The last chapter... =( This was my first Ranger's Fanfic, and I'm sorry it's ending, I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for the reviews, please read and review some more, it's a writer's fuel to do what they do.

Castle Araluen was magnificent; it rose above the rolling green hills of the fief like a horse rearing in the sunlight. It dominated the landscape with its majestic beauty. The towers spiraled into the sky; the light tan stone gleamed in the dying light of the early sunset. Fell stood mounted with his Deputy and Halt, along with his apprentice, Rowan.

Halt nudged his sure footed steed forward, his followers trailing after the grizzled Ranger silently. They moved swiftly across the landscape as they made their way towards the castle.

By the time night had fallen they were safely within the walls of the massive castle. Fell and his Deputy were to appear before the King in private, many of the King's Council had objected to the alliance with the rebels, and the King wished to meet without conflict.

As they stood in the outer room to the throne room, Fell paced. Strider watched him, her hazel eyes never betraying her emotions. She stood against the stone wall, waiting calmly as her leader fought off nerves. In truth, she was ready to jump right out of her skin she was so unease.

"Fell, he's not going to eat us." She told him quietly. He stopped pacing and turned to face her, his green eyes troubled.

"How can you be sure?"

Strider's mouth twitched with the slightest hint of a grin, "Do you hear yourself?"

Fell frowned; his shoulder slumped under his cloak. "I'm just nervous. I've never had to stand before royalty before. I mean, not like this"

Strider smiled, "Neither have I, now smooth your feathers you weather beaten crow, everything's going to be fine."

"How do you know?" Fell asked.

"I don't, but I'm not going to be pessimistic about this. Fell, the castle is not going to burst into flames randomly while you're speaking to the King."

"It doesn't have to burst into flames for this to end badly."

Strider rolled her eyes and put her hands on Fell's shoulders to shake him gently. His green eyes were pitiful as his Deputy looked him in the eyes and spoke to him softly.

"Anything short of a raging inferno is something you can handle," Fell opened his mouth to object but Strider silenced him with a sharp look, "you're a great leader Fell. It's fact, the Shadows would you straight to Hell if you asked them.

Fell looked utterly defeated, "I wouldn't ever ask that of anyone," he pointed out meekly.

Strider let him go with a smile and a sigh. "I know, you're too kind to do that to anyone."

The King's secretary came to fetch the Shadows soon after Fell had calmed himself. The man was short and rather plump, with thick black curls and level brown eyes. He was dressed in a fine tunic and hose, his boots were sensible enough. His nose was straight and proud; he held his chin high and carried himself with dignity.

His smile was welcoming and kind as he ushered Fell and Strider forth into the throne room. The throne room was massive, with a pitched ceiling and beautiful windows with colorful glass panes. Lit with what seemed to be a million candles mounted on brackets along the walls, the throne rooms' floor was made up of well polished marble and alternating diamonds of a pale black and faded white.

At the end of the room sat a tall well built man with broad shoulders and a head full of blonde hair and a full beard. His piercing green eyes were deep set under full brows; the King had a slightly crooked nose and a square jaw. In his full suit of well polished armor he was a warrior to be respected.

Fell and Strider came to stand before him, in perfect unison they both dropped to kneel before the King respectfully. Standing beside the King were two cloaked figures that Fell recognized as Halt and Crowley. The rest of the throne room was empty, dwarfing the few inhabitants greatly.

"You may rise." The King's voice was soft, but it carried to the Shadows clearly. They stood once more; Fell wincing as he disturbed the still healing wound in his side. In a fairly recent skirmish he'd reopened the wound, and it had yet to heal completely. His Deputy glanced at him and raised an eyebrow; he twitched a shoulder in the slightest indication of a shrug.

"It's an honor to finally meet you; I've heard wonders about the Shadows."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Fell replied smoothly.

The King's gaze switched to Strider, his green eyes twinkled. To Fell he said, "I understand that you are the leader of the Shadows, and this is your mistress," Fell blushed crimson under his light tan; Strider choked back a un-lady like retort. For a moment the King looked lost.

"I'm afraid your mistaken Your Majesty, Strider is nothing more than a loyal friend and trusted Deputy."

King Duncan recovered quickly, "My apologies, I had heard that there was a female warrior among your ranks, I just didn't know I'd get a chance to meet her."

