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*** Note I – A big thank you to those favoring, following and reviewing my fanfic; it really makes me happyyy~ =') You people are awesome, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter~! =D ***
*** Note II – Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the too-awesome-for-words Tolkien Universe. I own my ever-growing long list of OCs and my imagination~ :3 ***
*** Note III – So yeah; I planned to get this out around the first or second week of July . . . Clearly that did not happen . . . I'm sorry . . . X_X . . . Rest assured, I don't believe in the notion of, "Abandon Story!" So no matter what, I will always finish my stories~ But here, have a fluffy Thran-Thran/Lyrial moment~ x333 I have no idea why I wrote it as horribly as it is~ *Eats chocolate cheesecake and snacks on watermelon* (*-*) ***
*** Note IV – If anyone is interested, I've published (a couple of weeks ago) the prequel to this story titled, To Be Willing: Never Shall We Forget. It's pretty much going to cover the first half of the To Be Willing universe – beginning with Oropher meeting his future wife in Doriath, and concluding with Thranéal discovering an unconscious Lyrial. Again, only if you're interested~ =3 ***
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~ 007 – Of Butterflies And Chocolate And Bad Dreams ~
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"Life is not made up of minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years, but of moments. You must experience each one before you can appreciate it."
~ Sarah Ban Breathnach
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He stopped in his graceful steps as he entered the courtyard's outer open-arched hallways. Thranduil's lips curled into a smile, and he quietly sighed in relief. Good. She's not holed herself in her room anymore.
Since the incident regarding the Moriquendi and her almost-rape, Lyrial stayed confined within her chambers for five days straight, barely speaking to anyone. And now she was finally out! Thranduil was glad about this, albeit he did not know why his insides felt overly joyful. Of course, he hid it behind a neutral expression.
His gaze fell on the back of Lyrial, who was sitting atop a smoothly carved, white stoned bench; with a backrest detailing that of wounded-in tree branches and leaves. He could see a book in her lap from the slight distance; and he noted her light brown bunnies, Ailee and Jay, napping along her clothed right thigh.
Thranduil soundlessly approached her from behind.
Lyrial sneezed.
He rose a perfectly shaped eyebrow as her forearms disappeared from his sight; and her hands seemed to be swatting something away, albeit carefully.
She sneezed again.
He sat on the bench beside her, noticing her hands fidgeting around her nose. "Lyrial, are you alright?"
Said elleth released an unintelligent-sounding "Huh?" and immediately looked to the Elvenking's direction in surprise. She had not heard him at all.
And then he started to laugh – the first real laugh with which Lyrial had ever heard from this specific ellon. She rose her voice in annoyance. "It's not funny! The butterfly refuses to move and my nose is insanely itchy!"
Wiping a tear away, Thranduil calmed down and returned his attention towards her. She appeared irritated as a large blue and black butterfly stayed situated on her nose. He secretly thought that her widened almond-shaped doe eyes added a certain cuteness to her current self – although he quickly brushed that thought away. He smirked a little. "How long has it been sitting there?"
"Fifteen minutes, I believe," She replied as he continued gazing at her in amusement. She continued. "My nose is really itchy and nothing I do will make the butterfly move."
"Here, allow me," Without warning, Thranduil rose his right hand. She blushed a little as the backs of his lower fingers accidently brushed lightly against her soft lips. The sides of his index finger touched her nose a bit as it was situated right against the butterfly's thin, stringy yet sturdy legs. After speaking some Sindarin to it (Lyrial knew not what the translation was; she was only a beginner at the language), Thranduil pulled back with the butterfly settling on his index finger.
"Thank you!" Lyrial exclaimed in relief as she then sighed in satisfaction when she scratched at her nose. Thranduil held back an amused snigger as his eyes trailed to the butterfly on his finger. He admired its' simple beauty as the sunlight gave its' blue, sapphire-like wings an almost glowing effect – similar to what one would perceive on stain glass windows.
"That butterfly is quite lovely," she said quietly all of a sudden, in a somewhat daze. "The colour . . . It reminds me of your eyes."
He looked at her, then returned his gaze to the winged insect. "Does it?" He spoke without thought as the butterfly flapped its' wings and flew into the skies.
"Yes, and your eyes are absolutely beautiful . . ." She replied rather softly, and almost inaudibly.
