'Ello. So a few of you that follow me on Tumblr probably realised this was coming. Recently I've been getting a lot of reviews on this and it sort of spurred me to try and pick it up again. I've been in a Hobbit mood and I re-read ISOAQ from start to finish the other day and would really like to try and get it finished. So here we are again!

I make no promises, but I will try my best to post a new chapter more than once a year!

Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 35

"I don't suppose you found another exit while you were looking around?" I ask, a little too hopefully. I rip a strip off my shirt to bind the cut on my leg from my short skirmish with Matun not long ago. If we are to have more company I'd prefer to not already be bleeding before we start.

"Unfortunately not," Alvaldir responds flatly. I can see him in the dark of the cave, his head tilted to hear the sound of whoever is approaching, his stolen sword gripped in his hand. "This will be a good choke point, they'll have to come through one at a time."

"Aye, not that we have much choice. You take that side," I say as I position myself on the left of the crack in the wall, Alvaldir takes the other. "First one is mine."

"If you insist." The elf says, his attention on the gap.

I nod to myself. I can hear them approaching now, several pairs of booted feet and clanking metal as they come down the narrow passages. I tighten my grip on my axe and wait.

There is a flash of torchlight from the other side, illuminating the jagged crack in the rock till it looks like the stone is made of citrine. I hear talking, muttered grumbling and then the sound of someone trying to wedge themselves through the gap. There is an awful shrieking sound of metal on stone and I frown to myself.

None of the other rebels were wearing armour.

I don't have time to think on it any longer as a body pops out of the gap like a cork out of a bottle, landing in a heap on the floor.

I have my axe raised but I don't bring it down, instead I kick the figure and feel relief flood through me when they roll over and I recognise their face. "Marrik!"

"My Lady!" He exclaims as he struggles to his feet, grabbing me by the shoulders and giving me a quick look over. His eyebrows are drawn down into a deep frown. He lets out an almost annoyed huff. "You're injured. Again."

I ignore him and glance at Alvaldir who has lowered his sword and sags against the wall, looking irritated but also somewhat relieved. I can't imagine that even the elf expected his visit to Erebor to be quite this taxing - I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

"Marrik, this is one of the rebels hide outs-" I start, patting myself down to make sure I still have the list that Alvaldir found.

"Makes no matter to me, My Lady, I'm only here for you." He tells me, taking my elbow and steering me towards the gap. I stop before he can start stuffing me into the passage and turn.

"Send some of your men in. Alvaldir and I tied up one of the rebels over there," I say, waving a hand to the back of the cave where I know Matun is still tied to the chair. "And there's another over there, and a body too."

"You've been busy, My Lady," He mutters, glancing around, though I doubt he can see the prone figures I've mentioned in this dim light. Marrik considers for a moment before nodding to himself. "Aye, we'll sort it, through you go – and you, elf."

I shuffle into the gap, Alvaldir at my back and we emerge out into the small, roughly hewn chamber we stood in only a short while ago though this time there are a lot less room with all the other guards present. Marrik scrapes his way back out, grunting and bracing himself on the wall to keep himself upright as he reaches us. He has a scowl on his face and I can tell he will not be voluntarily passing back through that gap if he has any say in the matter.

He orders two of his four men through the crack with orders to secure the rebels and search the place, then he and the remaining two dwarves under his charge close ranks around Alvaldir and myself and start to guide us back up through the bowels of the mountain.

"How did you find us?" I ask as we move. We're going up a gentle slope, the walls around us poorly cut and jagged in places. Certainly not a well used area of the Kingdom, not for many years even before the dragon came, I suspect.

"We've been combing the castle all night and day," Marrik tells me, grunting as the slope turns to rough chunks of stair. "Seen more of this bloody mountain in the last few hours than in the whole last ten years combined."

"Are there lots of areas like this?" I question, continuing to climb. My guard is no doubt annoyed at my questioning, his breathing coming out in short puffs, but he answers all the same.

"Aye," He grunts, obviously there are far too many for Marriks liking. "Found a few that had signs of use, most were dead ends, till this one. Glad we found you unharmed, My Lady – though, sounds like you were doing okay on yer own."

"I don't know if I'd say okay," I say, touching a hand to my head and the egg sized lump I find there. "But you're lucky I realised the rebels weren't wearing heavy armour when last we saw them. I was about to put my axe through your skull."

