DISCLAIMER: All rights to the Tolkien Estate I would suppose; except Nesial and Káno, I might keep them a while longer!

A/N: Well, I have no idea what has come over me lately but I seem to be in some sort of crazy fic-finishing mood! I fully appreciate the shameful wait for this, but I hope it will be at least partly worth it. This is for Enny, if you are still out there, for always being so enthusiastic about this story. Thank you! …And of course, enjoy.

Chapter Twelve – The End of All Things/ Epilogue

"The lot of you," Káno ordered, his eyes aflame with a fey, green light, "Clear this mess up, I want these carcasses out of here. Now!" he thundered, when the troll-like men hesitated for a fraction of a second.

"And you, wench," he said, rounding on Nesial; "Make up that damned concoction and bloody do it quickly! I have had enough of this game!"

"And if I choose not to?" she answered defiantly, hands on her hips. Káno's lips curled at the rebuke. "Then I will kill you where you stand, wench. The ceremony needs your blood, not your life."

Nesial nodded curtly, and knelt down beside her bag, removing the various components required for the potions she was to make. Glancing at Elros, she shook her head slightly, warning him to remain silent. Her heart was pounding in her chest – what she was about to do terrified her, but she had to do it; she had to keep her nerve and finish this once and for all. Perhaps Eärendil would return before they could kill her. Then again, perhaps he would not – and perhaps it would be better that way after all.

Elros watched wide eyed as Nesial set three small bowls down up on the scorched and now blood stained ground, and hastily began murmuring over them, mixing precise quantities of herbs whilst reciting ancient prayers. Káno took no notice of her, turning his attention instead to the half-elf bound before him. He removed a dagger from his belt, long and silver and curved, with an ornately carved ivory handle. It was almost a thing of beauty but in this man's hands such aesthetics were lost to darkness. Slicing easily through the arm of Elros' shirt, he drew a long crimson line down his forearm. Drops of blood coursed from the wound, and Káno caught them in a small glass phial, squeezing the wound painfully and eliciting a suppressed hiss from his victim.

"Here wench – I have your ingredient," he said, roughly shoving it into her hands. Glaring at him, she took the phial and poured a little of the blood into two of the bowls. Over the remaining bowl she pricked her own palm with the dagger that Káno handed her, before returning it to him.

"Your turn," she said, smiling sweetly, as she allowed her blood to drop into the final bowl. With a wordless sneer Káno mimicked her, driving his nails into his palm as he squeezed his hand tight. There was a breathless pause as Nesial closed her eyes, rotating her hands in small circles above the bowls and whispering long forgotten prayers.

"Is it done?" he whispered urgently, breathing down her neck.

"Almost," she answered curtly, turning away from him and busying herself once more. The liquids in each of the bowls were different – one was acidic green, one was like dark moss and the third was pale like rose water, coloured by Nesial and Káno's blood. Finally, steeling her resolve, Nesial rose to her feet, balancing the three bowls in her hands. She handed the green one to Káno and kept the moss one for herself, whilst the third bowl she handed to one of the surrounding men and motioned for him to administer it to Elros. The young man eyed the approaching substance warily – he wanted to believe in Nesial, to trust that she knew what she was doing but still, he did not relish the idea of drinking her blood.

Káno practically snatched the bowl from her hands, staring suspiciously at the lurid liquid. "You are sure you have done this correctly?" His eyes narrowed at her, seeking any sign of betrayal.

"Well we'll soon find out, won't we?" she hissed in reply, before tipping her head back and draining her bowl of the dark green water. It was faintly bitter on her lips, laced with the iron taste of Elros' blood. Nodding for his men to force the liquid down Elros' throat, Káno up-ended his own bowl and swallowed the contents. It burnt his mouth like fire, searing down his throat, but he would not let up until every drop was gone. Nesial watched him cautiously, wondering what would happen.

Elros struggled slightly against being force fed, but the combination of his wound, the restraints and Nesial's warning look overcame his attempts and placing his trust at last in this near stranger, he allowed himself to ingest the potion. He thought it tasted suspiciously what it looked like – blood and water. He could also catch the faint taste of something familiar that he couldn't quite name.

All three of them finished, Káno lifted his arms to the heavens, a swift wind rising about him and whipping his hair across his face.

