Chapter 8

Lissa woke quietly. It felt odd, she thought, to feel warmth around her as this warmth was. It wasn't like the warmth from a blanket, yet there was one around her. It wasn't like the warmth from a fire, yet one was lit in the fireplace, waning slowly. It was like another body's warmth.

She looked up best she could and found her face buried in thick, rich, blonde hair. She turned her head and saw Delemir's face. He was asleep, so his features were slightly serene and soft. His eyes were closed tightly and their lids would twitch occasionally in a dream. His mouth was set in a thin line. Lissa reached up to brush the locks of hair away from his face when his eyes shot open. She felt her heart jump and skip a beat when his penetrating gaze set on hers. Immediately, his features softened more and he smiled.

"Hi," Lissa managed, her hand still a whisper from his face. His eyes glanced to her hand then found her eyes again, held them there in his.

"Hello," he murmured softly, smiling still. "I wanted to wake you, but it seems you woke me." He reached up and took her hand in his. Waiting a beat, he kissed her palm and felt her pulse jump under her skin.

"Sorry," Lissa murmured. "I woke up before you again." Oh, she couldn't think correctly. Just his eyes, his gaze set her mind off of its track. How could that be when she had a five-track mind most of the time?

"'Tis all right. I still see your face after you were asleep." Delemir found himself grinning as he tilted his head just right and set his intentions across then his lips met her softly, but only for a moment. When he drew back, Lissa had a faint trace of a grin on her face as well.

"What a wake-up call," she murmured and snuggled closer to him again. "And it's six in the morning. Wow."

That earned a laugh from Delemir on the spot. It was a glorious sound in the morning, especially when his arms were around her waist. If someone had looked at them from the front, they would look only as a slight tangle of limbs, or a two-headed monster. The thought had Lissa laughing too.

"I had a dream," she said some time later.

"Oh?" was Delemir's quiet response. Something stirred in him when Lissa stretched like a cat against him.

"Yeah, a really weird one. I need to be crowned queen of weird dreams, I swear." She laughed again and leaned backwards against the arm of the couch, letting her hair touch the ground.

"Why is that?" Delemir tried not to focus his attention on all the soft curves in front of him, or the faint sight of tan skin between where her shirt ended and her jeans began.

"Because," Lissa began, her voice slightly tougher from the pressure on it, "ever since I was little, around eight, I've always had really, really strange dreams. This one was just another to add to the diary of wackbrain ideas." She laughed, an odd sound from being tilted upside-down.

"What was this one about?" Delemir wanted to know. Eru, help him, he thought when Lissa pulled herself upward to face him again. Her face was red from a blood rush to her head, and her hair was poofy.

"Well, if you want to know the true insanity of my youth, you might want to find that straight jacket the nice men in white coats left here their last visit. Never mind," she said at his puzzled expression. "It probably came from last night's weird act, or not, but I don't care. I dreamt I was making a snow angel in the grass and snow was falling during spring." She laughed again at Delemir's vague expression. "Then Bennett was eating dandelions and roses in my neighbor's garden." Bennett came streaking in with an ear-splitting yowl at the sound of his name. "Bennett isn't a vegetarian." The cat jumped up onto her lap, between the two, and purred like a motor boat.

"Interesting." Delemir reached out to touch the cat's fur when they heard loud clunking upstairs. "I wonder what Mr. Analyst is doing now," Lissa murmured, closing her eyes and leaning against the couch. Delemir immediately stood and walked over to the fireplace.

"Mr. Analyst," Connor's voice echoed downstairs, "is leaving back to Manhattan. See you on my next trip, love." He sounded angry and upset, but nevertheless, came down to Lissa and kissed her cheek lavishly. There was still affection there, outwitting all of his anger. Delemir watched everything, then saw the look Connor gave him. "Take care of my woman, you hear?"

Delemir nodded. "Of course," he assured Connor. "I will."

Connor made his last comments and exited to catch a bus to the airport and leave. Lissa, meanwhile, was eyeing Delemir conspicuously.

"What?" he asked her, standing and thrusting his hands in his pockets.

"What happened between you two last night?" she demanded, hauling Bennett up into her lap again.

