Rider of the Mark

Rider of the Mark 31

Turn and face the strain, ch-ch-ch-Cha-anges...

***

Gamling awoke to an empty bed, her side cool to the touch. But the pillow so close to his was dented and it held the essence of apples. The small window had been thrown open and he could hear not only the squires and chores being done outside, but also the bustle of the chambermaids and servants outside the door. For a moment he smiled at the thought of shocking all of them by sauntering out of her room barely dressed, but decided against it. Soon this would be over and done with it and an embarrassed Aefre could very well mean a hiding Aefre and Béma knew he did NOT want to go through that again!

***She’s going to make me wear fussy clothes. Dammit!***

After dealing with his morning ritual, (morning face wash, morning beard wash, morning wood...) he dressed in last evening’s clothes. His saddlebag was pushed to the foot of the bed, still unopened. With a heavy sigh, he opened the door, peaking out to make sure the hall was clear.

It wasn’t.

Two women of middle years stood to the left of the door, arms laden with dirty linen and both turned to gawk at him as he stuck his head out the doorway.

“Sir?” the more brazen of the two finally asked, a rather cheeky and disrespectful grin on her face. “Are you looking for Lady Aefre?”

“Uhm... no.”

“That is her chamber, you know.”

“I...I...” Gamling felt himself cornered, “I was looking for something.”

“Did you find it?” the other asked, just as jauntily.

Thinking quickly, he turned and grabbed the saddlebag from the foot of the bed. “Yes, I did. Thank you.” The Rider swung the saddlebag over his shoulder and headed down the hall to his own chambers. He hadn’t gotten eight steps, when he heard one call out, “Marshal, your lady certainly takes up a lot of bed space. One would think two slept in her bed last night.”

Gamling growled, but continued to move up the hallway.

After depositing the saddlebags at the foot of his own unslept in bed, Gamling made his way down into the Hall, grateful he hadn’t slept too late and there was still some bread, cheese, and ale on a sideboard in order to break his fast. In no time, the rumbling of his stomach was quelled and he was turning his attention to the stables, when he passed Willan, an armload of wall tapestries in his arms. Gamling stopped him with a single raised finger.

“Move Aefre’s things to my chambers.” Willan nodded. “Make sure she knows I do not wish to hunt her down this eve.” The Horse Lord stalked proudly out through the main doors, nodding at the door guards as he went through the opened entrance.

“Did that boy of mine say what I think he said?” Aelwydd had come up behind Willan as silent as a creeping Elf. Willan nodded, his eyes still on the retreating figure of the woman’s son. “I swear, he has no brain for propriety or-” She caught Willan’s shaking head, the meaning clear.

*I’m not gainsaying him.*

“Béma! He’s more stubborn than a mountain sheep! Don’t know where he gets it from!” Gamling’s mother was presented with the servant’s back as he turned to take the smoke - tinged wall tapestries to the laundress and then on to do as Gamling had bid.

Gamling was pleased to see Riders and the stables finally moving back into a working routine. Almost all of the Riders in the garrison had been sent out to scour the countryside - to see first hand what damage had been wrought by Isengard and Mordor. He had seen some of the damage on his way home, but had been more occupied by watching out for Orcs and Dunlendings. As if to answer him, his side twitched-

***didn’t watch close enough***

What few horses that were left were being exercised by grooms, young squires - Riders in training. Haleth had Adenydd and Dréogan both on a turnstile wheel. He lowered a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “How long have they been on?”

Haleth looked up, eyes bright in the sun. He was losing that haggard look, thin cheeks were filling out and he had clamped his long hair back with a leather knot to keep it from flying in his eyes.

***looklikeyourfather...***

“Not long, sir. Ten, perhaps fifteen minutes.” Gamling nodded. He went into the stables, noting the cleanliness of the stalls. The back northeast stall was still soggy from excessive rain, but he was gladdened to see two young Riders along with a roofer, inspecting and digging, searching for the leak. A wet stall was useless and the Rohirrim wasted nothing - food, cloth, or space. This winter and next, they would not, could not afford to waste anything.

“Have you found it?” he asked quietly.

The roofer was on a ladder, making marks. “I think so, Marshal. The roof here appears to have rusted through.” He started down the ladder. “I’ll repair it and then I’ll pour a bucket of water on it and see if that stops it.” Before the man could take a breath to continue, clanging was heard from the watchtower.

