XXI

It was difficult to judge what heartened me most about my husband's request that I join him in his journey to north Ithilien. His recognition that I was not - and never had been - content simply to be an ornament to his life signalled to me as profound a change in his conception of what he wanted from his wife as I could have hoped for. And I could only hold him in esteem for this decision which, given what had occurred at Poros, might cost him dearly; moreover, he had, I thought, shown courage in allowing me to witness this vulnerability, where once he would have hidden it from me. So it was that I greatly desired this journey to be a success, for it seemed to me that it would act as an indication of what to expect in any future we might build together. And I hoped that between us we might have success, rather than the disaster we had contrived when we had struggled on alone.

We stayed in Emyn Arnen throughout July, for the Steward's house was still no place for the children and, having been apart for so long, we both wished for time with each other without the distractions and intrusions of the city. And although I no longer bore such ill will towards the city - quite the reverse - it was Ithilien that was our home. I was reminded very much of the first months of our marriage, when we had been so contented together - but I decided that this was better since, as we had discovered in our speech together, we had both believed the other lost to us. And this time there were the children. Our daughter, it came to me, had until now not spent any of her short life here at her home with her whole family. When I remarked upon this to my husband, he became sad, and reached for my hand.

'We threw so much away, Éowyn. Let us not be so foolish again.'

True to his word, he drew me more into his work and his decisions, although he was already so efficient it must have meant disruption for him to devote so much time to my instruction, and to refer to me so frequently for my opinion. But he denied this when I asked, and insisted he could not measure the benefits of my closer involvement.

'A relief to have someone intelligent to talk to,' he muttered one evening, the only time I had ever heard him say anything even remotely disparaging about his staff - it had been a trying day. But I was glad he no longer had to suppress all his frustrations.

We rode north in the second week of August. He looked, I thought, fitter than he had for some time; certainly since he had made the journey to Edoras and, if I cast my mind back, I thought also since that dreadful winter after we had gone to the city. I was glad to see him returned to good health and my own spirits soared as we rode through the countryside. During my time away northern Ithilien had become more and more settled and no longer felt like a border land. As we passed through this country, that showed evidence of the success of his governance of the province, his mood was cheerful. He spoke a little more about his chief concerns on this trip; judging the strength of the northern company, where its main weaknesses lay, and what reinforcements he would have to draw from the south before war broke out in the east. And then he spoke warmly of the Ithilien company itself, and reminded me of what he had once told me a long time ago, that I was held in great esteem by them.

'They were all very keen to make your acquaintance.'

'I hope I do not prove to be a disappointment.'

'That is hardly likely, Éowyn.'

In his eagerness to be among the company again, I glimpsed something of the loss it must have been to be forced to give up even the limited contact he was now able to have with his men. I knew he had journeyed about Ithilien for a little while after first becoming ill, but he had not done even this for more than two years. I was, I thought now, not the only one to have been isolated in Minas Tirith.

But as we drew further north, and the lands became emptier, he became quieter. I had been expecting this. His last excursion, to Poros, had been somewhat less than successful, and I could see how my own presence might easily become less a support and more of a worry.

We came off the main road onto a pathway that ran for a little while alongside a stream, then dipped away to cut through woodland. We went on for a few miles, the land falling steeply, and then came to the entrance of a narrow gorge, meeting again the stream we had left earlier. There was a courier post here, where we would leave the horses, making the last mile or so of the journey by foot. After a few minutes walking, I reached out to put my hand upon his arm. It brought him out of his silent contemplation, but his face was pale and sad. We came to a halt.

'So strange to come this way again after so long...' he murmured. 'Everything is the same - except me.' He sighed. 'One should not... cannot remain in the past. I wonder if this was a mistake after all.' He bowed his head.

I held his arm tight. 'Look at me,' I said, gently but firmly. After a moment, he raised his head. He looked wretched. 'Tell me what troubles you,' I begged.

He put his hand wearily through his hair. 'I am not a soldier any more, Éowyn,' he said at last. 'And it seems... an insult to those who will have to fight for me to come and issue orders to them - and then return safely home.'

'No orders from you could be an insult,' I pointed out.

He smiled; that faint, forbearing smile which meant he had respect for the speaker, but disagreed with their words.