Delemir furrowed his brow at the memory and sighed. "We disagree a lot for men, Lissa. He accused me of this whole thing being my fault, which it is- "

"No, it isn't. It's mine." Lissa stood, dropping the cat, and walked over to Delemir. She touched his arm softly and made him look at her with her other hand. "It's my fault, Delemir, since I wasn't being mature enough to handle my anger and talk with you like an adult. Instead, I acted like a child and ran off to pout," she told him. "Don't feel bad about it." Staring hard into deep blue eyes, brown eyes with amber filled.

"Lissa-"

"No, Delemir, let me get this out. I feel so horribly because that's all I've done. Act like a child. Yes, I have, and don't try arguing with me. Ever since we've met, I've been like this and haven't done anything about it. I'm sorry, Delemir, that I've made you stand me like this for so long. I'm going to try to act more mature and more my age than I have been."

Sighing loudly, more relieved than ever, Lissa tried out a weak smile before she realized she was incapable of forming one with the sudden emotions and realization flowing through her. Connor was gone. It was only she and Delemir and Bennett living in the house now, but Bennett didn't count as a threat. He was just there to be annoying and break her out of a good inspirational flow of words. But she and Delemir were people, and they were people who were involved with each other. That may prove to be a problem later, she thought.

"You think too much," Delemir told her, still watching her intently. "And so loud, too." He touched her temple gently with his lips. "You'll form a headache right about...here if you keep that up. You need to stop thinking."

She did. She couldn't think for only that moment, after she felt his lips against her skin, even in the most impersonal of ways. Or was it such a personal feeling that it numbed her senses and reasonable and logical thought?

"Stop thinking, I told you," Delemir demanded and drew her against him tightly. "Or I'll have to pull desperate measures against you."

"What?" He was doing the trick, whether he was trying to or not. Her thought process, two trains down so far, was fading into oblivion and the vaults of her own mind. Delemir was proud of himself. "What measures? Against me for what?"

"For thinking too much and so loud." He kissed her forehead gently and knocked another train off the rail. "I have often heard the saying 'Desperate times call for desperate measures,' on that TV thing of yours. This is a desperate time, my love, and I will pull desperate measures on you." He sounded wryly, or dryly, amused by the way his tone rang in Lissa's ears.

That mouth of his was just too big, she thought. Too big and too noisy. She had to quiet it someway or other. She just had to. And, she mused, she was doing just what he had told her not to.

"You're being very rebellious. I fear I must carry out the first threat against your fortress," he informed her and slipped his hand up her back, playing there rhythmically and sending tingles down her spine in sync. When his hand tangled in her thick brown hair, he tipped her head back and looked into her eyes that had previously been focused on his lips. His touch on her flesh as he massaged her neck sent the fourth and second to last train off the track into the ditch.

"Delemir," she said quietly, her voice hitching in her throat as his fingers worked out the tension at the base of her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut and a moan escaped her lips as the fifth and final train fell and crashed off its track. Then she was lost to mindless passions and fevered desire. "For heaven's sake, kiss me if you're going to!"

"Not yet, my love," he murmured, pleased by the way she leaned against him for support when her knees turned to jelly under her.

He watched her lips part, waiting for his to alight on them, but he made her wait more. He touched her cheek softly and felt her skin heat against his. He felt her go pliant in his arms, waiting for him. She was total surrender. And, he told himself, that must have been a rare thing for Lissa to be.

When he lowered his mouth, it wasn't to her lips, but to the curve of her neck. His lips whispered softly over her skin there, and he felt every pulse in her neck throb under his lips. He felt her heart thud against his, matching its racing pace. When she uttered another low, throaty moan, her hands went up to his shoulders and kneaded there, her finely clipped nails digging into the shirt and his skin.

"Delemir." Her voice was no more than a whisper, coming out on a breath that managed to escape. "Please."

Unable to contain himself any longer, and frightened of what Lissa may do to have her way, he rested his lips against hers and felt them warm against his. Her lips parted, inviting. All he found she had to offer, he took, but gave his own back to her for even and fair play.

Lissa was breathless and thoughtless, her mind spinning in wild circles that brought on the best dizziness she'd ever felt. It was incredible that she could feel this way without even trying, or manipulating herself. It was marvelous that she had been manipulated by the one she loved.

She accepted that now that she loved him. Accepted and respected. If one didn't respect their own feelings, how would they respect anyone else's?

"Lissa."

She felt her name against her lips when Delemir drew away slightly. His hands were still tangled in her hair at her neck, and she was still pressed against him tightly. Her hands were still at his shoulders and she loosened her grip when she realized how hard it was there.