Aloud he cried in a language foreign to Elros' ears – it was neither harsh nor fair, but had a recognizable rhythm to it as Káno began to speak the ancient spells that would release him from his bonds forever. He could feel the potion pumping through his veins, the blood of the elf before him lending strength to his voice. Yes, he could feel it now! The ever shadowed, swirling winds of his own existence, his own people – their voices called out to him from beyond the brink, drawing him to them – and with every moment he felt his strength growing he knew that Elros would grow weaker as he drained the life essence from him, turning his heart slowly to stone.

He turned to face Nesial, a great leering smile on his face, expecting to see her in the same reveling ecstasy as him – and was shocked to see her standing quite still, arms held across her chest. Her face was set and unreadable, her eyes as stony as the statues next to them. Doubt stole into his heart as the smile dropped from his face. The question stood unspoken in his eyes.

The look she gave him was sad and triumphant and longing, all at the same time; and in that moment he knew she had betrayed him, and he knew he was undone. A mirthless smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she shook her head in silent acknowledgement.

Elros watched the mute exchange in apprehension. The potion had, as far as he was aware, done nothing to him. In fact, he was beginning to feel slightly better, his vision clearer and his balance more stable.

Suddenly, Káno's face contorted with agony and rage, the muscles in his neck straining to be released from their fleshy prison. His limbs began to spasm of their own accord, jerking him painfully from left to right, and an unbidden scream was rent from his lips. His men started backward, eyeing their master fearfully, unsure what to do, whether to aid him.

"Do not bother," Nesial said coldly. "Turn and run whilst you still can, your Master cannot save you now."

"No!" Káno screamed, finally realizing too late how fully she had betrayed him. "Attack – her!" he tried to force out, but his throat clenched, his air pipe tightening as the poison Nesial had laced in his potion took effect. His men finally broke ranks and taking Nesial's advise fled down the steep hill into the night.

"How does it feel, Káno?" she whispered, watching him writhe and fall to one knee as he struggled to breathe for air. "Ironic, do you not think? To die all alone, by the very poison with which you break the souls of those around you."

Káno's bloodshot eyes went wide, staring at her wildly as wave after wave of unbearable pain swept through his body.

"Pure, concentrated Darquaril, Káno; undiluted and directly ingested. You are dying by your own fell hand. How does it feel?" Her words were ice as she faced him, unflinching.

"What – what are you doing to him?" gasped Elros; "What have you done?" He hated this man, he truly did – for what he had done to his brother, for what he had nearly done to him – but neither did he wish to watch this horrific unfolding of events. Yet his bonds did not allow him to move and his eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the form of the dying man.

The compassion in his voice seemed to break the spell that had fallen over Nesial. Hurrying towards him with sorrowful eyes, she swiftly cut the ropes holding him and helped him to his feet.

"It had to be done," she said softly, her eyes begging his forgiveness. "I put healing herbs in yours, but I poisoned his potion...There was no other way – "

She was cut off as Káno screamed again, clawing at his own skin, leaving deep scarlet gorges. With the last remaining strength he had, he lunged at Elros like a crazed animal – but Nesial knocked the half-mortal aside, taking the blow herself and suddenly the pair were falling, tumbling over and rolling down the hill. Elros pulled himself back to his feet where Nesial had pushed him and limped down the hill after them, his left arm clutching tightly to his right side. Káno's screams continued to echo around the hills as they gained momentum, flying through the silver green grasses.

Finally reaching the bottom, Káno's dead weight pinned a winded Nesial to the floor. As she struggled for breath, his manic serpentine eyes met hers one final time. She watched in shame and terror as the timeless life bound within those mortal constraints finally began to fade, and loneliness clutched at her heart. A sob escaped her lips even as a cruel, lingering smile escaped Káno's.

"All this world will pass you by – you will die alone wench," he rasped, his white blonde hair a tangle about his unrecognisably tortured face. For the briefest of seconds she creased her brows in confusion, and she did not hear Elros' warning cry – until she felt the cold bite of his steel dagger plunge deep into her side. For a second she froze, her own heartbeat pounding in her ears the only noise.

"And so it ends..." Káno whispered his final words, before strength finally fled him and he slumped lifeless upon her mortally wounded body.