The ellon did a double-take, surprised at her instant straightforwardness. She gazed at him kindly with a small blush tinting her smooth cheeks – kind of hoping that what she just said fell on deaf ears – only to find him flashing her a lady-killer grin. He spoke in jest, rather than saying what he really wanted to say. "Direct, are we? You're not as shy and timid as when you first arrived here!"
Lyrial's lips curled into a small smile and she looked away to her slender hands in her lap, which were on top of the book she was previously reading. "No teasing! It is only because we are friends and I'm quite comfortable with you."
"I have noticed that you're quite enthusiastic with some of the elves upon first meeting them."
She considered that sentence. He was right: She was a lot more eager and confident towards meeting new people than she was in her previous life. "Oh, they are quite welcoming and are so nice to me!" With her right hand, she ran her fingers through Ailee's soft fur. At least . . . many of them are . . . For a moment, she remembered a few unsavory encounters with a small handful of the highborn elven ladies, who were clearly bullshitting in her face. Ah, what petty crap!
"That's good," Thranduil broke her out of her reverie with his response.
"By the way –" Her pondering was interrupted due to her own platinum blond hair flying into her face, courtesy of the wind. "Damn wind; go away!"
Much to her irritancy, Thranduil cheekily laughed. However, unexpectedly, he told her to turn around.
"Why?" she asked skeptically.
His response was dramatically posh. "To braid a portion of your hair, and free your face from its' wrath."
She snickered at that, and then spoke up. "That is rather an interesting sight to see: The Elvenking tending to some elleth's hair. . ."
"You are not just 'some elleth,'" he replied, accompanied with an undertone of annoyed forcefulness. He then deadpanned at her. "And for record-keeping, all elves know how to braid hair."
"I don't."
He smirked and sassed at her. "Yes, well, you don't count."
"Meanie!" she exclaimed her child-like response, sticking her tongue out before turning away and focusing her gaze onto her napping light brown bunnies. Thranduil released a grin towards the back of her head, and he proceeded to braid a couple of portions of her hair. He was awfully tempted to simply run his fingers through her soft, silky hair as he woven a slender braid on either side of her temple; joining them at the crown of her head, and then braiding downwards.
From within his fanciful forest green tunic, Thranduil procured a spare thin, black leather strip, and used it to tie her braided hair. He then ran his right hand down her back, his fingers raking through the predominantly unbraided portion of her hair to straighten it out. He gently captured a lock of her hair in between his index and middle fingers. His fingers descended four inches before curling the lock around his forefinger. He knew not why he was doing this, but he rather liked it.
"Thranduil? Are you done?" an oblivious Lyrial questioned, and turned around. The lock of platinum blonde hair slipped from his fingers when she turned, and instead they brushed lightly against her cheek. A light pink blush tinted her cheeks at their close proximity – and the fact that the Elvenking gazed into her eyes without any intention of looking away.
Her cheeks felt warmer as he cupped the side of her face, his thumb gently stroking it. His hand slowly trailed down her jaw and across her neck, until it was moderately tangled into her hair as his hand now gently gripped the lower back of her head.
Her nervousness grew until he suddenly pulled back; and avoiding her gaze, he said, "That was rather unbefitting of me; I apologize."
Her voice quivered a bit, unsure of what just happened. "No, it's . . . It's alright; thank you for braiding my hair – Oh! Is that an elfling?"
Thranduil's gaze followed Lyrial's as their sparkling orbs rested on the side profile of a five-year-old elfling. She sat with her knees to her chest and her back against the centre fountain's ledge, some feet away from the royal and the ex-human. She seemed despondent, but Lyrial couldn't tell for sure due to the younger elleth's dark brown hair curtaining her face.
"Ah, she is Nithron's daughter," Thranduil spoke first.
Lyrial furrowed her brow. "Who?"
"Lord Nithron, my chief councillor."
She continued to stare at him.
He rose an eyebrow, slightly amused. "Brown hair that is in between light and dark? Pale green eyes? A kind face yet full of wisdom? Generally wears greens, blues, or browns? As tall as my shoulder?"
She sniggered at that. "Hmm, I've heard of him, and I most likely have seen him around . . . Although I've yet to match the name with the corresponding person. But his daughter is so cute! I want to say, 'hi.'"