I seized his hand. 'Look,' I said fiercely, and pointed westwards. It was early evening, and the light had that unnatural brightness that comes just before sunset. We gazed downstream across the green meadowlands, the sun glittering off the waters of the Anduin far in the distance. I swept my hand from the west to take in the lands to the south of us, and he turned his head to follow my gesture.

'No,' I said frankly, 'You are not a soldier. You are the Prince of Ithilien. You fought for this land for twenty years, and now you are its lord. There is no man in the whole of Gondor with such a right to order its affairs. And I do not doubt your ability to do so.' I reached up and pressed my hands against his face, and we looked steadily at each other, blue upon grey. When I spoke again my voice was quiet, but no less sincere. 'The worst injustice I did to you was to doubt your courage.'

Then I drew him towards me, and we embraced. I stroked his hair, and he pressed his face against the top of my head. 'Without you,' he said, his voice a little muffled, 'I am incomplete.'

'And without you, the world is a very cold place.'

We stood for a moment holding each other, in the still heat and light of an August evening with the stream running by, then we moved apart, and smiled to see the other's face again. I reached up to straighten his hair, and he brushed his thumb across my cheek.

'Take me to Henneth Annûn!' I ordered at last, with a laugh. 'After hearing you talk so much about the place, it is unfair to keep me standing on the doorstep!'

And so we went up into the rock-chamber, and out onto the step - and the sun set, and I gasped in astonishment as the red light turned the curtain of falling water into a roaring shower of crystal and rubies, and my husband set his arm about my shoulders.

'Captain!'

We both turned to see who it was that had called out. Faramir's face lit up. 'Damrod!' I recognized this as the name of the man who now held the captaincy of the company in northern Ithilien. They clasped arms.

'It's good to have you back with us, captain.' And it was plain from the look on his face that he meant it.

'It is very good to be back,' my husband said quietly. 'But I am not here to supersede your rank - '

'I won't stand on ceremony then - my lord!'

They both laughed, and then my husband turned and introduced me, and Damrod gave a slightly self-conscious bow. 'My lady...' he said and I smiled in return. 'Welcome to Henneth Annûn. I'm glad you arrived at sunset.'

'I always took particular care to do that,' Faramir answered with a laugh, and then they began to walk side by side away from the Window-curtain and back under the archway into the rock-chamber. And I found myself following them and looking at their backs. My heart sank. It seemed I was not here as his partner after all.

Then my husband started and turned to me, his face full of contrition. 'Éowyn, my apologies!' he said. 'I am overwhelmed to be here and was distracted.' He stretched out his arm, and gestured that I should join them. 'Damrod,' he said, 'My apologies to you also, but I wonder if I could ask you to start again. The Lady of Emyn Arnen has as much interest in what you have to say as I do.'

There was not even a suggestion on the other man's face that he considered this an odd request. He nodded amiably and began to speak again. I stepped into place between them and walked with them further into the rock-chamber. And that was the very last moment at which I was excluded.

There were maybe sixty or seventy men there, and each, it seemed, wished to speak personally to my husband - and he to them. There were also several younger men, new to the company and with whom he had not served, and they were plainly awed to be meeting at last the legendary Captain. This title stuck and, despite his slight discomfort with it, he was forced to oblige the company in this respect. Regardless of his princedom and his stewardship, he would only ever be the Captain to the Rangers of Ithilien. And, as he had said to me, it seemed that the company were indeed keen to make my acquaintance, and I was glad to meet them, for they were brave and good men and, most of all, because they honoured and loved my husband as he so richly deserved.

It was a most convivial supper and, in the conversation afterwards, a demand arose and grew for the tale of my part in the ride of the Rohirrim and the battle on the Pelennor. I glanced at my husband who, after what amounted to a couple of bottles of wine, looked extremely relaxed, and I raised an eyebrow to enquire as to whether he was happy for me to speak. He gestured to show that the decision was up to me. So I began to tell the tale, and I am not so modest as to deny that I made a good job of it. For although most of the men there had been present at the battle, and had no doubt heard and told tale upon tale about it, none, I think, had heard it before told in the fashion of Rohan.

As I began to speak my husband, grasping straightaway how I intended to tell it, gave a low laugh. 'Incomparable,' I thought I heard him murmur, although as my story went on he leaned back and closed his eyes. And when I reached the point where the King was slain, he took my hand and held it tight, and did not let go as I continued to the end.

