Friday, March 3, 2017

A Legolas Lemon -- Love, One Thousand

Character: Legolas Thranduilion

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings

OC: Istuihel, Silvan elf, is a part of the guard

Inspiration: This takes place sometime around The Hobbit.  Legolas is still living in the forest.  But anyway guys.  I'm so excited to post this.  I've only wanted to write something for Legolas since I was a preteen!  Yes I was one of THOSE thirteen year old girls.  ;3  Anyway I've been writing up a storm lately, so check back up soon for another post.  I'm in the process of writing a Cole lemon for Dragon Age ;D

Darkness had long settled upon the forest.  The night patrols had since switched with the afternoon guard, and Istuihel was on her way to her chambers for a bath and long awaited dinner.  She was starving and more than a little dirty.
The spiders were getting bolder, encroaching further into the kingdom.  Their webs closed in every hour.  It was a fight just to keep the filth at bay, and no small feat in any sense of the word.  Istuihel knew this firsthand, for she bore the traces of the contemptible battle she and the other rangers had experienced just hours previous.  Grime and blood had seeped into her leggings and tunic, crusted over her blade and made itself apparent in the creases of her skin.  It was not her own blood but the blackish gore of her enemies that smeared her person – but it still gave the Prince something to gawk at when he came to inquire after her.
“You look terrible,” he said with two perfectly poised brows.  Compared to her, he looked always and infinitely better, though he was often in the patrols just as she was.  Somehow, he always found a way to come out of any battle unscathed and looking as perfect as he did before entering it.  But today, Legolas had not been on duty, at least not outside the palace walls.  He had been stuck inside tending to his other duties, and had not seen Istuihel all day. 
Probably for the best, she thought with a grimace, considering just how much his father disliked their friendship.  In truth, friendship was the simplest term for what they had, but Thranduil needn’t know just how deep their affections for each other ran.  He’d probably have a conniption knowing that his son was in love with a mere woodland ranger such as herself.  Something about tainting the royal Sindar line perhaps?
“So kind,” she said with a drawl of sarcasm, and opened the door wide in silent invitation.  He took it, of course, giving the hallway just one impertinent glance before ducking inside with a humorous smile.
“I meant no offense.  You are lovely in any form…even when you are covered in dirt,” he murmured softly to her with an amused lilting voice, taking her into his arms filth and all and holding her to his chest.  She squirmed only a little, enjoying his touch but not wanting to dirty his pristine clothes.  When he didn’t show signs of releasing his hold, Istuihel laughed and whispered loudly, “That is putting it lightly and you know it.”  The puttering smile that secured his lips was proof enough of that.
“Now,” Istuihel said when she finally managed to wiggle out of his arms, “I am taking a bath, and you are to stay right here and wait for me to finish.”  Despite her own desire to invite him to join her, she really was very dirty and doubted it would be all that interesting because of it.  Better for him to wait outside while she washed away all that muck, lest he dirty his royal body as well.  She smirked to herself at the thought.
His lips tightened together as he tried and failed to tuck away his smile.  It didn’t work of course – Legolas was terrible at hiding his amusement, at least when it came to her.  His poker face was indeed admirable (as was most of Elvish kind), but it was his eyes that gave him away time and time again.  And right now, they were downright sparkling.
“You seem to forget that I have had my share of messy battles, meleth nin.  But if that is what you desire, I shall wait for you to attend to yourself.”  [1]  The amusement in his voice could not be misplaced.  She bit back a chuckle and rolled her eyes playfully.
In a reckless display of affection that felt as fresh as their first kiss decades before, Istuihel leaned in and gently pecked the corner of his mouth.  The tension of it loosened with the contact, and before she could pull away, Legolas was drawing her back in and placing another lingering kiss to her lips.  She all but sunk into him with a sigh.
Seconds passed and, as she slowly drew back, she murmured a pleased, “If you bring me supper then I shall welcome you to attend to me personally.”  The suggestion was more of a purr than anything else, and Legolas immediately conceded with a laughing smile.
“Ordering your prince to bring you dinner?” he whispered, playfully nipping at her bottom lip.  “Alas, denying such a command would wound me beyond repair.  Very well, I shall return shortly, and you will pay the price of commanding the Prince of Mirkwood to do such an ordinary task.”  He squeezed at her rear humorously and laughed when she jumped at the contact.
