A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews and cake. :) Also, I mentioned this at the beginning of the story, but here's just a friendly reminder that this story takes place about a month after the end of season 4…so it's been a month since Morgana attacked with Agravaine and Arthur pulled the sword from the stone.

Chapter Eleven: Of Trust and Prophecies

Merlin stood awkwardly in the midst of the felled men as Arthur hugged him, laughing his head off at something Merlin didn't quite understand. But, then, at least Arthur was clearly not angry or scared of him, and Merlin could deal with that.

Eventually, though, his stomach prodded him to repeat, "So, no breakfast then?"

Arthur's laughter finally started to subside. He broke the hug and clapped Merlin on the back hard enough to make the warlock stumble. Apparently satisfied that Merlin hadn't tipped over, Arthur moved away, bending over the nearest body.

"What are you doing now?" Merlin asked in exasperation. He still didn't understand exactly what was so funny.

Arthur moved on to the next body, nudging it with his foot. "If they're traveling through the woods, they must have had some sort of provisions…Aha!" He tore the pouch off from the man's belt and shook it. "There you are," he beamed, pulling out some strips of dried meat, "Breakfast. Eat up."

Merlin accepted the food Arthur gave him and nibbled on it without really noticing what he was doing. His eyes were fixed on the dead man's face.

"I recognize that one. He's one of Trent's men."

Arthur frowned. "So not just bandits, then. They were looking for us."

"Gwil might have put out some sort of bounty on us."

"Then there may be more of them out there. We need to get back to Camelot."

Merlin nodded and took another bite, wincing as it touched his painfully dry throat. "If we start walking now, we should run into a patrol eventually. I can try to hide our tracks so no one else finds us." His knees nearly gave out on him and he concentrated on keeping from wobbling. He felt exhausted, but it was a good kind of exhausted, the kind that indicated his sore magic was getting stronger, like a freshly exercised muscle. And he would not, could not give up now. He could rest when they got back to Camelot.

Much to his embarrassment, Arthur appeared at his elbow to steady him. "What, you mean we're going to walk?"

"Well, unless you found a horse for us to ride on your pathetic failure of a hunting trip…"

"Why don't we just take your dragon?"

Merlin couldn't help but smile a bit. Arthur Pendragon, son of magic-hating Uther, wanting to ride a dragon.

Arthur scowled and gave him a tiny shove, although he still kept a firm grip on his arm. "No need to be so smug about it. I still don't like that thing. Just call it."

"He's not a horse. Plus, we can't just go flying a dragon into Camelot, not unless you want to reveal I have magic and start a panic. And you said he healed me…He usually sticks around after doing that. If he left me, whatever it is must be important."

"He did say something about missing enthusiasm."

Merlin, who had been about to take another bite of the dried meat, lowered the food as his stomach clenched. "Aithusa's missing?"

"Hold on, 'usually?!' As in, he's had to heal you before?"

"Yeah," said Merlin distractedly, mind whirling with worry. "These woods, in fact. Got stung by serkets. Almost died." He needed to get Arthur to Camelot first, he decided. Kilgharrah was searching for Aithusa, and probably had a better idea of where to find her. Merlin's priority, as always, had to be Arthur. And he himself probably needed to see Gaius, judging from the way spots danced before his eyes when he moved too quickly. He pushed thoughts of the missing dragon from his mind. He would worry about that later.

"Merlin, don't lie to me. You don't have to anymore."

"It's not a lie. I've still got the scar on my back."

"When did this happen?!"

"Right after Morgana came back. Ran into her and her sister plotting in the woods. They chained me up and left me for the serkets. My magic didn't work on the chains—probably would've died if I hadn't called him."

"You were gone for two days," Arthur realized, a comical look of comprehension dawning on his face.

Merlin smirked. "Told you I was dying."

"…We're going to have a lot of conversations like this, aren't we?"

"Probably."

"Best get started, then."

Hours of walking passed, until Merlin's voice had gone hoarse from talking. At first, Arthur had demanded Merlin start from the very beginning, but soon he accused Merlin of glossing over some instances—something Merlin admitted. He'd simply saved Arthur too many times over too many years to possibly remember every single occurrence.