"Hold on, Delemir, I can't think yet," she murmured, resting her head at the curve of his neck carefully, wary of her spinning head. "I need all five trains to get back on track before I do anything."

"Are you saying I knocked them all off track?" Delemir nearly laughed.

"Yep. You knocked the first two trains off in fifteen seconds. The third, forth, and fifth took a little longer, but you did. Congratulations. You're the first one that's ever done that."

"I am?" Delemir rubbed his cheek over her hair gently, taking in the scent she carried with her. It smelled earthy, kind of like flowers. Yet it was a stronger scent than a flower, though it wasn't overpowering.

"You're the one thinking now, Delemir," Lissa told him, looking up at him.

"Yes," he agreed.

Lissa sighed and pulled from his arms. She had to think this all through. She had to see what she was getting herself into. And if she could get herself out of it.

Knowing he would wonder if she just left, Lissa looked over at Delemir and decided something on the spot. "I'm going to go make some cookies," she told him and leaned over to kiss his cheek. She left him there, standing flustered and a little confused to go make chocolate chip cookies.

When she reached the kitchen, she closed the curtains between the door to the kitchen and the dining room, then placed her hands on the counter, resting her weight on her arms as she looked at a recipe. She wasn't reading it. She knew it by heart. She was thinking, and feigning complete concentration on the other task at hand.

She began to pull ingredients out after uttering a long, quiet sigh. He was an Elf, immortal and invulnerable to sickness and most deaths. He could die if he was killed in a battle or his heart was broken. Had it been broken when he came here? Good Lord, had there been another woman that he was in love with before he came to Lissa? Was she the only one?

Yanking out the bag of chocolate chips, she pulled a handful out and munched on the semi-sweet chocolate. Why did she have to think of all this now, after she was already in love with him? Why was she in love with him so soon after...

After that moron left her, broken and lost and hurt.

Growling, she kicked the fridge and then seethed at the pain emanating from her foot. She hissed out a breath and tried to control herself by putting on her Phantom of the Opera tapes. The singing, AKA screaming, always made her feel better in the desperate love story of the Phantom and Christine. She was something he could never have.

Then realization hit her and she immediately stopped the music in the middle of the song Think of Me, when Carlotta was shrieking upon the sight of the phantom. It seemed that Lissa was in the place of the Phantom, wanting something he and she couldn't, and Delemir was in the place of Christine. Lissa was hopelessly in love with Delemir, someone whom she couldn't have because he most likely belonged to someone else in his own time, like Christine and Raoul were desperately in love and engaged in Act II.

Turning on the mixer, Lissa started singing a mindless tune to herself by John Denver. She immediately stopped herself when she realized the song was You Fill Up My Senses. That was a love song as well. Cursing herself, Lissa shoved her hair out of her eyes and started to stir in the chocolate chips viciously and without an ear to their pleas as they were buried in batter.

Emitting an evil little cackle at the thought, she started spooning them out onto a cookie sheet. She shoved them in the oven and when she was done spooning more dough onto another sheet, she felt the urge for a salad with chicken in it, so she pulled leftovers from the fridge again. She found the chicken then pulled out a food chopper. It was tall with blades at the bottom that, when you pushed the lever at the top down, would come down and crush the food into little bits. She put the chicken on the protective cover of the food chopper then slammed the lever down.

A sickening thud after thud sounded out in the kitchen, and Delemir felt sorry for his existence suddenly. Whatever Lissa was doing, she obviously wasn't too happy. He wondered why. She'd seemed so happy and delighted with whatever was running through her mind when she'd left him. Why was she so upset now? He wanted to find out, but was scared to go in the kitchen.

Swallowing his fears of what evil things Lissa could do to him, he walked into the dining room and saw a sheer curtain in front of the door leading to the kitchen. He saw Lissa on the other side, pummeling something with a dangerous look on her face. When he stepped inside the kitchen warily, he saw a murderous gleam in Lissa's eyes. She looked up at him, and the gleam left to be replaced by utter glee.

"Hi," she said, rubbing her palms against her jeans.

"Uh, hi," Delemir returned, still eyeing the contraption she'd been working with.

"I was chopping chicken for a salad," she explained. "Want one?"

"What?" What was she talking about?