“One day, your jesting will bring your downfall, my Prince,” she told him with a quirked smile.  “I will pay whatever price you require, with pleasure.”  A wink and a gentle nudging toward the hallway, and she was well on her way to getting dinner delivered right to her door – and in the best way possible. 
Legolas merely scoffed and gave her a slanted over-the-shoulder look.  As he opened the door and stepped into the hall, he called back to her, “Pleasure is exactly what I had in mind, meleth nin.”  She had no doubt it was, and her only response was a giddy laugh that had Legolas grinning as he made his way quickly down the hall towards the kitchens.
It was quiet in the halls.  Legolas avoided the noisy paths as best as he could, ducking into passageways that only few people ventured down, for they were narrow and tight.  They suited his purpose however, and made it easy to navigate the palace without detection or delay.  Such things would be horrendous really, especially considering how desperately he wanted to return to his love’s room.  If his father knew what he was doing now, he would be sorely unhappy.  Well, furious might better describe the king’s temper. 
But no matter – Legolas hardly had any run ins with other elves, and the few he did have were all with those of lesser station.  He was therefore able to excuse himself quickly, and walk away before anyone could even think to inquire into the strange platter resting atop his forearms.  Oh yes, he would make Istuihel pay for ordering this of him.  Princes didn’t just waltz down to the kitchens and casually load themselves up with food.  But the prize would most certainly make up for the punishment.  He would make sure of it.
Fifteen minutes later and Legolas was returning to Istuihel’s chambers, carefully opening the door and slipping inside with the loaded platter in his arms.  He shut the door with his foot, locked it, and glanced around the room.  Subtle sounds of water splashing against porcelain told him that she was already in the bath.  Only the sight of a delicate silk robe showed him any signs that she’d been in this room at all – that, and the pile of dirtied gear tossed rather ungracefully over the back of the fireside chair.
She was indeed waiting for him in the bath, which was where he found her upon opening the door.  She turned to him with a tranquil smile that he easily returned as he made his way to the side of the tub.  Already, she had scrubbed herself clean, and the water had taken the brunt of the abuse.  It was not so clear as it had been before she’d entered it, but such was the life of a Woodland ranger.  He hardly batted an eye at it and merely sat down on the slim edge of the tub, near to her head.
“Dinner is waiting, princess,” he told her, fondly carding his fingers through her damp hair, freshly washed.  He sent a gentle smile to her and she stretched out, grasping one of his long hands with the both of hers and playing with his fingers.  His smile grew.
“I am no princess,” she told him, as she often did whenever he used the pet name.  If he had his way (one day he would, he told himself), then she would be just that, his equal in all things.  In his eyes, she was already his and would forever remain, regardless of what his father had to say on the matter.
He did not argue with her this time.  Instead he merely twisted her hands into his and lifted them to his lips, pressing ardent affection to each fingertip.  She sighed and her eyes fluttered closed, clearly enjoying his kisses.  But more – she needed more from him tonight.  After the stressful day she’d had, she needed as much as he was willing to give.  Which, of course, was practically anything she asked for.  He rather spoiled her, to be honest.
“I would ask if you wanted to join me, but I fear the water is too dirty for a prince – and the tub too small,” she chuckled, thinking momentarily about the bathtub in his chambers, and how it could probably fit several squadrons comfortably.  He quirked an amused grin and chuckled too.
He thoughtfully ran a hand over her cheek and down her neck, dipping into the water to trace the top of one slender shoulder.  “Well…perhaps we should move this into another room then?  Do you know how much trouble I went through to get your dinner?”  A twinkle in his eye told her just what she was in for.  Istuihel laughed.
His suggestion, and the hint of earned punishment in his tone had her gracefully standing, equally eager to receive him.  Legolas sprang up as she did, quickly moving to help her onto the slippery polished floor.  In the process, she fell slightly into his chest, and her bare form sent a delicious wave of heat through him.
“Dinner first,” she murmured at him, feeling the very same electricity shudder through her.  “I haven’t eaten since noon.”  She was starving and it was no exaggeration.  Legolas chuckled and nodded, watching with dark eyes as she toweled herself dry and reached for a robe.  He helped adjust it over her body, following the trail of satin with gentle fingers and tying it loose around her hips.  A little too loose, but Istuihel didn’t fix it.  She only sent him an amused smile and allowed him to lead her into the sitting room of her small apartment.