Gamling rushed out, eyes darting to find the tower that was calling. He soon ascertained the Northwest tower bell was clanging and he hurried to scale the stair to see out.

It winded him, climbing those stairs that fast and again he cursed the Orc whose blade had found its way under his armor, as well as his own stupidity at not noticing the thing and his own now - slowness. Rather than give in to his devitalized energy, he bowed up and scowled, covering the irritating pain from the stitch in his side. “Where?” he growled, breathing deep to control his wheezing.

The young guard - not more than a boy, slightly older than Haleth - pointed over the fields, the dust obvious.

“A single Rider. Probably one of those I sent out.” Gamling narrowed his eyes, trying to see further. “Wait until he’s closer and you can definitely make out beast and the Rider’s cloak. I will tell the gate to prepare to be opened.”

Going down was definitely easier than going up and by the time Gamling reached the gate, the call from the tower had gone out to open the gate, to clear the path. Gamling stood back, watching the Rider barrel into the city proper, stopping dead in front of the Marshal and dismounting.

Abéodan climbed down before removing his helmet. “Walk with me Rider, while you take your horse to the stables and rub him down.” Gamling reached for the young Horse Lord’s helmet. He waited until he had shooed the younglings from earshot before asking. “How bad?”

Abéodan turned haunted eyes to his commanding officer. “I only saw a bit, sir. And if...” He took a deep breath and sighed. “I hope the rest isn’t...”

“Say it.”

Abéodan’s sparsely whiskered jaw trembled. “It’s razed. Razed to the ground.” He finally gained enough courage to look Gamling in the eye. “There is no food, no seed, no cattle, no sheep, no homes, no timber. Even the ground is burnt. The Westfold lies in ruins and what few people are left are starving.”

***

“Helgarda! I need to speak with you!”

The elderly healer had her back to the younger woman, her pestle and mortar working tirelessly. “I am rather busy, Aefre. If you are still ill in the mornings-”

“No. I’m not ill.” Aefre went to the opposite side of the table. “Not much anymore.” She fingered the other bowls on the table. “I still can’t eat meat.”

Helgarda inspected the contents of the bowl, her aging eyes squinting in the dust filled room, before shaking her head and sticking her finger in, testing the size and coarseness of the pummeled seed on her calloused fingers. Shaking her head in disgust, she flicked the seeds back into the bowl and began to grind again. “That might be for your entire pregnancy. I could eat nothing but steamed vegetables with my last one.” She continued to crush at the seed. “What can I do for you?”

Aefre looked up from the elderly woman, to the young woman standing quietly in the door behind her. Eadignes had put on her least revealing dress that was still too revealing. Whether Helgarda knew two had entered the room, she gave no mention.

“It’s about Eadignes.”

Helgarda stopped for a moment, not so deep in thought. “The girl from the Blue Whale?”

“Yes.”

Helgarda resumed her grinding. “Is she pregnant and wish to rid herself of the child?”

“I would do no such thing!” Eadignes blurted, outraged. “I have used herbs and lore to prevent such a thing happening!”

“Didn’t know you were standing behind me,” Helgarda muttered angrily, still working on the bowl in her hand. “So, what is it you wish of me?”

Aefre smiled. “Helgarda, you need an assistant, an apprentice-”

“No, I don’t.”

Aefre waved Eadignes off, her jaw opening to retort again.

“Helgarda, Riders and survivors from the War and from the Eastfold are pouring into Edoras daily. Most are tending old and festering injuries. Many women are...” she looked quickly at Eadignes, before reverting her attention back to the old woman in front of her- “pregnant and will be giving birth during the dead of winter. I suspect with the Riders coming back, there will be many more babies come spring and early summer. You can’t possibly attempt to keep up-”

Helgarda slammed the bowl down with loud crack, causing the seed to bounce and spill on the table. “I am not so old that I need help!”

“Yes, you are!” Aefre retorted. “You couldn’t sew up the Marshal! Why should I trust you to catch my babe when the time comes?” She ignored Eadignes’ shocked look.

Helgarda gritted her teeth. “Not. Her.”

“And why not?”

Helgarda tilted her head. “Not many will allow her into their homes-”

“If they are desperate enough for her services, they will. If they are in enough pain, they will.”

