Sorry about the wait, finals got a bit overwhelming. Unfortunately, I can pretty much guarantee that there won't be an update next week. I'm going home for spring break, and as it's really short I doubt I'll have much time to get on the computer. I promise to post new chapters as soon as I get back! Anyway, thanks for sticking around through my brief "disappearance," I really appreciate it.
Chapter Seven
They had been riding hard for two days, and were readily approaching the end of their second night, when Elladan suddenly signaled for them to stop. The others reined in their horses, looking at the tall Elf curiously. He squinted into the distance, as if unsure whether or not he had seen something. Aragorn rode over to his brother-in-law, waiting for the Elf to speak. When he did not, the king asked quietly in Sindarin, "man cenich;" what do you see?
Elladan stared hard into the distance, then shook his head. "It is too far to see. I though for a moment there was movement, but now I can see nothing. The sun is rising, and twilight is fading. I do not think that I will see it closer this day…but I have a feeling of watchfulness."
"You think someone is aware of our presence?" Aragorn asked anxiously.
"Nay," the other replied. "It is not directed towards us. It is merely…waiting. I cannot explain it better, but I feel that there are eyes over this land. We would do well to avoid them."
Aragorn thought for a moment. While he likewise did not want to be detected—that was the reason he was travelling with only two Rangers and an Elf, when he would have just as soon led a full company to war—but he sensed that time was against him. "Speed is dire now," he said at last. "Think you that your sight will be sufficient to warn us of the approach of unfriendly eyes with time enough to hide ourselves from them?"
Elladan thought for a moment—he was fiery of temper, but not hasty—then nodded. "Ay," he replied, "unless your woodlore has much deteriorated they will never spot us. We may proceed with haste."
"Good," Aragorn began, but before he could motion for them to continue, Elladan caught his gaze.
"When we draw near to Ostad, though, 'twould be best to restrict out travels to the dark of night, when mortal eyes cannot pierce the shadows."
Aragorn grimaced but nodded agreement. "Very well," he said, "yet let us hope that we encounter our wayward companions long 'ere we come to the city, and can send them back with little fear."
Elladan gave Aragorn a strange look, which the king could not decipher. "Ay," said the Elf, "let us hope…" He fell silent, and Aragorn shivered. Was it his gift of foresight sending chills down his spine, or was it nothing more than that same strange and unexplainable foreboding? Elladan's face was closed, and he could tell that the Elf knew as little as he did—and was just as unhappy about it.
Deciding that things would become clear in time, of which he now had none to waste, Aragorn started forward again, followed closely by his companions, near invisible in the early morning dusk.
…………
Gimli cast a look in the Elf's direction that could have given a Balrog pause. Legolas, however, did not seem to be bothered by it. Perhaps that was because he was not looking in Gimli's direction, but the Dwarf would wager that the addle-brained Elf's senses were acute enough that he could feel the glower directed at him, and was just choosing to ignore it in order to annoy the Dwarf.
Gimli's grasp on Sindarin was nowhere near to perfect, and he personally felt that the Elf could have been gracious enough to speak slower and articulate himself a bit better, if not actually repeat the entire thing at least once. The fact that Legolas had possessed little time in which to speak, and had not been allowed to finish what he was saying, let alone make an attempt to say it again, crossed Gimli's mind fleetingly, but the Dwarf pushed it away. Thoughts like that would interrupt the anger he was nursing against his friend right now, and Gimli was thoroughly enjoying his thoughts of the revenges he would visit upon Legolas's person for these troubles. The fact that Legolas was hardly responsible for their plight, and had in fact been the only one to urge the prudence of a better guard for their journey, was likewise ignored as unnecessary information.
The steadily-nearing rough wooden wall was doing nothing to lighten the Dwarf's foul mood. He knew that the Elf had an escape planned that had something to do with the wall, or gate…or maybe he meant buildings…Gimli sighed. He had not really been listening at first, and by the time he bent his concentration to puzzling out the unfamiliar words, he had missed the beginning of them. He eyed the Elf, wondering when things would start. Gimli did not like not knowing what was going on…especially when it was the thoughts of a flighty Elf they were all depending on! Inside, Gimli trusted Legolas more than anyone in Middle-Earth, even Aragorn, but he would have admitted such a thing under only the most dire of situations. And so, even in his own thoughts, he grumbled at the Elf.
