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Of Athelas and Archery

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Hello everybody! Yes, believe it or not—I live!!! Sorry about taking so long for this update: I've actually had this written up for a couple of weeks but only recently got my comp fixed—so here you are! Enjoy!

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Separated

I cut myself clean

From a past that comes back

In the darkest of dreams

Been apprehended

By a spiritual force

And a grace to replace

All the me I divorced

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--Dc Talk--

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The morning dawned clear and cold. Vance pulled himself groggily from the warmth of his tent as the skies first began to lighten. He thrust aside the tent flap, willing himself not to shiver as the cold morning air contrasted starkly with the warmth of the tent he shared with the still-slumbering Kyrik.

He froze as the sight before him appeared out of place in his mind, and it took him a moment as he sub-consciously registered the events of the night before. The stranger stood at the edge of camp, tall and still as a statue. His legs were braced slightly apart, and his arms folded across his chest as he gripped his bow lightly. His eyes were fixed on a distant point over the horizon and beyond Vance's sight, and after a moment's observation the man shook his head and made his way towards the aroma of food emanating from the center of camp.

Legolas turned his head only slightly as his keen ears detected the man's footsteps fading into and then out of earshot. He smiled slightly and turned his silver-blue eyes back to roam the distant tree line on the horizon. He found he was almost adapting to the elaborate façade that was involved in being "human." Unfortunately, he also held the deep sense of foreboding that this could not continue forever. Sooner or later, something would slip, and everything would crash and break.

How would Vance, Osman, Kyrik, or the other men respond if they were to discover they had been deceived? How would they respond to learn of his true race? These were questions whose answers were elusive, but not beyond reach. It might take some time, but he would somehow be able to discover the minds of the men.

He felt he had little to fear from either Osman or Kyrik, at least. Osman seemed wise and comprehensive, and he would not act foolishly or without much consideration. Kyrik was young and innocent yet, but had a good and open heart. As for Vance... Well, he would just have to wait and see. Legolas hoped it was not too late to salvage the aftereffects of the disastrous events of the night before, but it seemed the man was either unusually cold and distant, or just plain set against him.

He turned from his foreboding thoughts to the tent behind him, where Kyrik had yet to awaken. He soundlessly moved the tent flap aside and entered. The boy's face was neither as deathly pale as it seemed the evening before, but nor had it resumed its healthy glow. Legolas smiled slightly and dropped to a crouch beside the low cot. From the inner pocket of his tunic he produced the herbs he had spent painstaking hours of the night in search of.

The small green leaves seemed normal enough, but they held great potency as a painkiller and infection repellent. Such a plain thing held so much power. It had no official name, put the plant went back in the books of lore and it was named there i athelas, /i and used occasionally by the healers of Mirkwood. The elves of Mirkwood were not healers, but they had discovered that athelas had useful properties as a medicinal herb and tea, and it was used in minor illnesses and ailments. Legolas himself had greater faith in the herbs properties than many, and he had faith that the small plant would speed Kyrik's recovery.

Legolas crushed the leaves in his hand and sprinkled them into a wooden cup of water from the water skin hanging on the tent support. He swished the cup slightly to mix them together, just as Kyrik stirred, and Legolas turned to him, pleased with his own timing.

The sliver eyes fluttered open, and focused, with no small amount of confusion, on the figure beside him.

"Wh-- what? What happened?"

Legolas smiled softly and continued to slosh the drink around in his hand. "It is rather strange how men seem to lose their memory over night." Satisfied, he offered Kyrik the cup, causing one eyebrow to shoot up.

"What is it?" The boy eyed the cup unenthusiastically.

"Drink it-- trust me, it will help you heal."

"Hmm." Kyrik murmured doubtfully as he slowly propped himself up on one elbow and took the cup. Legolas smiled at the frown on the other's face as he tasted the mixture.

"It sure doesn't taste like it will make me heal. More like it will make me sick..."

Legolas chuckled, but didn't answer as he watched Kyrik obediently drain the remainder of the cup. When he was done he took it from him and exchanged it for the water skin. Both looked up as the tent flap was brushed aside and a third figure ducked inside. He straightened, and then caught sight of Legolas.

"Well," Osman smiled, "I was going to see how you fared, Kyrik, but it seems you beat me to it Master Ranger."

