She followed Indilene through the long winding corridors of the Palace, having lost track long ago of how many turns they had taken. The only thing she was certain of was that she had never been in this part of the Palace before. They were a few levels lower than the Queen's Halls, the merry melody of the harp and the superficial chatter of those finely dressed ladies seeming like a long forgotten dream.
Ahead, ad of her ashen haired lady barely made a sound, her feet gliding over the polished stone without seeming to touch it. She walked like those ladies, back at the Queen's Halls; like all the other elven ladies she had laid eyes upon since arriving at the Palace; like her own sister: quiet, tall, graceful.
They turned left, a small open courtyard revealing itself through the wide archways that lined the new corridor.
"Where are we going?" She broke the silence, gentle hazel eyes turning in her direction.
"To my chambers." Indilene answered with a small smile, her voice soft as always, as if it had been the obvious answer.
"Your chambers?" She questioned, forced to take a few rushed steps in order to catch up with the lady, not even having realized that she had been lagging behind.
"Yes, Your Highness." The lady nodded, kindly waiting for her to reach her side before resuming her walk, her pale blue dress swirling around her legs as she moved. "I need to get some books if you are to learn how to read."
"You do not need to call me that." She was quick to add, still feeling uncomfortable with the title, but Indilene suddenly stopped in her march turning on her heels to face her, her pale face gentle yet strong.
"In public, I do." The voice was soft, and yet the words were firm filled with that deep unwavering strength she seemed to carry underneath all her gentleness she projected, eyes bearing into hers deeply saying what her unyielding words left unspoken.
She lowered her eyes, feeling somewhat ashamed and momentarily weak, not finding words to say in return. But no words were needed, the ashen-haired lady merely offering her one of her warm kind smiles, resuming her march along the tall archways.
"Own it." Indilene's low voice reached her just as the rounded yet another corner, barely audible, the words once again gentle yet still firm. The lady's eyes did not turn to look at her as she spoke, her lips barely moving. If there was anyone to watch, they would never have guessed she spoke at all. "The title is your birthright. Own it and wear it like an armor. Or no one will respect it."
She nodded, unable to meet Indilene's eyes, feeling suddenly inadequate, ashamed that the lady had so clearly seen through her insecurities. But Indilene did not scold her, did not add anything else. Instead, Indilene only offered her a reassuring smile, one that lighted her eyes, a pale hand reaching for her arm, giving it a comforting squeeze before letting go. And it felt as though a secret had been shared.
"Here we are." Indilene's tone changed, returning to the usual open and welcoming voice, and for the first time she realized that the lady had stopped walking, now facing a large door.
The wood was carved in intricate patterns, flowers and branches and leaves appearing and disappearing among one another, dancing and twirling and almost seeming to actually move. It was beautiful. Whoever had carved was truly gifted.
She watched Indilene gracefully reaching for the golden doorknob that stood out like a star in the woods, stopping before turning it, turning to face her.
"I must warn you." The lady spoke, looking apologetically at her. "My aunt might be inside."
To say those words confused her was an understatement. And yet, no further explanation was given. Instead Indilene just pushed the door open with graceful ease, gliding inside and holding it open for her to pass.
She did not know what she had been expecting. Nothing, perhaps, since she had not put a single thought on to what these rooms would look like. And still, she was sure it had not been this. Even though the door and walls were heavy and impressively large, the grand vestibule they had just walked into was surprisingly airy. Bright sunlight seemed to enter from every corner, even through places above the walls and before the ceiling in which she could not find a visible window. There was a large wall made of tall and narrow crystal panels that covered the entire south end of the room, and through it she could see a rounded balcony and the gardens beyond. There were a couple of armchairs, wide and cushioned and looking as though no one had sat in them for years. Two large vases, almost as tall as her waist laid neatly in a corner, the fine ceramic painted in pictures of landscapes and trees that seemed almost too realistic.