Returning her gaze towards the elfling, she found Ailee and Jay playing about by the child's feet. How did they get over there so fast and quiet? Lyrial stood to her feet and walked until she was in front of the child. She then sat along the length of her lower legs. The bunnies were in between them.
The fair-haired elleth procured a soft and innocent smile. "Hello."
The elfling snapped her head upwards, and her saddened pale green eyes seemed to have lightened up a bit. "Oooohh, you're so pretty!"
Lyrial's eyes almost widened at the younger's sudden, rather adorable, exclamation. A little surprised, too. The elfling continued. "Not as pretty as my nana; but you're close! You're sooooo pretty; I wish I was that pretty . . ."
"Oh, but you are a lovely child," Lyrial spoke in honesty. "And your loveliness shall grow with you. Thank you for you compliment, by the way! What is your name?"
"I'm Lindariel," the child responded whilst staring at Lyrial with large, bright pale green doe eyes.
Lyrial internally awww'd at her adorableness. She wanted to hug her so tightly! "A pleasure to meet you, young lady. I am Lyrial. Forgive me for prodding; I couldn't help but notice your sadness earlier. Why is that so?"
"My rose died," Lindariel pouted. "It was the last surviving one for the year – I made it last longer than the others . . . But it died. I love roses . . ."
Ahhh, so innocent . . .
Before the older elleth could console her, the dark brown-haired child spoke again. "Are they yours?" She asked while pointing at the bunnies and crossing her legs under her long-sleeved, mint green dress.
Lyrial nodded. "They are! Jay is the sociable one," she ran a hand through the rabbit on her left side, "and Ailee is rather shy." She ran her other hand through the female fluff ball to her right.
Suddenly, Jay sprang to his feet and he jumped into Lindariel's lap. He stood atop one of her small legs, and the young elleth giggled as his whiskers tickled her face.
It was then that Lyrial sprang to her feet, a thought in mind. "Wait right here, I'll return momentarily!"
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A jovial Lyrial returned to the courtyard with something cradled protectively into her hands, with which she clutched against her abdomen. She spotted Lindariel in the same place as before, only sitting atop the fountain ledge, with her legs dangling over. The elfling looked to be in friendly conversation with Thranduil, who sat on the ledge of the fountain to her right. Ailee was situated in his lap, and Jay seemed to be hanging out with a couple of sparrows.
Her ears captured a few sentences from their conversation:
"Ai, you naughty child! Do not even think about telling her."
A giggle. "Fiiiiiiiine. I swear not to tell her, Thran. But you owe me cake after every week until you tell her."
A lighthearted groan. "Deal, you little mind reader."
They seem close . . . It's cute! I wonder who they're talking about . . .
"Secretive, are we?" Lyrial popped into their view.
Thranduil simply smirked and winked at her. Lyrial almost swooned, and so she averted her gaze. Damn sexy elf . . . Oh, what am I thinking? We've kind of developed a bit of a friendship here; I don't need to be attracted to him.
"Lyri's back!" Lindariel exclaimed enthusiastically. "Wait, can I call you 'Lyri?'"
"Of course you may!" Lyrial exclaimed happily as she sat to the elfling's left side onto the fountain ledge. "Now, I want you to feast your eyes on a rose that will never die."
"How can – Oh!" Lindariel's confused expression become one of wonder as Lyrial presented the item with which she cradled within her slim hands: An origami rose; simple yet beautiful. It was about the size of the older elleth's palm. The paper used was of a crimson colour; and the folds of the petals were so delicate and realistic, that one could easily mistake it for a real flower.
Thranduil did not show it, be he loved it; he admired its' elegance. Lindariel graciously accepted the piece of artwork. "Oh my . . . It's a rose! It's made out of paper, and – and it looks like an actual rose! Thank you so much!" The cuddly elfling flung herself into Lyrial, hugging her tightly around her neck.
"My pleasure, little one," Lyrial tee-heed, and she wrapped her arms around the little elleth's small body. Her eyes unintentionally met with Thranduil's. His expression was quite amiable, and his eyes glinted with a certain emotion in which she could not entirely pin-point.
It was then that the Elvenking suddenly felt something soft falling onto the tip of his nose, immediately dissolving in half a second. His head turned upwards. "Ah, the snow has arrived."