The dinner he had retrieved for her was waiting idly by the fire, covered by a silver dome.  Beneath it, several steamed vegetables and a decadent bowl of salad was waiting, tossed with corn and other things.  There were even a few sleeves of lembas sitting casually beside it, though Istuihel had to admit that it didn’t look entirely appetizing tonight.  She’d spent quite a few days out in the woods with only lembas and dried stores of food to satiate her.  When she sat down, she went right for the heartier foods.
“You are wonderful, you know,” she told Legolas after a moment of chewing, and he gave her a bashful sort of grin that made his eyes glow.  He folded himself down onto the floor beside her chair – not really a princely seat, but Legolas was not a prince tonight.  He was only her lover, the man who had been awaiting her return for several sleepless nights that seemed to rage on into eternity.  Silly, really, but true.
He hummed quietly, ghosting his hand over her knee and sliding the fabric away from her skin.  He placed a kiss over it, a kiss that lingered into a similar eternity and perhaps skidded into even more, because it was full of promises she could not ignore. 
“Am I?” he whispered, another kiss deposited beside the other.  Her skin tingled with the feel of them, and Istuihel’s breathing slowed.  He wasn’t being entirely fair, to be honest.  And, she knew, for him to not be fair, he must be feeling extremely impatient.  Only such dire emotions would bring forth this part of him.
She stopped chewing and only swallowed, watching with baited anticipation as Legolas caught her eye with mischievous intent and slowly pushed her legs open.  The robe could only do so much, and it splayed open at the movement to reveal her glistening core.  The bowl of salad was quickly shoved back onto the table, and finally, all of Istuihel’s attention was placed on her wayward lover.
“Impatient too,” she tsked at him, but couldn’t stop the amusement from leaking into her expression.  He only chuckled a low, quiet laugh and slowly rose up onto his knees before her.  The fire crackled over his features and burned them into bright, heady declarations.
He folded himself over her thighs, gently tugging her hips down the armchair until she was slumped there, with her knees caged around him.  In a tone that made her shiver, Legolas told her, “I am impatient.  Four nights away from you, and I find I cannot think of anything else.  Goheno nin, meleth nin, I will make it up to you.” 
How could she say no to him when his fingers were already tumbling forward, sinking against her wet flesh and stroking fire into her?  How could she, when she had thought of little else as she’d spent the nights high in the tree tops, looking up to the starry sky and imagining his eyes blinking back?  Impossible.  She would sooner let herself go hungry than stop him now.
“Mmm…” she breathed, a small whimper in her throat.  She shuffled further down, as if her hips were trying to follow the path of his fingers.  Her eyes caught his, and in a moment of excited passion, Istuihel shifted her robe, until it did little more than fall off of her figure as she sat in that great armchair with a prince between her legs.
That prince swallowed tightly at the revelation of her body.  Her breasts were already taut, the nipples hard from the chilled air and from what he was making her feel.  Glorious, he thought, and in a fit of desire, he pulled her even further to the edge of the chair – and ducked his head to taste her himself.
The moan that shifted from her then was a piece of his dreams.  He splayed his tongue against her and dragged it up to twirl around the top of her clit.  Then, several teasing licks later, and Legolas took her into his mouth and sucked.  Her reaction to this transcended even those dreams which had kept him from recklessly searching the wood thrice over for her during her absence.
“Ah!” she cried, “Legolas – “ 
Her fingers grappled into his hair, twisting it between her grasp and tossing her head back.  There was nothing quite like this – having him do such an intimate thing, watching his head move and his hair shift over her thighs, and every second of the delicious torture meant a second closer to bliss. 
One hand shot out to the arm of the chair, digging her nails into the cushion and trying to maintain some recognition of the world around her.  But she was close to falling away from all that – from these rooms and the life she lived – and in desperate need to just fall into him, instead.
Her legs flexed around his head.  It was hard to keep her muscles relaxed.  Harder to keep herself from her end too.  She didn’t want to come yet.  They hardly even started and she wanted to enjoy the beautiful desperation of this poignant union. 
And so after only a few minutes, Istuihel was threading her fingers into Legolas’s fine hair and murmuring, “Daro, meleth nin – you will make me – “ [3] she cuts herself off with a gasp as Legolas chuckles against her. 