A few tapestries hung from the far right wall, also depicting intricate pictures of the forest, and two large portrait hung from the left, just over a narrow side table pressed against the wall, all in solid dark wood. She looked at the portrait, studying the figures. The first one pictured a lord, dressed in fine deep green robes stood tall and proud, long light blond hair falling down the sides of his handsome face, pin-straight. In front of him and on an ornate cushioned chair sat a lady, the deep blue of her drees almost merging with the equally dark color of the carpet underneath her feet. Her skin was pale, almost as pale as Lossenel's, but her hair was a very familiar shade of ash blond. It fell in waves over her shoulders, framing her delicate face with high cheekbones and a tiny nose, smiling gently at none in particular. For a second she made a double take, thinking for a second that it was Indilene, except it was not. Indilene's hair did not have waves, not even a hint of them, and her complexion was thinner, bonier, and taller than that of the lady in the picture.
The other portrait was a lord, the picture cut barely below his shoulders, so only his face could be appreciated. The resemblance between him and the lady in the other portrait was difficult to overlook. He too had ash colored hair, only a shade darker, and like Indilene's, his was straight too. His eyes were the color of honey, looking gentle yet somewhat empty, as though the painter had not been quite able to capture the look that had been in them. She stared at the portrait for a long moment, taking in every single aspect of it. She had seen this elf before. Not in real life, but in a memory, a memory that had been hers. He had been in the Council Room, that night. He had been in that chaos. Had been the one to lend Arahaelon his sword, helping him out of the room.
"My uncle, Berior." Indilene's soft voice brought her back from her daze, echoing close to her right. She cut gaze away from the portrait, for a moment guilty at having been caught staring at the figures, but Indilene did not look in the least upset or offended, her face smiling gently, welcoming. "And my mother and father."
She wanted to know their names, know what those faces were called, but a musical voice cut her trail of thought before she could speak.
"Indi? Is that you, flower?" Soft footsteps approached from the hallway to their right.
"Hello, Nana." Indilene greeted warmly just as a lady appeared through the wide archway that led form the vestibule probably to many other chambers.
She was left puzzled, looking at the lady who was so evidently not the one on the portrait. She was beautiful, her features elegant and fine, like nearly all of the elven ladies she had seen at court. But instead of the distinct ashen shade of hair that Indilene featured, the lady's hair was as dark as the night, thick and long, her eyes a story grey so pale that the pupils jumped in stark in contrast. But Indilene had called her Nana…
"Your Highness! Welcome. " The lady had noticed her presence, a wide smile suddenly growing on her face, her eyes suddenly twinkling in what could only be delight, inclining her head in gracefully in a show of respect.
She was about to return the polite gesture but Indilene stopped her with a barely audible whisper under her breath. "No, you do not do that."
So instead she only nodded her head, smiling back at the lady, feeling clumsy and clueless, but it seemed to have been the right thing to do, for the lady's eyes shone all the brighter, her feet gliding in their direction.
"Please, do come in!" The lady chimed, her delicate hands beckoning them further into the room, all of her gestures warm and welcoming. "Can I offer you anything? Tea? Some pastries, perhaps?"
The lady's elated voice followed them as they were ushered through the vestibule and to the long hallway from which she had appeared, from which Almarëa could see the open pair of wooden doors that led to what was no doubt a bright sitting room.
"- oh! I know what, we have the most exquisite peach tarts, covered in meringue. Nessel just baked them this morning. I'll have a few of them brought out. Would you like some tea as well? We have every kind, which do you prefer? – Nessel! Boil some water for tea, please!"
"Nana!" Inidlene interrupted the lady's incessant chatter as the latter attempted to drag them inside the sitting room. "We are only going to get some books. We will be in my chambers."
"Of course! You go then." Contrary to what she had expected, the lady did not seem at all let down by Indilene's words, merrily waving them off with an elegant moment of the hand. "I will have Olbes light a fire for you."
"Nessel? Did you set up the kettle yet?" The lady called out gently as she rushed out of the room, her feet echoing over the marble floor as she disappeared through another large pair of doors.
"I warned you." Indilene added apologetically, leading her further through the hallway and turning left into another corridor.
"I guess that was your aunt, then?" She found herself speaking, just as they reached yet another wooden door at the end of a long brightly lit corridor.
"Yes." Indilene confirmed, nodding her head, pushing open the door and letting her go in first. "She is incredibly fond of entertaining guests. I hope you know that those pastries will be brought."
"I could guess as much." She let out a light laugh, unable to contain it, another thought suddenly popping into her head, one that made the situation all the more amusing. "Has Ar…gone through that?"
"Oh, Valar, no!" Inidlene was quick to answer, shaking her head at the mere thought of it, her ash colored hair brushing her shoulders in the process. She let out a quiet laugh. "It would be cruel to do that to him."
