Title & Chapter Number: The Weeping of the Trees (Part 1 of the 'Pilgrim' story arc) 7/12
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: The Woodland Chronicles
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Middle-earth and all its inhabitants are Tolkien's, not mine. I'd risk bankruptcy to own Legolas, though. How much would he cost me? Would they give me Haldir as a bonus? Or at least for a reduced price... A girl can dream, right?
Warnings: Incest! Don't like it? Don't read it! Simple. Also: consensual bondage, heavy sap, and angst.
Betas: Jilly! You rock! Yes, you do!
Cast: Elladan/Elrohir, slightly Legolas/Thranduil, Elladan/Elrohir/OC, Elladan/Elrohir/Thranduil implied. Oh, and Haldir's there, too. :-)
Timeline: Third Age, approx. 440 years prior to the Fellowship.
Spoilers: Nope, I don't think so.
Summary: Elladan and Elrohir travel to King Thranduil's court in Mirkwood to attend the feast celebrating Legolas's coming of age. Not only will this event change the young Prince's life forever, but that of several other Elves as well.
Notes: All the royal traditions mentioned in this chapter, with the oath and everything, are my own invention. I gave Thranduil the tattoo because it can be seen in one of the photo manips that inspired this fic, Bonding; to be found, as I said before, on Lassegalen's Laire.
Dedicated to Elisa and Jilly. You have both inspired me, in your own way. Thanks!
Chapter 7 - Twin Play
Mirkwood, July 2580, T.A.
It was an entirely different atmosphere in the throne room. All guests were in awe of the grandeur, the splendour. When Oropher came to Mirkwood from Lindon, he'd brought with him the tokens of his royal heritage, valuable items from a past long gone, the time of his ancestors. Objects that had been passed from father to son, millennium after millennium. Long banners that had accompanied armies to war, now hanging against the walls and from the high ceiling. Their colors slightly faded by the sunshine they'd seen in a past, but still proud in their history and with the royal emblem on them. Other objects of war against the walls: spears, a few bows, even Oropher's authentic sword, the one he'd carried during his last battle, the battle of Dagorlad. Thranduil despised the object, harboured a childlike hate for it since it had not been able to save his father's life, but it simply belonged in the throne room; that he could not deny. Besides relics of war, there were also art-objects to be seen: vases, statues, and the throne was a masterpiece in itself. Completely made out of heavy oak, with leaf and flower designs carved in the back, the armrests, and the legs.
The throne was where Thranduil seated himself for the ceremony. Legolas positioned himself a meter or two before the stairs that led to the throne, and Belegor stood on the lower step, facing the Prince. As the guests entered, they lowered their voices to a respectful whispering, or stopped talking altogether, just taking in the magnificence of the throne room. Torches had been lit, creating an almost mystic atmosphere with their flickering light. Several elven maidens stood on both sides of the throne and on the steps leading to it, sheltering little white lamps in their hands, thus creating an even more solemn and mysterious atmosphere.
The assembly of Elves gathered around Legolas, at a respectful distance, to witness the ceremony. Thranduil, sitting high on the throne, could face them all easily. Everyone was silent now, and all watched Legolas as he stood there all by himself, facing Belegor and his father; seeking anchor in Thranduil's eyes. The oath was a formality, but that didn't mean that it was to be taken lightly. Legolas was tense; Thranduil could see it in his son's shoulders, and in his eyes. On other, less solemn occasions, Thranduil might have given him an encouraging wink, or a nod; but this was not the time.
Belegor then spoke. For the few Elves who did not know exactly what was about to happen, he briefly explained the nature of this royal oath, its purpose and its origin, for which one had to travel millennia back in time. Oropher had taken the tradition, which had then been ancient already, with him from Lindon, and Legolas would be the first Mirkwood-born prince to take the oath. It meant the official acceptance of his royal title and the responsibilities that came with it. Belegor explained the procedure, and all Elves listened attentively.
