A hand ruffled her hair, snapping her head up to look at the amused silvery-blue eyes that she loved.
"I'm not dead. I may be getting older, but I'm not dead yet,' he teased, groaning a little as he sat up.
She sighed in relief, before the frightened voice of Sam pierced her joyous fog. "Frodo! Oh Mr. Frodo!"
Aragorn is up in a moment, running to crouch down before the prone hobbit. Turning the halfling over, he face darkens.
HAHHH! gasped the hobbit, coughing. Aragorn's jaw drops as Sam tumbles to his knees beside his master. Frodo holds his chest as he gasps for air.
"He's alive!" Cried Sam, tears in his eyes.
Sitting up, the halfling looked around, "I'm alright. I'm not hurt."
"You should be dead. That spear would have skewerd a wild boar,' stated the ranger in shock.
Gandalf came closer, leaning on his staff, "I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye."
Frodo pulled at the buttons of his shirt, revealing a sparkling coat of mail worn beneath.
"So that's where Bilbo's coat of mithril went,' chuckled chuckled Sam.
"You are full of surprises, Master Baggins,' muttered Gimli.
"No time to discuss how he came into it's possession now,' said the wizard as a resonating BOOM echoed through the stone halls. "To the bridge of Khazad-Dum!"
They rushed out into the hall, Gandalf lighting the way. The 'BOOM's' followed them, along with all the screeching and yowling of the orcs and goblins as they climbed along the ceiling and up the pillars towards them as they ran. The beasts leapt up from crevices and cracks like grasshoppers, swarming them. Running down the hall, Thennil could see that they were slowly being surrounded on all sides. Urging the hobbits on as fast as their short legs could carry them, she whispered encouragements as she looked every which way at the building mass of black shadows.
Skidding to a stop, the taller folk of the fellowship circled the hobbits as they raised their swords threateningly. If they were going to die, they were going to go down fighting. The goblins yelled and screeched, banging their weapons together to create a loud annoying clanging. They snarled at the hobbits, licking their sharp pointed teeth as they stared at them hungrily. Then all grew silent, and the goblins seemed to be holding their breath. The company did the same, looking around then as they waited for the mass to attack them.
A low roar rippled through the cavern, causing the goblins to shrink back from the group. Their chatters and screeches turned to ones of fear rather than those of the hunt as they shook their heads. Another low rumble echoed through the group, and they hurried away from the group, climbing up the pillars as fast as they could; disappearing into the crevices they came from, or fleeing out the doors along the edges of the hall in terror.
Her heart paused in her chest as she listened to the roar. She had never heard it with her own ears, but Glorfindel had described it in great detail to her in one of their training sessions long ago. She had been but a youngling, and it had given her nightmares for the longest time. She shuddered as the cavern lit with a great smoldering red light.
"What is this new devilry?" asked the man of Gondor, looking over Gandalf's shoulder as he held the torch aloft.
She could not see Gandalf's face, but she was sure that is was as pale as her own. His head was bowed, and she knew he was thinking. Of what she did not need to be told, she could sense his tapped down fear of what lay deep beneath these halls.
"A balrog,' he said, raising his head a little, gripping his staff harder, 'A demon of the ancient world."
She could sense the fear rise up in Legolas and Aragorn, they had both heard stories from Glorfindel about the evil beasts.
"And one that we don't want to see or chat with,' she muttered, shifting on her feet.
"This foe is beyond any of you,' said the wizard, looking at them, his eyes grew larger, 'Run! RUN!"
Off down the hall they ran, ducking beneath the arch of a low door as they hurried down the tunnel. Boromir hurried down the steps ahead of them all, the torch lighting his way as he rushed. Running at the back of the line with Gandalf, Thennil panted. The hobbits ran before her, their hairy feet slapping against the stones.
Glancing at Gandalf as they ran, she gasped, "It is possible to take the Balrog."
"Nay, it is to dangerous," he panted.
"I was not trained by Glorfindel for nothing, Gandalf,' she stated, picking up the pace, 'Perhaps this is my purpose on this quest of ours."
"Not this time,' said the wizard as they bumped into the back of the group.