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An intrigued, sparkly turquoise-eyed Thranéal observed her close friend, who was preparing the delicacy that was chocolate. Whilst Lyrial stood by the wooden table in the kitchens, composing said confectionary, the princess sat on a chair that was situated directly in front of the other. Her elbows were propped on the table, and she rested her chin into her palms.
"So, how was horseback riding? Did you get caught in the blizzard?" Lyrial inquired as she proceeded to cream together the cocoa powder and softened butter in a metallic bowl using a shiny, silvery fork.
Thranéal grinned. "Oh, the ride was pleasant! And the blizzard did not come until I finished." She then wrinkled her nose. "Though to my annoyance, Eryn just HAD to poop in the middle of the stable's walkway."
The amethyst-eyed elleth abruptly deadpanned at her friend. "Seriously? I'm making chocolate and you talk about shit? Can you not see the unfortunate resemblance? I am not impressed."
The Greenwood princess laughed. "I'm sorry –!" More laughing. "– No, I haven't really noticed 'til you mentioned it!" Her laughter reduced to sniggers. "You're right: The resemblance is rather unfortunate. But let us avoid this . . . Topic. When will the chocolate be ready?"
Lyrial's smile was blithe. "I think between forty-five minutes to an hour . . . ? It's been awhile since I've made chocolate. Regardless of preparation time, though, it needs to harden overnight in cold temperatures."
Thranéal's eyed lightened up. "Ahh, the cellars should be satisfyingly cold; especially since it's winter."
"Excellent."
It did not take long before Lyrial's introducing of the beautiful confectionary known as chocolate spread like wildfire throughout Eryn Galen's elvish settlement.
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This evening marked the celebration of Yenearsira, or Winter Solstice.
Lyrial was nervous. Never had she been to any of these parties; in fact, she would always respectfully decline invitations. Recently she had to deal with excessive persuasion from the princess, the prince, Arayan, Cierdan and Hiriel (who was insanely enthusiastic). Even Himelon and Siriel popped up once mentioning something . . . However, it was Thranduil's eloquent persuasion that had Lyrial thinking, Fine, I'll come. Damn sexy – NO.
During the earlier hours of the party, she officially met Lord Nithron, and they made short, yet pleasant, conversation – half of it was about how much his adorable daughter liked her.
She currently stood to one of the sides of the ballroom, away from the centre which was occupied with graceful dancers. She stood with Lalaith, Hiriel and Cierdan, chatting quite merrily with them. Her dress was simple yet quite fashionable: It was a light icy blue and silver, complementing her body enticingly. Its' colours harmonized with her porcelain skin and platinum blonde hair, and contrasted splendidly with her amethyst orbs. The bodice completely hugged her upper body, and her skirts were long and flowing – perceiving her as taller than she actually was.
Aeluin kept gazing at Lyrial, albeit she never noticed. Thranduil kept sneaking glances at her as well, although she never really noticed either. Thranduil wanted to ask her to dance, when suddenly, his younger brother waltzed over to the young elleth and asked her for a dance. The Elvenking's nose vaguely scrunched, and he tried his hardest not to scowl.
Aeluin, accompanied with a charming smile, glided Lyrial onto the dance floor, to which they commenced dancing to musical tunes with the other dancers around them.
"Just as a warning: I may unintentionally step on your feet . . ." Lyrial declared a little shyly.
Aeluin chucked a bit. "I care not; as long as I'm dancing with you, I'll be happy regardless." And then a spun her.
Many fun minutes later, the prince felt a tap on his shoulder. "My twin in all but flesh and blood! Do you mind if I have a dance with our dear Lyrial?"
Arayan smiled as the prince stepped aside with a grin. The emerald-eyed ellon and Lyrial immediately assumed their positions and began gliding about.
A few minutes later, as soon as the pair joined together from the male giving the female a double spin, the attractive captain felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Captain!" Cierdan's voice rang out. "Mind if I cut in?"
"Not at all," Arayan replied jovially and stepped aside.
The striking older twin took Lyrial's hand and they commenced the art of dancing. No matter how rigorous the dancing, Lyrial quite enjoyed it.
Some minutes passed, and the tall raven-haired twin felt a tap against his shoulder. Lyrial vaguely blushed as the too-handsome-for-words Elvenking made his presence known. "Cierdan, may I have the honour to dance with this fair lady?"