The image that Ostad presented was not an inspiring one, especially for a Dwarf. Gimli's people were workers of good, solid stone. Even the better stone-works of men often left something to be desired. The half-rotted, rickety wooden palisade that surrounded the city looked as if a good, strong breeze would scatter it across the plains. From his position close to the ground, the Dwarf had only gotten a bare glimpse of the supposed towers that made up the inner city before they were obscured by the frail wooden monstrosity that encircled them. And this is the place that would stand up to Gondor's might? Gimli thought with a snort. The knights of Minas Tirith could knock those walls in with nothing more than the strength of their arms! And one well-aimed torch…
The Dwarf harrumphed deep in his throat. The contempt he felt for these people was now, impossible 'though that would have sounded only a day previous, increased threefold. Why, if this example of their might was true—and Gimli had no reasons to suspect otherwise—he and Legolas ought to be able to put an end to the entire problem without any help at all. He glanced over at the Elf again, wondering how close Legolas planned to let them get before he acted. What if there were archers on those walls? Not that the wooden catwalks ought to be up to supporting a large number of men, but all it would take was one good shot to turn their day into a very bad one. Still, the Elf was the archer amongst them—as well as the one with the clearest eyes. If Legolas was confident that they could approach closer to the wall, then Gimli was willing to do so…as long as the foolish Elf was not planning on getting within bow-rang just so he could pick the defenders from the wall! But, Gimli was confident, that had not been part of the plan.
Or had it…? Had the Elf said something in that song about archery? Gimli furrowed his brow and thought back. Philin, wasn't it? That meant archery, or arrows, or something of the sort…had not Legolas spoken a similar word? The Dwarf shot a glance of such power at the Elf's back that Legolas turned, apparently sensing that this was more than merely a glower. Gimli scowled, wondering how many of Legolas's thoughts had flittered away in the moonlight. Was the Elf indeed contemplating such a scheme?
Their eyes met a moment, then Legolas turned away. Gimli continued to walk, more confused now than he had been before trying to get an explanation. He cursed himself for not taking the time to learn more of Sindarin, although at the time he had thought it a useless—not to mention fruitless—enterprise. He was not about to teach Legolas the secret language of the Dwarves (he was already in enough trouble with his clansmen due to his friendship with the Elf!), and saw no reason why he needed to learn any form of Elvish. What was that hair-brained, pointy-eared, misbegotten creature planning?
Settling down more firmly into his sulk, Gimli sent a fearsome frown at all of their captors, then one at the city itself. The city did not seem to care. In fact, neither did the men, although Gimli was willing to bet that he could summon a stare almost as unnerving as an Elf, given the proper motivation. Right now, though, he did not have the time, for Ostad drew nearer with every trudging step. He glanced at Legolas again, and saw the Elf turned slightly on the demon-creature's back, looking into the distance. It was only for a moment, as if he feared one of the men might catch his gaze straying. When he looked back he met Gimli's gaze and smiled slightly. The Dwarf's eyebrows went up in surprise. What in all the caverns of Moria is he thinking? Gimli looked around wildly, but saw nothing. Surely he is not counting on someone coming to rescue us?
Gimli's thoughts were cut off abruptly when a distant yell met their ears. He looked back towards the city and saw a small figure on the walls waving at them. The man who led their captors yelled back. Both yells had been wordless, but apparently the timbre of their voices—or perhaps merely the fact that the man had responded—seemed to be enough to satisfy the distant guard, for the men above the gate relaxed, recognizing the incoming company as friends—or at least, recognizing the part of the company that was not bound and tied. Disgruntled, the Dwarf tugged half-heartedly at the roped around his wrists. He had done so numerous times with varying degrees of effort when he had first been tied, but to no avail. When the ropes suddenly shifted, however, loosening around his wrists, he almost gasped audibly in surprise. Hurriedly peering at his guard, Gimli was relieved to see that the man was paying him no attention. Apparently this close to home, they were no longer worried about their prisoners escaping. Gimli grinned, for the first time since this ordeal had begun. We shall soon teach them that caution is ever necessary, the Dwarf thought with an eager glint lighting his eyes. Whether they will be in any shape to appreciate the lesson is debatable…but we shall teach it nonetheless.
