," the elf replied, stepping forward. Oropher was tall and sturdy, his hair more golden then the white-locked Gil-Galad.
"If your mouth keeps working, Sindar, I'll cork it for you," Gil-Galad replied.
"Oh god, they're like children…" Cerena said. Her guide looked down at her, noting the shocked look on her face. He laughed lightly.
"Ones that were Reborn sometimes have a hard time controlling their emotions," he explained patiently. There were a few titters from some of the other elves. Oropher and Gil-Galad glared at each other from across the clearing.
"My Lord…I do not mean to be rude or anything…but…why am I here?" Cerena asked, looking up into the face of the being next to her.
"As you may have guessed, I am Irmo. I am the Lord of Dreams and Visions. You have walked the Path of Dreams to enter Lórien. The elves that stand before you have all expressed a common interest. Some of them were killed in Arda, their spirits sent to Námo, and then reborn again here in Aman. Some have traveled the Straight Road from their families, by necessity or otherwise. You are a Chosen one. You were chosen by Ilúvatar for a very special mission.
You know the lore of Melkor and the torment of the elves he captured. You know their twisted visages, and could still give them pity, no matter their transgressions. The exact details of your mission are not mine to divulge. They will be revealed to you in due time. But I can tell you that you are to right a wrong that has long been overlooked. You experienced a future full of hate and anger. You know what is at stake if you fail. But fear not!" he said, noticing the look of despair on her face. "All of Valinor is cheering for you."
"Not all, my Lord."
The elf, though female, had a rich alto voice that reminded Cerena of some kind of rich dessert. She emerged from the crowd wearing a simple gown of pale green that set off the white-silver color of her hair. It was more radiant than Gil-Galad's, but there was something else about this elleth that Cerena couldn't quite put her hand on. She was surprised when she looked into the elf-lady's face.
Elves did not scar easily, and yet this elleth bore two long scars that crossed her face, one crossing over her right eye. Her eyes were deep and blue, an ocean of age and grace. Even with the two curious scars she was incredibly beautiful. There was a deep sadness in her eyes as she looked at Cerena, and such sorrow in an elf was not befitting. Cerena could think of several elves through the history that would have reason to be said, but none that had been described as this one.
"Celebrían," Cerena said with confidence. The elf-Lady looked surprised for but a moment before a smile curled up her lips.
"She is very well versed in our lore," she intoned softly.
"What do you mean 'not all' of Valinor is cheering?" Cerena asked. Celebrían's small smile faded.
"There are those who do not believe the orcs worthy of the attention the Valar are giving them. They believe they should be wiped from the existence of the world, and would not mourn their deaths," she said. Cerena nibbled at her full bottom lip a bit, tilting her head curiously at Celebrían.
"And what about you? What do you think?" she asked. Cerena was aware of all eyes on them.
"I have had a long time to come to terms with what happened to me, and the result of it all. The fire of my hate has faded and left naught but cold ashes of bitterness and regret," Celebrían said. A few of the elves were looking at her sadly.
"The results?" Cerena asked curiously. Celebrían's eyelids drooped slightly and her silver brows furrowed.
"Elrond and I…we wanted another child. I wanted to visit my Adar and Naneth before I became pregnant and could not travel. On the way back-," her voice broke here, and she stopped talking. She inhaled and exhaled several times, before her brows drew together more tightly and her expression changed a little. "On the way back I started my cycle, so that my body would be ready. When we were attacked…when I was tormented and tortured almost to my death….they forced themselves on me…" her fists were clenched at her sides. Cerena gasped softly. She knew amongst many Lord of the Rings fanfiction writers that it was widely assumed that this is what had happened to Celebrían. But to hear it, and see the agony of the memory on her face….
"But don't elves die from that?" Cerena asked in a small voice. Celebrían drew herself up, wiping all of the emotion from her face.
"I decided that I would not. I fought death. I was stronger than their filthy deed," she said coldly. "But the poison in the wounds that they inflicted was strong, and it made me weak. Elrond healed the wounds, but there was something that he could not heal. The preparations I had made for my husband had come to fruition with orc seed. And that was something I could not handle. I believe Elrond suspected. I was fading fast, and in his infinite kindness and mercy he put me on a ship and sent me here," Celebrían said.
"What happened…to the child?" Cerena asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. She believed if she had not been with Visht, then an elf would have long found a way to 'accidentally' drown him in one of the ponds of Rivendell.
"I was born. And I grew."
The crowd of elves parted to reveal a feminine figure. Cerena's mouth opened at the sight of her. She was tall and slender like the elves, but that was where the similarities ended. Her hair was thick and shiny, and fell in blue-black waves over her back and shoulders. Her skin was greyish-green, soft and flawless. The most startling feature about her was her eyes. Though she had been given the skin color of her father's people, she had her mother's eyes. They were like chips of sapphire in her face, surrounded by thick, sultry lashes and crowned with thick, arched brows. Her lips were full and soft, a darker color against her skin. Like Cerena her large, sharply pointed ears poked slightly out of her hair. Despite her orcish appearance, she could have passed as a twin to her mother.