The vibrations made her toes curl, and every shrouded glimpse of pleasure was within her grasp when he said against her core, “I want to pleasure you a thousand times over this night, Istuihel.  Allow me to do this for you.” 
She laughed breathlessly, eyes closed as that tongue quickened its pace, skimming over her aching flesh.  “A thousand times?  You have high expectations, I see,” she murmured, a gasp really, that heaved through her even as stars began to shroud her vision. 
“Oh…!”  Her back arched, breasts jerking into the air as a fire like no other shot through her.  And she drowned there, for a long minute, as the heat spread over her skin.  And then Legolas slowly lifted his head, placed a kiss to her trembling thigh, and watched her eyes fade back into the present.
She turned to him, looking at his swollen mouth, the way his tongue ran over his bottom lip to lick at the wetness left behind.  Then Istuihel pushed herself forward, tipped his head back, and lowered her mouth to his.  He kissed her, kneeling before her as she gave freely her love.  He didn’t stop her as she reached for his tunic.  Didn’t stop her when she cast the fabric to the floor and stood up.  He only watched as she walked, gloriously bare, across the room to where her bed awaited.  And as she slid down onto it, Legolas followed too, shirtless but still wearing his olive green leggings…which didn’t exactly hide much.
He was already hot and hard for her.  His erection jutted against the thin fabric and made her mouth water.  The moment he was close enough, Istuihel reached for him, fingers skimming against the skin of his abdomen.  His muscles flexed from the gentle touch.  But as she curled her fingers against the bulge of his leggings, Legolas snatched from her hands away from him with an upward tilt of his mouth.
“Patience, meleth nin,” he murmured, giving her an appraising look.  Istuihel just frowned back at him. 
Patience?  The meaning of the word escaped her in that moment.  She had yearned for him, dreamt of him, needed him – no, patience was not something she wanted to cultivate that night.
“I truly admire your fortitude, Legolas, but I fear I cannot be patient tonight,” she told him, sweeping her body back onto the bed.  The soft candlelight succored over her skin in just the right ways, and his eyes drifted from her legs up to the rest of her.  When she allowed her thighs to hang open, his fingers twitched.  As well as other extremities that had Legolas very nearly groaning.
Only his impressive resilience stopped him from jumping onto that bed and laying his body over hers.  Needless to say, he barely managed to remain calm, especially at the sight of her glistening womanhood, already pleasured yet begging for more.
Istuihel smiled innocently up at him and decided that a little push was all he needed – all she needed, perhaps.  She didn’t think twice about dragging her fingers down to her core.  The results were certainly rewarding.
Legolas’s throat convulsed as he watched her circle her fingers around herself.  They too, glistened with her juices, and he suddenly felt the very strong urge to lean down and lick every one of her digits.  The taste of her was already on his tongue, but he yearned for more.  There was nothing better than spending his time between those thighs.
This time, he made hasty work of his leggings, dragging them away and revealing himself fully to her hungry eyes.  It was that hunger that truly set him off – far more than he would have ever been had it not torn her gaze into a burning inferno.  She was hungry for him, hungry for the things that he offered her.
“You will be the death of me,” he muttered as he knelt upon the bed between her legs.  Istuihel chuckled and raised both arms above her head, looking downright wicked as she blinked up at him.  Her breasts pillowed out into perfect softened globes, and Legolas ducked down to kiss one pert nipple.  He placed several teasing kisses over her skin in the same manner before giving her more adequate attention.
Tilting his head to press his mouth to hers once more, his hand drifted down her body, lingering at her hair before slowly sliding over her collar and breast.  He paused there and gripped her gently, breathing a smile into the kiss when Istuihel hooked her leg around his and sighed happily against him.
Her hands did not stay still for long either, and soon they were drifting down his back, tracing the ridges of his spine – and lower, over the taut skin of his buttocks.  She fisted her hand against him and dragged his lower body closer to hers, lips working at a more furious pace.  She appeared to be taking her previous words to heart: she would not be patient tonight.
Legolas breathed out when she pulled him in.  The tip of his cock brushed against her thigh and he longed to press himself further against her.  He always marveled at the way Istuihel could take his usual brand of serene tolerance and make him lust after her so willfully.  It was not in his nature to be like this, but somehow he found himself unsurprised that she could spark this ardency within him.  He did not merely lust over her, after all.