Boromir teatered over the edge, waving his arms to keep his balance. He had dropped the torch, and it was still falling down, down, down, into the red glow below them. The other's had grabbed onto him to keep him from toppling over the edge of the abyss. She caught the hobbits before they went careening over the edge, pulling them to her body. Aragorn stood behind her, Gandalf leaning against his hand and the wall for support.
"Lead them on, Aragorn,' breathed the wizard. "The bridge is near."
Aragorn looked, seeing the bridge in the distance. He looked back at Gandalf doubtfully. The wizard grimace angrily. Tossing the ranger roughly into the other wall he snarled.
"Do as I say! Swords are of no more use here!"
Running down the steps, the company bumped and jostled one another in their hurry. Thennil ran at the front of the group, her eyesight sharp as she assessed their pathway across the chasm on the bridges and walkways. She halted, waiting at the edge of a gap in the path, Merry and Pippin bumping against her legs as she did so. Quickly calculating the jump, she turned to take hold of Pippin in her arms as Legolas Jumped across the space fluidly. Coiling her strength in her legs, she took a running leap and landed on the other side of the space. Though just as agile as Legolas, the added weight of the hobbit made her stumble as she landed. Legolas took hold of her arm to steady her as she righted herself. A roar echoes in the red glow behind them.
"Gandalf!" motioned the Elf, backing up enough to give the wizard room to land, but not so far that he wouldn't be able to catch him if he stumbled.
Setting the hobbit down, she felt him cling to her leg at the closeness of the edges of the stairs. Hushing his fears with a soft whisper, she watched as the wizard leapt over the chasm, his litheness belying his age, he could be quite graceful when he wanted to be. Arrows whistle through the air, whizzing past Boromir and the remaining hobbits. Stringing her bow, she let loose a rain of arrows on the goblins shooting from above, causing quite a few to fall from their perches. Grinning smugly she flexed her fingers, the grin dropped quickly at the remaining plight of her friends. Gimli, while being shorter, had the disadvantage of not having the long leap that the others had.
"Nobody tosses a dwarf!" he stated, taking a few steps back and rushing at the gap with a bellow. He just made it, and teetered on the edge, waving his arms frantically before Legolas grabbed at his beard. She winced at the rough hold he had on the dwarf's course hair, and the pull it had on his face. "Mind the Beard!"
Looking up at the two remaining above them, Thennil's breath caught in her throat as more of the stairs fell away. The stairs shuddered and swayed, the gap impossible to jump now. Aragorn swayed back and forth, holding tight to Frodo as arrows flew all around them. He leaned this way and that as the door behind them grew redder and redder, the light almost a burning fire. A growled rang through the caves, and the archway behind the dos cracked and split. The ceiling groaned, and pebbles and rubble rained down upon them all as they ducked to cover their heads. A large chunk of rock shuddered, falling away from the wall down upon them. Aragorn shuffled Frodo forward just in time to avoid the boulder as it crashed through the stairs behind them. The hobbits eyes were wide in fear as they teetered on the small section of stair. A larger crack rings from below, and the column upon which the stairs stands begins to sway.
"Hold on!" Aragorn cries, gripping Frodo's clothes so hard his knuckles begin to turn white.
"Come on!" shout's Legolas shouts as the stairs lean forward, sliding off the crack in their column. His arms are open and waiting as Aragorn calculates the timing. Then they are in the air, sailing over the little opening left by the shifting stairs, toppling to the ground.
Helping them to their feet, they flee down the stairs and into another hall. Here the red glow has already been. Flames leap up from the stone, licking and crackling as they eat hungrily at it. They run through, patting and stomping as their clothes catch fire from the sparks and flames jumping around them. Thennil rips off her hood, casting it aside into the flames as it continues to burn.
"To the bridge! Fly!"
The others gallop over to the bridge, but Thennil stays behind with the wizard, watching the flames. From deep within the fire, a great shadow stands, horns adorning it's head and glowing, fire-like eyes that burn into her mind. It is her nightmares brought to life. Smoke billows around the beast as flames play across it's back like live hair. It stomps towards them, and Gandalf turns, running after the other.