When I finished, there was a short silence, and then a clamour of approval and appreciation. My husband opened his eyes and pressed my hand.

They fell for a little while to talking about the rest of the events on the Pelennor, and then some of the younger men began to ask for an account of the retreat from Osgiliath. Damrod and I shot each other an anxious look, and he opened his mouth to reply, but my husband spoke first, and his tone, although mild, carried with it a firm and undeniable authority.

'It is telling, I think, that songs are not sung about retreats - only during them. That is not a story for this evening. Besides,' he added, 'it does not make so good a tale as the Lady of the Shield-arm's.'

The talk moved on, with some of the older members instead recalling old battles and memories - some involving the Captain, and not all concerned with his career in the army. As the latter began to outnumber the former, my husband stretched out, stood up, and put his hand out to me.

'We set out before dawn, Éowyn,' he said mildly.

'But, my lord, our conversation is so interesting...'

'I am well aware of that.' This was the voice of the Prince of Ithilien, but his eyes were warm when he looked at me, and I knew his tone was more for the benefit of all those listening. I reached up for his hand and he drew me up, put his arm about my waist, and smoothly directed me away from the company.

'Good night, gentlemen,' he called back over his shoulder.

There was a small recess at the back of the cave which was partitioned off with curtains, and a mattress was laid out for us. I got into bed quickly and stretched out my hand to him. 'I thought we no longer concealed aught from each other?' I said with a low laugh.

'Some stories are better told without the embellishments of the Ithilien Rangers! Besides,' he said, taking my hand and coming to lie down next to me. 'I do not want to corrupt you entirely.'

'Corrupt me...?'

He kissed the tip of his forefinger and pressed it against my lips. 'Go to sleep, my beloved,' he murmured. Then he closed his eyes and was asleep himself within minutes. But I lay awake for a little while, listening to the whispers of the waterfall, and to his breathing. And I was glad I did, for it was not long before he became unsettled, and a sheen of sweat broke out across his brow. I drew his face closer to me, and kissed his forehead. His eyes shot open; dark and sightless.

'Faramir,' I said softly, and he drew in a sharp breath and saw me. 'Fire or water?' I asked gently.

He closed his eyes, swallowed, and then looked at me again. 'Water.'

'There is nothing to fear.'

'I know...' he murmured, clasping my hand. 'I know.' He took another deep breath. 'That never helped,' he said wryly, nodding in the direction of the waterfall. 'Thank you for waking me. I always hated disturbing the men.' Then he put his head down on my shoulder and I set my hand upon his hair, and so we slept, peacefully.

When I woke it was still dark outside, but there was a lamp lit in an alcove in the far wall. My husband was sitting beside me, already dressed, and had gently shaken me awake.

'We need to leave soon, Éowyn,' he said softly. 'If you are still coming, that is!'

And I was ready very quickly, but not with undignified haste.

We headed north with Damrod and two others. The sun rose from behind the Ephel Dúath and lit up a land that, as we journeyed, became more and more remote. The river bent away from us, heading north-west, and as the morning wore on, the day became hotter and the countryside about us emptier. We were coming to the furthest borders of Ithilien, to those bare lands that lay beyond the rule of Gondor. It had not always been so, I knew. Once the realm had spread as far east as Rhûn, and this centuries before my own people had ridden from the North. And I thought, all of sudden, of what my husband had said, when we had stood together on the walls of Minas Tirith, looking at the Silent Street and at his own and better gifts to the city. So very ancient, this realm - and yet so much that had to be done.

Throughout the journey I spoke little and listened much. Between them my husband and Damrod had more than thirty years of experience of this land, and I wished to learn as much as I could of what they knew, to be more knowledgeable for the future. Now and again we would stop to inspect a place more closely, and they talked about what had changed since my husband had last been here, how the company was spread across these northern marches, how the defences might be improved.

In the heat of the mid-afternoon, we reached a remote place, as far north as we would be travelling. Here even the heathland that we had been journeying through latterly began to fade. The lands ahead were barren. We were not even two days from Minas Tirith, and I was struck hard by how soon the border of the restored kingdom could be reached. We stopped here for a little while, and I walked a short way on ahead, but soon turned my gaze north and westwards. I caught, glistening in the sunlight, the silver line of the Great River, and just the sight of it was cooling in this unsheltered and unforgiving land. Beyond the river was Rohan, and Gondor lay behind me. We were at the very edge.