Hurtling to her, Elros shoved Káno's motionless body with such force that it rolled several feet away, revealing the huge dark stain spreading rapidly across Nesial's belly. Her eyes were wide and scared, seeking out Elros' stormy grey. Her mouth gaped wordlessly, a small moan escaping from her throat.

"Stay with me," Elros said desperately, ripping the shredded sleeve of his shirt off completely and pressing it urgently to the wound. "Stay with me, Nesial, help will come, I promise..."

She raised a pale slender hand up to his face, touching his cheek softly. "Perhaps – this is for the – best," she ground out. She had felt pain before, but never anything like this – it hurt yes, but it was also numbing somehow. This is what dying feels like, she realised, and suddenly was not afraid anymore.

"No – no, don't you dare give up on me! Not now!" Elros said, panic in his voice as he saw a complacent light fill her black eyes. "Nesial, hold on, just hold on!"

"So much – irrepressible hope for – such a young man...It's alright," she breathed. "I am not afraid." A soft smile touched her lips.

"Well I am," Elros replied stubbornly. Where are you, Ada? he thought frantically, I need you, come to me as you did before...

As if summoned by his thoughts, a small band of riders led by Oslarn rounded the hill and seeing Elros, drew to an abrupt halt.

"Elros? Is it you? Are you hurt?" the Captain asked, swinging down from his saddle and hurrying to the side of his Lord's son.

"A little, but it will heal – Nesial needs attention, now!" Elros turned frantic eyes upon the older man, seeking guidance and resolve where his own was failing him.

Oslarn looked with dismay at the freely weeping wound, briefly meeting Nesial's eyes. She nodded slightly at him, and he held his hand over his heart in silence.

"No!" Elros screamed, pulling away as Oslarn's free hand came to rest about his shoulders. "NO!"

"Elros, this wound is beyond my skill to heal, there is nothing we can do"-

"Then take her to my father, to my mother! They will be able to help, I know it!" Elros stumbled backward slightly, stress and blood loss and weariness stealing away his strength. Oslarn frowned at the wound the young man hid between pale, shaking fingers.

"We need to see to you before we go anywhere," Oslarn answered firmly.

"No," Elros said again, summoning to his voice every ounce of command that he could. "No. If it were not for this woman, neither I nor my brother would be alive now. We owe her our lives – the least we can do is save hers. I shall not be swayed from this path, Oslarn, though you should send all the hosts of the Valar against me. Now get her on a damned horse!"

Oslarn rocked backwards at the force in the half-mortal's voice; this young man, with eyes of stormy seas and crashing stars, who would one day stand as an image of the splendour of the Kings of Men in undimmed glory, whose lineage was of Beren himself, and of the highest Houses of the Noldor and Teleri. Stumbling to his feet, Oslarn could do nothing but obey.

"Bring two horses!" he cried. "We ride with all speed for our Lord!"

Epilogue

It was spring. The sky was littered with crisp cotton clouds, stark against bright blue above the calm lulling sea. Fresh green buds danced on the lithe branches of silver birch trees, and the air was alive with the calling of infant birds – waders tended to their young in the marshes of the Great River Sirion, the blackbirds nested in thickets and high upon the sheer white cliffs, the gulls made their homes among the craggy rocks.

Across a gentle green hill, a lone figure headed for those very cliffs. Leaning heavily upon a wooden stick, it limped slightly as it went, taking the smoothest route and avoiding thick tufts of grass that arose in its way. Though it was spring, a brisk chill yet lay upon the wind and the figure hugged its thick woollen cloak close about it. It had long given up on the hood though – the wind made for a tireless adversary, and a tumble of copper curls gleamed in the fresh sunlight.

Nesial edged closer to the cliffs, deep in thought. She often came this way, to gaze across the Sundering Seas. She knew the stories of the Undying Lands of Valinor; she had heard many tales since the Noldor's arrival of the healing wonder that could be found there. Now she wondered if such a place could be found for her. Sighing, she leant more heavily upon her stick as she made her last journey to the cliff top. All winter she had remained in the village, gradually healing and regaining her strength. The fact she had survived at all was nothing short of a miracle, but Elwing's healing hands had nursed her away from the brink of death – a brink she had been so at peace with reaching. Then it had felt strange to be so weak, and limitlessly frustrating to watch the slow progress with which her body improved. I shall have to get used to that, she thought ruefully.