"Glad you didn't." Marrik mutters.

We travel in silence for several more minutes until we reach an opening. The stairs give way to the smooth, flat corridor that I have grown accustomed to in Erebor, though it is still not a part of the mountain that I recognise. It takes a further ten minutes, another set of stairs and a short corridor before we re-enter the more used sections of the mountain.

On our way we pass two sets of guards who are continuing the search, which Marrik orders to begin calling back the other units. Briefly I wonder just how many guards are out looking for me and my elven acquaintance, but it hardly matters now. We don't stop, keeping moving through the Kingdom under the Mountain.

"I need to speak to his Majesty," I say as we go. I recognise this corridor I think, somewhere near the laundry room. "Are my parents okay? And Trúin?"

"Aye all unharmed, though.." Marrik pauses and runs a hand down his beard. "Your mother was in a bad way."

I miss a step and Marrik grabs my elbow to steady me.

"Is she alright? What happened?" I ask, worried. She has been struggling so much with Brúin, looking older and older each time I look at her.

"You were kidnapped, is what happened." Marrik snorts, shaking his head.

I blink and don't respond, my mind spinning. I had not even considered that.

My family has been through so much recently, and it is all because of me.

Perhaps they would have been better off if I had run away from Erebor on that fateful night, when Thorin startled me on the balcony and I launched my book at him.

With a shake of my head I sigh. If I had left my brother would not be fighting for his life, certainly. My mother and father would be living their reasonably peaceful lives and my sister would still be trying to court a King, unknowing of the assassins at his back.

Would that have been better?

I would never have known Kili or Fili, nor Dis. Thorin would have no thoughts of me, and only the memory of a book shaped bruise to recall my presence. I would not have met Lord Dain, Lavri, nor Toldin, or Marrik.

Thorin might even be dead had I not been there in the mines that day.

But who is to say? And I cannot change it now. I can only keep pushing forward, keep doing all I can to keep safe the people I care for.

"Please, send someone to tell her I am fine," I say, after a moment, glancing at Marrik who has been keeping one eye on me and one on our surroundings. He nods. I hate to think that my mother is suffering because of me, I can only imagine what it was like when she found out I was missing.

We pass through the main chamber of Erebor, across walkways and through corridors. If people stop to look at us I do not notice, or care. I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore all the small hurts and protests of my body so I can keep going.

Marrik delivers us to the War Room, knocking once before opening the door. Inside Thorin is pacing, he looks tired but is hiding it well behind an angry expression. Dwalin is propping himself up against a wall, picking something from under his nails with a dagger, while Balin, Fili and Kili sit at the table, talking quietly.

I step into the room and they all look up.

"Rúin!" Kili all but shouts, standing so quickly that he knocks his chair back with a clatter before leaping over it to reach me, his brother a step behind. They're both talking at me, grins on their faces as they take my hand and elbow respectively and pull me into the room. Kili raises a hand to my hair where the matted blood has turned it dark and hard.

"I'm fine Kili, honestly," I start, trying to assuage their many fears as they continue to point out my various injuries. Thorin has frozen mid pace and is watching me with dark eyes. "Princes, enough."

They step back enough to give me space to breathe and I turn to Marrik.

"My mother, please," I remind him. He nods, slapping a fist to his chest before turning and disappearing out of the door.

Balin has risen from his seat and come round to join me too, a look of deep concern on his face as he places a gentle hand on my arm.

"Come sit down lassie, tell us what happened." He suggests, glancing over my head at Alvaldir.

"I know there are a lot of questions but please give me a moment," I say, shrugging him off. I rummage in my shirt for a second before pulling out the list Alvaldir found in the rebels hideout. It is crumpled and has a suspicious red blotch on it that I am sure was not there when it was given to me, but is otherwise legible.

"Dwalin, here," I step away from the princes and hand the paper to him. "We found this, I think it might be drop off locations. There are also two dwarfs – members of the group that took Alvaldir and myself -" I take a breath. "Marrik has guards watching them, they have names of other members of their group. Uh. Mahal, I can't remember them, I'm sorry."

The tattooed dwarf nods, his eyes not leaving the paper I have given him. He reads each word slowly before looking up, over my head to where I assume Thorin is standing, watching. Dwalin nods to his King and without a word to me strides from the room. I don't take his lack of response personally. No doubt the guard captain has many things on his mind and it is imperative that he acts on this information quickly.