Thranduil remembered vividly standing there himself, on the same spot; many, many centuries ago. So very young still, and so full of youthful bluff and eagerness. A wild son of a loving, but stern father. Both equally headstrong, driving the Queen to desperation with their endless arguments. Often reprimanded by the King, accusations of irresponsibility and recklessness, treats unfit for a crown prince. Long days of exploring the Greenwood forest, as it was fair, light and safe back then. A developing sexuality as his 200th begetting-day drew closer. Impatience. Secret caresses exchanged in the shadows of the palace corridors, tentative kisses growing feverish; hot and passionate dreams in the middle of the night. Waking in the dense, warm darkness with a pulsing need. A longing for life and love.
Once, almost going too far in one of the dark closets of the palace. Almost forgetting about the protocol. Hands sliding under his clothing, knowingly searching the most sensitive spots of his body. His skin so hot. His nipples growing hard before they'd even been touched; a touch so unfamiliar and new and *good*. Moans coaxed from his lips by another's strokes and kisses. A voice inside his head; *don't... the protocol...* But those thoughts seemed to be swallowed by the thick darkness around him, the will of his body taking over; a hand starting on the ties of his tunic...
And then a sudden stream of light as the door flung open unexpectedly. A new scent filling the small space, a most unwelcome scent. The scent of grasses and earthy hills; Oropher! Firm fingers taking him by his ear and dragging him outside in his embarrassing, messy and flushed state. Not a word from him or Oropher as his father escorted him determinedly to his chambers. Thranduil, forced to walk slightly bent as his ear remained in that iron hold, struggled to keep up with his father's long strides. Tried not to pay attention to the surprised stares and the poorly suppressed giggles from maidservants in the corridors. He knew he had been disobedient so he kept his quiet as Oropher practically flung him into the room; the only sound escaping him was a soft hiss when his poor, tormented ear was finally released from the painful grip.
"You will stay here for 24 hours," Oropher commanded. "That should give you enough time to cool down, and think!" And the door closed. And in the 24 hours that followed, opened only for servants who brought him food and drink. Let them in and let them out, but kept Thranduil inside.
Thranduil had never spent a full 24 hours in one and the same room before, and when the King finally came the following day, Thranduil was filled with remorse, but most of all with boredom and an overpowering longing to go outside. But Oropher was not quite done with him yet.
"We have had this discussion before," Oropher said, "and I will hear no more excuses from you. The next time I find you in such a state before your majority ceremony, I will put you behind bars for a week. You know the protocol; and no matter how old-fashioned and ridiculous you think it is, you *will* abide by it. Have I made myself understood?"
"Yes, father," Thranduil said.
Slightly surprised by his son's timid tone, Oropher immediately came down a peg or two. "You must understand, Thranduil," he said, more kindly, "this is for your own good. I don't want you to take these matters lightly. A hasty tumble in a closet? What were you thinking? Do you really want to look back at your first time later with regret in your heart? Regret, while it should be warmth and joy? Is that what you want?"
"No, father," Thranduil said softly.
"Good. Then you can come out again. Show your mother and me that you have some self-respect in you."
And Thranduil had done that. Had heeded his father's words and stayed away from tempting Elves. Shared his first night with a lovely young lady with beautiful blue eyes; like the ones he now saw in front of him. Open and honest. Not a trace of malice in them. His lips automatically curved up in a little smile, and Legolas, seeing it, sent him a smile back.
Thranduil had become more moderate over the years, especially since the burdens of kingship had been laden on his shoulders. But he never lost his always-present, never-waning love for life, which, after the birth of his son, found its main ground in Legolas. Legolas, who was so much like him, and at the same time so very different. And whom he loved more than anything, or anyone in this world.
Then, Thranduil was brought back to reality when Belegor directly addressed Legolas, who stood with his arms relaxedly alongside his body.