Now it was spring, and time to be moving on. She could not explain how she knew that, or why, only that she did. The coast had been increasingly harassed lately by various parties from further inland, each seeking shelter from the indomitable shadow in the north. She knew that the peaceful watch under which this village slept would not long last, and then...she could not say. Only that it was not her place to remain here.

Reaching the cliff top, she stopped awhile, staring out across the vast grey ocean that seemed to go on before her forever. Little white-sailed fishing ships littered the bay, rolling on the gentle swash. As steep as it seemed, a path there was that hugged to the face of the cliff and so came to a silver beach below that curved around to the bay and the village. And casting her eyes downwards, it was upon this beach that Nesial espied two dark figures, side by side upon the sand.

The twins sat in comfortable silence, their dark hair catching the pale sunlight in a shine of rich autumn brown. Elros sat leaning back on his hands, his long booted legs stretched out before him as he watched the fishing boats and the gulls wheeling above the bay. Elrond however sat with his legs crossed, his eyes gazing far beyond the images in front of him.

Elros glanced at him quickly, not wishing to be caught. It seemed to him that an age beyond his years had settled upon his brother's shoulders in the last long, six months and it troubled him more than he wanted to say. That identical pair of eyes that had so often before been filled with joy and laughter were now turned more and more often in silence to the sea. Elros often thought that he must be searching the distant horizon for the golden sails of their father's ship, Vingilot. Exactly if that was true though, Elrond had never offered to tell him, and Elros was reluctant to ask.

It struck him as odd. Before...well, before everything, neither twin had had a thought between them that the other did not know. Yet now...Elros knew that there was a part of Elrond's heart that was secret from him. The wounds upon Elrond's body had healed with time, and now only faint scars were left. His mind was a different matter altogether. Whatever foul arts Káno had used to subdue his twin had left their mark upon his soul, and that shadow would not be cast aside so easily.

"Nesial is on the cliff top," Elrond said quietly, starting Elros out of his reverie. Glancing upwards, he saw it to be true.

"She is leaving today, isn't she?"

Elrond nodded in response and sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.

"Does – does it still hurt?" Elros asked hesitantly, swallowing hard. He desperately wanted his twin to heal, to forget the horrors he had been subjected to, but he was even more afraid of losing him forever.

Elrond looked at him sharply. Elros held his gaze, matched and unwavering. Slowly, Elrond nodded again.

"Every day," he breathed, picking up the silver sand and watching it run through his fingers. Elros scooted close to his side. Wrapping one arm around his twin's shoulders, he pressed their temples together and took one of his brother's hands in his own. Taking a deep shuddering breath, Elrond leant back into the embrace but remained silent, fighting the lump in his throat.

"Do you want to talk?" Elros asked simply. Elrond had been so silent for so long...a part of him didn't think he was ever going to open up.

Nodding into his twin, Elrond sighed again. "I just want it to stop," he said, and the pain in his voice brought tears to Elros' eyes. "Every time I dream, I see his face..." He stopped, trying to keep his breathing steady. "He broke me, brother," he whispered despairingly. "He made me want to die...I lost myself, El." Pulling away slightly, he looked at his brother with weary, pained eyes. "What if I can never find myself again?"

"Then I will find you, Elrond," Elros answered fiercely, his own tears barely contained but his voice strong. "I will always find you, wherever you go, whatever you do, and you will never, ever be alone again. I promise you."

Despite himself, Elrond smiled wanly at his brother's assuredness. "What if you are not always here?" he answered with a cryptic question, settling back against his brother. In the pause that followed, he added, "It will take longer than the span of a mortal life to heal these wounds, Elros. Perhaps that it is folly, or perhaps it is the foresight of our ancestors – either way, I know it to be true."

Elros frowned, but did not reply immediately. "There is only one thing that could ever stop me coming to you, brother," he said slowly. "And of that great divide I will not speak."

They fell silent again; and to each it suddenly seemed as though something were coming...some dark shadow was fast approaching, unheralded and unlooked for, that would change everything forever – including them.

It was Nesial's soft, uneven footfalls on the sand that finally caused them to reluctantly stir. Pulling away from his brother, Elros stood to greet her, offering a shoulder for her to lean on. He knew that despite her best efforts to conceal it, her old wound still made her tired. In his heart, he was not convinced she was yet well enough to be leaving them at all, but try telling her that.