"Alvaldir," I say, turning to the elf a little too quickly, my head spins and I steady myself on the wall, earning a worried murmur from Balin. "Alvaldir, there is nothing more you can do for Brúin, is there?"

"No, your brothers life is out of my hands – out of any healers hands – if he is to survive it will be down to his own will now." The elf confirms, watching me steadily. If he is disgruntled from his brief stay among my people he is hiding it well, though I am almost sure he is hiding it. Elves are not as untouchable as they appear.

"I thought as much," I say, trying to give him a smile. "Anything that is within my power to give is yours, for your services."

"There is nothing you have that I want," Alvaldir tells me, touching a finger to his split lip. "I came only to spare Cellinil the journey, as you know."

"Of course," I nod, pause for a second, then plough on, determined to get this out. "You came here under my invitation and I am... ashamed that you were treated as you were. Though the dwarves that did this are small in number and do not represent my King nor the populace of Erebor they are still my people. I will take full responsibility for your injuries."

There are some noises of protest behind me and Kili grabs at my arm, alarmed at my willingness to take blame - but it is my blame to take. I give him my best quelling look and he slowly releases his grip on me, looking worried.

"I will not return to the Greenwood and tell tales of my mistreatment at the hands of your kin should that be your concern," Alvaldir says, his eyes never leaving mine. "Though I urge you, Rúin, Daughter of Yutte to tread cautiously. You find yourself in a very curious position - your actions may effect more than you know."

I tilt my head and debate asking just what Alvaldir might mean by that, but I am not sure I actually want to know. And I have no desire to keep him here longer than is necessary, the sooner he is gone the safer he and the fragile peace between our peoples will be. I am already worried about what King Thranduil will do when Alvaldir returns looking like he just escaped a tavern brawl.

Instead I turn to Thorin who has not moved, his eyes are still watching me but otherwise he has remained uncharacteristically silent, though his expression has darkened during my conversation with the elf. "Your Majesty, with your permission I would like to request an armed guard to accompany Alvaldir back to the borders of Mirkwood."

"I need no guard." The elf objects instantly, as I expected he would.

"Aye, you probably don't, but I'd like to avoid a war with your people, if possible," I am going to need to sit down soon. My legs are aching, my head is pounding and each small injury I have sustained in the last few weeks is making itself known. "It will do none of us any good if you are set upon as soon as you leave the mountain."

Alvaldir watches me for a few moments, perhaps weighing his options and then gives me the most slightest of nods.

I turn back to Thorin.

"Balin, see that it is done," The King rasps out, his eyes still not leaving me. "See that his wounds are tended, give him food, whatever provisions he needs. The elf leaves today."

"Aye Thorin, I'll see to it." Balin agrees, moving over to join Alvadir. I turn with them.

"Thank you," It slips out before I can stop it. Not that I am sure I would have stopped it at any rate. "Thank you for what you have done for my brother. And for your help in the caves. I owe you a great debt, Alvaldir, if there ever comes a time where you are in need of my help, you need only ask."

"I doubt such a day will ever come," Alvaldir says, sounding amused at the thought. "But I shall remember your words, and hold you to them."

I give a short bow in acknowledgement and to my surprise he returns it.

And then Alvaldir is swept out of the room by Balin and gone from my sight.

Silence fills the room as the door edges closed. I exhale, closing my eyes for a long moment and when I open them I am the centre of attention. I watch the three dwarrows in front of me, the Line of Durin, such as it is. Fili and Kili look a mix of worry and relief, whereas Thorin looks how I feel. Tired. Bone tired.

"Fili, Kili, leave us," Thorin orders, glancing at his nephews.

"But uncle-" Fili starts, then cuts himself off at the look Thorin gives him. "We'll be outside."

The two of them stomp out, leaving only Thorin and myself.

"Come here." He orders, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through the space between us.

I want nothing more than to take a seat at the table, put my head on my arms and sleep for a year or two, but of course I can't. I move around the table and Thorin steps forward to meet me, his hands coming up to grip my arms, eyes watching me with an unnerving intensity.

"I am.. relieved that you have returned," He says finally, one of his hands coming up to my face. He runs a thumb across the graze on my chin where the rock struck it, then cups my cheek with his hand.