He devoured her mouth with a deepened hunger that had Istuihel moaning lightly.  Reaching up, her hand drifted into his tumbling hair and she wove her fingers through the silken locks, palming over his cheekbone as she did.  Her other hand, mischievous as it was, had entirely other plans.
The moment he felt her fingers around his length, Legolas turned almost boneless for a brief moment.  He sunk into her with an incoherent sigh, lips molding to hers with little effort.  When she dragged her touch over him with one long pump, he let out the most divine sound she’d ever heard and shivered against her like a leaf in a hurricane.
“One thousand seems too great a number, don’t you think my prince?” Istuihel couldn’t help but tease.  Her mouth tilted up and Legolas chuckled, propping himself onto his elbow to peer down at her through hazy blue eyes.  They appeared gray in the dim light, but no less amorous.  Amusement flickered through his eyes at her words, but there was something else there too – something that seemed to burst over his expression; lowlights of darker passion.
“The night is still young,” he swiftly responded, halflidded and beautiful as he hovered above her.  She thumbed over his tip, dragging pleasure through him like the rainfall.  It came as a torrid and did not end until his entire body felt the effects.
Istuihel laughed at his words, a low hum of mirth that puttered out when he leaned down to kiss her again.  With a sighing moan, she whispered against his lips, “We are far older.”
Her teasing did not end there.  To say that she tormented him with that hand would be a fallacy, for Legolas yearned for her touch more than he could put into words.  Nor, he thought, would he ever need to.  She seemed to know exactly her effects on him in their entirety.  But he also knew that he could very easily torment her as well.
His hand crept down her body once more, but this time it did not linger at her breast or her stomach.  Instead he slid his fingers further down, past her hip and to her thigh.  He rubbed her inner thigh for a brief moment before drifting further and skimming his fingertips over her core.  When he sunk between her folds, she seemed wetter than even before and her reaction was immediate and gratifying.
The light moan she gave him was sweeter than anything he could have thought up himself, and he kissed her ardently as he continued to flick his fingers over her cunt.  But it was only when he slid one finger inside her without warning that Istuihel near to arched up from the mattress with a moan that made his insides melt.
“Legolas,” she breathed, her voice a whimpered, shivering mess.  He groaned too at the mere sound of it, and the sight she made as she clung to him.  Her fingers twitched against his length and he sighed again, then chuckled suddenly.
Istuihel blinked up at him questionably and he gave her an amused smile.  It was a touch strained, no doubt from holding back the undulating waves of pleasure currently sweeping through his body. 
“Perhaps you are right,” he murmured to her, his mouth catching into a boyish smile that made his entire face glow.  “One thousand does seem a lot.”
Istuihel laughed and released his length, instead drawing her hands to his face and tilting it to face hers.  Their eyes caught, at the smiles they gave each other appeared almost sheepish, as if they were merely young lovers with little experience in one another.
She thumbed over his cheekbone and whispered, “Shall we take it one step at a time, and work our way up?”  The mirth that danced behind her gaze was infectious.
He hummed and leaned in to kiss her once more.  “You are wise beyond your years, meleth nin,” he teased, and they both shared another chuckle that seemed altogether surreal in the present moment.  Who else but Legolas would she ever feel so comfortable around?  She doubted there was another in existence.
With a sigh, Istuihel reached for him once more and guided him to her entrance.  He had been right, after all – the night was still young, and they had hours of it before the dawn separated them. 
He entered her slowly, with a careful reverence.  As he did, he watched her face, finding that he could not look away.  Her expression melted as he hilted himself within her, her eyes a glittering sheen of banked desire.  She truly did look like a princess – no, a queen perhaps – regal and ethereal as she lay beneath him, with the subtly of her light radiating forth.
She reached for him and he went, finding more than solace in her embrace.  He rested his forehead against hers for a moment and merely remained still, basking in their connection.  And then at her urging look, he rocked forward, eyelids fluttering as fierce bolts of pleasure licked at his skin.
“Mmm…” Istuihel murmured, a grainy sigh in his ear.  Her body was at once on fire, set alight to a burning inferno of dazzling heat that increased with the tempo of his thrusts.  Every rocking movement sundered her in ways she could not easily explain – only surrender to as completely as she dared.