"They call me the yrchedhel, the orc-elf, but my name is Edledhia," the woman said. Cerena could see the tips of sharp white teeth in her mouth as she spoke. Cerena looked between the faces of Gil-Galad, Oropher, Celebrían and Edledhia.
"I'm so confused," she finally said. She felt hands on her shoulders, and looked up to see the face of Irmo.
"Revolution is upon us. The only thing you need to remember right now is that you are not alone. Your kind heart is your guide right now. I will come to you again in time, along with others. Your time here is up, and you must return," Irmo said. Celebrían stepped forward quickly, taking hold of Cerena's hand.
"Before you go. I have a favor to ask of you. I want you to give a message to Elrond for me," she said. She leaned forward and whispered something in Cerena's ear. Cerena's eyes widened and she gaped at Celebrían when the elf finally pulled back.
"Is that even possible?" she asked.
"It is in our case. Tell him that his kindness saved me and that I am happy here. Tell him to stay and watch over our children," she said. Cerena nodded.
"Come now, Cerena," Irmo said, pulling her away from the group of elves. Many of them began waving to her, including Edledhia. She waved back at them. "Now, all you have to do is wake up."
"What?" Cerena asked. He looked at her.
"Wake up," he repeated. Cerena looked at him as though she weren't quite comprehending.
"What?" she asked again.
"Wake up."
"Wake up," Elrond intoned gently, tapping his palm against her cheek. She had been out for several minutes now, and he was worried for her. One moment she had been speaking with Gandalf, and the next she had gone wide-eyed and keeled over. She was staring ahead as though in a trance, but Elrond knew what was going on. She was having a vision. It had been a long time since a vision had taken him as forcefully as this one had taken her, but he had been dealing with them for far longer than Cerena.
Cerena's hand moved, clenching into a fist and moving up across her chest. Her brows furrowed and she whimpered lightly, before she gasped softly and her eyes snapped shut for several moments. Then they snapped open and she looked around wildly, before her gaze settled on Elrond.
"I had a vision," she said. He nodded at her.
"Aye, a strong one at that," he said gently. He tugged her gently into a sitting position, but she swayed dangerously. She shuddered.
"Gonna be sick," she said thickly. Elrond grabbed a handful of her hair to keep it back and then tilted her head down to the side just as she retched into the leaves. She gasped for breath when she felt as though she'd emptied her stomach, but continued to gag for several more minutes. She saw the tips of black boots enter her vision, and a water skin was held out. Elrond took it from the one who offered it, and carefully uncorked the top.
"Rinse your mouth out and we'll move you," he said. He tilted some of the water into her mouth, and she rinsed out the taste of sickness. Then the water skin was handed away and Elrond stood with her, bringing her to her feet. A judicious kick of leaves covered the puddle of sick.
Her legs felt like cooked noodles and she clung to the Lord of Rivendell for several long moments before she could hold herself up on her own feet.
"Are visions normally that violent?" came the voice of the orc king. It was he who had offered his own water skin to the girl. He'd been obviously concerned when she went over like a tree, but the wizard had assured them that she was having a vision.
"What did you see?" Gandalf asked. Cerena looked up.
"I travelled the Olórë Mallë," she said. She heard muttering up in the branches, where most of the elves had retreated. Elrond looked surprised, but Gandalf did not. Aragorn and Glorfindel both looked gobsmacked. "I met Irmo, and he spoke with me a bit. There was a group of elves there. Some had died and been reborn. Others had sailed for various reasons. Lord Elrond! I saw King Gil-Galad!" she said excitedly. Elrond gasped lightly.
"He has been reborn?" he asked.
"Yes, sir! And I saw King Oropher as well!" she added. Glorfindel snorted.
"Gil-Galad and Oropher together? She wasn't on the Path of Dreams. She was in hell," he muttered. Someone above him snickered.
Cerena moved towards Elrond shakily, reaching out for him. He allowed her to take one of his hands.
"I saw…I saw the Lady Celebrían," she whispered. He inhaled sharply, his eyes widening. "She wanted me to tell you something…and give you something, apparently," she said. She pressed something into Elrond's palm, and tugged him lightly so he would bend down closer to her. He leaned forward slightly and she leaned up to whisper. "She told me to tell you that she releases you from your Vows. Your souls never touched and she felt terrible that she didn't think to do it before she left. She wants you to know your kindness saved her life, and you do not have to feel beholden to follow her. She said to follow your heart, wherever it may lead. She wants you to stay and watch the children," Cerena said. She could feel the Elf-Lord trembling bodily, and when she pulled back, she could see his face was stained with tears.