Great, so much for a good first impression, Strider thought as the King continued, she almost missed what he said next.

"I'd like you to stay awhile to meet my council, if it's not too much trouble."

"We'd be delighted Your Majesty," Fell said to Strider's dismay. She hid her displeasure behind a smile as they were led from the throne room.

They met with the King's Royal Council in a large meeting room, where the many noblemen and their wives were already seated. At the large rectangular table Strider counted at least fifteen noblemen who would in time become Royal pains for her. Many of them frowned once they learned that she was not Fell's lover but instead his Deputy.

Strider could hear them whisper about her, she watched as they dodged her glares and glances. She was placed next to a broad shouldered Knight, who had no wife to speak of. He was light hearted, humorous and well mannered. For all he was young, he was civilized. Fell was on her other side, though he spent most of his time caught up in conversation with the council.

"I'm Horace, I don't think I caught your name," the Knight beside her said. Strider gave him a look, and liking what she saw she smiled, her hazel eyes were hard with resentment.

"You can call me Strider," she replied and he nodded. Strider took a sip of wine from her glass; she was determined to ignore the hateful looks shot in her direction. It seemed as if no one approved of her. That was fine, she was used to it, and female warriors were often regarded that way.

"I've never met a woman fighter before," Horace told her.

Strider cocked an eyebrow at him, "I've never met a knight who was still wet behind the ears."

Horace looked almost hurt, "Ouch, it bites."

"It carries dagger too, so tread lightly," Strider retorted sharply, Horace couldn't contain a chuckle.

"So what's it like?"

"Carrying daggers? It's pretty simple, you just stick one in your boot and hope you don't trip."

Horace grinned, "I mean what it like is to be a lady warrior."

Strider shrugged, "What's it like being a male warrior?"

"It's fairly tiring, but rewarding."

"Being a lady warrior is exactly the same. Only people don't usually look at you and think that there's something wrong with you, and that you're off your rocker. Or insane. Everyone thinks you're impaired, oh yes, and that you're canoodling with your leader."

"If it makes you feel better, I don't disapprove of you. You're quite amusing."

Strider grimaced, "Thanks, that's one down, I've just got to win over an entire Kingdom."

"What's the Cult like?" Horace asked, curious.

"Like an itch you just can't scratch."

Horace nodded, he knew the feeling. "What do you know about their leader?"

"A lot. He's about 6'1", dark haired with blue eyes. Pretty well built, he's about in his late twenties, with a testy temper. And he hates his sister with a violent passion."

Horace frowned, "How d'you know that?"

"He tried to kill her recently."

"I had no idea; his sister must've been terrified." Horace took a swig of wine.

Strider grunted, "Mind you, I was a little loopy, I tumbled down a rock turf during the wonderful reunion."

Horace, mid sip, coughed and almost choked. Strider clapped him on the back until he caught his breath. He stared at her in shock. "Well that makes more sense," he gasped as he fought for air.

Strider raised an eyebrow, "Enlighten me."

"I heard about a Shadow being related to the leader, but I didn't think it was you."

"Thanks, I don't like my brother very much either."

Horace shrugged, "So you killed the previous leader…"

Strider nodded, "Rumors are nasty little buggers aren't they? What else do you know about me?"

Horace took a moment to gather his thoughts before he said quietly to Strider, "You killed the previous leader of the Cult in his palace, you're the psychotic sister of the Cult's current leader. You're said to be working for the Cult, and you're plotting to kill Fell."

Strider tilted her head to the side and frowned, "I hadn't heard that one."

Horace stared at her blankly, "You don't seem psychotic to me."

Strider shook her head, "That one is partly true, I'm starting to think a form of stupidity, or insanity runs in my family."

"How so?"

"My brother's a maniac, and the last time I checked, almost everyone at this table was giving me an I-think-she's-crazy glare." Luckily Strider had kept her voice down so on one else heard. "As for me being a lying and cheating back stabber that is plotting to kill her leader, that's a lie. I don't have the patience to try and kill my leader, and I'm loyal, despite what everyone thinks about me." Strider took a sip of wine and winced.

Horace frowned, "Are you okay?"

Strider rubbed her temples, "It's the wine, it's not watered down. I'm just not used to it."