Helgarda turned to the young girl now at her elbow, rheumy eyes obvious in the bright sun. “Begging your pardon, miss-” The word ‘miss’ was derogatorily spat, “but you are nothing more than-”

“I know what I was, you old crone!” Eadignes was not going to be pushed around. “And I know what I wish to be!” The young woman had pulled herself up to her full, very unimpressive height. “I do not wish to receive anymore of these!” She shoved her arms under Helgarda’s nose, the bruises visible. Helgarda squinted, trying to see what had been thrust in front of her very nose. “You can’t see them, can you?”

“I can see just fine, missy!”

“No, you can’t!” Both healer and healer-to-be turned to the displaced noblewoman on the other side of the table. “You couldn’t see to stitch a Marshal of the Riddermark up. You sent for her, because she was the best. And she did a damn fine job of it!”

Helgarda returned to her bowl and pestle. “I’m sure she had plenty of practice and customers at the Blue Whale.” She had picked up the bowl and began to grind. “That doesn’t mean she’s good enough to be my apprentice.”

“You’re grinding an empty bowl!” Eadignes retorted.

Helgarda stuck her finger into the bowl and ran the digit through the curve. Blushing slightly, she set it down and glared at Aefre. “See how distracted you have got me?”

“Helgarda-”

“Ask someone else.”

“You’re the best.”

Helgarda grinned, showing several missing teeth. “Turned you down too, did they?”

“I would prefer she train with you.” Aefre was persistent.

Helgarda nodded curtly towards the healer-to-be. “And what happens when it gets to hard and she quits? Where does that leave me?”

“I won’t quit.”

“How could you ask me this, Aefre? I’ll bet she’s bedded Gamling.”

Aefre never blinked. “I have every intention of her catching my babe.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Yes, I am.”

Helgarda looked nervously at her table, eyes searching for the correct bowl. “The people won’t accept her. I won’t accept her. She lays with men, good men, married men, for pay-”

Eadignes picked up the bowl Helgarda had been looking for and stared into it, before taking the pestle. Skillfully, she began to grind. “Aye. I have. And aye, I’ve bedded Gamling more than my fair share. He was my favorite, if you must know, and Lady Aefre is a lucky lady and a generous one as well.” The girl never looked up from the bowl, just continued to methodically grind. “It’s been many months since he’s been down to the Blue Whale. In fact, it was before last Yule, before the first snowfall, best of my recollection. I’ve not even seen him come in for drinks in that time. Are you married, Helgarda?”

The old woman sputtered. “Yes! Yes I am! And my husband spends too much time in that place, if you ask me!”

Aefre raised her eyebrows at Eadignes, finally seeing the source of the old woman’s ire.

Eadignes never looked up, just continued. “You know, there is an elderly Horse Lord who comes down often. Wears his Rider’s cloak as if he rode to war yesterday, just as proud as any Horse Lord, I’ve seen. Buys us all drinks. Anyone in the tavern.” She was intent on the dust in the bowl. “Never lays with any of the girls. He loves his wife too much, but he says she won’t listen when he talks.” Aefre began to drift towards the door. “All he wants is someone to talk to.”

“That’s all he does?”

The last thing Aefre heard as she opened the latch and slipped out was Eadignes whispering, “Helgarda, what am I mashing up in this bowl and what is it used for?”

***

“I am quite put out with you!”

Aefre stood with her back against the latched door, arms crossed and looking very put out indeed. Her things had been placed haphazard all over Gamling’s chambers and she could see hours of work straightening the mess.

***Great way to start our life together! She’s put out! Perfect! I feel married already!***

Gamling had pulled off his boots and was now tossing his woolen stockings in them. “I saw no need for your things to remain in your chamber. You’re moving into my rooms anyway and-”

“Gamling!” Aefre hissed, “This is improper! This is...how long have you worn those stockings?” She pointed to the stiff and sweat-incrusted woolens Gamling was putting into his boots.

“I don’t give a warg’s arse about improper!” He pulled the woolens back out to inspect them. “From the moment I left for Gondor, I thought about you. I thought about you until I caught up with the Eorlings’s, I thought about you as we closed in on Gondor, I thought about you when we charged Pelennor Fields, I thought about you at the Black Gate-”

“Wonderful! You faced monsters and trolls galore, and they reminded you of me!”

