Hi, people! Great to see you're all still following the story. THANK YOU to everyone who's read it, and of course a bigger thank you to those who've reviewed it!

I've received a few questions about the presence of sabre cats and other animals in the barrow. I did explain in the last chapter but only very briefly so I guess I didn't go into enough detail. J'shana, or the people who finished the barrow after her death, put a couple of sabre cats down there along with a whole load of other creatures. Don't ask me how many or which ones, I don't know, I'm only the author. Anyway, there were enough sabre cats (and other animals too) and so on to keep several generations of them alive down there, preying off the other creatures.
Hope that makes sense!

If anyone has any other questions regarding anything you don't understand, feel free to pm me and I'll get back to you with an explanation!

Oh, and for those of you waiting for some romance… it is coming. That's a promise.

Anyway, I'll shut up now. Here we go with Chapter Twelve…


Chapter Twelve- J'shana's Gift

Location: Dragonborn Barrow

Date: 11th of Sun's Height

A'jira was awoken by the sound of a logs stirring and stirring in a fire. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times to bring the world into focus. Her body-clock told her that it was early morning, and though none of the dawn sunlight could penetrate this far underground, the chamber was brightly lit by several glowing orbs that were stuck to the walls. As she watched, one of them went out, and Zaran, who was sitting a little way off, poking at a fire he had clearly conjured himself, shot another one from his hand to take its place.

'Morning,' she called, and he looked up with a smile.

'Good morning, A'jira! It is good to see you awake. I think it is a few hours after dawn, but you were sleeping so peacefully I did not want to wake you. So I made us a fire and some breakfast.'

A'jira yawned, stretched, threw off her blanket and went to join him by the fireside. 'How did you make a fire without any wood?'

'There was plenty of wood.' Zaran gestured to an alcove in the wall harbouring a large chest A'jira hadn't noticed before. 'You ancestor was most considerate.'

'Must be pretty strong wood, to last five hundred years,' A'jira said suspiciously. Had someone already been down here?

'Probably some sort of enchantment on it,' Zaran said with a shrug as he held out a slightly burnt venison sausage. A'jira recognised it as one of the ones they'd taken from the bandit camp and hoped it would still be OK to eat. She took it anyway and wolfed it down in a few seconds.

'Did you have any trouble on your watch?' she inquired as she wiped her paws on her armour.

'Not a bit. There isn't so much as a chicken stirring out there.'

'Pity, really. We could do with a few.' A'jira took another sausage.

'Indeed. But livestock appears to be something J'shana did not supply us with.'

One of the glowing balls of light blinked out. Zaran replenished it without turning his head. 'So, today we find the centre of this place, if the Hist are kind.'

A'jira nodded. 'I think we'd better get going as quickly as possible. I don't want to spend one second more than I have to in this place. It's not as bad as Ulfgard was, but still…'

Zaran inclined his head in agreement. 'I have to say that I feel the same way. I miss the feeling of the wind on my scales and the sound of birdsong and the warmth of the sun.'

'Me too.' A'jira's tail twitched. She longed to see the sun and sky again, to hear the rustle of a breeze stirring the treetops, to smell the fresh, clean air of the outside world. She hated feeling like a cornered skeever down in the darkness like this.

They finished eating and packed up their things. Zaran extinguished the fire with a freezing spell. The summoned balls of light flickered out one by one as they shouldered their packs and set off once again into the darkness, Zaran casting Candlelight spells every minute.

As they made their way down the tunnel, A'jira found herself grappling with something she hadn't expected- boredom. In Ulfgard, she'd been so full of fear and adrenaline that she hadn't had time to be bored. But now, walking down a plain, long, dark passageway that seemed to never end no matter how fat they walked… it was tedious, hellishly so. A'jira almost wish that they would round the next bend to find a Dwarven Sphere or a frostbite spider or even a nest of skeevers- just something, anything, to break the monotony. From the way Zaran's brow was wrinkled with displeasure, she could tell he felt the same way.

'This is… dull,' he remarked after a while.

'Tell me about it.'

'I can't believe we have met no opposition yet.'

'I guess we will soon.'

'I most certainly hope so, strange as it may sound. Dark passages are very repetitive.'

The Candlelight spell vanished into the darkness, and Zaran cast another.