Instead, Arthur took to asking him question after question on every strange thing the king could remember happening to him over the past few years. Arthur already knew that Merlin had been behind the blue light in the cave and the disappearance of the dragon, but he guessed there had to have been more instances than that. And sure enough, there were plenty. Merlin told him tales about Agravaine's treachery, about the Questing Beast, Nimueh, wyverns, the troll, Cornelius Sigan, and a dozen other men and creatures he'd defeated. He told him of people he'd saved and people he'd wanted to but couldn't. He told about Morgana's discovery of her magic, of the night he'd poisoned her, and the year of waging silent war that followed her return.

The parts about Morgana were hard to tell and, Merlin guessed from Arthur's silence as he listened, the hardest to hear.

"I don't think that Morgana is your fault," Arthur said when he'd finally finished.

"But maybe…if I'd just told her about me, maybe…"

"Maybe," Arthur agreed. "But I'm not sure how much that would have helped. From what you told me, she'd already turned against us even before you poisoned her. She stole the Crystal of Neahtid, a weapon she knew would be used to destroy Camelot."

"Maybe she didn't know exactly what it was," Merlin said half-heartedly.

"Maybe. But she must have had at least an inkling. And when she came back…She didn't just try to hurt my father, or even just you. She brought an army of the dead down on everyone in Camelot. She tried to kill Guinevere, who'd done nothing to her. And when she attacked a month ago…that wasn't Morgause who tortured Elyan or slaughtered innocent people." Something else occurred to him. "When we took Camelot back, her magic didn't work. Was that…"

"Me, yeah. And the sword. And—"

"Wait, what about the sword? Bruta's sword from the stone?"

"Erm, not from Bruta. Gwen's father made it, actually."

"I knew you made that story up, I knew it! But then how did it get in the stone?"

"I put it there."

"…So it doesn't belong to true king of Camelot, then."

"It belongs to you. I forged it in a dragon's breath for you, so it's meant to be yours, and yours alone. Although I may have borrowed it a few times to kill those undead skeletons."

"…I have a magic sword that can kill the undead?! You made me a magic sword that can kill the undead?!"

"I thought it'd come in handy."

"So…you lied."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yes, Arthur, I lied."

Arthur smirked. "No, I mean recently. You said you couldn't magic me up a sword."

There was really no way to tell Arthur everything Merlin had done, not in the space of a few hours and all at once, but at least Merlin felt like Arthur had a grasp of the basics. The rest would come in time.

As time passed and the scanty meal faded from their bellies, their conversation turned to more pressing matters than exactly how Merlin had spent the last couple years.

"Where are all the knights, sleeping?! At the tavern?!" Arthur demanded, swinging his sword at passing trees. "How have we not run into a single search party? We haven't even seen so much as a patrol! When I get my hands on them—"

"Make them muck the stables for a change," Merlin mumbled. His magic had recovered enough that he walked steadily, and Arthur was no longer hovering near his side. But at this point, his feet ached so much he would have been perfectly content to let Arthur carry him back to Camelot.

His stomach roared its disapproval of their situation. The dried meat hadn't lasted long, and though they'd stopped at a creek for water neither of them had wanted to stop again to hunt and risk not getting back to Camelot by nightfall—especially after a narrow escape from another group looking for them. Instead they'd settled for chewing some leaves Merlin had recognized as edible, although those were not very filling either. Their primary concern was no longer starvation, but the slow progression of the sun in the west. Merlin doubted they could make it through another cold night with only the chainmail padding jacket between them. Still, just because he knew he wasn't quite literally starving didn't mean his stomach knew.

"I could eat a horse right now," he said miserably. "Or roast. Or pie. Or roasted pies. A whole battalion of roasted—"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur snapped. The warlock cast him a scathing look, but complied. Arthur was hungry as well, and Merlin knew from years of experience that a hungry king meant an irritable king. And Merlin was quite happy to listen to him rage at his missing knights instead of his manservant for once.

Merlin didn't mention the worry he could hear in Arthur's tone, but he shared it. Arthur was right. Camelot's king was missing; there should have been dozens of search parties out looking for him. The chances of two men heading straight for Camelot not running into any of them, not even so much as a patrol, seemed highly unlikely. Yet here they were.