Gamling clutched a stocking in the fist of his hand in order to point an admonishing finger at her. “I did not say that! And don’t change the subject!” He caught a whiff of his stockings and held them out at arm’s length away from him. “A few days. Why?”

“Put those in your laundry basket in the water closet-”

“I have a laundry basket in the antechamber?”

Aefre just stared at him, the wind knocked out of her sails. “What do you do with your dirty clothes?”

***uh oh in trouble now ooooooooh***

“Laundry Elves?”

Aefre’s jaw dropped and she mouthed, ‘Laundry Elves?’ She smacked herself in the head and turned towards the bolted door. “I don’t believe it. I’m going to have two babies!”

A gentle hand grabbed her by the elbow. “I’m teasing, Aefre.” Slowly, he turned her around. “Besides, if you go to your room, it’s empty, except for the bed. Grunt, the Mountain Man would have no problem getting to you. I would be most aggrieved if that stinking, smelling-”

“Just Gamling-”

“-filthy Orc lover tried to run off with my Shield Madam!” Gamling moved between Aefre and the door, corralling her back towards the bed. He cupped her face in his hands, lowering his face towards hers. “Besides, you would miss me in your bed.”

Aefre allowed the kiss to linger for quite some time, the heat of it warming her to her toes. “Ah, I don’t know. You or Grunt. One in the same to me.”

Gamling lifted his head slightly, eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

Aefre pulled away from him, smiling beguilingly. She turned, swishing her skirts. “I was simply saying that to hear you carry on last night, one would think I had bedded Grunt, the Mountain Man.”

Gamling followed her, followed her hips, his finger waving at her. “Are you saying I have the finesse of a Dunlending?”

“No.” Aefre managed to put a chair between the two of them. “I’m saying you sounded like a-”

“Oh!” Gamling cut her off. “I suppose you think you wouldn’t make so much noise if you were riding the Mearas?”

“Are you going to let me try?”

“I-” he lunged around the chair, catching her off guard. “-might!” Gamling pulled her into his embrace. “I’m not letting you go. You’re not going back to your old chambers.”

“You don’t give a damn about propriety.”

“Right!” He pulled her in closer, weaving her towards the bed.

“People are going to talk.”

Aefre’s knees hit the bed and Gamling lifted her up and on it. “Let them talk. They will have something new to talk about afterwards. Now,” he stepped backwards and waggled his eyebrows. “Do you want to ride the Mearas, or not?”

Aefre was completely nonplused. “I want to know why Abéodan rode into Edoras as if the WitchKing of Angmar was on his tail and what he said to upset you so badly.”

If Gamling expected anything from her mouth, that was not it. “What?”

“I said, I want to know-”

“I heard you. Don’t repeat it!” He stepped back slightly, hands on his hips. “How did you know-”

“Never mind how I knew.” She found herself the recipient of a hard-nosed Marshal Gamling Stare. “Oh, for Béma’s sake! When he came in to eat, he bent Willan’s ear. He was starving, needed a bath and rest, and talking a league a minute. And you came in behind him, looking as if... well, not very happy. I saw you go to Théoden’s council chambers. I brought you mead, remember?” Gamling nodded, floored by what she had gleaned by just watching. He didn’t remember her bringing mead, just that it had materialized at his elbow and the mug continued to stay full. “You were pouring over maps - specifically the Westenmet.” She took him by the hands. “What can I do to help?”

Gamling never hesitated, his scowl never let up. “I have sent Riders through out Rohan, to assess the damage done to the land, to its people. Éomer will need to know, want to know.”

“And?”

Gamling cleared his throat. “Abéodan is only the first, but I suspect any Rider from the same area will tell the same.”

“And?”

“Would you be quiet?” Gamling’s voice was curt, sharp, but Aefre didn’t seem to be upset by it. He would apologize in his own way, later. “Abéodan went into the Westfold. Horses are scattered, homes are burnt to the ground, cattle, sheep are gone. Even the land is burnt. Farmland will have to lie fallow for one to two years. There is very little grazing land, no crops, no trees. They are starving, Aefre. No way to rebuild.”

“They can fish in the Angren-”

“No, they can’t!” Gamling was now shaking his head. “The Uruk-hai of Isengard pissed in the water and killed everything. When the Ents attacked Saruman, they flooded it. Saruman’s machines and dead Orcs have poisoned the water for who knows how long.” A sudden headache sprang up and Gamling rubbed his eyes. “I wouldn’t trust anything that came out of the Angren for at least a year.” He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it back, “Two, if you wish the truth.”