A short flight of steps- by far the most interesting thing that had happened since they set out- then the tunnel rounded a corner. And a second. Then a third. A'jira followed the twists and turns without a second thought. Please, let this be over soon, she thought. Talos, Shor, Mara, Dibella, Akatosh, divines, please let this be over soon…

She looked up and stopped dead.

'By the blood of the Hist!' Zaran exclaimed furiously from behind her, and A'jira had to agree.

They had emerged into a round room. Ahead of them stretched a dark, forbidding tunnel, as cold and threatening as the mouth of a dragon. And to their left, a second. To their right, a third. And two more in between the other three. All identical. All potentially leading to their goal. All possibly a deadly trap.

'That's just perfect,' A'jira snarled. There was no indication of which way to go whatsoever. No markings or signs. Going down the wrong passage could mean death. But they had no way of knowing which one was right, and which were wrong.

Zaran approached the leftmost one and peered into it. 'Nothing moving down there.'

'There's nothing moving down any of them! They're all exactly the same.'

'But there must be some way of telling which one is the path to take. J'shana would not have made this puzzle for us to work out if we had no way of finding the answer.'

A'jira smiled. He was right. 'I thought you said I was the one with the logic!'

Zaran laughed. 'Come, we must think. What might she have left for us?'

The answer came to A'jira in a flash. Unable to believe she hadn't thought of it before, she wrenched J'shana's diary from her pocket and flicked to the last few pages, where she had written about the barrow. After finding out that Alduin was not yet defeated, J'shana had written a few pages of advice for the dragonborn of the future on some separate pieces of parchment, and stuffed them into the back of the book. One of them had been written many years after the others, after the barrow had been made. A'jira skimmed through it quickly, pausing at a likely-looking paragraph.

Dragonborn barrow is dangerous. I make no secret of that. I've placed several monsters down there, and none of them will take kindly to your presence. You'll need this diary if you want to make it through. I suppose it would be possible without, but if you want to make it out alive you'll need what's written here. After all, you'll need to pay with your blood to get through, and only the right path will lead you to my resting place, and the Shout.

Excited, she looked at the next paragraph, but it had nothing to do with the barrow. Confused, she turned over the piece of parchment, but there was no other advice.

'Have you found something?' Zaran peered over her shoulder.

'I'm not sure.' A'jira held out the parchment.

Her friend frowned. 'She would not say you'll need what's written here and then not write anything. She must have left a clue for us in that paragraph- we only need to find it. Something there will tell us how to find out which way to go.'

Again, he was right. But what was the use of him being right if they had nothing to show for it? Talos, help us! she pleaded silently. Show us the right way!

The right way.

A'jira's whiskers began to twitch with excitement. An idea formed in her mind, as clear and obvious as if Talos had heard her prayer, opened her head and dropped the thought inside. She read the paragraph again. There was no doubt about it.

'You're half right,' she told Zaran, a grin forming on her face. 'The clue's here. But it's not telling us how to find out which tunnel we go down. It's telling us which tunnel to go down.'

'It is?'

A feeling of triumph inside her, A'jira ran a talon along the sentence which held the answer.

Only the right path will lead you to my resting place.

'Only the right path,' she said proudly. 'The right path, Zaran!'

For a moment, the frown remained glued to his features. Then he caught on and smiled. 'Of course. The right path- she did not only mean the way that was safe to go, but the rightmost path… that one.' He pointed. 'Why, the answer was staring us in the face! Hidden in plain sight… I cannot believe I could not see it. You were most clever indeed to work that out, A'jira.'

'Not really.' Blushing, A'jira looked at the floor.

Zaran looked at her with amusement. 'Well, now we know which way is for us. Onwards, then.'

'Onwards it is.' A'jira folded the parchment, replaced it inside J'shana's diary, and returned the book to her pocket. She led the way over to the right-hand tunnel and started to descend the steps that led into it.

Thank you, Talos, she thought with a smile. And thank you, J'shana.


An hour later, A'jira heard it. It filled her ears, then her head, then her entire body, whispering to the very essence of her being. Chanting. In an ancient, bygone language that had been long lost to the centuries. The language of Dragonkind.

'We're almost here!' she burst out excitedly. She sped up almost unconsciously, her paws thudding on the cold stone floor. She could faintly hear Zaran running after her, but all her attention was focused on the voices up ahead. She ran around a corner and skidded to a halt.