Cerena moved her hand so he could see what was placed in his palm. A small pendant sat in his hand. It was a five-pointed star, set with a pearl in the center and a different gemstone at each tip. He had given it to Celebrían when Arwen was born, a small trinket to show her he cared. When she had been abducted at the Redhorn pass the chain had been broken, but she'd been able to save the pendant. She'd told him later that it was the presence of that pendant that had kept her from fading in her fear and agony.
He could not stop the tears that flowed, but he would wait until he was in private to break.
"Thank you, Cerena. What you have given me is beyond anything I could repay," he said. She flushed darkly.
"You're welcome," she said softly.
"What a day," Durbûrz sighed. This seemed to break the moment, and allowed Elrond to wipe the tears from his face.
"A day, indeed," the Elf replied. "Master orc, when will you return to your kingdom?"
"I will probably leave in a couple days, if we have your permission to make use of another clearing. It was a long trip, and the men are tired. They've earned their rest, and Visht is in no condition to travel just yet, I'm sure you agree," he said. Elrond nodded silently. "I cannot help but wonder…is the girl bound to you in debt?" he asked suddenly. Elrond seemed surprised by the question.
"Not at all. She came as a guest of Gandalf, injured from saving the boy. Guests they stayed," Elrond replied.
"Visht seemed very close to her," Durbûrz agreed. Cerena watched them, curious as to where this was going.
"He would not leave her side. They have grown very close these past weeks," Elrond said with a smile. Durbûrz grinned widely at Cerena, showing his sharp teeth. She smiled shyly and looked away, shuffling her shoes in the leaves.
"If she is amenable, she is welcome to join us when we return to the valley," Durbûrz said. Cerena looked up quickly, her face showing surprise. "Visht likes you. You are good with him. Without his mother I fear he will get very lonely. If you were there with him it would be so much easier on him," he added. Cerena, flattered but confused, looked at Gandalf's face, and then at Elrond's.
"Do I… have to answer now?" she asked the king. He shook his head.
"No. We will leave in two days' time. You have time to seek the counsel of the wizard and the elf," he said knowingly. Cerena smiled.
"Thank you, sir. I am honored by the offer. I will seriously consider this," she said.
"Come, then. We will let them find rest. There is another clearing about a half mile south of here. It is not a difficult walk. I recommend carrying the boy," Elrond said, pointing in the direction of a fresh clearing. Durbûrz nodded his thanks.
"Aye, Lord Elf. We will travel there and retire for the day. I will set up the tent so that Visht can rest peacefully," he said. Elrond smiled politely.
"We will return tomorrow, perhaps, to see if you have everything you need," Elrond said, bowing slightly to the Orc King. He received a bow in return, and the groups made preparation to return to Rivendell. Cerena was tired and weak from her vision, and she wanted to talk to Elrond some more. She also wanted to talk to Arwen, whose advice she wanted. She found Blanket munching at some greenery at the base of a tree, and marveled at the horse. The stray arrow that had been sent from the advisor's bow was lodged in Blanket's mane, resting over his ear and giving him the appearance of having been struck in the head with an arrow. As she plucked the long orc arrow from his mane she petted him gently.
"You are a sweetie, Blanket, but you really are dumb as a box of rocks."
"What do you think of the girl, my lord?" Stargush asked as he and Tharm set up the tent for the King and his son to sleep in. The fresh clearing did not smell of burnt flesh and the remnants of a hanging, but quickly the smell of roasted meat filled the area as they cooked the flesh of a deer they had shot while traveling. Half of the wolves were off hunting for themselves and the others were spread around the edge of the camp, waiting their turn to eat.
"She has a kind heart and a pretty face. She was not raised amongst orcs," the king said, holding Visht carefully in his arms as they set up his pallet. Visht's sleeping pallet had been packed with the King's when they left, in the hopes that the boy would be using it on the way back.
"What makes you say that?" Tharm asked, testing the tent to make sure it would hold.
"She was more comfortable around the elves than she was around us, though it was obvious that most of them did not like her. The Elf Lord seemed kind enough to her, and so did the wizard. But that one blond-haired one, the one that looked like a lion about to pounce, I saw him look at her like she was garbage a couple times. I couldn't get much of a reading from the Dúnedain. He seemed rather neutral to the whole affair," Durbûrz said, reaching up and carefully brushing a bit of hair from Visht's face. The lad stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open. He looked up at his father and gave a weak smile.
"Apzi…" he said weakly. His father grinned at him and lowered his head to press their foreheads together. "You come for Visht."
"Of course I came, gaz ash! You are my son," he said, as though it explained everything. Visht hummed in content.