"Of course, Aran nîn." The twin grinned and bowed, subtly gifting Lyrial with a wink before he sauntered away. Thranduil and Lyrial assumed positions and danced away – talking here and there throughout their dancing. The elleth noted that he wore a different crown to coordinate the winter season. The structure of this crown was identical to the other, only the stylized twigs were a lovely white, its' colour was an ivory sort. There were a few tastefully embedded sapphires with which accompanied the crown.
Throughout the duo's dancing, their eyes never separated from one another. Lyrial knew that she was blushing a darker shade; and she wanted to look away, yet she couldn't.
The Elvenking spun her, soon pulling her close. His arm was wrapped quite securely around her waist, and Lyrial's stomach could feel that of Thranduil's toned abs. Their faces were close; hell, they could feel the other's warm breath upon them . . .
And then they separated as Thranduil felt a tap on his shoulder, soon followed by a voice. "My dear brother, I think you've hogged Lyrial for quite the amount of time. I want to dance with her!"
Lyrial giggled as Thranduil's facial expression morphed into one of hilarious incredulousness when he turned on his heal and came face-to-face with a gorgeous Thranéal, decked out in all of her turquoise grandeur. He blinked at his elder sister. "Are you truly serious?"
"Of course I am serious, else I wouldn't be here in this exact spot!" The princess exclaimed with a wide, amused smirk. Wasting no time, she dragged a very willing Lyrial away.
The surrounding elves gave their dear princess and her temporary ward strange looks as the two ellith danced.
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She was paralyzed; unmoving, unrespondent, and yet she can still see. She was; however, unable to move her eyes, as they were glued to the sky from her fragile position lying in the snow.
It was cold. The wetness of the soft, fluffy snow dampened the backs of her lengthy platinum blonde hair, her dark lavender and silver dress, and her cream-coloured cloak.
It snowed softly – the tiny white flakes were few in number, floating, and allowing for the winds to carry them. A few white flakes fell upon her face, though she felt nothing. The grey skies were depressing. The clouds were a smoky grey and they restricted sunlight.
The poison from the black, rusted arrow, which was lodged into her chest, was killing her slowly. Funny, she thought, that despite slowly succumbing to its' effects, the arrow rendered her useless from fully capable in a matter of seconds.
Lyrial knew that this was a dream. She also assumed that this was more than simply a bad dream. Everything seemed so real. Despite being in this dream, she was not really in it . . . Lyrial was inside another elleth's body, using her gradually fading eyesight as some means for making sense of the situation.
Four darkened, monstrous humanoids stood around her. Ah, so these are what orcs look like . . . She knew that there were more, as she can hear them within the perimeter. One orc released a snort that was identical to a pig's, and he plopped down, kneeling to the side of her upper body. His claws grabbed at the neckline of her dress and began tearing at it until; quite immediately, an arrow lodged itself into the back of his head, causing him to fall backwards.
"Nana!" The voice of a young ellon shouted in panic, grief and anger. Ahh, so she was in the body of someone's mother . . .
The orcs around her stalked out of her sight towards her right. Her eyesight became a little more blurry. Her acute hearing picked up the detailed sounds of the orcs' animalistic growls and wails; the ellon's yelling; and, the multiple crunches of snow under boots. She can hear the twangs of bows and the clangs of metal against metal . . .
. . . And then it was silent. Not a sound save for the ragged, livid breathing of an elf. Time seemed to have stayed that way for a while as minutes flew by.
A new pair of boots crunched through the sparkling snow at a fast speed. "Araduil!" a voice rang out, and Lyrial recognized it to be Thranduil's. "Ara –" he gasped as he ceased his leg movements. "Oh Eru . . . What have you done? Is that our nana? How did – What –"
A pause. The stench of blood and guts and exposed flesh filled the air stronger than before. And then a sigh, followed by the disbelieved voice of Thranduil. "You're covered in orc blood . . . Muindor, just what happened . . . ?"
Brother. He called him 'brother.' The term for brother one would use towards a blood relative. Lyrial did not care who this 'Araduil' was until Thranduil referred to him as his sibling. Did the three siblings somehow have a fourth; who may have died, went missing, or sailed to Valinor? Did something happen to him with which no one desired to talk about? The possibilities were endless. . .