She had to agree with that, even though the prospect of it happening was too amusing to make it so incredibly tempting. And still, as soon as the thought appeared in her head she felt her heart sink painfully, the harsh reality once again catching up with her, making her wish she had never mentioned Arahaelon at all. Perhaps he would never be rushed inside the sitting room by Indilene's aunt. Yet, whether Inidele's thoughts were following her own she did not let it show, softly stepping into the room behind her, and letting the door close with a silent click.
The bedchamber was not necessarily large, in fact it seemed almost small in comparison to the bedchambers she knew in the Palace. But then again those were her own and her siblings and the King's, so she had to admit the comparison was not necessarily fair. And still she could have fit her own little bedroom in which she had grown up almost five or six times inside this room and still have space left.
She had to blink a couple of times, taking in every aspect of the room, fascinated by it. Had it not been for the bed, laying elegantly against the far back wall, she would have thought they had stepped inside a library. There were books everywhere. Literally everywhere. They were on shelves over the walls, on bookcases, over the desk and side tables, over chairs, and armchairs and even on the elegant pale blue chaise close to the balcony.
"Forgive me, for the mess." Indilene's voice reminded her of her presence, the lady looking slightly embarrassed.
"This is wonderful." Was all she was able to say, stepping further inside the room, her hand carefully brushing other the dark leather binding on the top most book sitting on a pile over the nearby chair. "Have you read all of them?"
"Most of them." Indilene shrugged, walking past her and towards the farthest bookcase, starting to move books from the piles, seeming to be looking for something.
She took her time, slowly walking through the room, letting her land brush through cover after cover. There were huge tomes that seemed to take years to finish, and there were tiny ones, with barely a few pages. Some were old, wrinkled and coming apart at the edges, and few looked brand new.
There was a vanity, pressed to one corner of the room, its surface surprisingly devoid of books, holding instead three silver jewelry boxes and an equally silver comb. Next to it, there were more piles of books resting on the floor, and over them a collection on parchments held safely under a heavy ceramic figure of a dove. She stepped closer to them, eyes dancing over the black lines and dots scattered over the pages. They were music sheets. She did not know who to read them, she had never been taught, and still the knowledge that the collection of those scattered dots described sound was fascinating.
"Did you write these?" She found herself asking incredulously, noticing a set of similar parchments resting over the desk, the top one still half-written, next to a fine quill.
"What?" Indilene's hazel eyes lifted from whatever it was she was searching for, lading on the pile of parchments. "Oh…yes."
The lady's eyes turned down as she spoke, sounding almost dismissive, as if suddenly shy of talking about the music sheets. She did not press the topic, even she made a note to ask more about whenever she got a chance.
Something else caught her attention. A plain sketchbook sat almost forgotten over the desk.
"May I?" She asked, curiosity taking the best of her, hand brushing over the intractably decorated binding.
"Feel free." Indilene let out a light laugh, waving her hand in consent. "I must warn you that I cannot draw."
That made her smile, shaking her head. Curious, she flipped through the pages, turning them gently one by one. Indilene had been right in her assessment. She could not draw. Her eyes followed the traces of what she guessed wanted to be water lilies, except that were reduced to a clumsy collection of misshapen petals over an all too circular pond. It almost childish in its execution. And still it was fun to look at. There were more lilies in the following pages, then a tree that seemed oddly disproportionate, the leaves missing from half of it, as though Indilene had abandoned the task judging the drawing a failure without bothering to finish it. Then the lilies again, not getting better no matter how many times she drew them. Then the lilies once more, but….in color.
She stopped, staring at the picture for a long moment. Those were the lilies. She could see them, floating over what was an unmistakable pond. But they were not like any kind of painting she had ever seen, or had ever thought of seeing. They did not look real. Their edges were not neat, their proportions not entirely right. But the colors…It was, magical. There was no other word to describe it. In fact she could barely see the shapes and at the same time could not miss them. The sky in the background was not blue, but pink, a shade that was impossible to see in the real sky and at the same time seeming so much like the morning in a dream. And the water…the water was purple, and she could see the pink sky reflected on it in large clumsy brushstrokes. But there was nothing clumsy in the feelings it created. The lilies, the water, the sky, the leaves….they were not shown as what they looked like, they did not try to look objectively real. They were there as Indilene saw them. She had not painted the lilies, or the pond, or the sky. She had painted dawn. Had somehow painted the chirping of birds that could hear in that faint pink light, of the silent rushing of the water that had no defined edges. The painting was not good. And no, she could not draw, she did not have that freedom of hand, and it was evident that even the brushstrokes looked rough and uneven and messy. And still it was so overwhelmingly magical. Her way of seeing things seemed so very….different.