I tense. With everything that has been going on there hasn't been time for me to address my relationship with the King under the Mountain, nor the odd heat that bloomed in my chest when he kissed me. I still haven't had a spare moment to consider my feelings.

"Thorin, I haven't-"

"I know. Please, let me speak," He says. Thorin pushes some hair from my face, tucking the stray strand behind my ear before gently pressing his forehead to mine. His breath is warm on my face and I can feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest as I place my hand against him.

"Every turn I make seems to find you in more danger," He rumbles, eyes closed, the slightest shake of his head. "When I heard you had been taken... I thought you lost to me for good."

"I... It was not your fault," I reason, unable to decide if this closeness is something I want or not. "No one could have predicted they would target my family like that. Certainly not in our own quarters."

"Even when you sleep trouble is drawn to you. I should have made you leave Erebor when I still could." Thorin says.

"That was never your decision to make," I tell him, tilting my head slightly so that my nose brushes his. The thought of kissing him passes through my mind, a fleeting whisper. "You can not order me to leave, just because you are king."

"Can I not?" Thorin asks, his eyes flickering open to look at me. "Is there nothing I can do to make you heed me?"

I give the question a second of thought in case it is a genuine one, but I am unable to keep my lips from twitching up in to a smile when I realise the answer. "Probably not."

I feel another rumble start in Thorins chest as he suppresses a laugh. He pulls away, breaking the contact and shakes his head before he pulls me against him in a warm embrace. I feel his hand snake up through my hair while the other holds me to him. I hesitate a second before my own arms come up around him, running under his coat to his back. He is so warm, so solid and safe I almost sigh.

I do not know how long Thorin and I stand together, arms wrapped around each other like that. It could have been seconds, perhaps minutes or even hours.

When Thorin pulls away, his hands find their way to my hips. He looks hesitant, not an expression I have come to associate with him, and opens his mouth to speak only to snap it shut again as the War Room door bursts open and my mother flies in.

I do not instinctively step away from the King under the Mountain, but his hands fall from my side and then my mother is there, wrapping her arms around me in an embrace that could rival one of Brúin's bear hugs. Over my mothers shoulder I see my father in the doorway, sagging in relief at the sight of me.

"Oh my sweet girl," My mother says, cupping my face in her hands, mindless of the cuts and scrapes that cover my skin. I am almost embarrassed at the tears that leak down her cheeks as she looks at me, but she does not seem to care that Thorin Oakenshield is standing not three foot away. That speaks more to her unrest than her own tears.

I suppose he has already seen almost every member of my family crying already, what difference does it make if the tears are for me instead of Brúin?

"I'm fine mother, really," I try to assure her with the same line I have used on everyone else, but she just shakes her head, dislodging more tears.

"Quite clearly... you are not.. fine!" She huffs at me in between sobs, then drags me over to sit at the table so she can fuss over me some more.

"Aye lass, listen to your mother," My father finally speaks up, shuffling into the room so that Fili and Kili can sneak back in, along with Marrik who takes his place by the door. I glance up and nod slightly, offering my father a weak smile which he returns.

"What happened to you?" My mother demands, starting to get a hold of herself. She wipes her fingers under her eyes to try and remove the tears but with little luck. A moment later the King has produced a small folded cloth from within his shirt and handed it to her. "T-thank you, your Majesty."

"Think nothing of it, Lady Yutte," He rumbles, moving away to seat himself. "Though I would also like to hear what happened to you – and the elf."

My father seats himself opposite my mother and I, flanked on either side by Fili and Kili. I sigh and run a hand through my hair, wincing as my fingers tangle in the knot of matted hair at the back of my head.

"Well there isn't much to tell. After they knocked me out I woke some time later in a dark cave. I could not say at that time if I was still within Erebor, but shortly after they brought Alvaldir in and shackled him to a chair near me." I say, flinching away from my mother as she stands to look at the back of my head. I hear her quietly tutting to herself a moment later, obviously not pleased with what she finds. "Their plan was to kill me and make it seem like I had died at the hands of the elf."

My father nods as if he had suspected it all along, though I can see him clenching and unclenching his hands. Perhaps he is just angry at the thought of someone plotting my murder.