It was a dead end.

'What in Talos's name-' A'jira approached the massive boulder that blocked her way and pressed her ear against it. She could hear the voices chanting, just the other side- three words too faint to make out. But how to move the boulder?

Zaran came up behind her and gave a short hiss as he saw the rock. 'Are you sure we went the right way?'

'Positive. I can hear the voices. The Shout's just beyond this rock.'

'Then the rock must be moved. If you stand behind me, I will see if I can stir it.'

A'jira nodded and moved back, allowing Zaran to stand in front of the boulder. He charged up a lightning bolt spell and hurled it at the rock with full force- but it didn't so much as shift a whisker-length. Looking as confused as A'jira felt, he stepped back.

A'jira narrowed her eyes and regarded the boulder. It was perfectly shaped to fit the tunnel. Suddenly she wondered if it was actually a real boulder. Looking at it, she realised it wasn't the same sort of stone as the rest of the walls. It wasn't a rock, but a door- a secret door. She was certain of it. But that just raised another question- how in the name of Talos did they get it open? There were no levers, no buttons, no pull chains. She must have overlooked something- but what?

Her mind flew back to one of the many pieces of advice Faenlor had given her on their way to Ulfgard. She smiled as she pictured the elf's stern but still friendly face. His voice sounded in her mind. If you ever get stuck and can't figure out what to next, use your awareness. Let your senses flow out into the world around you, and use every one of them. Look all around you- walls, floor, ceiling, tree, rock, river and sky. Leave no stone unturned. Use everything you can to your advantage. Never leave something essential overlooked.

Something essential… something like J'shana's diary.

In a trice she had whipped it from her sort of instinct led her to the same paragraph as before.

After all, you'll need to pay with your blood to get through, and only the right path will lead you to my resting place, and the Shout.

Somehow it held the answer… and then suddenly A'jira knew where, and how.

She followed Faenlor's advice. She looked all around her. The walls. No. The ceiling. No. The floor. Yes.

There, beneath her feet. She moved backwards in order to see it better. A sort of seal, shaped like a flying dragon.

You'll need to pay with your blood to get through…

Her fur flattened ever so slightly, but she shook off her fear and replaced the diary. Then she pulled her dagger from her belt and went down on one knee.

'A'jira? What are you doing?'

'Don't worry. I've got it sorted,' she replied reassuringly, hoping that she had.

She pressed the blade of the knife against her hand and used it to part her thick grey fur, leaving a clear path to the pale, vulnerable skin underneath. With a sharp intake of breath, she pressed the dagger downwards and pulled it a little way along. A small cut opened on her hand. She winced and supressed a gasp of pain, but it would heal quickly, and it had to be done. She turned her hand so that her palm was directly above the seal, and gently squeezed the wound. A single drop of blood, red as the eyes of Alduin, fell from her hand and splashed onto the seal.

There was a grinding noise. The huge boulder shook slightly. Then, as if someone invisible was pulling a rope attached to it, it juddered backwards and slid to one side.

Instantly light filled their vision and both Argonian and Khajiit shrank back, unaware of how accustomed to the gloom and darkness their eyes had become. It wasn't the light from a spell, or the reddish glow of a fire. It was daylight, real daylight, the rays of the sun somehow seeping underground.

Blinking, A'jira took a step forward and entered the heart of Dragonborn Barrow.

High, high above, almost too high for her to see, was the surface. The enormous cavern was shaped like a dome, with a long, thin, tunnel at the top leading straight up to the world above. A single beam of light shone through the tunnel and onto the very centre of the cave. Around the walls stretched a waist-height sort of trough, filled with wood soaked in oil. Zaran stepped up to it and ignited the wood with a flame from his hands. The flame caught, kindled the next piece of wood, and spread around the cavern, lighting up every inch with a warm fire-glow. It would have been too hot to cope with, had the cave not been so far underground that it was as cold as an Evening Star morning in Winterhold. The fire warmed it to the heat of a summer's day.

And as the flames lit up the last corner of the cavern, they could see for the first time how amazing it really was.