"Oh, do not worry about me, Master Elros," she smiled, declining the offer. "Though you can be of use to me – run along and check everything is ready for my departure, would you, Elf-Boy?"

Elros rolled his eyes, glancing down at his twin at the retort.

"Don't worry – I'm sure your brother can help me find my way back."

Elros nodding slowly, understanding what she meant. "I will see you both soon, then," he said and set off at a brisk pace along the beach, just along the white line where the sea broke upon the sand.

Elrond watched his brother go in silence, feeling the weight of Nesial's gaze upon him but unwilling to face it.

"You've been avoiding me," she said. It was not a question.

"You have been healing."

"So have you."

A pause. "Come on Elf-Boy, on your feet," she sighed, reaching a hand down to him. "No time like the present, ey?"

Grudgingly taking it, he hauled himself to his feet. "You cannot give us both the same nickname, you know."

She laughed at the mild look of disdain on his face as they set off, him turning a smooth grey pebble over and over in his hands, her limping along with her stick. "No I suppose I can't," she agreed. "Though truth be told, it's not entirely true of him...there is more of the Elf in you, I think."

"We're twins," he reminded her pointedly, keeping a slow pace along side her. He frowned at the way the comment spoke to his heart, but said nothing.

"Well, have it your way," she shrugged dismissively, gazing out to sea again. "How long do you think your father will be gone this time?"

"Who knows?" Elrond gestured vaguely with his hands. "A week, a month – a year? It's impossible to tell. He is seeking the way to Valinor."

"Good bloody luck to him," Nesial muttered. Elrond shot her a sharp look.

"You do not believe he will do it?"

"I don't know. It's irrelevant to me, really."

Silence fell between them as they went on their way.

"So what of you, then?" Elrond finally asked. "Where will you go now that – " He stopped himself short and took a deep breath, clutching the pebble tight within his fist, actions that Nesial's sharp eyes did not miss.

"Now that I have no people, no path to follow?" She finished the sentence for him, and paused before replying. "Well, Master Elrond – in situations such as this, one often finds one must make ones own path."

"But will you not be lonely?" he questioned, gazing at her with open curiosity.

"Probably," she nodded, "for a while. But I'm sure my enviable social skills will ensure that is not a permanent factor for me to contend with, as you can only agree." She winked at him from the corner of her eye.

A question that had been simmering in his mind for some weeks now finally broke the surface. "Nesial – when Káno died...what happened to his spirit?"

"His original essence, you mean?" She pondered before responding. "I do not know," she answered truthfully. "Perhaps his fate is the same as that of mortal men, to pass beyond the bonds of the world. Least ways, I have not heard of any of my people resting in Mandos' Halls."

"What of you?" Elrond asked hesitantly. Again, she paused before replying. "Only time will tell," she said simply. "We were never meant to be immortal in this form, I think...neither do I know how long it will last. No one has ever lingered long enough to find out. Makes me something of an experiment, don't you think?" She brushed the topic off with a light smile. Elrond furrowed his brows, deep in thought, and did not respond.

"So where will you head?" He returned to his original question after a brief silence.

She chewed her lip, considering for a moment. "East," she said finally. "So many feet seem to have been bent westward these past few centuries, and look at the trouble it's brought them." She smiled ruefully. "I will go east, and see what fortune has in store for me."

"That is a very vague plan," Elrond pointed out.

"Have you a better one?"

"You could stay here," he suggested quietly. For a while longer they continued in peace. The village was in full view of the beach now, though still out of earshot. Nesial stopped walking and Elrond mimicked her stance as she turned to face him.

"My place is not here, Elf-Boy – I'm not entirely sure where it is, but it isn't here."

Elrond nodded, knowing it to be truth. "This is good bye then," he said sadly.

"For now," she smiled. "But my heart tells me our paths will cross again, some day."

"You believe you will meet us again?" Elrond hitched an eyebrow, not realising what she meant.

"Not 'us', Elf-Boy; I cannot see that I will ever meet your brother again..." She paused, slightly bothered. His path his hidden from my heart, she thought, but did not trouble Elrond with her words. A smile brightened her worn face once more. "But something tells me we have not seen the last of each other."

"I don't understand." Elrond stared at her openly.