"I prepared a drink for him which will help with the pain and speed the healing." Legolas put in.

Osman looked questioningly to the boy, who sighed.

"I'm fine Osman." Kyrik nodded unenthusiastically.

"I highly doubt that--" Osman snorted jokingly as he stooped to check the bandages around Kyrik's torso. Legolas smiled to see the long-suffering patience with which Kyrik bore the treatment and the calm practiced fluidity of the older man's movements.

So Kyrik--" Legolas smiled, "I take it you've been through this before?'

Osman laughed, and Kyrik glanced at Legolas ruefully.

"That, my friend, is an understatement." They were now joined by Vance, who added this last remark as he entered the tent.

There was a nod of agreement from Kyrik and a grunt from Osman, but Vance continued. "I would suggest getting to the food before it's all gone, Teveldin. It doesn't last long around here, since we operate on a first-come-fist-serve basis. I brought Kyrik a bowl of stew, but Taelon tells me you haven't eaten yet. I assumed you had since you were awake before me."

Legolas watched absently as Vance gave the bowl of stew to the boy, and he didn't bother to point out that he hadn't exactly woken first because he hadn't even slept at all the night before. He didn't think he could eat anyways.

"So Kyrik, how are you feeling?" Vance perched on the edge of his own cot and leaned towards the boy.

"Right now--" Kyrik frowned as he gave the cramped quarters a quick glance, and then finished frankly, "Smothered."

Vance laughed heartily at the lad's honesty. "Well, other than that, I meant. As in, are you up to the hunt?"

"Why of course Vance!" Kyrik said as if it had been the most ridiculous question in the world. "How could I not be? When do we set out?"

"Within the hour if all is at ready." Vance grinned, "I was just making sure."

"You'd have to tie me to a tree to keep me from coming with you, if that's what you're getting at." Kyrik pretended to be slighted, but his eyes gleamed with mirth.

"Aye, but of course." Osman said soberly. "We have been just searching for an excuse to rid ourselves of your pesky hide, and here it comes at last, just knocking at the door!"

Legolas glanced in amusement from one human to the other as laughter broke loose, feeling almost as if he had been in this place before, but had missed out on something. Now he felt strangely-- Well, included. As if he was a part of these men, of a family.

When Osman finished his ministrations and stood to leave the tent, Legolas followed him.

"Osman?" He asked hesitantly.

Osman turned, and smiled at him.

"Can I help your men prepare to move out?" Legolas offered, feeling awkward.

"Of course you can, if that is what you wish. We were pretty well ready last night; now they are but loading the pack horses and breaking camp."

Legolas nodded, grateful to be bale to be of assistance, and followed Osman silently as he led him towards a short string of horses being loaded with tents and gear.

Legolas quickly found several ways to make himself useful: Calming down some of the more excitable animals, securing the ropes and knots that held the packs in place, and helping the men lift many of the heavier items, his considerable strength and ease in doing so earning many nods from the other men, many of whom were still undecided about how they felt about the new stranger in their midst.

As he worked, Legolas was strangely aware of the pendant around his neck, smooth and cool against his skin beneath his tunic, shifting with every movement in reminder of it's presence. It kept his mind, on-edge and wary in the new environment, always anchored in the remembrance of what he had set out to do.

Sometime during the night, he had worked things out. He would travel with the hunters, reinforcing his human disguise as best he could, or as best luck permitted. He would observe and listen and, again as luck permitted, gather information concerning where he could find Arathorn son of Arador. And when he found the man...? Well, there was a catch.

You're going to swallow your basted elvish pride and ask the man for help! He told himself harshly. Ah, but for help with what? Storm Mirkwood, wrest it from Mahtan's grasp and expect everyone to cheer you on, a prince in exile who has suddenly appeared out of the blue after leaving them under your Uncle's heel for ten years?

They were not helpless, neither did I leave them. Legolas mentally argued with himself, before realizing what he was doing and pulling himself out of it. My only goal is to liberate Greenwood, whatever the cost. Naught else matters. He let his mind fall into a separate, detached realm, where he could logically sort things through while keeping deceptively busy with his hands and eyes. It was now that he ran the sketchy facts he had gathered thus far through his mind's eye.