Uneasy feelings crept from the back of his mind on the fate of the other knights during Trent's initial attack. He had barely given the knights a second thought once Trent had conjured the wall of fire; his only concern had been getting to Arthur. But the knights had been outnumbered, he knew. Were the knights—his friends—were they dead? Had their entire group been killed and he and Arthur counted among them? Was that why no one from Camelot was searching for Arthur?

But there still should have been patrols. No, something else had to be going on.

"They're fine, you know," Merlin said at last. "They were all still fighting when I left."

"Then where are they?" Arthur scowled up at the darkening sky. "It's nearing nightfall. If we pick up the pace, we just might make it before the sun sets. Come on."

He seized Merlin's elbow and jerked him forward. Merlin barely had a moment to register the sudden momentum before he was falling flat on his face.

"Oh, for—Merlin, are all warlocks this clumsy or is it just you?"

Merlin shoved himself up and brushed the dirt off his cheek. His fingers came away red.

"Merlin?" The worry in Arthur's voice intensified.

He batted Arthur's arm away. "I'm fine, I'm fine, look…Thurh-haele braed." He winced as he felt a sting on his cheek, then looked at Arthur expectantly. "Better?"

Arthur just stared at him, his head tilted a bit to the side.

Merlin flushed. "What?"

"It's just it always seems…strange. Convenient though, I suppose. I'm not quite used to it yet. Must be nice."

Merlin shrugged. "I guess. Usually I'd have to leave it, you know. If I healed anything too quickly, someone might've noticed."

"Didn't seem to bother you when you were healing me all those times."

"Well, no one was going to suspect you of sorcery. And usually when I healed you, I didn't have a choice. You were dying."

"Yes, well…The magic, it's not hurting you, is it? You are feeling better, right?"

Merlin was about to answer when a voice echoed softly in his head. …telling you, it's just an animal. There's nothing here.

"Merlin, no need to look so surprised. I'm only going to ask you how you're feeling once…"

It could be the knights, came a second voice, trying to smuggle the queen out. Merlin felt the color leave his face.

"…And I fully expect an answer."

I don't see anything. We should just get back. If anyone thinks we've defected and reports it to Morgana…

"What's with you, anyway? This last hour you've been all quiet and not insolent."

Or we deliver the queen and get titles in the new Camelot.

"Merlin, are you even listening?"

"Arthur, shh," Merlin ordered.

"…Did you just shh me?!"

"Shh!" Merlin repeated urgently. He yanked Arthur with himself down low to the ground behind a tree.

Did you hear that?

Arthur promptly shoved himself away. "You can't just—"

"Gestillan," Merlin whispered in frustration, trying to force Arthur back down.

Arthur's mouth kept moving, but no sounds came out. His face screwed up in indignation, ready to launch into a tirade, when a few twigs snapped on the other side of some undergrowth. He froze a moment, then quickly rejoined Merlin near the ground. The hand not gripping his sword pushed down on Merlin's shoulder protectively, and the warlock barely kept from rolling his eyes.

Both men stayed perfectly still as the two figures emerged on the other side of the undergrowth. Merlin felt Arthur shove him down just a bit further as the two druids came closer.

I could have sworn I heard someone.

There's no one here. Now can we please get back before someone realizes we've gone?

Fine, fine…

The voices in Merlin's head began to fade as the figures moved further away, toward Camelot. Arthur made to get up once they were out of sight, but Merlin shook his head at him. Only when the voices had gone did he let himself relax. But the moment the tension left his shoulders, Arthur yanked him up by the arm.

What was that?! Arthur mouthed, before stopping and glaring at Merlin with a look that promised multitudes of chores and tortures.

Merlin sighed. "Edniwe hleothor. Before you say anything—"

"You used magic on me!"

"I told you, I've used magic on you before—"

"Yes, well, I didn't realize it at the time. But now I do! And you used magic on me!"

"I'm sorry!"

Arthur folded his arms in front of his chest. "Enjoyed that, did you?"

Merlin watched him warily and decided to go with the truth. "…It wasn't entirely horrible."

Arthur gave a what-am-I-to-do-with-this-imbecile look to the sky.

"Look, I didn't exactly have time to say, 'Pardon me, sire, but druids working for Morgana are nearby and have heard us, so it would be really great if you could shut up right now,' did I?"

Some of the anger in Arthur's face morphed to worry. "Morgana? How do you know?"

"Er, I sort of…Druids can speak only in their heads. With magic. And I can hear them…also with magic."