"I passed out for some time, hours at least I should think. When I awoke there was only one of the dwarves on guard. I... persuaded my captor to release me so I might relieve myself," I say, unsure of how else to put it, I shrug. "He kept my hands bound but freed my legs, so once I was far enough away from the others I strangled him and-"

"Strangled!" My mothers shrill voice makes me wince.

"He was breathing when I left him mother – though I'm not sure he deserved to be," I grumble, and my father gives me a firm nod of agreement. Fili and Kili merely grin back at me so there is no doubt in my mind that they too agree.

"At any rate I took his axe and cut my remaining bonds, then I tried to free Alvaldir but in doing so I woke the others," I explain. I run my fingers over the slowly healing skin of my knuckles. "I killed one and Alvaldir captured the other. Shortly after Marrik found us and here we are."

"And how, may I ask, did you get this?" Thorin asks once I have finished retelling my story. His hand motions to the finger marks around my neck and I pull a face.

"One of the dwarves that first captured me. We had a … disagreement on the motivations behind their attacks," I pause, trying to remember what he had said, but all that comes to mind was that fact that he had been strangling me at the time. "His name was Khune."

"Was he one of the ones you killed?" My father asks and I shake my head.

"No, he left some time after I passed out I think," I explain. "I found out his name later."

There is silence for a few minutes as everyone absorbs the lengths the rebel faction are willing to go to dethrone the King under the Mountain, except my mother who is still poking and prodding my bruised body.

"I see," Thorin says after a moment. "My thanks, Rúin. I know your day has been long, please, go and rest."

I nod, swallowing a yawn as I push unsteadily to my feet with my mothers hand under my elbow, as if she could hold me if I were to fall. She guides me around the table to where my father waits.

"Can we stop by the healing rooms on our way?" I question, avoiding rubbing my eyes. Mahal knows I've all manner of grit and dirt and blood over my hands. Really I would also like to request a bath, but I think I will make do with a wash in my rooms and then finally give myself over to the exhaustion that is threatening to claim me.

"Brúin is unchanged lass," My father rumbles. "Worry about yourself for a while."

"Yes father," I agree, suppressing an eye roll. Any other day I might have suggested I know my own body, but I think he might be right here, still, "I just want to check in on Toldin and make sure he's okay."

A silence sweeps over the room. It feels as if every living thing under the mountain is holding it's breath, expectant, and I feel my stomach drop. My father tenses beside me and my mothers hand drops away from my arm as she visibly sags. Such an ominous reaction to what I thought to be a casual comment makes my heart pound. A fierce denial already clenched behind my teeth.

"My Lady," Marrik speaks, not moving from his place at the door.

I glance up at him, and he looks like he is looking back, but his eyes don't meet mine. They're focused on a point just over my shoulder. I watch as he shifts his stance, his hands still clasped behind his back but his shoulders twitch like he's fighting back the urge to let them drop. He shakes his head.

My heart constricts in my chest and I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. All I can manage is air, big, gulping breaths until I'm choking back a sob. I thought perhaps I had cried so much over the last few weeks that I would have none left in me – but I surprise myself as a tear spills from my eye. It cascades down my cheek, followed by another, and another.

It isn't until my knees hit the stone floor of the War Room that I realise my legs have given out. Mahal. Mahal no. Not Toldin.

My mind races back to when I last saw him. I was reaching for him. In the corridor. Blood on his chin. A sword in his stomach.

"No," The word finally rips out of me. "No."

I see him then, like a ghost in my mind. The nervous young guard trying to follow me without notice, the look of pure panic on his face when I confronted him. Pinned to the wall by a wooden crutch and my glowering stare. He'd followed me like a second shadow. He'd followed me everywhere.

"Come on lass," My fathers voice sounds distant to my ears. "On your feet."

I feel his hands under my arms and he hoists me to my feet, holding me there. I don't look at Thorin or Fili or Kili. I don't look at my father, nor my mother.

Instead I look to Marrik.

In another time it could have been him, had I not insisted he leave me to rest. Could he have saved Toldin if I hasn't insisted he go? Would he be dead too? Marrik hasn't moved from his post. Hasn't made a sound. His eyes are still fixed on the far wall but I see the single tear track down his face, glowing gold on his skin in the reflection of the fire.

Suddenly I no longer feel exhausted. I feel empty.