There are still elves loyal to the king. I don't know which ones. There are more of these elves in Mirkwood than there are those loyal to Mahtan. I don't know how many. Of those loyal to that filthy traitor, most are being held so by threat. I don't know the details. Thailden and Atar are sources within the palace. I don't know if they're the only ones. Some kind of underground network has already been formed. I don't know if Mahtan is aware of this yet, or who their captain is. Mahtan holds sway over my father. I don't know how.

The thought of his father's face, skin sickly pale and eyes glassy and unfocused, caused Legolas to unconsciously pause in his work as sharp heart pangs throbbed through his body.

"Teveldin!"

Legolas was at once startled by a shout nearby. He turned to see Kyrik coming towards him, and he automatically forced a slight smile to his face over his earlier thoughts.

"Teveldin, we're ready to start out!" Kyrik grinned as he reached the ranger. "Osman said to bring you to the head of the line with us."

"You have my thanks, Kyrik." Legolas said as he followed Kyrik to the head of the group, where Osman and Vance were already waiting. "I fear I must still adjust to the way you do things in your camp."

"Fear not, master ranger!" Osman said cheerily as the party began to move, Vance having already helped Kyrik onto a a horse. "We are not so different from the rangers in many ways. I daresay we make a great deal more noise, but that is to be expected when the rangers have so much elven blood in them."

Legolas smiled and nodded, and then let himself be caught up in following the easy banter that flowed between Vance and Kyrik, his weary mind momentarily leaving behind thoughts of war and peace within the boughs of the forest he had once called home.

- -

It rained again that night. As the first downpour began, complete with thunder and lightening, Osman directed the men to bivouac in a narrow valley, tucked up as far as possible over a slight overhang, the closest shelter for miles around. Fire was considered hopeless at first, but under Legolas' experienced hands a cheery flame was soon blazing, directly up against the cliff-face with the men gathered about in a circle trying to get warm.

"I am officially glad we brought you along, ranger!" Vance chuckled to the elf at his side as he stretched out his cramped fingers towards the fire's warmth.

Legolas only smiled and nodded quietly, moving out of the way as another hunter shoved past to the fire. He retreated back a ways to the the ground beneath a thick-boughed tree a short distance off. He eased himself to the ground beneath the tree, glad of the sheltering leaves, so thick that they prevented the rain from reaching him.

He watched with a smile as the men jostled each other around in a friendly manner, vying for the best positions as they took advantage of the blaze after a days travel. Maybe he'd been wrong about Vance. He'd seemed rather standoffish at first, but throughout the day, and the time he had spent with Vance, Osman and Kyrik, he had warmed up considerably. Legolas was still uncomfortable saying much around the men, so Kyrik seemed to have self-appointed himself the ranger's constant companion and guide. Legolas enjoyed the boy's company immensely, probably more than he had ever enjoyed a human's presence before, and the lad's constant stream of speech gave Legolas an excuse to keep quiet, and when he did speak it was usually to ask a question that directed the conversation away from himself.

He knew, however, that this couldn't possibly last long, and had given a good deal of time over to furiously fabricating answers and excuses-- just in case.

He looked up as Osman approached, leaning up against the tree near the ranger with a sigh, content to watch his men as Legolas did in silence. The quiet stretched between them, lengthy but not uncomfortable, broken only by the patter of the rain on the leaves overhead and the rumbles of thunder from the east..

"Even had last night been truly accidental, if I had even suspected your intentions to have been foul I would have killed you on the spot, Ranger." Osman's tone was low and serious when he surprised Legolas by speaking.

Legolas looked up at the man in open surprise, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Osman looked serious, but not angry or threatening. "I don't take injury to any of my men lightly. And Kyrik especially is like a son to me."

"I--" Legolas began apologetically, confused.

"It is alright, ranger." Osman brushed him off nonchalantly. "I just wanted to tell you that. I don't honestly believe you would hurt a thing of your own will."

Legolas eyebrows shot up as floundered for words. "Thank you--" He simply said at length. He didn't understand Osman's words very well, and thought it would be wise to just listen to what the man had to say.

"I trust you, Teveldin." Osman looked down to meet the ranger's gaze squarely. "Otherwise I would never have asked you to accompany us, ranger or no. I don't know what it is about yourself that you're hiding, but you are safe here. You're a part of us now, and your fight is ours. If you ever need our help, you will have it. Even if it's just to talk to somebody that you need, we're here."

