Minas Tirith. July 1429 SR

Silent Street lived up to its name as Frodo and Sam accompanied Faramir to the House of the Stewards. The early morning sun was already hot and the shady approach provided a cooling welcome. There was no sound save for the soft pad of Faramir's boots as they made their way past the statues and passed through the door, then made their way down into Rath Dinen and to the burial place of the Stewards of Gondor.

       The doors swung back as the guards saluted. The Steward acknowledged the salute and carefully closed the door behind them, ensuring peace and privacy. He always experienced mixed emotions in this place, where memories of childhood grief merged with a desire to sit and talk to his beloved mother. He supposed he was lucky not to remember the day of his father's death, although he sometimes dreamed of shouting and the smell of smoke.

       Frodo was relieved not to feel any spiritual echoes of Denethor's hideous death. He gazed around and found himself staring at effigies and names he recognised from his studies of Gondorian history - Hurin, Belecthor, Thorondir, Turgon, Orodreth, Hador, Barahir.....

       Faramir led them to a massive plinth, on which stood a black marble bust of his brother. He paused and glanced down. The hobbits did likewise and saw a simple inscription on a stone

                                               Finduilas, wife to Denethor II TA 2950 - 2988

       "It is the most painful thing of all, to lose a mother," Frodo whispered. "We have all been through that, and you were younger than either of us when yours departed this life." He murmured something in Sam's ear and they placed some of their flowers on the stone.

       Faramir tried to speak but was undone by the sight of the two small hobbits kneeling beside his mother's final resting place.

       "She must have been a right sweet lady," said Sam

       "Why do you say that?" Faramir asked.

       "Stands to reason.You're her son and very like her, I reckon."

       "Sam's right, as usual. I can imagine what she might have been like, and I think she would have been - no, she is - very proud of you." Frodo glanced up and saw tears sliding down Faramir's cheek.

       The life-size bust had been carved by someone who had seen Boromir at close quarters. The sculptor had succeeded in capturing the proud features but he had managed to depict the Man's kindness and courage also. Here was the person who had undertaken the journey to Rivendell because the way was fraught with danger and he wanted to protect the younger brother he loved. Here was the warrior who had tried to save Merry and Pippin, and died doing so.

       Sam placed his flowers in a vase and bowed, then he and Faramir retreated a little to give Frodo some privacy. The Steward was aware that Frodo wanted to make his peace with Boromir and needed time alone to gather his thoughts.

       The hobbit placed his flowers in the vase to the right of the bust, and allowed his hand to rest on the plinth, the marble cool beneath his fingers. He thought of the proud Man as he had first seen him at the Council of Elrond, describing the dream, his grey eyes flashing as he dared any to challenge him. At that time he had seen Aragorn as a threat, but thankfully he had seen sense at the end. There was much nobility in his character, and warmth too, as he had demonstrated with Merry and Pippin, and his compassion to Frodo after Gandalf's death had been as welcome as it was unexpected. In his mind Frodo had a sudden vivid image of Boromir and a woman gazing out across a tranquil sea.

       "The White City did not fall," he murmured, "And your people did not fail. You redeemed your honour at the last, which is more than I could manage. Be at peace, Son of Gondor."

       After a long and thoughtful pause Frodo rejoined the other two.

       "Your mother has him in her keeping. I am sure of that."

       Faramir looked at him, his eyes hopeful. "You think so? I should like to think of them together."

       "I saw them in my mind. I have these visions sometimes - since the Quest. The Lady Galadriel thought the Ring had given me some sort of ability, and although most of its effects have been cured I still see things from afar, or events which have not yet happened."

       "Thank you for sharing that with me. You have eased my spirit, my dear Frodo." He guided them out into the air and they walked back to the sunshine of the Courtyard of the Fountain, and second breakfast.

                                                                               ***********

       Rose decided to stay at home when the others went to the dwarf tavern. The three women sat contentedly in Arwen's chambers, the children playing around them and the babies gurgling and kicking, watching indulgently as their menfolk prepared to leave. They were all clad simply and wore plain cloaks. Faramir and Beregond wore their dark green cloak of the Ithilien Rangers, and the King, the hobbits, Legolas and Gimli wore their Lorien cloaks.

       "Like little boys, aren't they?" Rose murmured, to laughter from the two women.