I looked back and saw, standing very still with his arms folded, the Steward of Gondor, gazing north and east, deep in thought, watchful. After a moment, I went over to him. He did not look at me straightaway; his eyes remained fixed on the lands beyond, as if to interrogate them, to uncover the intentions of their peoples for the West.

'This is our opportunity, is it not?' I said at length, quietly.

He turned his head and his grey eyes fell upon me, still intense for a moment, and then softened. 'What do you mean, Éowyn?'

'I mean... that what we shall do will be of consequence. For the lands to the west and the south of here. We could do something of great worth.'

He looked north again. 'Yes, we could. Very much.'

It was well into the night by the time we returned to Henneth Annûn. Damrod went to hear news of the day, and my husband went with him, but I wished for some time alone, and I went out of the cave onto the step to look upon the Window-curtain. The night sky was clear, and the country beyond was lit by the moon, which had turned the veil of the waterfall into crystals linked by silver thread. And I gazed at this most exquisite sight, and I thought of those lands beyond - of Ithilien, of Gondor, of the road that led to Rohan and on into the west.

I heard footsteps behind me, and someone drew close, and then my husband set his hands gently upon my shoulders and began to speak, in a low voice.

'...the moon hung moveless in the night.
And this it was that Beren heard,
And this he saw, without a word,
enchanted dumb, yet filled with fire
of such a wonder and desire
that all his mortal mind was dim...'

His arms came about my waist and he leaned in and his voice became quieter.

'...her magic bound and fettered him...'

I put my hands upon his arms and pressed them.

'...and faint he leaned against a tree.
Forwandered, wayworn, gaunt was he,
his body sick and heart gone cold,
grey in his hair, his youth turned old;
for those that tread that lonely way
a price of woe and anguish pay...'

I put my head back against his chest. His voice dropped to a whisper.

'...And now his heart was healed and slain
with a new life and with new pain.'

And he kissed my neck and rested his head against mine, and held me to him. And the silver light played upon the water, and we looked at it, and into the west.

'What think you now of Ithilien, Éowyn?' he said at last.

'I think it is very beautiful,' I replied and, feeling him draw a breath to speak again, added, 'And before you ask, my answer is yes - I shall remain with you here.'

I turned to face him, put my arms about his waist and looked at him most sternly. 'Surely you cannot believe, my lord, that standing me before the most beautiful view in Gondor and reciting poetry into my ear is a way into my heart?'

'And yet, Éowyn,' he murmured, stooping to kiss my cheek, 'you have agreed to stay. I cannot be too far off the mark.'

We set out for our home early the following morning. Damrod spoke to me privately before we left. 'We were very glad to have you here, my lady.' He nodded at my husband. 'Bringing you here's the most sensible thing he's done in a while. You'll always be welcome among the Ithilien Rangers.'

The morning after our return to Emyn Arnen, I rose to find the Prince of Ithilien attempting to persuade his daughter to eat breakfast rather than throw it.

'Some letters arrived in our absence that will no doubt amuse you,' he said when he saw me, nodding towards the table. 'One is from my uncle... Perhaps,' he finished, 'you might consider putting that in your own mouth rather than smearing it across mine?'

I judged that that last was more likely aimed at our daughter than at me, and picked up the letter which he had indicated.

'Morwen already lacks any respect for me,' he said reflectively, wiping at his cheek.

'I imagine that is because you indulge almost her every whim.' I replied, and glanced through the letter. 'I take it your uncle has had news of us? Is he very pleased with himself?'

'On the contrary, he shows an admirable degree of restraint, and simply says how happy he is for us both. I am not fooled,' he said morosely. 'I have no doubt the extent to which we are being talked about in court at both Dol Amroth and Minas Tirith.' He frowned, before smiling again when Morwen smiled up at him.

'Had you really not imagined that would be the case?'

'Éowyn, I have spent a lifetime avoiding discussing my affairs, even to the absurd extent of not telling you some of the most salient facts about me. Of course I had not thought we would be of such endless fascination to friends and strangers alike.'

'Our rather public reconciliation most likely did not help matters.'

He glanced at me. 'I had not thought of that...' Then his face flushed in pleasure. 'Let them talk,' he said softly. 'I would not change that for all the world.'