Arthur stared at him in pure horror.

"Oh! That doesn't mean I can hear whatever you're thinking. It only works for magical conversations, I swear!"

Arthur visibly relaxed. Then he frowned. "The druids have sided with Morgana? But I thought they were peaceful."

"Most of them are, but they've been hunted for years. It's a testament to how peaceful they are that every clan's not out for the downfall of Camelot. My guess is Morgana's only got an odd few on her side."

"But Camelot has left them alone since my father's death. I've no quarrel with them. I've let them live in peace."

Merlin sighed. "And if one of them were to show their face in Camelot? What then? Would you have executed them?"

"No, of course not. I've sworn that they would be treated with respect."

"And if they used magic?"

Arthur hesitated, not quite meeting Merlin's eyes. "I've really messed things up, haven't I?" he said quietly.

"You did the best you could."

"My best wasn't good enough. I'm not the king those people deserve. I haven't been fair to you or…your kind. Perhaps Morgana—"

"No," Merlin said firmly. "Arthur, you're the true king of Camelot. You have tried, above all else, to bring peace to this land. You protect your people in whatever way you can, and you thought magic was a threat. Even so, you questioned your father's decisions on magic so many, many times. When you took the throne, you didn't start another Purge, despite thinking a sorcerer killed your father. You demanded fair trials for those accused with magic. You left the druids alone. You haven't so much as actively looked for magic since becoming king. And…And you didn't turn on me when you found out who I was. You may have inherited your father's prejudices, but you have not fallen prey to them. You feared magic, but you did not hate."

"That's Morgana's problem, isn't it? I always thought it was magic that corrupted her, but it wasn't."

Merlin shook his head. "No. Magic does not corrupt, but hate and power do. And Morgana has both. She's let it twist her soul. More so than even Uther, I think."

Arthur nodded, a far-off look in his eyes. "Their mistakes do not excuse my own."

"Perhaps not. But I know that unlike them, you will do everything in your power to right your wrongs."

"You have an awful lot of faith in me."

"Don't you?"

Arthur didn't answer, but he seemed to be thinking hard as they kept walking. A minute passed. Merlin was on the brink of demanding Arthur answer the question when the king stopped short. "Those druids, if they were working for Morgana, what are they doing so close to…"

"Camelot," Merlin finished grimly. He'd had his suspicions after hearing the druids' conversation, but he was hoping to put off dealing with that for a while longer. Sensing the king was about to make a bolt for the castle, Merlin snatched his shoulder. "Don't attract attention!"

"I'm not!" Arthur protested, but he still slowed down.

They both crept closer to the castle, careful to step quietly. Soon the castle turrets came into view, then the city wall…And so did the army of mercenaries and sorcerers camped outside the walls.

Camelot was under siege.

As Arthur and Merlin crouched just out of sight of the camp, Arthur's guts clenched in fear as he surveyed the city walls. The castle itself, at least, did not look damaged. Clearly, Morgana's forces had not yet attacked, although likely they planned to attack soon. He thought of the last time he had seen Morgana, just before pulling Merlin onto the dragon. She had screamed "Emrys" when she saw them—the same thing Gwil had said he was after. Morgana must have come to collect Merlin and his dragon before attacking. What would she do now that she had neither? Call off the attack?

Somehow, Arthur didn't think so.

"How many do you think there are?" Merlin wondered.

"A couple thousand," Arthur replied, surveying the army for a passage through. "Not as large a force as ours, but it looks like only half or so are mercenaries, which means the rest of them are probably sorcerers. That'll even the odds. The castle's in siege mode; that'll make it harder for us to get in…What I don't understand is, why attack now, so soon after her last failure?"

"Morgana thinks you're dead," Merlin reminded him. "She told Gwil to kill you and take me; he only kept you alive for leverage on me. What better time to attack Camelot than right after the death of its king?"

"But now she knows I'm not dead. She saw me."

Merlin's head swiveled away from the army. "What? When was this?!"

Arthur kept his eyes on the campsite. "Just after your dragon arrived, so did she. She saw me and started attacking, so I pulled you onto the dragon and we flew off."

Merlin's voice sounded slightly panicky. "Did she say anything?"