       "Estel likes to sneak out sometimes, dressed in his ranger garb, and wander the streets. He sometimes finds being King rather stifling after his earlier freedom. I don't begrudge him these nights out." Arwen looked down and smiled at baby Pip, who was lying in her lap. He was experimenting with the important task of putting his toe in his mouth, and there was an expression of profound concentration on his face which she found captivating.

       The group stole out from the side gate, past the unsuspecting bodyguards who had no idea that their sovereign was off to spend the evening in a tavern. Only the Captain of the King's Bodyguard noticed the tall, loping figure in an Elven cloak and he sighed heavily. The King certainly made his job difficult, but hopefully there would be no unexpected hazards in the city this night. The man had been a ranger after all, skilled in tracking and avoiding danger. He could hardly oppose the King's will directly, even though there were still some discontented elements in Rhun and Harad who might seek to assassinate him. After a few moments deliberation, the Captain sent four guards to follow discreetly and keep an eye on the party.

       They were not really noticed as they walked down to the second level, where the dwarf tavern was situated. The Elven cloaks shielded them, and all most people saw were flitting shadows. Faramir walked beside the King on one side, Beregond on the other.

       "There are four men following us," Faramir murmured to Aragorn.

       "Yes, they're members of the Citadel Guard. My poor Captain despairs of me going jaunting, so he sends a few men along to make sure no ill befalls me. He thinks I do not know about it and I don't like to disillusion him. It keeps him happy."

       "I don't have a sword but I do have my dagger and I know Legolas has those white-handled knives of his - just in case."

       "I have left Anduril behind but my Lothlorien knife is with me, should we need it, although I have no intimations of danger tonight - except the usual dangers of drinking too much dwarven ale!"

       At the door of the inn, the dwarves stod aside respectfully and welcomed Gimli and Legolas and the hobbits, then bowed to the three tall Men, who were introduced as Strider, Bergil and Cirion.

       "They are Rangers from the North," Gimli explained, and they were given greeting and asked to sit.

       Strider tucked his long legs up and smiled at his companions. "Now we shall see some real drinking. In fact, it usually becomes quaffing after a while."

       "What's the difference?" Merry enquired, steadying a foaming tankard with both hands.

       Legolas chuckled. "From my observations, quaffing means getting ale in one's ears or over the person behind you."

       "In that case, Merry and Pip should have no problems since they do that naturally!" Frodo laughed.

       "We're being insulted again, Merry."

       A red-bearded dwarf approached the table carrying a tankard which he handed to Frodo.

       "A pleasure to meet you again, Master Baggins." Frodo looked at him carefully.

       "Fror! Thank you. I remember you - you came to Hobbiton once to visit Bilbo. How wonderful to see you again."

       "I'm flattered you remember after all this time. You had moved from Buckland by then, to live with your uncle - cousin, I should say."

       "That's right. I was in my tweens when you visited."

       "I also remember a gardener's lad in and out of your home, listening to Bilbo's stories and busying himself in the garden," said Fror, turning to Sam, who blushed.

       "Ah, I remember that visit, sir. You fixed the door on the kitchen stove in our home. My Mam talked about it for months."

       The dwarf smiled. "Your mother was a very kind woman, and a magnificent cook. I'm told you have inherited her skills in the kitchen?"

       Sam shook his head. "I'm not that good - but she did teach me many of her ways. I leave most of the cooking to my Rose these days."

       "Is it true that Bilbo has departed Middle-earth?"

       "Yes, he has been allowed to go to the West. I was supposed to go too, but at the last I found I could not leave Sam and his family and my cousins. We saw Bilbo board the ship with Gandalf. Funny though - neither of them seemed surprised at my decision."

       Fror glanced over at the three Men and lowered his voice as he addressed Frodo.

       "I have seen King Elessar many times in the course of my work, and that man is either his twin brother or the King himself has decided to spend a night with us."

       Frodo nodded. "He likes to get away from the responsibilities of kingship occasionally."

       "And the other two? That one looks very much like The Steward."

       Gimli slipped into the seat next to his cousin. "That's because he is the Steward. The third one is Beregond of the White Company, using his own son's name for the night."

       "Then we are more than honoured. None shall learn their true identities from me."

                                                                              ************

       "Those poor men, standing outside all this time." Faramir downed the remainder of his ale.