Legolas watched as the man walked away, strangely touched inside.

Oh, Osman.. He thought sadly as he watched the man leave. I know you're there. I know I could tell you. I only wish I really could...

- -

The next morning the rain had ceased, and the men, awoken before dawn, were on their way before the sun rose. Legolas had offered to take watch the night before, and his shift had been just before dawn. The silence was refreshing, and, as strange as it was, he admitted to himself that the men around him were filling a longing that had been empty in his heart for many years-- Company. Before meeting Arathorn several weeks before, he hadn't spoken to another living creature for ten years-- maybe more. And he was surprised to find how much he had missed it.

"How long have you three been traveling together?" Legolas asked Vance as they walked. He was curious about the humans, especially the special bond the three men of varying ages seemed to share.

Osman's wrinkled face cracked into a wide smile as he chuckled.

"Oh, a long time--" Vance laughed. "I ran off, away from my uncle's farm, when I was only seventeen like the headstrong fool I was, nearly got myself killed in a scuffle with some thugs, and then Osman here came along with his party and saved my neck. I've been tagging along with him since."

"And Kyrik?"

"Ah--" Osman smiled softly, gazing fondly at the lad where he rode beside him. "We picked the lad up when he was no more than nine years of age, only about a year after I dragged Vance off the streets. He was starving and homeless, and we adopted him, in a way."

"And his parents?"

"They were both killed when I was six-- by wolves, outside of Bree." Kyrik answered this question sadly. "I miss them..."

Legolas smiled comfortingly. "Of course you do, Kyrik. I am sure they were fine people, and the Valar will bless their souls."

Kyrik brightened just a little with this, but still remained thoughtful and contemplative for a long while. Finally, he asked, "Do you have a mother, Teveldin?"

"I did once." Legolas said hesitantly, wondering at the abrupt turn of speech in his direction.

"What happened to her?"

Legolas hesitated again. This was not exactly the line of questioning he had anticipated when he had developed prefabricated answers beforehand, prepared for any questions that might arise which required a speedy answer. The question itself was not an easy one-- his mother had long ago sailed to the Undying Lands, but of course he could not tell Kyrik that. "She.... died.... when I was very young."

"Oh.. I'm sorry."

Legolas only smiled.

"Do you have a father, then?" Kyrik continued casually.

"Aye... I did..."

"And-- what happened to him? Did he die too?"

"Nay--" Legolas looked down sadly at the boy, and then up again, his words so soft a whisper that they caused Kyrik to strain his ears to pick them up. "He no longer recognizes his own kin."

"Did you love him very much?" Kyrik asked softly after a brief pause, and the unexpected question caused Legolas to look down at him.

"Yes--" He smiled softly. "Very much."

- -

It was nearly a week later. Kyrik, thanks to the mothering of Osman, the joking concern of Vance, and Legolas' herbal ministrations, was near fully healed. Legolas was adjusting to the day-by-day living routine of a human better than he would have thought, but that didn't keep him from being almost hyper-alert at all times of the day and night. He rarely slept, and then only on nights when he was not on watch. This he volunteered for as much as possible, for it gave him a chance to think, as well as repay the men who had been so kind to him by letting them sleep. His shift was generally meant to be two hours, but he frequently took the entire night, simply because he would find no peace in sleep in any case. Osman had voiced concern over the elf's lack of rest, but Legolas had merely smiled and said that due to his elven blood he did not require as much rest and did not tire during the long night. This wasn't entirely true, and he wasn't always sure Osman bought it, but the man chose not to argue and gave Legolas his space.

It was nearing dusk, and camp had already been made for the night at one end of a spacious meadow. Legolas sat on a fallen long with his back up against a tree on the edge of the camp, listening to and observing the men grouped around the fire close to him. He let his mind wander as his slender fingers worked a length of thin, twisted rope, braiding snares for smaller game.

Vance and Kyrik were both nearby, and he had no idea where Osman was. The leader often mingled with the men when they stopped. Legolas didn't even glance up when Vance sighed, obviously restless, and looking down and saw Legolas' bow beside the elf. He picked it up, studying it carefully.

"How good are you, exactly, Teveldin?" Vance asked curiously as he fingered the long bow. He had yet to see the archer wield it, and it had awoken almost as much curiosity in him as it had in Kyrik, though he was slower to admit it.