"She yelled 'Emrys' and something magic," Arthur said without really paying attention. The campsite was thinnest at that spot there…If they could sneak through undetected, then somehow climb the wall…?

"Then she knows…She's not attacking because she thinks you're dead," Merlin said as if he was just realizing something. "She's attacking because she thinks I'm dead. Probably was her plan all along to get me out of the way first…"

Arthur scoffed. "I've seen that dragon in action. Trust me, it can do plenty of damage with or without you."

Merlin broke from his reverie to look utterly bewildered. "…What?"

Arthur sighed. At least Merlin really could still be an idiot. The thought was oddly comforting. "Emrys. Your dragon. What Gwil and Morgana were after. They wanted you so they could control the dragon."

He expected to see Merlin nod sheepishly, or even look impressed that he had figured it out, but instead Merlin looked guilty.

"What?" Arthur demanded.

Merlin averted his eyes and said reluctantly, "Emrys isn't the dragon."

Well, Arthur certainly hadn't been expecting that. "Then what is? Morgana's not the only one who said it. Gwil mentioned something, said he didn't just want a sorcerer, he wanted Emrys. Is it some sort of warlock thing?"

"…Sort of." Merlin still wasn't looking at him. Merlin was still hiding things, Arthur realized with a pang.

"Sort of," he repeated coolly, "That's all you're going to say."

Merlin looked like he wanted to speak, but swallowed instead.

Arthur felt a flash of irritation. After everything he'd learned, everything he'd accepted, everything he'd forgiven, Merlin still didn't trust him.

He turned his back on Merlin and returned to studying the campsite below, trying to bury his hurt. "That area looks like it has the lowest concentration of sorcerers. If we sneak through there and climb the wall—"

"You know that wall's too sheer to climb, especially in the shape we're in," Merlin rebutted quietly. "And even if we could, there's no way they wouldn't spot us. They'd shoot us right off."

"Then what would you suggest, since you obviously don't trust me to figure it out?"

Merlin flinched as if he'd been kicked, and Arthur regretted his words immediately. He took a breath to apologize, but Merlin spoke first.

"I do trust you. I do. It's just I've spent my whole life lying—I had to, if I wanted to live, especially once I came to Camelot—and it's against every instinct I have to just…say it."

Arthur felt his face soften. "You don't have to lie anymore. Not to me."

"I know. And I want to tell you. It's just sort of complicated."

"Come on, give me some credit. If you can understand it, it can't be too complicated."

Merlin let out a shaky laugh before taking a deep breath. "Just…I'm still the same person, alright? Don't think of me any differently."

"Merlin, in the past day I've learned you're a warlock and a dragonlord, and yet somehow, you're still the same loyal idiot. Whatever you're about to say isn't going to change that."

Merlin's lips twitched in the beginning of a smile. "Thanks. Alright…" He took a deep breath, looking as if stopping now would make him lose his nerve. "The druids have a prophecy. A prophecy older than the dragons, a prophecy known to all those of their clans…a prophecy about Emrys, the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth. Emrys is destined to help the greatest king in all of history, the Once and Future King, who will unite the five kingdoms and create the land of Albion. Emrys protects him, defends him, guides him, until the Once and Future King restores magic to the land and brings peace to all that live there."

"So that's where you got that name from! You know, I thought that was just you being supercilious…"

Merlin stared at him hard, and Arthur faltered as everything he'd just said sunk in. "…You can't be serious."

Merlin kept staring.

"You're Emrys, aren't you."

He nodded.

Arthur's head spun. "And you think I'm this…"

Merlin's voice did not waver. "I know it. I keep telling you, you're going to be the greatest king in history. It's your destiny. And my destiny is to get you there."

Arthur's head was swimming. The Once and Future King who was supposed to restore magic to the land? Him? But he'd only just even considered the idea magic wasn't entirely evil in the past day or so. And at this very moment, hundreds of magic-users were camped outside his castle ready to attack him and his people because of that.

But at the same time…Albion. It sounded wonderful, almost familiar, sounded like the kingdom he had always dreamed of creating. A kingdom united in peace.

There could never be peace in the kingdom while magic was outlawed. Not while innocent people lived in fear of execution.

This didn't really change anything, Arthur realized. He'd already decided to repeal the magic ban. He would have worked to create Albion with or without the prophecy.