       Strider called to the barman. "There are four men hanging around outside......."

       "Don't worry, sir. We'll deal with them......."

       "No, no, they're guards. They.....er......they've been told to keep an eye on us - the hobbits must be kept safe after all. They don't want us to know they're guarding us. Please take them four pints of your best, and some bread and meat, compliments of Strider of the Dunedain."

       Outside in the street, four very surprised royal guards looked at each other, then down to the tray with its welcome contents.

       "So he knew we were following him?"

       "Finest tracker in the Rangers, they say. Wonder what they're doing in there?"

       "Getting drunk on dwarf ale by the looks of things," said the oldest, peering through the window.

       "He's incorrigible, that man. Always dashing into shops and talking to all and sundry. No wonder the people love him. When he needs to he can be awesome and terrible, but most of the time he's so ordinary and kind. Came to the Houses to see my wife when she was ill after the baby died. Brought her flowers and just walked in with no fuss."

       "He loves the Pheriannath so much, especially the Ringbearer. I remember him at Cormallen, after Mithrandir brought them back from Orodruin. He sat beside their beds, holding Lord Frodo's hand, his head bowed with grief. I came upon him once, pacing up and down outside the tent, muttering, 'I cannot lose him. We must not lose him, not after all he has done.' I'll never forget the look on his face. He was desperate." He looked through the window. "Look how happy he is now. Sometimes he seems tense but tonight he looks like a boy again."

       "I don't believe he still calls himself Strider!"

       "He has many names. I've heard that he served King Thengel of Rohan for a while, then he came to Gondor in Lord Ecthelion's time, and in those days he was Captain Thorongil. In the North he is Strider, although they also call him Longshanks, his given name is Aragorn, and the Elves call him Estel meaning 'Hope.' He has spent much of his time with ordinary people, and no doubt been in many taverns in all parts of the West."

       "Can you imagine old Lord Denethor wandering round the streets, dressed like any ordinary citizen and drinking with dwarves?" This provoked much laughter, and the four sat on a low wall and consumed their supper.

       The company obliged their hosts and entertained them with song and story. Sam recited his oliphaunt poem and Legolas and Strider sang an ancient Elven song of blessing. Faramir and Beregond regaled them with some Gondorian ballads and the hobbits managed to remember a few Shire ballads without bawdy lyrics. Gimli and the dwarves sang the lament for Thorin and one for the loss of Balin and the halls of Moria, which was a great honour as it was not normally performed for non-dwarves.. It was a joyful evening for everyone.

       Finally the company stumbled out into the night. Beregond forgot to duck and bumped his head on the beam, prompting chortling from the rest.

       "Gandalf was always doing that in Bag End," Frodo said. "You wouldn't think a Maia would know such words!"

       They set off, weaving their way up towards the Citadel, laughing and talking. The four guards followed some yards behind, grinning to themselves at the sight of their King, his Steward and his guests wandering unsteadily through the darkened streets.

       "Oh my! Look at that!" Frodo gazed up at the sky as they finally reached the seventh level.

       Stars danced in the dark sky above the Mountains of Shadow, like diamonds shaken on black velvet. Only tiny puffs of cloud could be seen, and the night above Mordor was clean and clear.

       "Little cloud tonight, my friends. It will be a beautiful day tomorrow. Starlight shines even upon Mordor now, with no pall of darkness to obscure them." Aragorn joined Frodo and leaned on the wall, facing east.

       "It seemed impossible to imagine Mordor without that cloud and darkness, but it is wonderful to see. It looks almost ordinary." Frodo propped his chin on his hands and smiled, allowing the wind to blow in his face and lift the dark curls.

       "Those poor guards must be tired. At least they can go off duty now," said Sam as they slipped into the Citadel. 

                                                                                *************

       Rose returned from the nursery, leaving a full and snoring baby. She removed her robe and flopped on the bed, enjoying the cool breeze which stirred her hair. The sound of laughter drifted along the corridor. There was the unmistakeable sound of someone stubbing their toe on the step, followed by a muffled curse, and Rose had to stifle her laughter in the pillow as she recognised the King's voice. A few moments later the door opened and closed. She lay still, trying not to laugh out loud at her husband's efforts to be quiet while colliding with chairs and tripping over rugs. Finally she sat up.

       "Sorry love. Didn't mean to wake you."