"Has anyone seen this?" She found herself asking, unable to take her eyes off the messy strokes.
"No." Indilene was quick to reply, shaking her head as though the notion was absurd. "Only my aunt. As I mentioned I cannot draw."
"It is magical." She admitted, taking her eyes off the painting for a minute only to gaze at the ashen haired lady. "The painting is awful, I am sorry about that, but you cannot paint or draw. But the colors are wonderful. I have never seen anything like it. It is like…like I can hear it."
She almost chuckled at her words, for a second thinking Indilene would laugh at her, so perfectly aware of how crazy her words must have sounded. But Indilene did not laugh, only walking in her direction with three books cradled on her arms, her face always so open and welcoming.
"Well, yes." The lady said, almost as if it was obvious.
"I translated it here." Indilene's free hand pointed to the still unfinished music sheet on the desk. "It was what I was thinking of with the lilies that morning, but I did not have the sheets to write it so I used the colors to remember it later. See? The pink is this.." She pointed to one of the notes, which to Almarëa looked all the same, "And then the purple is this other one, then the white and green come in the background."
She had never felt as dumb or as clueless or as speechless as she did that moment, listening to Indilene explain things that she had not doubt made so much sense inside the lady's mind and yet she could not even begin to understand. No. To her pink most certainly did not have a sound to it.
"Has Ar seen this?" She blurted out before she could stop and think, interrupting Indilene who was now going on about the scales and tones in the colors she had picked. She did not know why she asked that, why it mattered, but she was simply so fascinated that all she could think of was that out of all her siblings Ar was the one she desperately wanted to show this to. Because just like her very own self, Arahaelon would be so completely lost, because he too was so incredibly visual. The thought was so odd and so mesmerizing. Arahaelon was like her, although with a far more incredible memory and talent. He saw things just as they were and did not miss a single detail, and could draw them to perfection, but to be told that pink meant a sound…..
"No. He has seen a few of the charcoal ones but not this" This time Indilene did laugh, shaking her head once more. "I am sure you have seen his drawings, and can guess why mine would look ridiculous in comparison."
"But you are not drawing. You are writing music. From what you see." She was quick to counter, trying to make Indilene understand that what to the lady seemed such a regular and normal thing was not how everyone thought, was not something many could do. It was so ironic she wanted to laugh. Of course she would be the one for Ar. She had no doubt in that second than from all the elven ladies in the entire realm, she would be the only one able to be close enough to keeping up with Arahaelon's mind. She had no doubt the lady in front of he was brilliant, and in such a contrastingly different way than the Crown Prince, it almost made her laugh. "Does he even know you can write music, or play?"
"No. I do not think so." Indilene shrugged, as if the matter was of little importance, and yet the more she heard the more fascinated she was.
"Why not?!" She demanded. It seemed absurd.
"He has never asked." Indilene said casually, even though something darkened in her eyes, her smile suddenly falling at the edges, and suddenly the lady shook her head, looking absolutely determined.
"Now, let us get you reading." The lady added, dropping the books over the desk in a loud echo. "So you can fulfill your end of the bargain."
"Indilene…." She sighed, trying to find the words to say what she needed to, and yet feeling her stomach tying too painfully to say it. She would not be let inside the Royal Quarters.
"You will find a way to take me to him." Indilene's voice left no space for argument, and she could not find it in herself to contradict her, only nodding her head in a promise that she did not know if she would be able to keep.
"Very well. Let us-" She never got to finish her sentence, interrupted by door suddenly pushed open, her head flying in its direction.
"My Lady, Your Highness, forgive me for interrupting." A young looking maid had just steeped in the threshold, her hands neatly folded before her, bowing her head. "Your Highness, the King sends for you."
Those words felt like waking up from what had been a very pleasant dream, her eyes turning to look at the maid who held a tone of urgency in her stance.