"Love you, Apzi," he murmured, his eyes shutting again. Durbûrz touched his nose to his son's and then pulled his face away.
"I love you too, baur," he replied. When the tent was ready he took his son inside, carefully situating him on his padded pallet and covering him up warmly, but so that he would not burn up. A small candle burned in a glass and steel globe, setting off enough light to keep it from being dark inside the tent. They had brought a small supply so that Visht would not be afraid during the night like he was apt to be at times. The thick, dark canvass blocked out a lot of light and could get dark on the inside, so during these daylight hours they burned one for him.
He exited the tent and saw Yatta relieving himself against a tree.
"Fucking really? If the girl decides to go with us there won't be any of that shit going on. You can damn well piss away from the camp," Durbûrz stated sharply.
"Why do we have to make special allowances for her?" Yatta asked gruffly, shaking himself off and tucking himself away.
"Without her there wouldn't be a Prince to take home," Durbûrz growled. "She deserves respect for her part in that, at least."
There was a murmur of assent among the men, and Durbûrz rolled his eyes.
"Fucking animals, I swear to Morgoth."
She was too tired to remember the ride back to Rivendell, and she was put to bed as soon as they returned. She did not protest, nor did she wake until dawn came the next day. When she did, it was to Arwen gently shaking her. Cerena automatically reached over to lean down and shake Visht awake, but when her hand met air she came completely into consciousness. Then she remembered, and must have looked extremely sad, because Arwen sat on the edge of her bed and drew her into a sitting position so tha she could be pulled into a hug.
"Do not despair. Father says that the Orc King offered you a chance to go with them," Arwen said. Cerena nodded.
"Yes…but I'm not sure I should go. I have so little in common with them," she said.
"But you have even less in common with the elves," Arwen pointed out, not unkindly.
"I guess so…" Cerena said. "But what if that's not what I'm supposed to do? What if I mess everything up?"
"And what if this is exactly what you're supposed to do? How can you start a revolution if you do not know the people you are supposed to revolutionize?" Arwen said. "Father and Gandalf discussed it late into the night, and I was there for much of it, since we are friends and you treasure my council. Estel was there as well, and agrees that you should go."
"Well, I guess everyone's just planning out the ways to get rid of me, huh?" Cerena snapped, pulling from Arwen's embrace and turning away from her. Arwen gasped lightly.
"Do not think it so! We only want good things for you! Think carefully about this, Cerena. Gandalf was sent to be your guide into Rivendell so that you could come to know Adar. What if little Visht was sent to be your guide into the orc Kingdom, so that you would not feel like an outsider amongst your own people?" Arwen said. Cerena's stiff shoulders drooped and she turned around.
"I'm sorry I snapped…I'm just…frightened," Cerena said. Arwen reached out and took Cerena's hand.
"Do not be afraid. The Valar are with you. They care for your well-being," Arwen said kindly.
"What if I get there…and I hate it and they hate me?" Cerena whispered. Arwen laughed at the childish question.
"I'm sure you are not going to be treated like a prisoner. It sounds as if you've found favor with the king for the kind treatment of his son. He would not allow anyone to be cruel to you. And besides that! You are not a prisoner there. If you wish, I am sure you could return here at any time! Do not allow fear to overcome you, or you will be filled with nothing but regret," Arwen said. "Now come, let's get ready for the day. Father wishes to return and check on poor Visht's injury. Let us make you a lovely sight for the King to look upon," Arwen said, and winked at Cerena.
"You are not going to try to hitch me with Visht's father!" Cerena whispered, mortified. Arwen merely smiled serenely, looking very much like her father.
"Did not the King say that Visht would be lonely without his mother? Mayhap you are meant to be a queen?" Arwen asked slyly.
"And maybe I'm supposed to suffocate the Lady of Rivendell with a pillow?" Cerena asked, tossing said artifact at Arwen's face. Arwen caught the pillow with a silvery laugh.
"I believe both father and Estel would be most displeased at that!"
Don't you just hate it when your friends try to set you up with orc kings? It's just the worst! So like I said, I haven't abandoned Dragon's Destiny, I'm just stuck on a particularly nasty part and decided to take a break and type this one up. Hopefully DD is next on the update.
Bûrzûbardh - Dark Silver
Arômêz - Oromë the Hunter (Bema)
Olórë Mallë - Path of Dreams
Artanáro/ Ereinion - Alternate names of Gil-Galad (Don't know what we'd do if every character didn't have at least ten fucking names.)
Oropher - father of Thranduil, grandfather of Legolas
yrchedhel - orc-elf
Edledhia - exile
gaz ash - little one (Black Speech)
baur – son
So you've enjoyed the chapter, now if you haven't done so already you should favorite/follow. If you have done that, then you should review. If you've reviewed before, then you should know that I love them and want them badly, and would not complain if you reviewed again. So there. :D