"A salad. Do you want one?" she repeated.

"Sure." Delemir sat down at the bar, sure now that she wouldn't kill him.

"Jeez, did you think I was going to take your hand and cut your fingers to bits?" she asked, sitting down to stare at him over the counter.

"Something like that." He offered a hesitant smile.

"No one trusts me with this thing. They always think I'm going to cut off their toes or their fingers or something," Lissa mused. "It's probably because when I was about thirteen-"

"A lot of things happened when you were thirteen," Delemir observed.

"Yes, they did. When I was about thirteen," she continued, "my mom was making a chicken salad with one of her friends from church, and I came up with the philosophy that whenever I was angry or whatever, I'd come do this and imagine it was my brother's head, or someone's head that I didn't like or had ticked me off."

At this, Delemir looked quite frightened and swallowed hard. "Whose head were you imagining there?" he ventured to ask.

Lissa gained a thoughtful face and sat quietly for a minute, taking on one of her famous thinking positions with her index finger at the left corner of her lips. Then, she finally said, "Mmm, to keep tradition, my brother's head for no apparent reason."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Good, because it wasn't your head," she joked. At the mortified look that crossed Delemir's face, she reached over and patted his hand. "Don't worry, you'd have to severely piss me off to have that honor."

The buzzer on the stove rang out suddenly. "Are you going to continue to be vulgar or pull those cookies out?" Delemir asked.

"Hmm. I really want those cookies, so I'm going to get them," she answered, forgetting the salad. Lissa picked up an oven mitt and opened the oven, the heat washing over her as she pulled the cookies out. She set them on the stove and put another sheet in.

When she sat down again, she sighed.

"What?" Delemir asked, walking over to her when she only stared at him.

"You know, you're really handsome," Lissa murmured, drawing him closer. "Really, really handsome. Makes me wonder if you had another girl in Lothlórien." As soon as she said that, she winced and squeezed her eyes tight together. "Sorry. Never mind."

Delemir nodded and forgot it, unwilling to think of the past he couldn't remember. Then he saw the mischievous glance come back into Lissa's eyes. She took a handful of his shirt again and tugged him slowly closer. When their lips were a whisper apart, they heard something from the living room.

"The hills are alive with the sound of music!" someone sang wonderfully, much like Ewan MacGregor from Moulin Rouge, only in a woman's voice. Then, "Oh, I, ah, hope I'm not interrupting anything." It was Emily.

Lissa took a quick nip at Delemir's bottom lip, then said, smirking like the Grinch, "Not particularly. Great voice, love." Lissa stood and kissed Emily's cheek.

"Eww! Right after kissing Delemir, too!" Emily said, faking disgust. "Actually..." She trailed off and eyed Delemir conspicuously with a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

"Mine." Lissa grabbed Delemir's arm and pulled him against her. "And I'm not sharing, either. Spank my bad butt if you want, and put me in a corner, but I'm not sharing."

Both women laughed, and Delemir shook his head.

"So," Emily said, reaching over and grabbing a cookie. "What'd I miss out with you two love tards?"

Lissa fumed at that remark. "Not love tards!" she defied.

"Okay, then, people-who-are-infatuated-with-each-other," Emily improvised.

"Emily-"

"What's a love tard?" Delemir asked.

Both women looked at him now, and then Lissa took the cookies out of the oven and put more-the last batch-in. "A love tard is someone who is completely infatuated with someone they love," Emily explained. Both Lissa and Delemir turned a faint shade of red. "Sorry I told," Emily said upon the slight tension rising in the room.

Lissa let a laugh bubble out of her. She looked at Delemir and saw him staring back at her, intensely. She suddenly felt this wave of desire and need that was unbearable. She stood from the chair she'd just rested in and grabbed Delemir's hand. She began yanking him out of the room with her when Emily let out a cry of resentment.

"Hey, where are you two going?" she wanted to know.

"Gimme a minute, or so," Lissa called and pulled Delemir with her to her room.

She closed her door and rested her back against it, pulling Delemir in front of her. She watched his eyes, then reversed the position, watching Delemir and leaning against him.

"Lissa, what are you doing?" he murmured, frightened by her sudden actions.

"Kissing you," she said and did just that. She pressed her lips firmly over his and took whatever she could find, whether he was offering it or not. She framed his face in her hands as she kissed him, and felt him wrap his arm around her waist. He brought her closer, tighter against him as he let his passions loose between them.