Horace shrugged; there wasn't much you could do about that. Suddenly the table fell silent. The King had raised a hand for order; now that the meal was over they had matters to discuss among the council. He said a few words that Strider didn't catch as she worked hard to stifle a yawn. She resumed her attentive composure just as one of the King's advisors voiced an opinion, Fell answered question after question with practiced patience. Strider however was more reluctant to pay attention, a sharp remark caught her attention.

"And what of your Deputy? How can you be sure he's loyal? If were to make an alliance we'd prefer to know you hold a strong leadership over your men. From what I've heard, he's is the sibling of the Cult's leader."

Strider's mouth twitched and Fell stopped her rising comment with a stern look. Then, hoping his Deputy would keep quiet he addressed the nobleman.

"My Deputy has proven herself time and time again as loyal; she's never led me to believe that she'd be guilty of any treachery before."

The nobleman let out a snort, "A woman, as your Deputy? The Shadows sure are something, who else is among your ranks? Children? Puppies?"

"Just what are you implying? That as a woman, Strider's not fit to fight?"

"Women are soft hearted, and they are not warriors. They are good for nothing more than raising children."

Strider's hazel eyes danced with defiant flames, she let out a loud sneeze. "I'm sorry, I seem to be allergic to false assumptions."

Fell gave Strider a look that could've peeled paint, she ignored him, but took his warning into consideration.

"With all do respect, Strider is a valuable fighter and as skilled as the rest of us. She's worked as hard, if not harder to prove herself, time and time again."

The nobleman, Murray he was called, refused to come off it. "Then the Shadows are a weak force for sure. Agreeing to an alliance with the likes of you would be suicide. We'd be protecting you as well as ourselves, not to mention the possible spy amongst your ranks."

Strider leveled her gaze with Murray, hazel eyes blazing. Her tone was icy and Horace half expected to see ice in the air her. "Associating with my brother is particularly difficult when he's hell bent on hacking my head from my shoulders."

Murray snorted in disgust, "Even if you aren't plotting with the enemy, I hardly think bedding with your leader makes you worthy to be his Deputy."

The remark, offensive as it was, was a true opinion of many of the King's Council. Lady warriors, uncommon across Araluen and the neighboring Kingdom's were rare as a three legged man. In many cases they were regarded as nothing but bedmates to their leaders and comrades. Fell considered that maybe the wine had gotten to Murray, and kept the shear anger out of his voice. "With all do respect, Sir Murray, there is no relationship between my Deputy and I. She's not my Deputy because of any relationships with anyone among the Shadows, Strider might be happily betrothed for all I know of her personal life."

Fell's gaze locked with Murray's, then spread to sweep over anyone else at the table, daring them to challenge him. His tone turned solemn as he said, "Every now and then you find a rare person with defiant dedication, an errant mindset, and an uncanny ability to drag the last bit of kick out of anyone's gallop. It's good to look over your shoulder and know that as as the days drag on there is someone who will always be there by your side to lead on, even when you're gone. I think that's reason enough to justify Strider's place as my Deputy."

Strider smothered her surprise, she couldn't believe her ears. Part of her wanted to kick Fell while the other wanted to hug him for such a high compliment. Murray on the other hand didn't look the slightest bit soothed, he said something wry that Strider didn't catch as she resumed her composure.

Fell kept his face clear of emotion, his Deputy tapped his shoulder and whispered something to him softly, he then turned to look at the King, "If Your Majesty would allow it, and I'd like to prove something to Sir Murray through hand to hand combat. It's only natural that you'd all be skeptical of the Shadows abilities, we're outsiders after all."

The King nodded, his green eyes showing his approval, though he might be confident that an alliance would be worth it he had to let the Shadows prove it to his Council. Murray looked smug as he awaited the challenge.

"Murray, a challenge-"

"I accept," he said instantly, "I'll fight you," The leader of the Shadows nudged his Deputy as Murray finished.

"Unfortunately," Strider said, hazel eyes dancing wickedly, "Fell's still recovering from a stab wound to his side. As his Deputy, I'll be taking up the challenge."

"So be it." Murray said rising from his chair as the council began to break up and head to the fighting court. Halt and Crowley caught up with Fell and Strider easily.

"I can't say this will go well," Crowley told them, "Murray's a senior knight, and he's almost a foot taller than you, Strider."

Strider shrugged, "I've got a plan."