'Nor would I.'

We smiled at each other, and then he nodded again towards the table.

'There is another letter there which might interest you - from your brother!' he said with a short laugh. 'He has written in Rohirric - he must believe some of my faculties are returning. You may have to decipher some of it for me - his handwriting is appalling.' He caught my look. 'As bad as my accent,' he added.

I picked up the letter and read through it. It was not long, but I am not sure I had ever before seen such an attempt at gracious civility on the part of my brother, and certainly not in writing.

'I hope you appreciate the effort he will have put into this,' I said sternly.

'Indeed I do, my beloved,' he said, and bowed his head, seemingly to kiss Morwen's hair but mostly, I think, to disguise what he said next. 'I can picture him clutching the pen in both hands.'

'Faramir!'

He gave me a look of complete innocence, and then became serious. 'I do appreciate it, Éowyn. And I promise faithfully to make an equally costly gesture. When I can think of one.' He stood up and swung Morwen into his arms. 'Perhaps I should simply offer him a full apology when next we meet.' He sighed. 'It would probably come as a relief to him as well. Anything will be preferable to spending the rest of our lives each trying to be more agreeable than the other.'

Later that morning I went riding, and explored again some of those haunts which had been my favourites when first I had lived in Emyn Arnen. The day was very warm, and became much hotter as I rode about the countryside. There was not a breath of wind. As the sun reached its peak, I went in search of cooler air, and rode down the foothills of the Emyn Arnen to sit near the river. I found a gentle slope, lay back, and looked out across the Anduin, watching the boats at Harlond. And then I looked beyond them, and gazed upon Minas Tirith, shining white in the sunlight. Straight and sheer rose the keel, with the Tower at the top, and I could just catch sight of the banner of the Kings. It was a beautiful sight. Soon we would be returning there, but my heart was not heavy, and I felt eager when I thought of all that we might do there, my husband and I.

After a little while, I set back for home, riding slowly, and went first into the house, where there were some matters I wished to attend to, before going in search of my husband. He was sitting on the grass outside, surrounded by books and papers, with a look of deep concentration. He was very still, except when be bent over to scribble something. And every so often, barely looking up, he would lift his pen up and away from a new attempt on it by Elboron. In time, this game won out over his work. He had the pen held up above his head, and both he and our son were laughing as the boy tried to reach it, as I crept up behind him, jabbed him on the side, and his arm came down in defence. Our son, an intelligent child, seized his chance, and was off across the garden with his trophy within seconds.

I knelt down behind my husband, and put my arms about his waist and my chin on his shoulder. He turned his head to glare at me. 'Traitor,' he said bitterly.

I laughed, and then lifted my head to peer over his shoulder. 'What is this that you are working on?'

'That,' he said, patting the pages of the nearest open book, 'Is Adûnaic. Númenorean,' he added, by way of explanation.

'I know that,' I replied. 'I do listen to you.' I glanced down the page and grimaced. 'It looks... unspeakable.'

'Not the easiest of languages, no.'

'And you are translating it?'

'Not quite...' He seemed somewhat uncomfortable. 'This is an account of the life of the last Queen of Númenor, Ar-Zimraphel. I did a translation last year. This time I am rewriting it.' And now he was plainly embarrassed. 'In verse.'

'So the short answer to my first question is that you are writing poetry?'

'Yes,' he admitted.

'You read enough of it,' I said. 'It was only a matter of time. Is it good?'

'Not very!' he laughed.

'You shall have to practice then. Before you force it upon me.' I ran my fingers through his hair. 'Hers is not the happiest of stories, if I remember aright.'

'No - she is forced into an unhappy marriage with her cousin, and then she is the last to drown when Númenor is destroyed.'

I leaned back a little to look at him in amazement, and then I began to laugh. 'What possessed you to choose that as a subject?'

'I like tragedy!' he laughed back, shoving his hand through his hair. 'If not in my everyday life! It has... symmetry.'

'Less bewildering?' I asked.

'And so, I think, less satisfying.' He raised an eyebrow at me, then piled up his books and papers into an untidy heap. I came and sat down beside him in the space that he had made for me.