Gamling felt himself being pushed into a chair and the magic fingers he had fallen in love with not so many moons ago began to work on his neck.

“We’ll send word to the farmers of the Eastemnet. They weren’t as misfortunate as the Westfold. We’ll have them fish in the Anduin and the Entwash and not slaughter a single sheep. Any extra grain they have hoarded, they can send to the Westfold. I’ll talk to the cook; we can send laying hens-”

“Aefre-”

“And we can fish the Entwash as well as the Snowbourne-”

“Aefre, it won’t be enough.” Gamling pulled from her and stood up. “It might help for a short time, but... I saw the southern portion of the Eastfold when we returned from Gondor. They won’t be able to grow anything for some time. Our people aren’t fishermen. And they need wood, for homes; long grasses for the thatching on the roofs. There is none. They are frightened of Fangorn. They won’t go near that forest. They scattered their horses, so they wouldn’t eat them. Abéodan wasn’t the only one to come in today. Three others also came. Unless we are able to receive aid and quickly, the few who survive until winter, will not survive to Yule!” He ran his fingers through his hair and rested his head in his hands. “I don’t expect much good news from anywhere.”

Again, Aefre’s hands worked the knots in his neck, relieving his headache best she could. “We will do what we can. Éomer should be here shortly and he’ll know who we can ask for help from. Will Gondor be able to aid us in any way?”

Gamling lifted his head from his hands and leaned back. “I don’t know. I am not privy to a King’s Council or negotiations. Only war.” Again, he rose, as if heavily burdened - which he was, and Aefre hurt for him. All of this to be left on Gamling’s shoulders. This was Éomer’s responsibility.

“Where is Éomer? He should be here, for his people, not escorting an Elven Princess to Gondor!”

Gamling went to his bed, pulling the saddlebags to him. He unhooked the latch and pulled it open. “It’s political,” he spat over his shoulder. “Aragorn has been crowned King of Gondor and while Théoden lies in state, Éomer, along with Eowyn, the Steward of Gondor, Faramir, and the Prince of Dol Amroth, all escort his Elven Bride to Gondor.” He pulled out a long bolt of light blue fabric and laid it to the side. “He is making treaties, guaranteeing friendships, assuring alliances. Eowyn and Faramir are ‘a couple’-”

“Eowyn is in love? And is this-” Aefre materialized next to Gamling, fingering the thin, gauzy material, “for anyone special?”

Faramir is well placed in Gondor; the Steward, to be precise, and apparently a prince in his own right. “So, yes, Eowyn is in love, and he seems to like her well enough back. Béma knows we caught them kissing in every dark corner they could find!” Gamling quirked a small smile. “Éomer is quite disgusted by it all, but she appears to be truly happy and Faramir is a good man and beloved by the people of Gondor. Regardless, hopefully the King will have made strong alliances to aid us as we are going to need it. And yes, that is for you. The shopkeeper called it ‘silk.’”

Aefre had opened the bolt, running the material over her hand. “It’s beautiful. There is enough here to make more than a dress.”

“The shopkeepers were more than generous with the Horse Lords of Rohan.”

Aefre’s smile was genuine and the days of exhaustion fell from her face. “Thank you.”

Gamling’s hand tightened around the stone in the bottom of the saddlebag, but he turned it loose and pulled another bolt of fabric - this one bright red cotton. It was followed by a spool of golden thread, several vials of perfumed oil, all of which Aefre uncorked and ‘oooh’ed over. When there was nothing left in the bag-”

“Thank you. All of this is-”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Again, Gamling’s hand tightened around the stone and he found he couldn’t look her in the eye.

“Just Gamling?”

“There... there was a Rider, a high - ranking Horse Lord, who approached me the evening I brought you back to Dunharrow.”

Aefre had recorked all the oils and set them gently on the table. “Did you know this Horse Lord?”

“No. Never met him, never heard of him.”

“Then why would he approach you?” Her voice was very quiet and Gamling almost had to strain to hear her.

“He knew you.”

There was a weighty silence.