Lissa felt a throbbing in her pulse as Delemir's lips ran over her face, over the sensitive skin below her ear, over the curve of her neck. She fought back a low moan, the thought of Emily in the kitchen still present in her mind. Her hands slid down to his shoulders and kneaded there as they had earlier, with the same pressure and roughness. She let her hands tangle in his blonde hair as she drew him up to kiss his lips again.

"Lissa? Can I have another cookie?" Emily called from the kitchen.

"Sure!" Lissa managed through the passions firing through her. "Delemir," she added in an undertone, knowing to stop everything now. "Delemir."

"Hmm?" His lips rested against hers, the flares of flames finally lowering, but the throbbing still there in both of them.

Lissa looked into his eyes and found herself at a loss for words. Knowing there were no words for right then, she kissed him firmly again then sighed. The thought that it'd probably be more trouble-or pleasure-she kissed him once more and pulled out of his arms. She went to her dresser and opened her sock drawer. An article of clothing fell out, and Lissa was unaware of it as Delemir bent to pick it up. It was a black, lacy piece of thin material that brought a smirk to his face.

"Lissa?"

"Huh?" She looked up, focused on him then the silky material. She flushed crimson quickly then, fast as lightening, she grabbed the garment from him and hid it.

"What was that?" Delemir wanted to know, still grinning.

"Nothing that concerns you," Lissa said so quickly that Delemir nodded skeptically and laughed. He bent down and kissed her again as she dug out socks. She smiled innocently as she stuffed the black item back into the drawer and pulled Delemir out of the room and to the kitchen.

"What'd you guys do?" Emily joked. She was setting the last batch of cookies on the counter.

Instead of answering, Lissa sent Delemir a talk-you-die look and pulled a cup from a cupboard over the bar. She went to the sink and filled the glass all the way and drained it, filled it and drained it a few more times.

"Jeez, Meliss. Save some for the fishes," Emily said, taking the half- emptied glass from Lissa and draining the rest herself.

Lissa lifted her eyebrow at Emily and thought about what she'd been thinking previously. She'd quenched her desire that was still humming in her blood by flushing out her system with numerous glasses of water.

"Bathroom," Lissa murmured and left the room.

Emily grinned and giggled as Lissa left the room and only laughed harder when she saw the look Delemir was giving her. "Yes, I know what you two were doing," she said to Delemir.

"What were we doing, then?" he wondered, leaning over the countertop and watching Emily.

"Necking," she said simply.

"I beg your pardon?" was Delemir's reply.

"Kissing," Emily simplified, grinning as Lissa came back in. Delemir and Emily both took on innocent looks as Lissa thoroughly looked them over.

"Conspirators," Lissa said at last. "Living room?"

"Sure." Emily stood and the two walked to the dining room. "You coming, Del?"

"Depends on what you two will talk about," he said, but followed them anyway.

When he entered the living room, soft music, he recognized as John Denver, was playing through the stereo in the corner of the room. A soft, feminine scent was flowing through the room and he saw Lissa putting down a bottle of lotion on a table where an old radio was. She rubbed her hands together and grinned.

"What did you do this time?" Delemir asked.

"What?" Both women looked up at Delemir, but it was Lissa who spoke.

"You have that knowing smirk on her face that says you did something mischievous. What did you do?" Delemir elaborated.

"A woman thing. Something that you'll either suffer from or enjoy later," Emily said as Lissa sat down on the couch and reclined with a cookie in her hand she'd snagged from a pile in the kitchen. She munched on it slowly, letting the warmness seep through her.

"I have a feeling I should be afraid," Delemir said, sitting next to Lissa and taking a bite from her cookie. Unbeknownst to Emily, he had nipped Lissa's knuckle gently, barely noticeably. When he leaned back against the arm of the couch, he let out a manly groan that signified fatigue and caused Emily and Lissa to grin.

"I always found it amusing when guys would wake up in the morning and make those noises," Lissa murmured.

"They made up for your silence," Emily said.

"True." Lissa grinned.

"Silence, about Lissa? Impossible!" Delemir joked.

"Not really. See, you've always woken me up in the mornings in the most inconvenient-or in some cases, like this morning, convenient-ways so I had to yell at you. Let me wake up on my own on my own time unlike this morning, I'm silent as the grave," Lissa said, eyeing him.