"Good enough I suppose..." Legolas deadpanned, continuing to braid the rope trap in his hand with nimble fingers.

"Let's see."

"Pardon?" Now Legolas looked up.

"Let's see you shoot."

This was greeted by whole-hearted support from Kyrik, as well as many of the other men about, but Legolas only grinned and shook his head, giving a hundred and one excuses why he had not the time or energy, but very few of these were even heard above the newly arisen clamor around him. The men's curiosity had peaked at the prospect of a show of arms from the tall, quiet stranger in their midst, and they were bound and determined not to let it drop.

Finally, looking uneasily from one face to another as he stood, he shrugged acceptingly and accepted the proffered bow from Vance. He moved away apace, and shifted his stance, unsure. Did men shoot any differently than did elves? He had never given it much thought before. He would try not to move with his usual grace and speed, and perhaps they would be satisfied.

Sighting the bow carefully, and then glancing up at his target as if unsure of his own aim, he held his breath for an instant and let the bow sing. It found its mark in the trunk of a tree some forty yards away, not dead center, but exactly where Legolas had wanted it to land.

He smiled, turning back to Vance with an off-handed shrug. "I guess I've been getting a little stiff--" He had hoped that would be the end of it, but a disbelieving snort from Vance stopped his words short.

"Come on Teveldin, what are you trying to hide?" Legolas froze. Vance chuckled in amusement. "Anyone could see you hold that thing like you were born with it. Now why don't you want to show us what you can do?"

Legolas' jaw clenched as he fingered his bow at his side. So he wasn't very convincing. "Very well--" He struggled to keep a courteous face on his words, "If you truly wish to see what archery means, I may have to give you a demonstration."

"That's what we've been waiting for." Vance smirked, and Legolas was almost sure he had seen a challenging glint in the man's eye. Did the man think him incapable of this? Fuming inwardly, more at himself and the situation he was stuck in than anything else, Legolas turned to seek a new target, vowing mentally to show Vance the true meaning of "skill with a bow".

Kyrik grinned expectantly and shifted in his seat. He too had quite an eye for weapons, albeit less so than Vance, and could sense the ranger held his bow with a deep, natural talent. He had been surprised and a little disappointed with the ranger's first shot, and couldn't wait to see what Teveldin could really do with it.

"How about over there?" Vance gestured to a tall oak on the very far side of the clearing. Legolas nearly laughed as he released his first arrow. The time to draw and release several arrows in various patterns, speed shots, and groupings took no more than five minutes, but Legolas was forced to stop after this time when his hand flew back for a new arrow and found nothing but air.

There was a stunned silence from around him for many long moments, as many of the men stared in open-mouthed shock either at the ranger or at the tree across the clearing, now decorated with Legolas' arrows.

Vance was the first to break the silence with a long, low whistle of admiration. Enthusiastic applause then broke out, and Vance stepped forward to clap Legolas on the arm. "Well, master ranger--You must forgive me, for it seems I underestimated you."

"That was amazing!" Piped Kyrik breathlessly, now given over to complete adoration of the quiet warrior and his skills.

Legolas only nodded courteously to Vance, running his long fingers over the wood of his now as he felt for cracks or slivers. He promptly went to retrieve his arrows, and when he returned most of the men had broken off to their own business, most offering a congratulatory remark and a grin as he passed them.

When he returned to his former position, only Kyrik and Vance remained, quietly discussing the ranger's shooting techniques.

"Who's the best archer in Middle Earth, Vance?" Kyrik was just saying as Legolas approached.

"They say the Prince of Mirkwood holds that title. You have heard of the annual tournaments in Mirkwood, and the Prince won every year, or so they say. Up against the most skilled warriors in the world, and he has never lost."

"Never?" Kyrik echoed in awe.

Vance only shook his head, his green eyes following the ranger as he checked each arrow for breaks and flaws before slipping it into his quiver.

"You should pit your skills against his, Teveldin." Vance mused at last. "It would be a match worthy of remembrance."

"As a matter of fact, I already have." Legolas smiled distantly, and, pulling an arrow from his quiver and stringing it with hands that moved faster than sight, loosed it, and four others in rapid succession, into a thick-trunked tree on the far side of the encampment. Every arrow landed within a quarter inch of another, creating perfect circular grouping. "I am the better archer." He grinned truthfully at the thoroughly impressed man and boy in front of him, now probably wondering how any living being could shoot that swiftly.