"Legolas," Belegor began, his tone kind, but serious, "son of Thranduil and Arasien, grandson of Oropher. As first, and only, son of the King of Mirkwood, you are the rightful heir to the throne. With your coming of age today, you acquire the title Crown Prince of Mirkwood and are from this day onward officially your father's future successor."
Legolas gave a barely perceptible nod.
"This means," Belegor continued, "that if King Thranduil should be lost to us, or, for whatever reason, be forced to temporarily or permanently lay down his crown, it will be your duty to take his place as king, claim the throne of Mirkwood and rule its people to the best of your ability, like your father and grandfather before you. By taking this oath, you make it known that you accept this responsibility. You are already bound to Mirkwood by your blood and ancestry - by taking this oath, you also bind yourself to Mirkwood with your word. It is a bond that cannot be broken. Are you aware of the consequences this will have, and are you willing to accept them?"
"I am," Legolas said.
"Will you then, in the presence of this assembly of Elves who have come from all over Middle-earth to witness this milestone in your life, take this oath, assume your rightful place in society as an adult, and accept the tasks that come with it?"
"I will."
"Then, Legolas of Mirkwood, please ascend and take your place next to your father."
Legolas did so, standing beside the throne and now facing the crowd. Placed one hand over his heart and the other on Thranduil's shoulder, and kept them there as he repeated the sentences Belegor recited for him, about pledging his loyalty to Mirkwood, its people and the throne; a promise to be strong of spirit and true of heart, to never forget or deny the land that had nurtured him, and to never misuse his title or the power it gave him. The crowd watched and listened in respectful silence; Elladan and Elrohir a little in the back, side by side. No one paid heed to them at that moment and Elladan took advantage by sliding his arm around Elrohir's waist and pulling him closer to him, briefly burying his nose in his brother's luxurious hair. Elrohir just smiled and slightly leaned in to the touch, as he kept his eyes on Legolas. The Prince's form so slender, seemingly even more so as he stood beside the massive wooden throne.
When the last words of the oath had been spoken, all remained quiet as Belegor stepped forward and handed a fine, silver circlet to Thranduil, who'd risen from the throne and, consequently, placed it on Legolas's head with great care. A symbolic gesture, as the Prince had now reached the age that allowed him to wear such a token of royalty. The oath he'd just taken ensured that he would do so with pride and dignity.
The twins then suddenly became aware of soft singing filling the room, and realized that the elf maidens had started a humming melody, fair and soft as only she-elves could sing. When they began infusing words, it became clear that it was an ancient Silvan hymn they were singing. It accompanied the last, and most symbolic part of the ceremony.
After coming to Greenwood, Oropher had done an unusual thing. The art of making a permanent skin painting had been known to the Elves for many thousands of years, but it was an art rarely practised. An Elf considered his immortal body a gift from the Valar, and only on rare occasions did one choose to change it in so permanent a manner. Oropher, however, had thought it a good way to pledge himself to Greenwood, his new home and kingdom. He had chosen an elegant leaf design in green; thin, fern-like leaves spiralling around each other, on his left upper arm. After Oropher's death, when Thranduil found himself faced with the task of taking his father's place, he had decided to follow Oropher in this. The making of the skin painting had been part of his coronation ceremony. To honour his father, he'd taken the same symbol, but on his right upper arm, feeling that having it on his left arm like his father would be inappropriate. Legolas, for this occasion, had wanted to do a similar thing, but, unwilling to mark his body permanently, had preferred a temporary painting. Thranduil had supported him in this, and the King's healers had prepared a mix of herbs, which, applied to the skin, would remain visible for a week, then fade and disappear. The symbolic bond it created between the prince and Mirkwood, however, would not.
A servant appeared, carrying a bowl which contained the green, paste-like substance that would be applied to Legolas's skin. More Mirkwood Elves now joined the chorus of elf maids, creating a choir of both males and females, and gradually, Elves from the other realms, quick to pick up the words and the melody, joined in as well. The young Elf with the bowl stood next to Thranduil, who, on Legolas's request, would draw the symbol on Legolas's skin; and he would do so on Legolas's chest, right over his heart. That had been Thranduil's suggestion. After all, his child of the forest carried Mirkwood in his heart.