The shaft of sunlight streaming in from the surface fell upon a pair of statues. One was a female Khajiit, bow drawn back and ready to fire, her expression kind and fierce and noble and full of laughter at the same time. Beside her stood a male Argonian with small, goat-like horns. In one hand he held a sleek and beautiful sword, and in the other a curved bow. Both statues had clearly been made with skill and love. A'jira didn't want to think about how long they must have taken. Just like the carvings on the temple outside, every detail was complete. Every hair on the Khajiit's pelt, every scale on the Argonian, every arrow in their quivers- it was all perfectly made. The Khajiit's fur had even been carved in such a way that some parts appeared darker than others, creating a pattern of striking tabby stripes. Some pieces, like the bowstrings, were so thin that A'jira was sure that the lightest touch would shatter them into a thousand pieces. Even their weapons looked deadly. She recognised those in the hands of the Argonian as a glass bow and an ebony sword, but she'd never seen a bow quite like the one held by the Khajiit.

The pair of them stood on a large square of white stone. Stepping over to it, A'jira read the words carved there.

Laid to rest in this place, deep in the heart of the land they loved

Lies a pair of true warriors.

J'shana Tygra

The Dragonborn, and saviour of all Tamriel

And her husband

Derkeethus

Without whom she would never have succeeded in her quest.

They lived as warriors

They died as heroes

And will never be forgotten

Until this world has ended

And the stars fall from the sky.

A'jira found herself consumed by a wave of sadness so strong it threatened to knock her off her feet. How could this have happened? How could the same people who wrote such things have forgotten so completely about the people they had once loved and honoured five hundred years before? A'jira felt her heart break. A single tear welled up in the corner of her eye and trickled down her whiskers, dropping onto the white stone in the same way that her blood had fallen onto the seal.

Zaran came over to her. Seeing her sorrow, he gently placed his arm around her shoulders. 'We remember them,' he murmured. 'And one day, so will all of Skyrim. Maybe even all of Tamriel.'

A'jira swallowed and nodded.

'Come.' Zaran gestured to the far wall of the cavern. 'It is time for you to do what we came here for.'

A'jira looked up. A little way in front of the channel of fire was their goal. The word wall.

Now that she was focused on it again, the chanting registered in her ears again. She angled them towards the sound, letting it fill her entire body. The words pounded in her mind, demanding to be let into her soul. Warily, she made her way around the statue of her ancestors, who watched her with unblinking eyes, and stepped up to the wall, her footsteps echoing as loudly as the roar of a dragon in the otherwise silent chamber. Silent apart from three words that entered her mind and flooded through every inch of her.

Wahl.

Zu.

Dovah.

She recognised dovah, but the other words meant nothing to her. Still, she felt their power as it surged through her, unstoppable and strong. Suddenly she was afraid- afraid of the raw power of this Shout. She had no idea what it did, or how it worked- but it was dangerous, and powerful, and it frightened her.

She stood there for a moment, letting the words sound in her head and fade. Then Zaran's shout broke in on her thoughts.

'A'jira! Come and see!'

Turning, she saw Zaran kneeling beside a large chest. There were several around the walls. The Argonian had prised open the lid of one and was holding up what he had found inside with undisguised awe.

'What have you got there?'

Eye wide with delight, Zaran held out a set of blue and white robes. 'These are expert robes of destruction. They let their wearer cast destruction spells using less Magicka than usual, and allow their Magicka to regenerate more than twice as fast.' He pulled out something else. 'And an adept hood, too… I can hardly believe it!'

'I guess J'shana left them here for us,' A'jira said, walking over to join him. 'She studied at the College of Winterhold for a while.'

'Well, thank you, J'shana… this is amazing! And look!' Zaran sounded like a small boy who had just discovered that his birthday had come early. 'Look at all these spell tomes!' He wrenched a handful from the inside of the chest and sat down among them, riffling through a purple one with a strange symbol on the cover. 'Conjure Flame Atronach… I've been looking for this spell ever since I decided to become a mage.' He flicked to the last page and the book burst into flames.

'Um… is that supposed to happen?' A'jira looked on worriedly as Zaran dusted the ashes from his hands and picked up a red one with three circles on the cover.

'Oh, yes, it's quite ordinary… now what's this one? Clairvoyance…'

A'jira decided to leave him to it and examined another chest. It wasn't locked and creaked open easily. She peered inside and her mouth dropped open.

With shaking hands, she brought out the set of armour inside the chest. It was surprisingly light, yet somehow she knew that it would turn almost any blade. She ran a hand over it, feeling its jagged surface, and five centuries' worth of dust floated into the air, revealing a grey-green surface that felt tough as rock.