…………
Aragorn was sure that he felt Elven eyes on his back as they rode. Elladan, he knew, was not happy that they were riding in daylight this close to the city. They were already within range of the Elf's vision, and he did not agree with Aragorn's choice to press them onwards despite the risk, and the man was certain that was the reason he was staring at him so unnervingly. Aragorn kept twitching in his saddle, trying to shake the pointed gaze. Once he realized what he was doing, he tried to stop it, but inevitably his concentration would wander back to the ground or the grass or the path or something else and he would forget and twitch again. He could perfectly picture Elladan laughing at him silently, but every time he glanced back the Elf would be scanning the distance serenely. Aragorn had spent a very long time around Elves, and much of that time around Elladan in particular. He was not in the least bit fooled by the act.
Aragorn sighed. He must be very distracted to be thinking like that. With an effort, he attempted to reorganize his wayward thoughts. It was difficult, but the King of Gondor had been trained to have an ordered mind, and had cultivated discipline over decades. He was just finishing his mental exercises when he felt more than saw Elladan stiffen in his saddle. Aragorn turned, a question on his lips.
Before he could voice it, Elladan was already answering him. "It is the party that I noticed earlier. We are close enough now"—there was the faintest trace of reprimand in his tone—"that I am able to discern some few details of their make-up. There seem to be five men, all walking. Also there are the two horses, the riders of which I believe have golden hair." Elladan's voice tightened as he continued, "and the one upon the second horse is an Elf."
"Legolas?" Aragorn asked sharply.
"I would not doubt it," Elladan replied quietly. "Know you another Elf that travels in the company of a Dwarf?"
"Gimli is there as well?"
Elladan shrugged, as if to say, why bother questioning? "Between the two horses walks a short figure, too stout to be a child yet of that height. Would you name him otherwise?"
Aragorn did not reply, but he signaled for the company to stop. Elladan urged his horse next to the king's. "What think you?" he asked his foster-brother neutrally.
Elladan's eyes were stormy as he spoke. "Given their company, and the fact that the Dwarf walks rather than rides with Legolas, I would say it is a certitude that they are captives. How five men managed to take them thus, I know not, but perhaps they were more than five when at first they met. I know not why they seem to cooperate with their guards, but I would fain suspect trickery of a sorts similar to the missive it is claimed Prince Faramir sent his wife."
Aragorn nodded. "They make no escape attempt?" The Ranger strained his eyes, but he could not even make out the dot where Elladan assured them the city lay in the distance, and Aragorn's eyes were keen for one of the Edain.
Elladan shook his head. "None that I can see, Estel. But they are little more than specks at this distance, and draw away from us every moment. I believe I would see the chaos such an act would entail, but I do not see how one could be successful. They are like to be soon within range of the archers Ostad no doubt posts upon their outer wall. Any action would be too risky to take when already surrounded and under bow-shot. I do not see how they shall escape this, and I believe that they do not either."
"Think you that Legolas has seen us?" Aragorn asked, searching for hope.
Elladan shrugged again. "I cannot say. His eyes are sharper than mine, so it is quite possible he noted us 'ere this; from the distance we now sit, I have little doubt that, were he to turn, he would be able to recognize us with slight effort. Whether he has turned to see, though, I cannot say; we are too far for my eyes to be that sure of small motion." Elladan looked over at the man brooding beside him. "There is no way for us to prevent them entering the city, Aragorn."
He cursed quietly, but nodded; Elladan was all too right. He spoke now to the two Rangers travelling with them as well as the Elf. "We will wait for cover of darkness. Then we shall slip in, hopefully unnoticed, and find where they have put our friends. As soon as twilight falls, Elladan, sneak close enough to find us the weak point in their wall. We will scale it there and disappear into the city. The horses, I am afraid, we must part from here; we have no way to sneak them into the city. If we cannot find replacements, the journey home will be on foot." The men nodded; they would not complain. They had walked many farther distances in their lives with no word of protest. "We will hide ourselves within that depression until nightfall." Aragorn indicated a slight dip in the plains. With their woodlore, it was unlikely they would be spotted by anything other than a deliberate and careful search.
He looked closely at his three companions and his voice dropped to a darker tone, faintly edged in prescience. "I suggest you take what rest you can. It is sure to be a long night."