       "An oliphaunt crashing through a hedge would have made less noise! And was that the King stubbing his toe and swearing?" She lost control altogether and giggled hysterically, and Sam laughed too.

       "Never thought Strider knew words like that." He sprawled on the bed. "That was a good night, lass. Mr Gimli's people are very hospitable I must say."

       "Hope you're all going to be alright in the morning. There's an important outing planned, I gather."

       "We'll be fine. Wonder where we're going? Ah well, I daresay we'll find out in due course."

       There was no more conversation, and when Rose glanced at Sam he was sound asleep.

                                                                             ************

       "Today, my dear friends, we have some surprises for you. We are going to parts of this city which you have not yet seen." Aragorn was rubbing his hands in anticipation. Are we all fit and raring to go?"

      Everyone nodded. Legolas and Gimli were exchanging smiles, Eowyn looked as though she might explode with the enormity of a secret and the two boys were jumping around in excitement.

       "Why do I have the feeling there is something going on?" Frodo queried. Aragorn had suggested smart dress for the day, and Merry and Pippin were wearing their uniforms.

       The King assumed an innocent expression. "Going on? My dear friend, why would anything be 'going on,' as you put it? We're just looking forward to showing you some new places."

       "Hmmmm." Frodo sounded sceptical but he was grinning and the others laughed.

       "Stop being such a suspicious old Baggins!" said Pippin. "We're just out for the day, having fun and seeing new sights."

       "Baggins I am, and suspicious certainly, but I take issue with the old, young Pipsqueak!"

      They walked down to the sixth level, accompanied by several guards, which caused people to turn and stare. Curiosity turned to joy when they saw the King and his friends and there was much cheering.

       Aragorn smiled graciously and paused to speak with various people, to the exasperation of his bodyguards. He was sometimes careless of his own safety and they could never be sure when he would plunge into a crowd or step into a shop to look at something.

       At last they arrived at the doors of a very imposing building. It was new, the marble a brilliant white and the carvings fresh and clearly delineated. Two guards saluted the King and presented arms, then did the same for Frodo and Sam, much to their consternation. The magnificent doors swung back as they stepped in, Aragorn striding ahead. He was clearly enjoying himself.

       "This you must see, my dear friends."

       "Look, Frodo! It's a giant mathom-house!"

       "Here in Gondor we call it a museum. People want to know about the War and the Fellowship and this is the best way to teach them."

       They found themselves in a large room full of memorabilia. Eowyn took Frodo's hand in hers and led them forward. In front of them was a case containing the hilt of a sword, and that of a small dagger, with replicas of both weapons beside them.

       "Is that.............?" Frodo asked. Eowyn nodded, smiling.

      "My sword, and Merry's dagger - what is left of them."

       "There is no danger, Frodo," Aragorn murmured. "Both have been cleansed with pure water from Lorien. We kept nothing belonging to that deadly thing."

       "They have your dagger handle, Merry," Frodo said, and Merry nodded, watching as Sam drew Rose to him to see the things.

       Next to these was a large painting. Young Dernhelm, fair hair no longer contained by the helmet, grey eyes clear and cold, terror and defiance on the pale face. Her shattered shield lay in pieces at her feet. Facing her, the Lord of the Nazgul, his great beast already dead beside him. Nearby lay King Theoden, crushed beneath Snowmane, with Merry crouched over him. It was entitled 'No man am I.' 

       Rose's eyes were wide with awe. She gazed at Eowyn as though seeing her for the first time, filled with a new respect for the slender woman of Rohan.

       Above them were the banners of Rohan, of Gondor and Dol Amroth. All around them were shields, spears and swords, and the enormous construction taken from the back of one fallen mumak.

       This intrigued the two boys, and Legolas and Gimli explained how the enormous beasts were controlled, pointing to the picture above it.

       Along one wall stretched a great map of Middle-earth, and there, in different colours, were the journeys of the various members of the Fellowship. Frodo's journey was marked in red, and Rose stood on some steps to look more closely. She had seen small maps before, but this one brought home to her the scale of the journey. Here, at the top left, was Hobbiton, and she followed the red line with her finger, tracing each mountain and river. She knew how far it was to Gondor, riding safely and comfortably, and their journey had been neither. The Misty Mountains, the great River Anduin, the Emyn Muil and the expanse of the Marshes, then the Mountains and the wastes of Mordor, all now seemed much more real.