A'jira became aware of Zaran watching her. 'Is that armour made of what I think it is?'

A'jira nodded. There was no doubt. It was made from dragon scales.

'J'shana must have made this herself.' A'jira pulled out one of the gauntlets and slid it onto her hand. It was a near perfect fit.

'It's… amazing.' Zaran was at a loss for words, and A'jira had to agree.

She pulled out the rest of the armour set and sat in front of it, staring. Everything was lovingly made and a thousand times stronger than iron, from the horned helmet to the armoured boots. It even had two small holes for her ears, and another in the back for her tail.

And that wasn't all. At the bottom of the chest, next to a quiver of arrows that A'jira was pretty certain were ebony, lay a stunning silver and black bow. Like the dragonscale armour, it was the real version of the stone one carved onto the statue of J'shana. She picked it up and ran her hands along its curved edge. Then she gave the bowstring a small pluck. It gave a twang, vibrating in her hands like a bird trying to take flight. She pulled the elven bow she had been given by Faenlor from its holder and weighed it against the black one. The weapon that had seen her through so much suddenly felt small and puny compared the amazing piece of craftsmanship that was the black bow.

She took one of the ebony arrows and notched it to the bow. The string slid back easily. She walked over to the foot of J'shana's statue and aimed up into the finger of light. She narrowed her eyes, aiming for the speck of light that was the surface, high, high above.

She fired.

The arrow shot upwards, fast and stronger than any arrow she'd ever fired before. Soon it was nothing but a black speck. And then she couldn't see it any more. She stepped away from the statues, waiting for it to fall back down. It didn't.

'By the Hist,' Zaran said admiringly. 'That is… a good bow.'

'You can say that again.' A'jira's smile was too big for her face.

She went back to the chest and looked inside. It was empty apart from an ebony dagger- A'jira took it and tucked it into her belt- and a scroll of parchment.

She knew who would be the writer before she even looked at it.

To you, my heir, I leave these gifts.

First, the Shout. I will not tell you what it does. That is for you to discover. Do not use it until you face Alduin. You will need it then and only then- not after, not before.

I made this armour myself. Do not let its lightness fool you. It will stand against any weapon.

The dagger and arrows I found in the Dwemer city of Blackreach, while searching for the elder scroll. I have no use for them any longer- they are yours.

And finally, I give you my bow. It is a Nightingale Bow, and there is no other like it. It was given to me by Karliah, one of my greatest friends. It never let her down, and it never let me down. I hope that it will serve you as well and as faithfully.

J'shana

'I'm sure it will,' A'jira murmured. She took off her own quiver and placed it in the chest, along with her old bow and dagger. She wouldn't be needing them anymore.

She went over to another chest. It was full of strange sets of armour she had no name for. The next was full of potions, with their uses written onto their labels in faded ink. A'jira was just able to make out J'shana's loopy, scruffy handwriting.

The next was full of various different amulets, necklaces and pieces of jewellery. A'jira would have taken some, but she was worried about running out of room in her bag, so she closed the lid and turned her attention to the next chest and pulled up its lid.

Her mouth opened along with the chest.

It was filled to the brim with gold coins. There wasn't an ounce of room for any more. There were so many that just opening the chest made several of them roll out. They glinted and shimmered in the light from the fire- a glistening sea of gold.

As she stared, she realised that there were words carved into the top of the chest.

What are you so surprised about? It's no use to me, is it? After all, wealth is no promise of happiness, and I'm happy as I am. Derkeethus and my children are the only treasures I need. Oh, stop staring like that and shut your mouth. You look like a fish.

A'jira burst out laughing and closed her mouth, along with the chest.

'Aren't you taking any?' Zaran looked at her with surprise.

'Why would I need it? There's too much of it for my liking.'

Zaran gave her a look that was a mixture of admiration and disbelief.

'What? Why are you looking at me like that?'

Zaran looked hesitant. 'You are a most remarkable Khajiit, A'jira. Most people, when they found this place, would take as much of the riches as they could fit in their bags and pockets. But you take only what you need, not what you want. Never before have I met one like you.'

A'jira blushed furiously. 'I think that a few days ago, I would have grabbed the gold and ran. But…'

Zaran nodded in understanding. 'You have changed, yes?'