…………
Éowyn's senses were singing with anticipation as Windfolla was slowly led through the city gate. She was trying very hard not to turn around and stare at Legolas and Gimli, but she wished that she could see them and whatever silent signals they were passing back and forth. Then again, it was unlikely that she would be able to understand the subtle shifts of expression that they seemed to use as freely and specifically as verbal communication. Their time spent in close company, often under stressful situations, had enabled them to create a silent language that no one else could understand.
She tugged at the ropes on her wrists, wishing that she could reach her sword. Beneath her, Windfolla shifted, sensing her mistress's tension. She willed her body to relax, and the horse calmed down. She heard a faint shifting behind her that she guessed was Gimli turning to glare—again—at his friend. Although every instinct she had screamed at her to move, jump, run, attack, do something before she was inside the gate, she resisted. Legolas had a plan, and she had only her aversion to being trapped. She would wait for the Elf to act.
Even it drove her crazy doing so.
They had passed into the city; Éowyn could not resist twisting around. Gimli was glowering about him darkly, neither happy at being stuck in a hostile city nor with the shabbily constructed hovels. Legolas, on the other hand, seemed supremely unconcerned with the situation. His head was bent and he was completely relaxed—it was almost as if he were napping on the horse's back. Éowyn turned back around, frustrated and anxious. So she did not see the Elf suddenly move as they passed around a corner.
As soon as the rough buildings blocked the view of the guards at the gate, Legolas launched himself from his horse. A high kick as he came down sent one guard spinning, fighting to keep conscious. Éowyn turned around as she heard the impact of the man slam into the dusty street, but by then the Elf had already landed, twisted the ropes off his hands, spun into the other guard by Holdwyn and somehow sent him stumbling away with a bloodied nose, and now twisted a foot around the ankle of one of Gimli's guards, yanking him to the ground. Gimli had already started moving, although he was not quite as fast as the graceful blur that was the Prince of Eryn Lasgallen. Leaping upwards, the Dwarf managed to fling his bound hands around the neck of his other guard, using his weight to drag downwards on the man's throat. He struggled, but the Dwarf was a bur that was impossible to dislodge.
Before the man holding Windfolla's reins could react, Éowyn had yanked them from his startled grasp. Her horse reared on cue, striking out at the two men in front of her with the heavy hooves of a Rohirrim war-horse. Éowyn turned to see the leader of their captors swinging a sword at her head. She ducked, but knew that she would not be able to fully avoid the blow in time. Suddenly, the swing reversed its direction, and the sword fell to the ground. The men fell backwards, an Elvish arrow embedded in his throat. Éowyn's eyes were wide when she turned to see Legolas, already moving. The Elf used the momentum of his throw and continued it in a sharp blow to the side of the head of the man he had tripped earlier, who was just now getting to his feet.
Éowyn twisted Windfolla in the narrow street. She brought her tied-together hands across the jaw of the man who had been holding her reins—the same one who had struck her in the ambush. Éowyn was a shield-maiden of Rohan; she had chosen the creation of life over the destruction thereof in the white walkways of Minas Tirith, but she was still who she was. Éowyn hit much harder than he had. The man went down without so much as a groan. But by the time she had slipped off her horse and grasped the leader's dropped sword, the battle might as well have been over.
Legolas moved with fluidity and grace impossible in mortals. Somehow there was a short sword in his hand, captured during the fight. It sparkled with red from the throat of the guard with the bloody nose whose face was now a crimson sheen that matched the wet patch spreading down his chest. The Elf spun, and the knife vanished from his hand to reappear in the chest of the guard against the wall, just beginning to recover from the kick to the head he had taken. The man gaped and died silently. Gimli harrumphed and released the last one with a soft thump. The Dwarf did not look happy, likely because he had not been given the chance for his axe to meet with any skulls.
The entire fight had been settled in a matter of seconds, and had made less noise than a heavily loaded cart would rolling down one of the cramped streets. Gimli rounded on the Elf, flames in his eyes, but Legolas put a thin finger to his lips in a signal for silence. He crouched next to a fallen corpse and removed some of the heavy packs it had borne. The first thing to come out was a thin white knife which he used to cut the bonds on his friends' hands. Éowyn had the feeling that the Elf and Dwarf had held a hurried, silent conference, but whatever had been the subject she had no way of knowing.