"Really?" Kyrik exclaimed, wide-eyed. "I would have given gold to see that! And you won the competition?"

"Well, It was not exactly a competition" Legolas smiled half-heartedly at the boy's enthusiasm. He continued shooting in various ways as he carried on the conversation, only for his own practice now, for he had all but forgotten the thrill of archery over the past few weeks. He had been wary of making true use of the weapon while around the men for fear of suspicion at his skill, but now that they knew he was free to practice whenever he felt like it. And now-- for the present at least-- every arrow was not a precious treasure to be used strictly for hunting and defense, as had been the case for ten years now.

"You beat the Prince of Mirkwood at archery?" Vance sputtered incredulously. "But his skill is-- is... Legendary!"

"The Prince was-- is, a brilliant archer--" Legolas expounded hesitantly, no sure how far he should explain himself or how much the men before him were capable of understanding. "But his skills were honed within the safety of the palace walls of Eryn Lasgalen, through a life of relative peace. He could split a branch in one shot at two hundred yards, and ten years ago I would have been as a child beside such skill. Ten years of hard living in the wilds however, changed that in me. My skills now, borne from need and necessity, far surpass his, for mine have been developed to the point where I often depend upon them for my very life, and a single misstep or mistake would be all it would take for me to be pulled under by the brutality of nature's life."

"Why then, could you not compete in this years tournament? You could sure bring the Prince down from his high horse fast!"

Legolas smiled mirthlessly. "The Prince of Mirkwood has been off his 'high horse' for a long while now. Firstly, the tournament has not been held in Mirkwood for many years now, and secondly, the Prince no longer dwells there."

He spoke the words matter-of-factly, almost absently as he gathered up the previously abandoned braiding materials, but they still hurt inside. But he was a better archer now. Before, truthfully, he had been hailed as the most skilled Archer in Middle Earth, but his skills had multiplied tenfold, if that were possible, under the pressure of the tough life behind him for the last several years.

"What happened to the Prince?" Kyrik questioned innocently.

Legolas straightened, heaving a soft sigh and looking down at the bow in his hands, his shoulders slumped slightly.

"Teveldin?" Vance queried, concern marking his voice as a frown pressed his features.

Legolas tried to smile but failed, half-turning to answer Kyrik. "He was exiled from the realm of Greenwood many years ago."

Kyrik and Vance were both speechless, Kyrik's eyes growing wide and Vance merely blinking.

"What?" Vance finally said flatly. "How did that happen? What did he do?"

Legolas tried again to smile wryly, keeping his words clipped and matter-of-fact as he moved about his work as he spoke. "He was attacked by a man in his home. In defending himself, he killed the man and it was pressed against him as murder. He was exiled for it."

"But-- but-- if he's the best," Kyrik rationalized innocently, "Shouldn't he be able to fight everyone else off and stop that from happening?"

"Fighting was what got him banished, Kyrik. Sometimes fighting just isn't the answer." Legolas said sadly, vaguely amused by Kyrik's innocence.

"And sometimes it is." Vance added seriously, looking Legolas directly in the eyes. Legolas was surprised, and taken off guard by this, and took one step back, still holding the man's gaze. Something in the man's eyes sent off warning bells in his mind, but not of danger, and it confused the woodland elf. He pushed it swiftly away, however, trying to remain inconspicuous.

"I'll bet wherever the Prince is right now," Kyrik said confidently, "He's fighting it."

Legolas smiled sadly down at him, before looking up at the fading sky, his heart suddenly filled with a horrible longing, so deep it bordered on physical pain.

"I'm sure he is..."

- -

Aura Carina: Yep, you pinned those characters right on the spot! Glad you liked the twist—sometimes I surprise even myself with that kind of stuff—And I still say you're the better writer... )

Forever-mortal: Thanks! I'm glad you like it—I actually got the name from the story, lol, not vice versa. Also, yes, they all think he's human... For now... D

Sapphire's Angel: Happy you like the story so far! The next one, actually, is due as soon as this one's done!

Also thanks to Kattikit, starlit jewel, and Sapphire Cat for reviewing!