'Look what you are wearing,' he murmured, and reached to touch the pendant around my neck, tracing his finger along the line of the silver swan. 'I remember picking that out for you.' His finger stopped for a moment to touch the blue stone. 'The same colour as your eyes.' He brushed the finger over my cheek.

'I did not realize that for quite some time.'

'It was the reason I chose it,' he said.

'You always pay attention to detail.'

'But I was still lucky it matched your wedding dress.' He looked at me severely. 'Wearing blue instead of white. I should have guessed you would cause trouble at court.'

'I trust that you would not have me any other way.'

He reached up his right hand to caress my cheek and stroke my hair, and then a look of concentration crossed his face. This meant he was summoning up the courage to say something that mattered to him. I waited.

'On our wedding day,' he said at last, and slowly, 'I gave you my sword, to keep safe for our son.'

'I believe I may remember the occasion,' I said, tracing a finger gently down his cheek. He flushed a little, and then kissed the tip of my finger very lightly before continuing.

'We have a son now - and we also have a daughter.'

'I believe I remember that, also,' I said, the slightest smile crossing my lips.

He smiled back, but he seemed still nervous. 'I fell to thinking,' he continued, biting his lip, 'that since I can no longer bear the sword that you gave me in return, I might instead keep it safe for her.'

My smile broadened and became one of delight. 'Another shield maiden?' I laughed, caressing his face.

He tilted his head at me. 'Or a scholar,' he said, tapping his papers. 'As she prefers.'

'I like that idea very much,' I replied, and he kissed the palm of my hand.

'I have some gifts for you,' I said, after a moment.

He looked up at me with interest. 'Yes?'

'It took me a long time to find them,' I continued. 'You hid them very well.'

And now he looked puzzled, but all became clear when I took his right hand and then slipped the rings back on, silver and then gold.

'There was no need for you to remove them,' I said very quietly. 'Do not do it again.'

He sat for quite a while, looking down at his hand. In time, he looked back up at me. 'I would have preferred a wedding like this,' he said, a little shakily.

'There were too many unnecessary people at the last one,' I agreed.

'Thank you for being willing to marry me,' he said, and held up his hand. 'Both times.'

We kissed then, thoroughly, and then lay back on the grass, side by side and holding hands, looking up at the clear blue sky. And I did not think of the trials of the past, or even of the possibilities of the future. It was enough to lie there, and be glad of the present - the heat of the sun, the warmth of his hand, the sound of our children, the scent of the roses in the rose-garden.

***

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read this, and reviewed it, and been so patient as I dragged you through the darkness, and offered me such wonderful ideas to push the story along. This has been a quite extraordinary writing experience for me - the longest thing I've ever written, and the only story that I've never plotted out from the start. Now I have some time to go and read the fiction of all of you who have been so kind as to review as I've been writing, and also to catch up on all my outstanding emails!

Thank you in particular to Isabeau of Greenlea, Joan, Kshar, and the Episcopal Witch who have so kindly let me use from their ideas and our correspondence.

The quotation is from The Lay of Leithian, Canto III, lines 542-556; in The History of Middle Earth vol. 3; The Lays of Beleriand.  I went hunting for it when I was planning this chapter. I couldn't believe how well it suited the story.

Rociriel: I am simply not an erotica writer. But I would love to see any NC-17 Faramir stories that you would care to write and post! g

Finally, I have really enjoyed the sense of community that I have felt across the past few months since starting posting here, particularly with all the people who have been following A Game of Chess. Now that Chess has come to an end, I really don't want to lose touch with people. So encouraged by my partner in crime Isabeau of Greenlea, I have set up a space on Yahoo Groups where people are very welcome to come along to chat and exchange ideas. I'll shortly be posting the essay about recent trends in LOTR fanfiction which the Philosopher at Large had on this site very briefly, and anyone wishing to continue or join in the discussions arising from that is very welcome to come aboard, or bring along your own ideas for discussion.

So, if you want to talk about any fanfiction you've been reading or writing, brainstorm ideas, discuss the best nest mate for Hethlin, debate 'David Wenham - nice eyes or big fat Viking?', or even - gasp! - talk about the works of Tolkien, then come and join at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Henneth_Annun/

If you are unfamiliar with Yahoo Groups and have trouble joining, then send me an email - my address is in my bio page.

Thank you, everyone, so much for reading and reviewing A Game of Chess!

Altariel

4th February - 13th April, 2002