One by one they cross the bridge. Boromir and Aragorn go first, testing the soundness of it as the others hurry after them, trying not to look down at the deep chasm below them, which at any second they could trip and fall into. Who knows if they would ever stop falling? Thennil ushered Gimli and the hobbits over before her, glancing back frequently to see how close the Balrog got to them. Once the little ones were over, she followed on quick feet, looking straight ahead and letting her senses guide her as she traversed the thin bridge. They continue up the other side, into the archway leading out of the mountains.
Skidding to a stop, Thennil gapes at Gandalf. He had been right behind her when she ran over the bridge, but had stopped in the middle. The heat of the fires made the air warm and stuffy, hard to breath. The wizards robes flew about him as he stood firm in the middle of the bridge, glaring at the Balrog.
The Balrog had reached the end of the bridge. Gandalf stood steady in the middle of the span, leaning on his staff in his left hand. In his right Glamdring gleamed, cold and white. His enemy halted again, facing him, and the shadow about it reach out like to vast wings. It raised the whip, a golden string of fire, and the thongs whined and cracked. Fire came from its nostrils. But the wizard stood firm.
"You cannot pass,' he said. The orcs stood still in their hiding places, and a dead silence fell. 'I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass!"
The Balrog made no answer. The fire in it seemed to die, but the darkness grew. It stepped forward slowly on the bridge, and suddenly it drew itself up to a great height, and its wings were spread from wall to wall; but still Gandalf could be seen, glimmering in the gloom; he seemed small and altogether alone: grey and bent, like a wizened tree before the onset of a storm. Thennil ran towards the bridge, but an arm caught her, holding her tight as she struggled to join the wizard.
"Let me go!' she hissed, 'I can help him!"
From out of the shadow a red sword leaped flaming.
Glamdring glittered white in answer.
There was a ringing clash and a stab of white fire. The Balrog fell back, and its sword flew up in molten fragments. The wizard swayed on the bridge, stepped back a pace, and then again stood still.
"You cannot pass!' he said again.
With a bound the Balrog leaped full upon the bridge, causing it to crack and creak. It's whip whirled and hissed.
Then Aragorn and Boromir moved. "He cannot stand alone! Elendil! I am with you Gandalf!"
"Gondor!" shouted Boromir, running after the man.
At that moment Gandalf lifted his staff, and crying aloud he smote the bridge before him. The staff broke asunder, splinters flying in every direction, and fell from his hand. A blinding sheet of white flame sprang up. The bridge cracked. Right at the Balrog's feet it broke, and the stone upon which it stood crashed into the gulf, while the rest remained, poised, quivering like a tongue of rock thrust out into emptiness.
It was with a terrible cry, one that made their eardrums ring, that the Balrog fell forward, and its shadow plunged down and vanished. Gandalf turned to them, grunting, and lifted his foot to take a step. Up from the darkness the great fiery whip flashed, twisting itself around the wizards ankle, and yanked. The wizard fell to his feet, grappling with the stone as he was drug across the remainder of the bridge. Clinging to the edge, he gripped the ridge tighter, his eyes wide. Frodo screamed, running to him. Boromir snagged the hobbit, holding him as he struggled in his arms, while Thennil looked on from her place in Aragorn's arms as the wizard slid into the abyss.
"Fly, you fools!" he cried, and was gone.
"Nooooo!" cried Frodo, his voice dropping to a tear-filled wail.
Thennil turned away from the abyss, leaning into Aragorn's chest as she shuddered, weeping silently. He stood with his arms around her, body stiff as he stared at the place where the wizard had disappeared. Boromir held the struggling hobbit to his chest, shaking his head as he also watched the area. The cackle of the goblins from their perches echoed through the air, and arrows began to whistle past their ears, snapping them out of their shock. Slowly the rest of the bridge cracked, and fell down to join its other part in the chasm. Running back to the other's Aragorn looked around them in the dark.
"Come! I will lead you now!' he called. 'We must obey his last command. Follow me!"
They stumbled wildly up the great stairs beyond the door, Aragorn in the lead. Thennil kept to the rear, with Boromir not far ahead of her ushering the hobbits on. At the top was a wide echoing passage. Along this they fled. Frodo heard Sam at his side weeping, and then he found that he himself was weeping as he ran. Doom, doom, doom the drum-beats rolled behind, mournful now and slow; doom!