But Merlin, on the other hand…Merlin wasn't even from Camelot. Merlin had left behind his home and his mother to live in a place that executed people like him. Merlin had served and protected him for years because of this prophecy.

"So…you only helped me because it was your job," Arthur said finally, trying to ignore the empty ache in his chest.

"No," Merlin said firmly, "That's not why. At least most of the time. It's like…" He trailed off a moment, looking frustrated. But then, his face grew solemn, with that look in his eyes that Arthur had seen before, like Merlin understood things that no one else could possibly fathom.

"It's like being king. You were born to be king. It's shaped every facet of your life, leading up to that moment when you were crowned. And maybe you feel trapped, maybe you wonder why you, why this. Sometimes you can feel the weight of it all crushing you, and you wish you were anyone else, that you could just leave and let someone else worry about it. But at the same time, Arthur, at the deepest part of yourself, you do want to be king. Not because you want the power, not just because you've been told that's what you were born to do, but because you want to help your people, want to protect and lead and defend them, because you're Arthur and that's who you are. So you were born to be king …and I was born to be Emrys. So yes, it's my job to protect you, but I do it for so much more than that. I do it because you're my friend, and because I believe in you."

Arthur didn't know what to say. Merlin just looked so earnest, so sincere, with every word ringing with absolute honesty. And Merlin had described exactly how Arthur always felt, though he'd never had the right words.

Destinies are troublesome things, he remembered Merlin saying once. It had described how Arthur felt then, and it described how he still felt every day.

Merlin understood him. And now, he understood Merlin.

"Read that in a book, did you?" he said finally.

Merlin smiled. "Read it? I practically wrote it." He looked back down at the army and back at Arthur. "So what now?"

"Isn't it obvious? Now, we break into Camelot."

"Ah, yes. The reckless but noble approach. How?"

Arthur considered for a moment. "We'll circle the castle and see how well the rest of it is guarded, then we'll try to sneak through the least guarded gate. Can your magic disguise us?"

"I can age us, but I need a potion to reverse it. We'd be old until we could reach Gaius and then we'd have to wait for him to make it."

"The castle's on high alert, and as I'd rather not be executed by my own guards…"

Both men jumped when something exploded in the campsite below. Arthur flinched and covered his eyes as a brilliant orange flame burst from behind one of the tents.

"What was that?!" he demanded.

"Aithusa," Merlin breathed in horror.

"What is that, a spell? Are they attacking?"

Merlin stayed rooted to the spot, still staring at where the tent had caught fire. He rubbed his jaw, and Arthur could see his indecision. "We need to get you back to Camelot," Merlin said finally. "And then I'll come back and deal with that."

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "You're doing it again. Tell me what that is and if my kingdom's in any danger from it."

Merlin nodded and took a deep breath. "Right, sorry. Remember that time we went after Borden and the dragon egg? And I told you the egg was destroyed when the tomb collapsed?"

Arthur gaped. "You didn't."

"Her name is Aithusa. She's only a baby."

"That's what your dragon was looking for when it left."

Merlin nodded miserably.

Arthur pressed his lips together. Just what he needed, another dragon. Then he realized the implications behind Merlin's statement. He intended to get Arthur back to Camelot and then come back on his own to rescue a dragon?

"Right, then, change of plan. We rescue this…Aithusa, then we break into Camelot."

"Arthur, we can't. She's my responsibility, not yours. You need to get back to the castle—"

"It's my duty as much as yours to see that dragon goes free," Arthur said determinedly, "It's my father's doing that there are so few dragons in the first place. If I want to make up for all the wrong he's done, that I've helped do, what better place to start?"

Merlin still looked conflicted, so Arthur added, "And Emrys or not, you're my friend and I am not letting you face that alone."

"If Morgana finds you—"

"Yes, because I'm the only one she's after."

"I've faced loads of stuff alone—"

"Yeah, well now you don't have to. And I'm the king, and I say we're both going." And with that, Arthur stalked off, not even turning his head to check if Merlin was following, because he knew he would.

"Prat," Merlin muttered behind him, but Arthur could tell from the way he said it he was smiling.

Edniwe hleothor = restore voice
Gestillan = Be still / Be quiet
Thurh-haele braed. = Heal thoroughly the flesh.

Prepare yourselves for an action-packed baby-dragon rescue attempt on Friday! And please review.