       "They walked," she whispered dazedly. "They walked all that way." She stared at the two, who were exclaiming over one of the giant siege catapults. "They actually walked all the way to Mordor."

       Arwen wrapped her arm around Rose and guided her gently to the case at the end of the room. Two guards kept vigil, heads bowed. The case contained two ragged orc cloaks, two filthy shirts and torn hobbit trousers. There was a great rip in the knee of the brown cord pants and dried bloodstains on the collar of one of the shirts. Rose recognised those clothes. Both shirts were Sam's, she could tell by the stitching, and she had seen Frodo in those trousers only the week before they left the Shire, when she bumped into him in Hobbiton market. They were ripped and ruined. Here was a witness to their sacrifice. This is what they were wearing when the great eagles brought them out of Mordor.

       Rose tried to swallow the lump in her throat, and her eyes stung so much she could no longer see anything. A great chasm seemed to open before her. Arwen hastily helped her to a seat and held her while she cried, waving the others away for a while.

       "I'm sorry. I'm being silly," Rose sniffled.

       "It is far from silly. I burst into tears the first time I saw those things, and Estel often weeps when he comes here. Many people do. Those torn clothes, the blood on Frodo's shirt collar, they are the proof of so much suffering."

       Sam cast anxious looks at Rose, and Aragorn whispered reassurance. Everyone else was staring at another painting, of the Charge of the Rohirrim. Frodo had heard about it, but to see that image of six thousand riders following King Theoden on his magnificent white horse, sweeping down upon the orcs like a wave, was to be rendered speechless.

       There were paintings of the Black Gate, with Pippin facing the great troll, of Gwaihir and his brothers carrying Frodo and Sam out of Mordor, and of the Field at Cormallen, with the two hobbits on the King's throne and the assembled host bowing. Rose re-joined them as they looked upon their own history, and she took their hands in hers.

       "Are you alright, lass?" Sam stroked a tear from her cheek.

       "I'm fine. I want you both to know how very proud I am of you. I just wish everyone in the Shire could see all this. Then they'd really understand. You are both the bravest and best hobbits, and I don't think I can ever be worthy of you."

       "Nonsense," said Frodo, greatly moved. "You were Sam's inspiration during our journey."

       "No, I wasn't," said Rose with a smile. "You were what kept Sam going, and quite right too. I think he thought of me a time or two, but it was his love for you which kept him by your side. Now," she added briskly, pointing to the catapult, "Are you going to tell me what that contraption is, before I die of curiosity?"

                                                                             ************

       A tent in the museum's courtyard provided the setting for a splendid luncheon, and Merry and Pippin encouraged the others to try some traditional Gondorian delicacies. Food in the South was often spiced and contained some exotic flavours which were new to Rose, but she soon developed a taste for them and began asking Faramir how the dishes were prepared.

       "I suspect meals at Bag End will be even more interesting from now on," said Aragorn, who had overheard her questions.

       "Doesn't do any harm to try new things, I always say."

       "Most Shirefolk would probably disagree with that, Rose. Don't they like things to stay the same?"

       "Lot of old stick-in-the-muds! Nothing wrong with a change now and then. We all need a bit of novelty, just so long as it's not every day."

                                                                             ************

       After lunch they set off for a visit to the Houses of Healing. Aragorn was most anxious that they see it, as there had been many alterations and improvements. Progress was often hindered by crowds of people wanting to greet them, shake their hands and talk, but finally they were before the Houses. There had certainly been changes: a whole new wing had been added, designed to blend beautifully with the rest, full of delicate carving. There were flowers everywhere - sweet-smelling herbs and healing plants, and those most delightful and pleasing to the eyes. Sam thought that just approaching the building made one feel better.

       Aragorn led them to the door of the new wing, his grey eyes sparkling. There was a large piece of dark material hanging above the doors, obscuring a great portion of the frontage, and a piece of blue velvet covered a smaller area to one side.

       "This building has been paid for by the citizens. Everyone from the wealthiest merchants to the humblest tradesman has contributed something." He nodded to the group of dwarf builders and they whisked away the covering above.