They ran on. The light grew before them; great shafts pierced the roof. They ran swifter. They passed into a hall, bright with daylight from its high windows in the east. They fled across it. Through its huge broken doors they passed, and suddenly before them the Great Gates opened, an arch of blazing light. Out of the Gates they ran and sprang down the huge and age-worn steps, the threshold of Moria.
Thus, at last they came beyond hope under the sky and felt the wind once again on their faces.
They collapsed on the stones, the sun shining down on them as the wept brokenly. Sam plopped down on a stone, his chubby body shaking violently as he sobbed, wiping tears from his dirty face. Merry sat next to Pippin as the lad as he wailed softly, shaking in his friends arms as the blonde tried to comfort him. Boromir had a hold on Gimli, who struggled against him to get back to the mountain, his grief turned to anger at his people for waking such a beast. Legolas looked over the company silently, seeing Frodo further off by himself, a tear tracking it's way down his pale cheek.
Thennil was far away from the company, staring off into the distance her eyes unseeing. Though she would have loved to weep and wail, to let the walls down so that her tears might fall, she could not bear to let herself show any emotion. Elves felt deeper than mortals, their feelings multiplied, larger. It was why so many thought of them as cold and out of reach, so emotionless were their faces at times, so serious. It was because if they let their feelings truly show, it would overwhelm them. Glassy eyed, her back ramrod straight, she tried to calm her rebellious heart. To ease the guilt that bubbled up from within.
"Legolas! Get them up!' came the stern voice of Aragorn.
Boromir turned to the ranger, grief written all over his ragged features. "Give them a moment! For pities sake!"
The ranger shook his head at the man, "By nightfall these hills will be swarming with goblins and orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up!"
Grabbing Sam's shoulder, he yanks him to his feet, 'On your feet, Sam."
The hobbit stumbles, following after him. Turning his head, he catches sight of the bright, coppery hair he loved so dearly. He walked slowly up behind her, noting her stiff posture and clenched hands as she looked out over the landscape. He grimaced at the sadness in her eyes, the shine of them telling him all he needed to know. His hand slipped into her smaller one, and squeezed comfortingly.
"It wasn't your fault,' he whispered, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand.
"I know,' she whispered back, looking over her shoulder at him, 'But I wish I could have fought harder to save him."
He nodded, "Some thins are not to be."
"Aye."
He looked over the company as they started their way down the mountainside, 'Farewell, Gandalf. Did I not say to you, if you pass the doors of Moria, beware? Alas that I spoke true! What hope have we without you?"
"There is always hope,' she whispered on the breeze, the wind caressing his ear.
"We must do without hope,' he said, ignoring her, 'At least we may yet be avenged. Let us gird ourselves and weep no more! Come! We have a long road, and much yet to do."
And so saying, he took off at the lead. The Company now went down the road from the Gates. It was rough and broken from years of no upkeep, fading to a winding track between heather and whin that thrust amid the cracking stones. But still could be seen that once long ago a great paved way had been there. In places there were ruined works of stone beside the path, and mounds of green topped with slender birches, or fir-trees sighing in the wind. An eastward bend led them hard by the sward of Mirrormere, and there not far from the roadside stood a single column broken at the top.
"That is Durin's Stone!' cried Gimli. 'I cannot pass without turning aside for a moment to look at the wonder of the dale!"
"Be swift then,' said Aragorn, looking back towards the Gates. 'The Sun sinks early. The Orcs will not, maybe, come out till after dusk, but we must be far away before nightfall. The Moon is almost spent, an did will be dark tonight."
"Come with me, Frodo!' cried the dwarf, also beckoning to Thennil, springing from the road. 'I would not have you go without seeing Kheled-zaram.' He ran down the long green slope. Frodo and Thennil followed, the hobbit slower than she, drawn by the blue water in spite of hurt and weariness; Sam coming up behind him.
Beside the standing stone Gimli halted and looked up. It was cracked and weather-worn, and the faint ruins upon its side could not be read. 'This pillar marks the spot where Durin first looked in the Mirrormere,' said the dwarf. 'Let us look for ourselves once, ere we go!"