Gimli grumbled darkly, but began retrieving his axes from another of the bodies. Éowyn belted her sword around her waist again, then froze. Legolas, tears on his cheeks, was standing over the unconscious man that she had felled. He whispered something in Sindarin and raised a dagger he had taken from the man's robes. Gimli's hand on his arm stopped him. The Dwarf silently held out a hand. Legolas shook his head and gestured; even Éowyn could see what he meant this time. The man had to be dispatched, or their escape would be short-lived. Gimli nodded impatiently; he was no fool. Still he held out his hand imperiously. The Elf started to object, but Gimli cut him off.
"Legolas," he said quietly. The tone of the Dwarf's voice carried a weight of things. Apparently, it carried enough weight with his friend that Legolas sighed and gave in. He handed the knife to Gimli, who calmly finished the man.
Legolas put a hand on the Dwarf's shoulder. "Hannon-le," he whispered. Gimli nodded brusquely, then shook the Elf off.
"Let's go," he growled. Legolas nodded, and went to speak to the horses. Gimli started dragging one of the bodies towards a small empty space between two ill-built buildings. Éowyn moved to take another of the corpses, but the Dwarf sent her such a bristling glare that she stopped. Apparently, she was not allowed to do any heavy lifting, she realized, amused. Gimli was feeling very paternal today.
Legolas turned from the horses, who shifted anxiously. Éowyn moved to soothe Windfolla, but the Elf caught her arm gently. She looked at him, puzzled, and he shook his head. "Hurry," he whispered so quietly she had to strain to hear him. Gimli deposited the last body—none too gently—into the shadowy alcove. Legolas brushed the dusty road with soft boots, and the bloody evidence of death vanished in the dirt. Gimli took a powerful breath and blew more of the pale dust over the bodies, giving them just enough of a coating that they blended with the shadows. Éowyn paused, looking at them, and wondered if their silent communications were responsible for the quick, efficient way they handled their individual tasks. Or could it be that they had done similar things before, perhaps even often enough to be accustomed to it?
She was left no time for pondering, for Legolas was at her side again, urging them both forwards. The Rohirrim woman looked back over her shoulder once, and saw the horses standing calmly. She tried to ask Legolas why he was leaving them behind, but he shook his head again and pressed onwards. They had already turned a few corners when she heard a distant commotion. It sounded as if the horses had broken through the gate and galloped away wildly. Worried, Éowyn strained her ears, but could make out no specifics. Legolas evidently noticed her distress, for he softly breathed words of reassurance in her ear:
"Both made it unscathed. I have instructed them to run for home; they should encounter no dangers on the path back to Emyn Arnen. The spies of Ostad have no use for riderless horses, my lady."
Éowyn nodded, slightly reassured. The Elf would not have sent the horses to their deaths. Still, she wished that he would share with them his plans, for it was obvious that they were still in motion. He led them through the shabby, twisting streets, occasionally darting ahead to glance around the corner, or simply stopping them a moment to listen. They flitted through the city like silent wraiths, unseen—or at least, unhindered. Although she could hear the sounds of life, often from as close as on the other side of a thin wall, Éowyn had yet to see a single person. Perhaps that was simply Legolas being careful, or perhaps the citizens of Ostad did not walk the dusty streets. She did not know, and neither Elf nor Dwarf was going to risk the sounds of discussion at this point. Later…
Although where they would be later, Éowyn did not know, for they were assuredly not heading towards an exit. It seemed more to her that they were heading steadily inward, towards the black heart of this shadowy city…
Now, before anyone says anything, I would just like to mention that this is not a cliff-hanger. Maybe a standing-on-the-edge-and-looking-down bit, but not actually dangling from fingertips and snapping roots yet. Don't worry, we'll get to cliff-hangers! Mwuahahaha…
Reviewer Responses:
Susan W – Nope, no subliminals here! Tee hee, try not; do, or do not. There is no try. ;) Actually, about the foreshadowing with Arwen? I honestly don't know if it was meant to be. I think sometimes that I'm such a fan or foreshadowing that I just sort of write it in instinctively without noticing. Or it could have just been—of all things—subliminals, I suppose, as "red sky" quotes are ones I'm quite fond of…and I do sail… And SORRY about the lack of update-goodness last week! And next week. :(