“He... said he brought you to Edoras, was in your husband’s service.” Gamling’s hand tightened on the stone, the edges cutting painfully into the palm. “Told Théoden and myself an amazing story. That Gifre isn’t related to Lufian at all. That he knowingly stole your lands from you. I was charged with making sure you got them back.”

Aefre’s hand stole around Gamling’s arm. “I don’t care about it anymore. My home is with you. Wherever Éomer sends you, I will go.”

“No, you don’t understand, Aefre.” Gamling’s eyes were squeezed shut; Aefre could feel him pulling inwards, coiling like a poisonous snake about to strike. “The land, the garrison, was stolen from you. It does not belong to the man who holds it. When Éomer gets back and is crowned, it will become a priority that he answers for his crime.” He wasn’t aware of it, but Aefre saw his knuckles were white, white with the anger Gamling held so tightly within. “Gifre didn’t steal a farm and a few sheep. He stole what I understand is a significant holding with what was an impressive garrison.” He opened his eyes, and she almost stepped back from the barely concealed rage that burned in his eyes. “A garrison that never responded to Théoden King’s call and command. The Rider who approached me was very adamant that I see to it after the war; made it a point to inform me in Théoden’s presence. It will be returned to you.” Gamling’s teeth were clenched and he whispered, “Gifre has much to answer for.”

“I no longer care.” He felt a reassuring squeeze on his arm. “Ceneden came to you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Aefre brightened. “Perhaps Éomer will send you and it will be ours. Ceneden is a good man, an excellent Horseman and he would be honored to serve under your command. You know, he and my Da trained Adenydd-” Aefre stopped suddenly as Gamling pulled the mark from the bag and held it out.

“He was next to me... not an arm’s length from me, when he died. It could have easily been me.” He watched as she lifted the mark, reading the inscription in horror as she read the name. “I don’t know if he has family-”

“No.”

“But I wanted you to know, he was loyal to you and Lufian until the end and he wanted to make sure a wrong was righted.”

“No.”

“He was a good man.”

“Noooooo.....”

The mark slid from her hand, bouncing on the bed to the floor. Aefre wasn’t aware of collapsing, wasn’t aware of being pulled onto the bed. She simply knew that she was enveloped and crushed in a protective embrace. For a moment, Gamling wondered exactly how close she had been to this Rider, for her to grieve so deeply. She had been alone for four years before fleeing.

But he did not entertain the thought long. Had she sought comfort in some past time in the man’s arms, he did not care. It mattered not. At some point, her sobs became hiccups and she didn’t seem aware that he removed her clothing and tucked her into their bed. He moved the fabric to a chair and placed the fallen mark on the mantel. He stripped off his garments, taking an extra moment to put his things in the basket in the antechambers, before lowering the lamps and crawling under the covers with her, to pull her close.

“I’m sorry, Aefre.”

It was a minute before she answered him.

“I’m sorry too.”

***
tbc
***



A/N

Cyn, Twodifscocks - Thank you.

Juliette - yes, percoset makes me VERY amorous. The original sex scene for this fic was written while under the influence of that drug and I hope I do not have to eye my 'stash' when writing the wedding night.

yes, there WILL be a wedding. (As you said - Drinks all around!)

Nakhti - Yes, I had a nice Christmas. And yes, I have been writing. Lots in fact. In a two week period, I have written roughly 70 pages of lit. - This chapter of Rider, a future chapter of Rider (with lots of Eomer, for those who have been begging), half of the next installment of Tel' Lindar, a lovely short PWP called And the Oars Rolled, as well as a rather SILLY, SELF-INSERT (GASP!) piece of stupidity NOT found here - called Muses at the Mall. (Yes, I have Muses... three of the buggers, if you must know and they are... well... they are.) I have also sketched and rounded out and played in two more ficlets - Romancing the Shield Maiden - which will be the story of Gamling's parents, as well as a ficlet tenetively intitled "HorseLords behaving badly" which is supposed to be a quickie run of Eomer and Lothiriel's romance in the Rider universe.

FYI - Yes, I know A Date for Snape was plagerized here - YET again (twice in a month by the same person, boy fucking howdy am I popular or what?) Yes, I am aware she claims I plagerized her. That is easily EASILY disproven. Yes, I know it's supposedly posted at the Harry Potter Message Board and no I've not been able to get into it to see. On one hand I'm flattered, but people - write your own stuff! You'll feel better!