They stooped over the dark water. At first Thennil could see nothing, the water was so deep and dark. Then slowly she was able to make out forms of the encircling mountains mirrored in a profound blue, and the peaks like plumes of white flame above them; beyond there was a space of sky. There like jewels sunk in the deep shone glinting stars, though the sunlight was in the sky above. Of her own stooping form no shadow could be seen. It was one of the most amazing things she had ever seen, or experience in her long life.
"O Kheled-zaram fair and wonderful!' said Gimli. 'There lies the Crown of Durin till he wakes. Farewell!" He bowed, and turned away, and hastened back to the greensward to the road again. Thennil followed with Frodo and Sam behind, deep in thought.
"What did you see?' asked Pippin to Sam, but the red-head was to deep in thought to answer.
Along the Silverlode they walked, and in the distance before them they could see it leaping down to the trough of the valley, and running away into the lower lands. It got lost in a golden haze of which they could not see through, though the hobbits wondered.
"There lie the woods of Lothlorien!' said Legolas. 'That is the fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are no trees like the trees of that land. For in the autumn their leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not till the spring comes and the new green opens do they fall, and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the wood is golden, and the golden is the roof, and its pillars are of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. So still is our songs in Mirkwood say. My heart would be glad if I were beneath the eaves of that wood, and it were springtime!"
Thennil smiled at the apt description of her Grandmother's realm. It was indeed a beautiful land, filled with good things, and guarded viciously by the Marchwardens. Pulling another hood from her satchel, she draped it over her head and hair, feeling the need to mask herself from her kinsmen.
It was dark. Deep night had fallen. There were many clear stars to help light their way, but the fast-waning moon would not be seen till late. Gimli and Frodo were at the rear, walking softly and not speaking, listening for any sound upon the road behind. The night-wind blew chill up the valley to meet them. Before them a wide grey shadow loomed, and they heard an endless rustling of leaves like poplars in the breeze as they slipped into the wood.
"Lothlorien!' cried Legolas in awe. 'Lothlorien! We have come to the eaves of the Golden Wood. Alas that it is winter!"
Under the night the trees stood tall before the,, arched over the road and stream that ran suddenly beneath their spreading boughs. In the dim light of the stars Thennil could see that their stems were grey, and their quivering leaves a hint of fallow gold. She smiled, knowing that she would be entering her Grandmother's domain soon, and would be enjoying the comforts of her hospitality.
"Here let us hope that the virtue of the Elves will keep us tonight from the peril that comes behind,' said the ranger, adjusting the strap of his pack.
"If Elves indeed still dwell here in the darkening world,' said Gimli.
"It is long since Legolas' folk have journeyed hither back to the land whence we wandered ages long ago,' Thennil told him, 'but Lorien is not yet deserted, for there is a secret power here that holds evil from the land. Nevertheless its folk are seldom seen, and maybe they dwell now deep in the woods and far from the northern border."
"Is there no other way?' asked Boromir uncertainly, looking up at the woods foreboding.
"What other fairer way would you desire?' asked Aragorn.
"A plain road, though it led through a hedge of swords,' said Boromir. 'By strange paths has this Company been led, and so far to evil fortune. Against my will we passed under the shades of Moria instead of taking the Passage to Rohan, it was to our loss. And now we must enter the Golden Wood, you say. but of that perilous land we have heard in Gondor, and it is said that few come out who once go in; and of that few none have escaped unscathed."
"Say not unscathed, but if you say unchanged, then maybe you will speak the truth,' said Aragorn. 'But lore wanes in Gondor, Boromir, if in the city of those who once were wise they now speak evil of Lothlorien. Believe what you will, there is no other way for us - unless you would go back to Moria-gate, or scale the pathless mountains, or swim the Great River all alone."
"Then lead on!' said Boromir. 'But it is perilous."
"Perilous indeed,' said Aragorn, 'fair and perilous; but only evil need fear it, or those who bring some evil with them. Follow me!"
They had gone little more than a mile into the forest when they cam upon yet another stream flowing down swiftly from the tree-clad slopes that climbed back westward towards the mountains. They heard it splashing over a fan away among the shadows on their right. Its dark hurrying waters ran across the stones before them, laughing in the starlight, and joined with the Silverlode in a swirl of dim pools among the roots of trees.