Halt cocked an eyebrow, "Care to share it?"

"Yes, my plan is to think of a plan."

"How many glasses of wine did you have?" Fell wanted to know after Strider's reply.

"I lost count after about six," Strider informed him in a sardonic voice as she stumbled a few paces. She smirked and clapped Fell on the shoulder, "Fell, I got this. If I lose what does he gain? He gets to brag he beat a girl, whoop-de-doo, however if I beat him fair and square the King's Council gets to see just what kind of rough and tumble fighters the Shadows are. They'd be impressed if one of their warriors gets the snot knocked out of them by a girl. The knife cuts two ways."

Fell sighed, "It does, but if he wins the King's Council is going to think that the Shadows are a group of stumbling drunken women, I don't like that edge."

Strider was smiling wickedly as she stretched her arms, "You don't have to like it, you just have to stand on the side lines and look pretty. And I'm not drunk Fell, I can handle a few glasses of wine."

Horace fell in line with the four cloaked figures quietly. Crowley went to introduce the burly knight. Horace stopped him, with an apologetic look, "We've already met, and I think that you should forfeit, Strider."

Strider looked at him levelly, her striking hazel eyes dancing, "Why's that?"

"No offence, but Murray's a real piece of work. It would look bad if you got hurt while fighting him-"

"What makes you think I'm going to get hurt? No offence Horace, but I've fought my share of battles, I can catch punches and throw 'em back."

Fell nodded, "Kicks too, and insults." Then he sighed, "You're not doing this just because he insulted you, are you?"

Strider shrugged, "Not exactly, but I think it's going to put a bit of vehemence in the fight."

They arrived at the practice yard as nobles of the King's council filed in and found benches to be seated at as they watched. The night air was thin and cool, a light fall breeze buffeted the crowd lightly. The Training yard was dirt packed as tight as a rock with a thin layer of dust coating the top. The benches on either side of the rectangle dueling space were half full as Strider found a place she could conveniently stretch.

Strider settled onto a bench as she tugged off her cloak and arm guards. Both Fell and herself had arrived in full Shadow uniform with their cleanest tunics and neatest composure. Strider's boots came off as well, and she tucked them close to the bench as she stood. She frowned for a moment, thinking hard, then unclasped her belt and let her knee length over tunic free of its restraint before tugging it over her head.

"I don't want to get my blood on this," She told Fell with a grin as she placed her tunic on the bench. Standing in trousers and a plain white short sleeved shirt she looked as slight as ever. Strider cracked her knuckles, neck and back all in turn, and continued to stretch while the Ranger's, Fell and Horace stood close by. Across one arm was a thin wrap of bandages, covering the healing scars of a close encounter with jagged river rocks.

The injury was a minor one, the bandages were more for the purpose of healing the grotesque scars than healing an open wound.

Strider's hazel eyes darkened as she watched Murray across the rectangle. He had shed much of his clothing as well and was stretching in a pair light tanned breeches. Strider took the moment to get a better look at her foe. He was tall, roughly 6'2", with a solidly muscular frame and broad shoulder. His nose was slightly crooked and his chin was set stubbornly, his short cropped blonde hair accented his fair blue eyes.

"You can still quit now," Horace reminded her. She smiled up at him, her hazel eyes were like a river that had frozen over as she met the knight's level gaze.

"Win or lose, I'm going to learn something here. I may as well not pass the chance up. I'd like to know just how well trained you Araluens are these days."

Strider was stretched out on the dusty ground, leaning forward to touch the toes on her left foot. Muscles in her back, legs, thighs and arms all tightened briefly before loosening. She was repeating the same exercise with her left arm and right foot when Fell crouched beside her and spoke softly to her.

"You can quit you know, I don't care if you don't want to go through with this."

"I'm not going to defeat the purpose of out rightly insulting a nobleman because you think I'm going to break a leg. Fell, I've fought worse."

Fell sighed, "Not after four glasses of wine."

Strider smirked, but the gesture never reached her eyes. "It was six, and what fun would it be if I was completely sober?"

"Completely safe fun." He said, but didn't try to convince his Deputy to give up the fight anymore; he pulled her gently to her feet instead. "Don't let him break you." He said to her quietly before she went to stand across from Murray in the sparing ring out lined it vibrant white chalk. The sky ahead was clear and thickly speckled with stars; a full moon was beaming overhead. Apart from the dull torchlight the calming moonlight illuminating the sparring grounds. A line split the rectangle in two, and both fighters lined up to face one another.