“Faster, Legolas,” she moaned, locking her ankles around his waist and digging her heels into the flesh of his rear.  She pulled him forward with urgency, needing to feel him fill her as deeply as she could.  He obeyed without question, rushing into her with wild abandon, giving her pleasure as equally as he took his own.
Patience had truly deserted them, and they raced forward with lustful murmurs as their pleasure rose.  Each thrust left them shaking into one another, sighing out breathy moans and low whispers of affection.  Legolas propped himself up on his elbows and the momentum of his position allowed him more speed.  He thrust into her heat with firm shifts of his lower body, pinning her own to the mattress even as she rose to meet him. 
Their end tumbled into them without warning.  Istuihel cried out, shuddering against him as her orgasm tore through her.  She found she had no time to warn him before she fell, hips bucking up into his without permission, body turning to a boneless mess.  Her inner muscles clenched around his length as if to keep him within her, and the spasms of her end had Legolas moaning as he hovered above her, the once even pace of his hips torn asunder and utterly directionless.
He spilled himself within her with a low cry, face buried against the silken coils of her hair and the soft plane of her cheek.  Her fingers kept his head there, clenched down into his hair.  Her other hand grasped at his shoulder, digging into the firm muscles beneath his skin.  He continued to move, dragging out their pleasure until the passion had dulled and turned instead to gentle comfort.  Then Legolas sighed and curled against her, shifting his weight to the mattress and resting his head against her breasts.
He did not move from within her but Istuihel did not complain.  She merely slung her leg over his waist and nestled further against him, fingers playing with his braids.  She pressed a kiss to his forehead and smiled.
And then her stomach made a noise.
Legolas started to laugh, shaking against her as a grin spread over his face.  He lifted his head and chuckled at the slight blush that had spread over her cheeks.  It was slightly amusing to him that she had not blushed once during any point of their lovemaking, but was embarrassed about this.
“I suppose I should let you finish your dinner,” he solemnly tells her, but the mirth dancing in his eyes tells her that his laughter has not yet vanished.  Istuihel fights away a chuckle of her own and playfully swats at his hand as he skims it over her stomach.
“I told you I haven’t eaten since noon,” she reminded him, allowing him to help her up.  They walked to the fireside together, completely bare and uninterested in changing that any time soon.
As Istuihel reclaimed her seat by the hearth, Legolas went to throw another log on the fire. 
“I suggest you eat all of your meal,” he told her as he returned to her side.  The smirk he had tried to battle down before came back at full force and turned his eyes to mischievous.  She raised an eyebrow at him and he sat on the edge of her armchair, breaking off a piece of lembas bread and lifting it to her lips.  Then he murmured, “I may not be able to take you a thousand times tonight, but I intend to take you at least several more.”
Istuihel burst into laughter and Legolas chuckled.
“Then I suppose I should hurry,” she replied with a mischievous smirk of her own.  “I shan’t keep my prince waiting for me.”
He gave her a soft smile and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.  They did not have the opportunity to make love one thousand times over that night, but they certainly made an impressive effort all the same.

[1] Meleth nin … my love
[2] Goheno nin … I am sorry
[3] Daro, meleth nin … Stop, my love


  1. Loooove this, Legolas is such a dreamboat. X.x The way you capture the intimate moments is breathtaking, actually everything about your style is breathtaking. Can't wait to read more! (;

  2. Love your writing, while reading it i imagined a different ending with thranduil and his captain of the guard, maybe with her teasing him that they are like legolas and his girl and thranduil either agreeing or playfully telling her to shut up. Idk i think a crossover of your lemons would be kinda fun, but thats just me. Love your writing!

    1. I think you're onto something :) I have a Thranduil sequel in the works so maybe I'll incorporate that into it~

  3. That was amazing! And I was one of those preteens too xD

    1. I'm thinking we probably all were at some point tbh!
      Now I'm obsessed with his father, which is kind of a weird thought but whatever ;D

  4. This was great! Could you by any chance do a Psycho-Pass lemon? (Shogo Makishima x Female Reader) :)

  5. Is there a possibility i could send you a Mail through gmail?
    And I adoooooore You stories an love Them so much

    1. My email is Feel free to email me if you have a request :) I can't promise anything but if it inspires me, I'll see what I can do!