"Here is Nimrodel!' cried Thennil, recognizing the stream that she would visit and bath in while in her Grandmother's woods. 'Of this stream the Silvan Elves made many songs of long ago, and still they are sung in the halls of Elrond and those of Mirkwood, remembering the rainbow on its falls, and the golden flowers that floated in its foam. All is dark now and the Bridge of Nimrodel is broken down. I will bathe my feet, for the water is said to be healing to the weary."
She went forward and climbed down the deep-cloven bank and stepped into the stream.
"Follow me!' she called, removing her boots and stockings, tying the laces and throwing them over her shoulder. 'The water is not deep Let us wade across! On the further bank we can rest, and the sound of the falling water may bring us sleep and forgetfulness of grief."
One by one they climbed down the bank and followed her. The men, dwarf, and Elf had to pause to pull off their smelly shoes and socks, tying the laces and throwing them over their shoulders as she had done. Frodo stood near the brink and let the water flow over his tired feet. Thennil discarded her things, unstrapping her sword belt and laying it next to her satchel as she unbound her hair, letting it bounce free. Snagging a comb from her pack, she sat at the edge of the water, slowly combing through the knots a the end of her hair as she dangled her slender feet in the water. The males in her company watched her in fascination as she slid the comb through her long tresses, entranced.
At length silence fell between the group as they listened to the water. Frodo was sure that amid the natural music there were voices singing in the shadows, mingling with the sounds of the water in a beautiful harmony.
"Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel?' she asked, swirling her toes in the water. 'I will sing you a song about her, it is she who bore the same name as this stream beside which she lived long ago. It is a fair song in our tongue; but this is how it runs in the Westron Speech, as she in Rivendell now sing it."
In a soft voice hardly to be heard amid the rustle of the leaves above, she began to sing:
An elven-maid there was of old,
A shining star by day:
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
Her shoes of silver-grey.
A star was bound upon her brows,
A light was on her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
In Lorien the fair.
Her hair was long, her limbs where white,
And fair she was and free;
And in the wind she went as light
As leaf of linden-tree.
Beside the falls of Nimrodel,
By water clear and cool,
Her voice as falling silver fell
Into the shining pool.
Where now she wanders none can tell,
In sunlight or in shade;
For lost of yore was Nimrodel
And in the mountains strayed.
The elven-ship in haven grey
Beneath the mountain-lee
Awaited her for many a day
Beside the roaring sea.
A wind by night in Northern lands
Arose, and loud it cried,
And drove the ship from elven-strands
Across the streaming tide.
When dawn came dim the land was lost,
The mountains sinking grey
Beyond the heaving waves that tossed
Their plumes of blinding spray.
Amroth beheld the fading shore
Now low beyond the swell,
And cursed the faithless ship that bore
Him far from Nimrodel.
Of old he was an Elven-King,
A lord of treen and glen,
When golden were the boughs in spring
In fair Lothlorien.
From helm to sea they saw him leap,
As arrow from the string,
And dive into the water deep,
As mew upon the wing.
The wind was in his flowing hair,
The foam about him shone;
Afar they saw him strong and fair
Go riding like a swan.
But from the West has come no word,
And on the Hither Shore
No tidings Elven-folk have heard
Of Amroth evermore.
Her voice could sing no longer, as her mind drifted over the sadness of the day. "I cannot sing any more. That is but a part. It is long and sad, for it tells how sorrow came upon Lothlorien, Lorien of the Blossom, when the Dwarves awakened the evil that lay sleeping within the mountains."
"But the Dwarves did not make the evil,' said Gimli.
"No, they did not; but evil still came,' she answered sadly, laying her comb aside as she stood in the shallows of the stream, her hair falling down her back like the waterfall that they could hear in the distance. Her lithe form seemed transformed before their eyes, her dirty clothes disappearing and a gown of silvery starlight gleamed in it's place, and a light shone upon her forehead as she waded in the stream. She was like a bright star fallen from the sky, dancing in the light of the waning Moon.
I love Tolkien to much not to include this scene, changed though it may be. I didn't realize it as I was reading though, but this song seems to be describing Thennil in the beginning. I know that it seems like I'm taking forever to make any progress, but trust me, this is going to be worth it. I would hate to butcher what Tolkien wrote, even though I like the version that Peter Jackson portrays onscreen.
Enjoy! Review!
Robin