The difference in size and girth was all too obvious. Murray stood half a head taller than Strider, his arms were twice as thick and he was noticeable more muscular than the girl. What many people found to be so misleading about the slim Strider was her build. As slight as she was, Strider was wiry, and many people overlooked the lean muscles and sinews concealed within her shapely frame.

The King had each fighter shake hands before he nodded to them from the side of the sparring square. "You may begin."

The ground felt cold beneath Strider's feet, she felt her blood warm as in began to race beneath her skin. She felt the many gazes of the King's Council watching her; she planned to give them a show to remember. The adrenaline pounded in her veins, she loved the familiar alertness that came before a fight.

Both Strider and Murray moved back from the line of scrimmage after the King declared a start. It was to be one straight forward match. The first to grapple the other into submission or render the other incapable of continuing the fight would be declared the winner.

Murray and Strider eyed one another coolly. Strider had slid into a half crouch, balancing her weight lightly on the balls of her feet. He came at her first, just as balanced and prepared to strike. She dodged his first punch, aimed at her head. She ducked under his arm and snatched hold of his wrist with a firm grip, planted her left foot as she did so and snapped her right foot out in a sharp kick to his exposed side.

He let out a grunt of pain as he lost his balance, Strider attempted to send him sprawling over her hip. Murray broke her hold on his wrist and countered her neatly, regaining his balance and knocking her feet out from under her.

Strider hit the ground with a loud thud, she smacked the ground and rolled to her feet, dust clinging to her once white shirt. Murray swept forward with a series of well aimed punched and kicks. Strider dodged a punch and a kick nimbly before taking a devastatingly powerful left punch to her jaw. The blow sent her sprawling to the ground, on the side lines Fell flinched. He watched his Deputy with a smothered look of concern clouding his features.

Strider was back on her feet in an instant, a bruise already beginning to form on the left side of her face.

"She could've blocked that," Halt murmured softly.

Fell nodded, "She hesitated," he seemed distracted, as if he was thinking hard about something. "I think she meant to take a hit, just to see how much damage a hit could do. At least, that's what I hope. Maybe it really is the wine..."

Murray lunged for Strider, his thick hands preparing to grapple her, but she was prepared for this, she slid out of his would be choke hold with a lithe movement. She drew her right leg out and caught Murray's left knee with a hard kick. He stumbled and almost fell before launching himself at Strider once more. This time he managed to get a grip on Strider's shoulders and neck, with his superior strength a throw wouldn't be far off, and Strider worked desperately against his arms. She stepped towards him, into his hold she raised a foot and slammed into the back of his knee while pressing weight on his neck and shoulders.

Murray's right knee buckled forward, his weight as well as Strider's sent him smashing into the dirt with enough force to drive the wind from the massive knight. Strider rolled away from him as they hit the ground, she staggered to her feet wincing just in time for Murray to heave himself to his feet as well. The knight wasted no time, he advanced rapidly, and Strider ducked and dodged a flurry of kicks and punches, she took a heavy handed fist to her ribs before she could retaliate.

Murray's greatest strength was the devastatingly power behind each attack, Strider could slip from he grasp like a ease, but it would take one hit to send her sprawling. Like a double edged knife, Strider found ways to turn this against him. Being more agile and nimble was second nature for her. Her counter strikes were usually precise and ineffective, at first. Strider's patience served her well as she landed several hits on Murray's weakening right knee. He was beginning to limp.

Crowley noticed and smiled, "Interesting strategy."

Fell shrugged, "Isn't it? It's always puzzled me, the way she can knock a knight double her size off his feet, I had to look closer to realize just what she was doing."

Halt watched Strider carefully, she moved swiftly, one movement leading to the next in a smooth transition. He was reminded faintly of an intricate dance.

Suddenly Murray found an upper hand; he grappled with Strider once more, this time finding an advantage as he crippled his opponent to the ground. Fell stiffened as his Deputy's rapid movements were slowed when Murray locked one arm behind her back. A cut had opened above one arched eyebrow, a trickle of blood found its way into her eyes to blind her. She managed to get a knee free and drag it into the soft belly of her opponent. He gasped as Strider slipped from his grip and to her feet.