       Everyone stared. Frodo was wide-eyed as he looked at a great frieze. It began with a fine relief carving of the Fellowship, including Bill the Pony, much to Sam's delight, setting out from Rivendell. Other panels showed Merry stabbing the Witch-King, Pippin facing the troll, and Frodo and Sam confronting Shelob. The last panel showed the Shire at peace, fields and woods and hobbit-holes with smoking chimneys and flowers in the gardens. The detail was so fine Sam could even make out different varieties of flowering plant.

       "Why, they've even got the smoke coming out of the chimneys! And dear old Bill has a place in it. Sun and stars, but if this doesn't beat everything!"

       The Pheriannath House of Healing for Little Folk was inscribed above the door.

       "I know you have always said you wished for no monuments, my dear friend, but this is a place of healing for children, with everything planned and designed for them. Small children are often uncomfortable when treated in the same place as adults, and furniture is too big for them. You know yourself how awkward you often found it, slipping off your cushions at the feasts in Rivendell. There are rooms for children of all ages and sizes, that they might feel at ease and heal all the quicker." Aragorn spoke cheerfully but he was watching Frodo with no small amount of unease. The hobbit's face was disturbingly neutral. "And..........we'd like you and Sam to open it properly..........if you would."

       "You will open it, won't you, Lord Frodo?" said an anxious little voice from behind. Frodo turned and saw a little girl, no more than eight or nine years old, gazing at him with a pleading expression. He could see that her left arm ended abruptly just above the wrist, and was covered with a light dressing.

       "Yes, my dear child, of course I will, though I am no lord, just a simple hobbit of the Shire. Have you been treated here?" She nodded.

       "My hand got caught in a loom. I tried to be brave like you were when you lost your finger, and the Lord King came and put leaves in a bowl, and when I woke up my hand was gone. The leaves reminded me of my mother. She died when my brother was born."

       "Yes, athelas brings comfort to each person according to their needs and likings. To me it smells of the Shire on a summer's day." Frodo was bending down and looking into her eyes. "I think you were much braver than I was. I only lost one finger." He held out his hand to show her, and she took it and kissed it gently.

       "Then we shall have the ceremony," said Aragorn, sounding very relieved. "I feared you would refuse and depart. Do you think you could say a few words, my dearest Frodo?" Frodo smiled.

       "I think I can manage that. Come along, Sam, you too." He led Sam to the blue velvet and Faramir whispered what he should do. The Master of Herblore and the Chief Warden of the Houses came forward to be formally introduced.

       The little girl was joined by other children, each carrying flowers. Bouquets were presented to the Queen, Eowyn and Rose, to her stunned delight, and the men were given a spray to wear on their lapels or tucked into a belt. The sight of Gimli with a spray of purple flowers on his shoulder made everyone smile, and the stout dwarf received it graciously.

       "My dear friends," Frodo began, "I have always said I wanted no monuments, but I have been persuaded that this is different. How can I refuse something which will be so useful? A place of healing for children is a wonderful and thoughtful idea, and I thank you all for your contributions which have made it possible. We are all overwhelmed to think there is such a place named for us in this great city, and I'm sure Sam and my cousins join me in saying how grateful we are. I'm not going to imitate dear Bilbo and make a long speech, so with no more ado I declare this House of Healing open. May all those who work here be endowed with wisdom and compassion, and those who enter here at need find healing for the body, mind and spirit."

       He and Sam pulled on the cord, as instructed, and the velvet fell away to reveal a large stone with an inscription. Frodo read it and turned to Aragorn with a smile.

       "I see. Not so afraid that you failed to have the inscription already done! No wonder you were worried I might refuse! Talk about making assumptions!" He wagged an admonitary finger and the King laughed joyously. Sam traced the letters.

            This House of Healing was opened by the Ringbearers, Frodo and Samwise, on the Second                                                 Day of August, Year Eight of the Fourth Age.         

       "Come then! The Warden is beside himself with pride in this place and wishes to show you what has been achieved. Lead on, Master Warden, lead on!"

       The Pheriannath House of Healing did not disappoint. Rosie could scarcely believe how much thought had gone into the planning ot it. Tables and chairs at just the right height for each age group, cheerful and soothing surroundings, playthings for those who were recovering and even a chamber with cradles for the smallest patients. It was a strange and wonderful thing, to think that this place would be here long after she and Sam and Frodo were gone, continuing to help and heal in the name of the Pheriannath, the hobbits of the Shire.

                                                      *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*