The voice belonging to Araduil responded in shaky tones. It was painfully evident that he was trying his hardest not to cry. "They killed her. They killed her escort, too. They killed nana. They were going to defile her body. Her dead body. They killed her. So I killed them."
Ohhh, so she was in the body of Thranduil's mother . . . And the sound of that voice was insanely similar to Aeluin's . . . Were Araduil and Aeluin twins, perhaps?
Thranduil rose his voice in a vague panic, attempting to calm the younger ellon. "Araduil, please calm down; you're hyperventilating. Take deep breaths – I'm sorry, I should have taken your place. You're too young, you didn't have to go through this –"
That seemed to have fell onto deaf ears, as Araduil continued in a growing, wrathful frenzy. "They killed her, they killed her, they killed her; THE COWARDS FUCKING KILLED NANA AND THEY WERE GOING TO DEFILE HER! And I killed them! Oh, I should have kept a few alive, just so I could torture them –"
"Araduil –!"
The exchange of words suddenly halted as a wailing, congested growl emitted – Lyrial deduced that it was just an orc playing dead. She heard an enraged yell and the agonizing sound of a blade being repeatedly stabbed into a body.
Thranduil's voice was the first she heard after a moment. "Araduil, stop. The orc-scum is dead, now . . ."
Black-red orc blood continued splattering at the force of Araduil's weapon.
"Muindor, daro!"
Lyrial could now hear struggling – Thranduil was probably attempting to pull his brother away with much effort.
"Daro!"
More struggling. The slight clangs of light armour. The rustling of fabrics.
"Let go of me, Thranduil!"
"No, not 'til you calm yourself!"
Yelling now accompanied the struggles. Lyrial was confused . . . And somewhat scared in a sense . . .
"Araduil, lá daro! Daro ha!"
"Lheitho nin!"
"Daro ha!"
"LHEITHO NIN!"
"NOT UNTIL YOU COME TO YOUR SENSES, VALARDAMNIT!"
Lyrial jolted upright from her comfortable mattress, breathing deeply and sweating vaguely. It was dawn. She hunched her back a little, and she clutched the moderately low neckline of her gossamer white nightgown. That dream, she found, was frightfully puzzling. Everything seemed so real and detailed.
She can still smell rotten blood and innards, and she felt a pain from within her chest. Lyrial was a sensitive individual; and she was very sad right now, for her dream was of the death of Thranduil's and his siblings' mother.
She closed her now-glossy eyes and covered her mouth with both hands. She felt sick as she had just swallowed some acid-like bile, which happened to be creeping up her esophagus. Oh gods, what the fuck was that?! That was terrible!
She stayed in her position and kept her eyes shut. The twenty-five-year-old took deep, calming breaths for minutes.
After an additional ten minutes in almost-silence, she matched her panicked, irregular breathing with the quietness and gentleness of her predominantly coloured rose and creamy room. I am here now. Not there. Here . . .
Today was the day that she, Thranéal and Aeluin were to begin their travels to Imladris. She will not let some horrendous dream cloud her thoughts.
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Aran Nîn – My King
Naneth/Nana – Mother/Mom
Muindor – Brother (Family)
Lá Daro! Daro Ha – Please Stop! Stop It
Lheitho Nin – Release Me
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*** After Note I – Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think~! :D ***
*** After Note II – So I generally answer reviews via PM; however, I'll be responding to those who I can't PM here~ :3 (Why I didn't do this before baffles me – I am sorry. X-X) ***
*** After Note III – Next chapter: Lyrial, Thranéal and Aeluin travel to Imladris and cross paths with dragons . . . *eating Ferrero Rocher* =(^w^)= OH, YEAH! I just realized: I think I kinda promised someone about adding a certain event into the party scene . . . Sorry, wisdom-jewel, looks like there aren't any drunk elves doing the limbo. I completely forgot about that. No really, I did. BUT, I shall remember to include that for the next partay scene~ x333 ***
*** After Note IV – So, what are everyone's favorite chocolates~? (~*O*)~ ***
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TheParanoidGraveRobber: Thank you so much~! :D I'm glad you like it~ :D Sorry if this update wasn't 'soon,' though . . . I've been occupied . . . (._. )
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