"Neither do I, Elf-boy!" she grinned, and taking his arm in hers, they made their final way up the beach to the village. Just before they entered the village, she turned to him again, gripping his arm tight. Her face was earnest, her eyes sincere. "It will get better, Elrond," she promised.

"What will?" he started. Confounded, bloody cryptic woman... He almost smiled to find himself thinking what he had first thought of her, all those months ago.

"The pain," she said simply. He froze, staring wide-eyed at her, but did not speak. She took that as leave enough to continue. "The path laid before your feet is not an easy one, Peredhil; you will face many hard trials in your life. But you will always come through," she smiled. "You are an inextinguishable flame."

Leaving him where he stood rooted to the spot she carried on into the village, humming slightly to herself, the spring breeze playing in her hair, smilingly inwardly at her newfound fortune telling. Perhaps that could be a career path...

Elrond stared after her. He wanted what she said to be true, more than he could express...but could it really be so? Could he ever really go back to being the way he once was?

In the village centre, Nesial found Elros checking the last of the trappings on the cart to which Hythel was attached. The roan mare swished her tail unaffectedly as he ran his hands swiftly over her harness, making Nesial smile. It was the sound of her stick that alerted him to her presence.

"All ready are we?" she said, patting Hythel's rump.

"All your supplies and belongings are loaded," he nodded. "Are you sure you don't want a guard upon the road?"

"Entirely unnecessary, I assure you," she chuckled. "You would do better to feel sorry for anyone unfortunate enough to run into me."

"Believe me, I do," he said, rolling his eyes. "Let me help you up."

Offering his shoulder, he aided her up onto the cart's seat and handed her the reins. As she went to take them, her hand nudged her stick and sent it clattering to the floor.

"Damned thing," she muttered, reaching down for it.

"Don't worry, I'll get it," said Elros quickly, but was beaten to it by a pair of hands identical to his own. Finding Elrond's eyes, he fixed him with a questioning glance, which was returned with the first genuine smile Elros had seen on his twin's face in months.

"Here, allow me," he said, handing it back to Nesial. "Thank you – for everything."

"Thank you," she emphasised. "And thank your mother again for me."

"We will," Elros promised, leaning an elbow on his twin's shoulder. Elrond stood square to better hold his brother's weight.

Nesial snapped at the reins, starting Hythel forward with the cart lumbering after her.

"Goodbye, sons of Eärendil!" she called.

"Nai tiruvantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna nu vilya," Elrond called after her, "May the Valar protect you on your path under the sky."

"Don't be so pretentious..." she called back, causing the twins to laugh as they watched her wind her way up and out of the village. As she crested the hill, she paused a moment and waved back down at them. So much had changed...not least herself. She could only go forward now – and from there, who could say? With a final wave, she started off again, and just like that she was gone from the twins' lives.

The pair stood staring after the space on the hill where she had disappeared, each taking comfort in the presence of the other.

"Do you know what I haven't done in months?" Elrond said suddenly.

"Had a bath?" Elros retorted, dodging the hand Elrond swatted at his head with a mischievous grin.

"No – beaten you at archery!"

"Fancy trying your luck?" challenged Elros, and set off at a run for their home, Elrond hot on his heels. Things could never go back to the way they had been, he knew; but he could move on and be better for it. Nesial was right – he was an inextinguishable flame. They had their whole lives ahead of them and no shadow would ever darken that. As they ran, Elrond felt his heart lift in the salty breeze, lighter than it had felt in months.

Yet fate keeps strange company...That very same breeze, only a weeks journey north along the coast, also blew wild around a great armoured host. At its head rode four warriors – four brothers, remaining of seven. Their fiery hair flowed down their shoulders and their horses golden hooves gleamed in the sunlight as they marched ever southward, come at last to fulfil their oath...

END

Well, there we have it! The end of an era, on many levels! Just a quick FYI; I will be doing a sequel to this fic, but it will also stand as a sequel to Lullaby of the Lily Flower, making it a sort of trilogy of sorts. It will also therefore be set towards the end of the Third Age and will come under LotR as opposed to The Silm. Expect it out within the next month or so at the latest!! (In light of that, I have noticed a fair few errors in previous chapters where I have read it back, which I will be going over and correcting in the near future, just to make reading smoother).

Well, I think that is everything – so I hope you've enjoyed the journey, and thank you for reading.

Loadsa love, Estel xxx