I take the handkerchief my mother gives me. It smells like woodsmoke. I dry my eyes, wipe the tears from my cheeks and swallow down the lump in my throat. My chest aches like there's an axe stuck in my ribcage, digging a little deeper with each inhale. I want to start weeping again - but what would Toldin say? He never liked to see me cry.

I shrug off my fathers supporting hand and step away. One foot in front of the other till I'm at the door. Marrik is there, holding it open for me. I slip out into the hall and he steps into place at my back. I don't turn to see which guard fills the empty space where my shadow used to walk.

The walk back to my room isn't one I remember, we are in the War Room and then I am standing outside my bedroom door. The corridor has been cleared of all signs of the fight that took place here, thankfully.

My eyes linger to the left of my door and my breath catches in my throat, remembering my hand outstretched towards Toldin as he slumped against the frame.

I blink rapidly and quickly fit the key in the door, stepping in.

My mother follows me in to my room before I can stop her. She doesn't speak, just takes my face in her hands and presses her forehead to mine. She whispers soothing words to me, but I can barely make them out. I'm too tired. Too heartsick.

I make no protest as she gently guides me to the basin, washing the blood from my hair, my face and hands. I keep my eyes down, avoiding the cracked mirror. I don't want to see what such raw grief feels like.

She removes my clothes and I ignore my mothers gasp as she sees what these past few weeks have done to my body. I am a patchwork of mottled and bruised skin, cuts and scrapes and open bleeding wounds.

My fight with the would be assassin that stabbed my brother feels like a life time ago but the skin around my ribs is still stained purple and yellow, so I know that it can't have been more than two weeks. The slice that rent my face in two is slow to scab, itching and pulling at my skin. I haven't given it the time it needs to heal.

The many scrapes, cuts and knocks I received from my journey through Mirkwood litter my body like ugly constellations. There are small spatterings of wounds on my arms that could be mistaken for freckles if you didn't know they were made by splinters of rock embedding in my skin.

And of course my most recent collection of injuries. The thankfully shrinking lump on the back of my skull, still issuing a dull throb through my head whenever I allow myself to think about it. The red imprint of fingers around my neck, sore and tender.

"Oh Rúin," My mother exhales.

I don't look at her. I shouldn't have let her come in after all.

My mother rummages through my belongings, still packed and neatly stacked in the corner of my room, ready for a trip that will no longer happen. I don't have the energy to consider when I will get around to unpacking. She finds a night dress and gently wrestles me in to it with little help from myself. I can't seem to find the strength to make my limbs do what I want any more.

She nudges me towards the bed, pulling back the covers before I get there and then tucking them in around me like I am a little dwarfling again. My mother smooths my hair from my face, still damp from it's recent wash, and peers down at my with an expression that looks like heartbreak.

For a moment she looks like she is going to try and say something to comfort me, but thinks better of it. "I'll get a fire going," She tells me, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I've never seen my mother start a fire before. Somewhere in the back of my mind I think I should just get up and do it myself, save her the trouble. But I don't. I don't even sit up to watch how she fares as I might have done any other day.

It takes her a good deal longer than it should considering all the materials are provided for her within a hands reach of each other. But she does it. I hear the crackle of the dry wood catching and the sound of my mother dusting her hands off.

"I'm going to make you some tea," She says, appearing beside me again. "Try and get some rest."

I manage a nod and roll onto my side, my back to the door as she disappears through it, my eyes already starting to close. I don't want to sleep.

I want to cry, and scream and shout. I want someone to tell me it is all a bad joke. That Toldin is alive, injured yes, but alive and holding on. I want to walk in to the healing rooms and see him looking back at me with a smile.

I want someone to tell me it isn't my fault that he is dead.

But no one does, and I wouldn't believe them if they did.

It doesn't take long for my exhaustion to take over and drag me down into blissful darkness. I don't hear my mother come in with the tea, nor feel her hand as she brushes it across my face.

For a while I join Toldin, and I am dead to the world.

Lemme tell you I did myself a big Sad writing this chapter.

I am very, very thankful to everyone who has reviewed/faved/followed this story in the past year. To know that you guys are still enjoying my story - either finding it for the first time or rereading it for the 5th - even know is such an amazing thing and it really does make me realise that I need to get down to it and finish this story!

So I know it's been a while, but please Read, Review, Follow and Favourite as you see fit! And don't hate me too much for Toldin

Much Love