'Yes. I mean, my life used to be completely about surviving until the end of the next day. Now… I've got a purpose. Something to live for. I'm trying to save the world. And this…' She waved her hand at the chest of gold. 'I don't need it. I don't even want it. It's no use to me.'

Zaran smiled. 'I am a lucky Argonian. All the people in Skyrim who could have rescued me from that cage, and I had the good fortune to be found by you.'

Her blush deepened as she searched for an answer to this. She couldn't find one. It was like trying to shoot an elk blindfold.

'Come.' Zaran picked up the robes he had found. 'I am going to go into the other chamber and put these on.' He smiled. 'Give you some privacy to try your new armour.'

A'jira felt an uneasiness run through her as she looked at it. 'I'm… I'm not sure I should wear it.'

Her friend paused, confused. 'Why on Nirn not?'

'Because…' A'jira tried to find what was bothering her. 'Only a few days ago I was nobody, Zaran. If I sold everything I owned it would hardly be enough to buy a square meal. And suddenly, to be wearing this…' She shook her head. 'It feels wrong. I mean, how much must this stuff be worth? I'll be carrying a small fortune around with me and I'm not sure I can do it. It just feels too different. Too… too not like me.'

Zaran came over to her and placed his arm around her shoulders. His eyes glowed with sympathy and understanding. 'I know it must seem strange. But it has to be. Think about it, A'jira. You are Dragonborn, the one who will lead us out of this dark time and into a bright new future,' he murmured softly. 'Think of the people of Skyrim. It may well be that they will have to go into battle behind you. And who do you think they would rather follow? A child in plain armour she borrowed from the Jarl of Whiterun, or one who looks the very image of what a Dragonborn is supposed to be?'

His words hit home with A'jira. Of course, he was right. Again. She smiled and nodded. 'Yeah. I guess you're right. I'll just have to get used to it.'

He shrugged. 'Who knows? Maybe once you wear it you will not have to get used to it at all. Maybe it will help you to feel more like the person you have to become.'

A'jira nodded again, knowing that once more he spoke the truth. 'I hope so.'

He smiled. 'I know so. Skyrim needs someone to lead them, to fight for them. You will be that leader, A'jira. I know you will be. You know why?'

A'jira shook her head.

'Because you are that leader already.'

Amber met green for a long, long moment.


It was time to go.

Zaran had been right about the armour. Wearing it, A'jira didn't just feel like a Dragonborn, but like a dragon. It was such a perfect fit that she almost felt that the scales on the chestplate and arms and the horns on the helmet were her own. She felt as if she could face anything- wolves, bandits, dragons- and beat them without a single scratch. Who battles the dragon and comes away clean? she thought with satisfaction, remembering her poem.

They had found the way out- a hidden door behind the word wall. They had extinguished the fire and replaced anything they didn't need in the chests, for some other Dragonborn to find, maybe, in hundreds of years' time. Zaran had gone through every spell book in the place, and was wearing his new robes. A'jira had left behind her old bow, quiver and armour, and stocked up on potions, knowing they were going to need them.

Zaran lit a Candlelight spell in one hand, and with the other cast a new spell he had learned, Clairvoyance, which would always lead the way for them, no matter where it was that they were trying to go. As he cast it, a blue trail curved around their feet and into the door in front of them.

Their way was clear. They were ready. They knew what they had to do.

A'jira looked at Zaran. He nodded.

'Let's go.'

They took their first few steps into the tunnel that led to the outside world.

Without sound or movement, a pair of stone statues watched them go. As the light from the retreating Candlelight spell hovering over Zaran's head flickered over their faces, the shadows danced over their mouths, and they almost seemed to smile.

A'jira turned and pulled the tunnel door shut.

And as that door shut on the past, it opened the way to the future.

They had the Shout to defeat Alduin.

The quest to save Skyrim had truly begun.


In case anyone's wondering, the blood seal was like the one at Sky Haven- activated only by the blood of a Dragonborn.

I know J'shana's diary said she wasn't intending to join the Thieves Guild, and without joining them she couldn't have got the Nightingale bow. Don't worry about it. She changed her mind.

I know you're all dying to know what the Shout does… Sorry, no answers until the final battle with Alduin!

Dragon battle next chapter! And also maybe a bit of romance :-D

Please review!