ForeverFaramir – Ha! Nope, not telling! And I'll sic my mini-Balrog on your killer butterflies. I even have nutella here for him to dip them in when he's done with the flash-frying! Far more frightening and hazardous to my life was your review; I definitely ended up almost doing a spit-take with my tea; smart ass, me? Hee! Well, miss smarty-pants, he didn't have a knife up his sleeve, it was an arrow, so there! But yeah, you almost killed me. Must be some kind of subconscious revenge for the lack of info on poor little Faramir, I suppose…
Avalon – Yay, typo-spotter reciprocation! lol And I figure to keep up with each other, Legolas and Gimli have to be pretty clever. Otherwise they would have gotten each other killed before Aragorn's wedding. Er, I mean, "but of course, they are both utter geniuses." Put the arrow and axe down, boys, or I'll do something horrible. I'm the Mistress of All Evil, do you two really want to tempt me? That's it, drop the sharp objects and back away slowly… Ahem, sorry, character control, I'm back now. Ooh, ooh, look! Behind the tree! Hurry Avie, he's bolting, get him…! Blast. Stupid jumping Elves… Well, better luck next time…
Quiet Infinity – Ooh, nice line. Mind if I use that? It may well pop up sometime in conversation… Yep, dragging 'em along by their pointy little ears! Yeah, I always thought they sailed too. I never really even thought about them staying, actually—why would they? They're Elves, and they don't end up falling to Luthien's Doom, so…? But that's just me; I frankly can't even wrap my mind around Arwen and Luthien's reasoning…shrug. Did you know that Tolkien and his wife have "Beren" and "Luthien" inscribed on their graves? I just think that's so neat…
Laiquendi – Tricksy Elf indeed and hey! Gimmee that nutella! Aw, c'mon, take pity on a poor college freshman and give me the sweet chocolatey/nutty goodness…I promise to read it as soon as I get back, really I do...I'm so far behind on reading…and Ouch! That had to hurt. Laiquendi, when Avie's hunting Elves, remember to wear orange when going into the dark forest…arrows can be painful to pull out…ask Aragorn soon! Hee, evil hint dropping, thy name is Rhys!
Slayer3 – Ooh, ooh, happy snow dance! Yay! Ooh, ooh, and I get to go home and they have snow there! I'll do the happy snow dance again with you! Woo hoo:D
East Coastie – Well, if I were a smart ass, I would say he had an arrow…smirk! Aaaaaaaaas for Faramir…heh heh heh heh heh…heh heh. Heh.
Jebb – Up the volume, crescendo! Brinkelfship indeed; and poor Gimli still hasn't gotten to use his axe. Legolas better be extra careful around the skull-loping-deprived Dwarf for a bit, methinks. As for talking sense…well, I respect Éowyn most highly and all but…talking sense? Into Legolas? Is that possible? Especially when Gimli's around to egg him on! I mean—sense? Does that word even exist when we get our Elf and Dwarf together?
flowerbee1 – Yay, eeeeeeeeeevil me:D Well, he has a plan…maybe not a good one, but a plan nonetheless. Yes, getting into heads is good. But remember Gimli dear it's better when you don't have to break them open with an axe to do so! That's it, put it down…good Dwarf… Yeah, they're a little upset at me for abandoning them to finals…and they're armed…not a good combo. ;) On the Elvish note, I'd prefer to use and to designate speaking in a different language (like they do in comic books) but that can get confusing when I try and html code the story for another site I post on, so I'm afraid italics will have to stay. I'll just promise that there's not going to be any telepathy in the story so you don't have to worry about differentiating. Sorry to confuse!
Aranna – Sorry, Aranna, no king-sick-visits for you. Cunning, yes precious, cunning and sly…and evil. ;) Hope you're feeling better! Maybe I should have sent Aragorn and his Healing Hands over…
Templa Otmena – So…you review "because it's there" then? Heh. Hmm, I might need to invest in a Super Tension-O-Meter…can't have implosions. Very messy. Although better than explosions, I suppose… DOOM! DOOM for all! Yay! Ooh, and more to read…bugger it all and thank you very much! I love getting recommendations…even when I don't really have time…heh heh. And mayhem, mayhem for ALL! And doom, of course. Mayhem and doom.
Sorry folks, no time to post for Shadows Creeping before I have to catch my flight. :( Don't be mad? I will as soon as I get back! Promise! And Ostad, too! Enjoy St. Paddy's Day and the Beginning of Spring (March 20th) and I'll see you all in two weeks. Terribly terribly sorry about falling through on updates last week. I'll try not to let that happen again. Anyway, time to go now. Off to the airport!