"I am sorry, I must go." Was all she was able to say to Indilene, the latter only shaking her head in dismissal, silently telling her it was fine.
She followed the maid, out of the room and through the long corridors she had crossed before, all the way back to the grand vestibule where Indilene's aunt waited patiently in front of the open door, where another elf stood silently. Her heart skipped a beat inside her chest, and she could not tell whether it was out of relief or dread at the familiar face that met her gaze.
"Galion." The name left her lips in a short breath, looking at the silent and calm face by the door.
"My lady," The butler said. "The King requests your presence. You must come with me at once."
There was no space for argument in those words, or for questions whatsoever, and she swallowed, nodding her head as no words seemed to be able to form on her lips. She barely registered leaving the room, or the door being closed gently behind her, following Galion out through the Palace's long corridors.
It was the butler's presence, so familiar, so calm and so safe next to her, which made her shift with unease. Her father had sent for her…..and had sent Galion himself to fetch her. Not a guard, not a maid, not even Sidhel, the maid who she knew seemed to run almost every errand in the royal household, but Galion, whose rank among the serving staff she knew was above such tasks. Something must be off. Something must be wrong for her father to have sent Galion after her, knowing that if there one elf that her father trusted completely outside his family, it was the butler.
"What is it?" She could not contain her question, her green eyes looking up to find the butler's grey blue ones, but found them silent and gentle, as always.
"Your father sends for you, my Lady." The butler's answer was soft and yet she found it so irritating. She knew that already.
"What for?" They were climbing up a long marble staircase, once again entering areas of the Palace that were vaguely familiar to her.
"I think it is best you see for yourself, my Lady." Another vague answer, yet the way in which the butler smiled almost comfortingly at her made nothing to ease her anxiety.
They reached the private wing of the Palace sooner than she thought possible, the butler like a safe silent shadow next to her, oddly leading the way yet somehow following in step after her. The change in the air was palpable, the moment they set foot inside the family quarters she could feel as the air had gone thicker, panic and fear filtering from the walls. And yet Galion continued walking, calmly, slowly, as though he was not affected by any of it, or at least did not let it show. He led her through the very familiar corridor, with the five neatly carved doors lining it, through the mass of healers and servants and maids that had gathered inside it.
She was finding it hard to breathe. She kept dragging air into her lungs but it felt as though it was not reaching them. She did not miss the eyes that followed them, form the healers and maids alike, eyes filled with fear, and sadness and pity. No. She changed her mind. She did not want to find out what was wrong. She wanted to go back to Indilene's bedchamber and look at her many books. She wanted Indilene's aunt to offer her the peach tarts she never got to try. Whatever was happening, she did not want to find out. Because she already had a guess, and she did not want it to be true.
Two healers exited through the door that led inside Arahaelon's bedchambers, just as Galion led her precisely towards it. But she did not see their faces, all she saw was the blood smeared on their otherwise pristine white robes, making her feel momentarily dizzy, the sounds, the sights all blurring together incoherently. It was too much blood. She must have stopped walking, for she was vaguely aware of Galion's hand falling lightly over her shoulder, guiding her through the door.
They stepped inside the antechamber, and the chaos and urgency inside was almost too much to bear. The stench of blood was overpowering, making her feel sick to the stomach. Another pair of healers walk past them, carrying out what seemed to be bedsheets, except that they were so soaked in blood that she could not see the white of the linen anymore. However, instead of the main bedchamber, Galion led her in the opposite direction, towards another door in the antechamber that she had never noticed before. The room opened into what seemed to be a private sitting room, with two more doors adjoined to it.
Everyone was there; her father, the Queen, Tadion, Legolas, Lossenel, they were all there, their faces blank and sober and so heavily silent. The silence was the worst of it, it was so loud that if hung like a heavy cloud over the room, suffocating the few air there was to breathe.
The King seemed to be the only to notice their appearance, vaguely, his ice blue eyes looking up to meet the butler's nodding his head once.
"Thank you, Galion." Her father's voice was barely recognizable. It lacked all of it strength and power, and instead it sounded empty, a mere echo in the silent room weak and dull.