Strider drew a sleeve of her tunic across her face, wiping the blood from her eyes, Murray was already on his feet again when she could see again. He started to rush her again, but she stopped him dead in his tracks. Grim faced, Strider snapped her right foot out in a high kick, and in a blur of movement she slammed the shin of her foot against Murray's temple. The knight was too startled to block the sudden flurry of movement.

Strider watched as Murray's eyes rolled back into his head, his body went limp and he collapsed. He fell to the floor and lie very still as the King crouched beside him. Strider suppressed a shudder as pain lanced through her right leg, in her rushed assault she'd hit her opponent with the wrong part of her foot, the hit however was just as effective.

"He's unconscious," The King said after a moment, he looked up at the sweat drenched and still panting girl before him and smiled, his face lighting up like the sun. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Strider said, grinning weakly she managed to make her way back to where Fell and the Ranger's and a shocked Horace were waiting. The burly knight couldn't stop himself as Strider settled back onto the bench.

"How are you that fast?" He asked, and Strider shrugged. If the Ranger's or Fell were impressed they hid it well.

"My mentor always said 'Find your own strengths in your opponent's weaknesses'. Since most of my opponents are twice my size just in muscle, I learned how to be precise, and fast."

Horace was shaking his head, "I don't believe it."

"I'm serious; my mentor was the most annoying little monkey man ever. I couldn't spend more than ten minutes near him without wanting to cheerfully choke him for all his silly proverbs."

Strider grinned up at Horace as Fell took a seat next to his Deputy. He tugged a handkerchief free of his belt and passed it to her, "You're still bleeding," he told her as he gestured to the cut above her eye. She shrugged and wiped the blood away from the cut and shyly accepted a canteen of water from Fell.

Winning the fight had its side effects; Strider's side had a constant dull ache due to several bruised ribs. She could feel the sting of bruises across her shoulders and arms, her jaw ached at from the punch she'd managed to catch so efficiently. She was happy that the King called an end to the Council's interrogation of the Shadows for the night once the fight was over. Murray had come to, and they shook hands before the Shadows were led away by the Rangers.

Fell's dislike of castle's and royalty had been apparent, and the offer to stay at the palace politely declined. Instead of camping on a hillside Crowley welcomed the Shadows to his cabin for the night, as cramped as it was they'd been staying since they'd arrived in the main fief of Araluen. Rowan was already there, he'd stayed behind to practice his archery and tend to his gelding, Flint. The horse was named for his coat, a solid gray with the slightest tint of black to it with a flowing black mane to match.

Long after everyone else had fallen asleep Strider lay awake, thoughts shifting through her mind. Every time she pushed a thought away it came back to her like a feather adrift in the wind. It was seemingly impossible to banish the single thought from her mind, lately it was a ghost that haunted her. She stole a glance at Fell, and let the thought trickle into her mind like cold water. He was covered with blankets to his shoulders, laying on his back, his head leaning on one shoulder. The fierce green fire of his eyes was absent, making him look calm and tranquil. Just who am I to him? she asked herself, once more Strider found she didn't want to know the answer. I'm his Deputy, nothing more, he knows it, and I know it. We'd be nothing but a bad romance, and very cross couple. She turned her back to her leader and closed her eyes, Wouldn't it be worth the try?

I had mixed feeling about the ending, and the fight between Strider and Murray. I wasn't sure I wanted Strider to win, but I think it's only fair. She earned it through long years of training and battling, surely she could take down a complacent knight? See what I mean? I'm very fickle about this...

So now we know Strider's hate of noblemen\noblewomen. We get to see at the end there a little bit of a dramatic encounter about Strider's deeper feelings about Fell. Someone asked me about there different ages... Fell-20 Strider-18. Then they asked why they were so young, lolz, it's because of the Shadows dwindling forces. Life's short for them.

Aww, it's all done now. Sort of. I have written a sort of epilogue that sums up the futures of the characters, war, and stuff like that. I left room for a sequel, because I have a particular liking for my characters at this point. I just haven't decided if a sequel would be worth it. Any thoughts?

Please read and review! Reviews make the world go round, or well sort of. I think gravity does that actually, but you get the jest. =P

Sequel or not?

Please let me know, I don't want to write one out if no one's going to read it. ;)