"Whoa, this morning? What happened this morning?" Emily wondered.

"Connor left," Lissa informed her simply, avoiding what Emily had really meant.

"Why?"

Delemir and Lissa exchanged looks before Delemir said, "Man thing."

"Ooh," Emily said. "Territorial?"

Lissa threw a pillow at Emily's stomach. "No!" she nearly howled. "Absolutely not. Connor's married and-"

The phone rang, cutting Lissa short. She grumbled a protest against phones and ran to the kitchen to answer it. Delemir reclined on the couch in a way that only men could obtain. Emily sighed, thinking everything, life, was weird.

"Do you still love her?" she asked suddenly.

Delemir winced at the question and opened his eyes again, casting a look of disbelief at Emily. "What?"

"Do you still love Melissa?" she repeated.

"Yes," Delemir murmured quietly. "Yes, I do." A cold shiver ran through him even as he admitted it.

"Have you told her?" Emily wanted to know.

"No."

"Dude, you can't just let that sort of thing build up on you like you're letting it!" she exclaimed. "You have to tell her."

"I will try, but it seems whenever I have a chance to, we are arguing, or someone is here," Delemir muttered.

"Or kissing," Emily put in with a smirk.

Lissa yelled suddenly, a frightful hooting noise, and bounded back in the living room. Delemir stood immediately as he saw her run back into the living room. She sprinted towards him and had the world's largest grin on her face. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him firmly. Then, she let him go and gave Emily the world's largest hug, all the while yelling, "Yes!"

"What?" Emily demanded.

Lissa did a quick, freakish happy dance before answering. "My publisher just called!" she yelled.

"And?" Emily persisted when Lissa paused. 0 "Oh!" Lissa turned and kissed Delemir again. "They took my illustrations for my story!" she nearly screeched.

"You mean you didn't have to pay anyone to draw for your story? That's great!" The two women embraced again quickly.

"And, that's not all!"

"What, what!" Emily wanted to know.

"The company wants to know if I could do an older person's fantasy story with one of the same plots as my children's stories, just draw it out longer with more detail!"

"Oh, I'm so happy for you, Meliss!" Emily pulled Lissa into a hug again, but this one lasted longer.

Delemir smiled as he watched the two women celebrate what was obviously something great. He felt bad because he didn't understand everything they were saying, but was happy for the woman he loved.

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The celebrating of the deal for Lissa to write a bigger book aside from a child's story consisted of three glasses of cheap wine for each person, pizza, and loud, cheesy inspirational and rock music. There was a lot of talking and phone calls and philosophizing about what they would do when the book sold and for how much. It'd have to be a long book, they'd all agreed. With a lot of the good stuff. No, they'd disagreed on that one. No one would read her children's books if there were a lot of smut and all in her "big book," they'd said. It would set a bad impression.

But, eventually, Emily road a taxi home, courtesy of Lissa, and it was eleven before the other two occupants of the house retired to their respective rooms.

That night, they both dreamt of things coinciding about why Delemir was in Lissa's world.

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Cliff hanger! Yes, I am cruel. I take pride. DISCLAIMER: I do not own Lord of the Rings. I do not own Phantom of the Opera, though I do own tapes of it and my parents saw the real thing a few years ago for their anniversary. I do not own the Grinch or the song by John Denver, though it really is a song. I do, however, own the food chopper used in this story because my mother bought it from a company she works for. I do own the philosophy of imagining what you're chopping up as someone's head because I really did think of it that day a few months ago. I do not write children books yet, and I can't draw people for beans, though I'm pretty good at still life pictures. Umm. I really do have the weirdest dreams in the world. We can compare! Email some of your strangest dreams, I'll email you mine if you like to see if I can top it. I had a really strange on the Sunday before Christmas about the Pirates of the Caribbean and Benjamin Franklin and his pot-bellied stove. Oh yeah...I don't own the song 'originally' from The Sound of Music, but it was redone on Moulin Rouge. I don't own either of those things, mind you. I'm a peasant compared to the cash those movies raked in, I believe. Heck, I'm a peasant anyway compared to a fast food place. Hehe.

I've rambled enough. Please, tell me what you think of this chapter and if you think you've had stranger dreams than I have. The next chapter WILL contain the dreams. That is how I'm starting off. Enjoy!

Blessed be, Lissa