But the sound of his voice was the least of her concerns, instead her eyes grew wide, her limbs shaking, making her feel as though she would fall. The King's once pristine pale blue robes were covered in blood as well, all through the front, from his chest and shoulders and seeming to have pooled down towards the floor. Both of his arms and hands were red as well, and there were smears on his forehead and hair from his own fingers that he did not even seem aware of. And based on the way in which his eyes remained glued to the door, as though piercing through the wood, desperate to see behind it, she knew that the only reason he was not with the healers by Arahaelon's side was because he had been kicked out most probably.
The Queen seemed petrified next to him on the long couch, eyes lost nowhere in particular, her face ashen, a pale hand curled around the King's left wrist in a vicious grip. Lossenel too was pale as a sheet, as though she had seen a ghost, sitting on a chair in the farthest corner of the room, next to a fire that seemed to burn cold.
She stepped inside the room on trembling feet, making her way to Legolas, wo sat alone on the couch opposite to their parents, lowering herself next to him. His blue eyes met hers for a moment, so filled with fear it hurt to see, but he did not say anything, almost not looking capable of words. Tadion was the only one standing, as though he could not bear to just sit down, pacing pack on forth on a corner of room, his moves so repetitive she believed he would wear down the carpet. And she could not conceal the shock that washed over her like iced water at the sight that Tadion's tunic too was drenched in blood.
"Is he….?" Her voice sounded pathetic, breaking before she could even finish her question, but she could not say the words out loud. She feared that if she said it, then it would be true. And it could not be true. Arahaelon could not be dead.
"No." Legolas's voice was as empty as the King's, and yet even though the word was supposed to reassure her, to fill her with hope, it did none of that. It felt more as if the words had meant 'not yet'.
"What happened?" Her voice was so frail she barely heard it, but before Legolas could answer, the door that led to Arahaelon's chambers was pushed open once more and the stech of blood filled the room again.
Lord Elrond appeared through it, his robes too covered in blood, the sleeves rolled up his pale arms, but there was not a single inch of skin there was not already tainted red. The urgency in his steps, his moves, which were always so calm, so patient, made shivers run down her spine. Steely grey eyes fixed immediately on the King, who had risen to his feet in a move so quick at the sight of the Elf-Lord that she had not even seen it.
"I need the elf who took part in the capture. If he is still in the dungeons. Bring him here. Now." The Lord of Imladris' voice left no space for questioning, tone cutting and pressing.
"That elf-" Her father started, his face looking desperate yet at the same time enraged even at the mention of said elf, looking appalled at the prospect of bringing him near Arahaelon.
"Thranduil, your son is bleeding out as we speak. We know diluted spider venom was used on those wounds, and I need to know exactly what was used to dilute it if he is to have a chance."
Her father appeared to be had been left without words, the expression on his face one so desperate that it was hard to look at, eyes wide, lost. He turned towards the butler instantly, nodding his head, opening his mouth but no words came out. And yet the butler seemed to understand, quickly rushing out of the room in a near run, and she had no doubt he had gone to fetch the elf.
"Elrond?" Her father managed to speak, just as the Elf-Lord turned around, about to return to the bedchamber. Lord Elrond's eyes softened somewhat, saddened, almost defeated.
"We are doing everything we can, Thranduil. We are." The Elf-Lord attempted to reassure, words gentle, but she doubted her father found any comfort in those words. She did not. "But he is far too weak, and has lost too much blood already. Melnor is sustaining him with his own life force for the moment, we are hoping it can provide enough strength for your son to hold on to, but he is slipping away. You need to be ready for the worst."
I know it's been a long time but I finally managed to finish this chapter which had me stuck for a long while. I'm sorry it stopped there, but it was really hard to find a place to cut between this chapter and the one to come, since both are somewhat long and are continuous. I will try to make the next update fast though. Anyway, next chapter is going to be rather intense, so it could not just be a part of this chapter, I hope you understand.
I hope everyone is doing alright and keeping safe. Thank you so much for your comments to earthdragon, Eternal Cosmic Sailor Saturn, Minoojfr, Luna dans les Etoiles, auri-australis, Nymiriel, Amsim, mystarlight, Ladyville, daughterofthechief, helenaxo, Ari-Skywalker, Tintcalad, artvandelay5001, Flower-Uchiha, beautyfulstarofthesea, HelloDenmark and guest reviewer. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter, and I apologize for the long waits, I know it seems like ages between chapters, but I can't rush it or make it quicker without the story suffering in return. Thanks for sticking with it even through the waits, you are the best!
Love,
Elena