In order to receive his symbol, Legolas had to bare his chest, something he, judging by his downcast eyes, did not feel comfortable doing under the gazes of more than two hundred Elves. But he did it nonetheless, removing his ceremonial robe and handing it to a servant, then his tunic. To their credit, not one of the Elves present uttered a sound or did anything that could have made Legolas feel even more uncomfortable; but no matter how solemn the moment, the sight of the half-naked prince did cause a slight change in the air. It was felt by all. Even the twins found themselves straightening their backs and letting their eyes roam over Legolas's upper body. It couldn't be helped; the beauty offered to their eyes was too enticing to ignore.
In his first two hundred years, Legolas had spent most of his time training his mind. However, though he may not yet have the physical appearance of a warrior, he *had* spent many hours on horseback, on the archery range, and in boats, taming the Forest River... and these activities had already made his body quite strong. It now became clear that Legolas's clothes hid a body that was even better shaped than one might expect of an Elf so young and battle-inexperienced. Well-defined pectorals, strong arms and shoulders, and corded muscles in his abdomen that fluted down into a luscious curve, until they disappeared under the waistband of his trousers. Smooth, ivory skin and the two darker circles of his nipples. A graceful neck ending in pronounced collarbones. Elrohir unconsciously tried to wet his dry lips with his tongue, but found that his tongue was equally dry. Who, by the Valar, would be the lucky Elf to get to know the feel of that body tonight, to introduce it to pleasures unknown? Elrohir knew he was not the only one wondering this.
Thranduil, after dipping his forefinger in the bowl, had begun to paint his son's chest, making slow, careful movements, knowing which strokes to make to create a twin of his own symbol. He could feel Legolas's heart pound beneath his fingertips and instinctively knew that Legolas felt uncomfortable, exposed as he was to two hundred pairs of eyes. He wanted to give his son a reassuring glance, but Legolas kept his eyes downcast and did not raise them to meet his father's. He also seemed deep in thought, as if he was concentrating on the symbolism of the moment. Thranduil decided that the best way to help his, was to finish this without delay, so that his bashful son could put his clothes back on. He smiled a little to himself, and wondered when Legolas would learn to be proud of his body, and enjoy the effect it had on others.
When it was done, Legolas finally raised his eyes and smiled hesitatingly at his father. "Perfect," Thranduil assured him softly, then added, "I'm very proud of you." The elf maidens' song ended then, and in the silence that followed, Belegor invited all the guests to come and greet the new Crown Prince of Mirkwood. And so it was done. The guests formed a line and greeted Legolas one by one, speaking brief words of respect and friendship, and Legolas met with many smiling faces, smiling and greeting in return.
Two familiar, identical faces then. "Congratulations, Legolas," Elrohir said, taking Legolas's hand between his own. "Welcome in the real world," he said with a grin. "If you're ever in need of advice..."
"... You must definitely not come to us," Elladan completed for him.
Legolas laughed. More faces, Haldir's among them. A wordless, gentle smile and a warm handshake. It was after the last Elf had greeted him that an unexpected realization came to Legolas: of all the Elves he'd greeted in the process, Haldir had the most beautiful eyes. They held the middle between dark-blue and grey, with Lórien stars in them. Legolas felt drawn to them, and suddenly, found himself wondering what color they would assume in moments of passion. A thought that sent a surge of heat through his body and set his cheeks afire. At that point, the Marchwarden's eyes unexpectedly linked with his from the distance and he quickly looked away, embarrassed, hoping with all his heart that those eyes did not have the ability to read thoughts.
The paint had dried by now and Legolas, slightly relieved, drew his tunic back on, but not his robe, as it would hinder him in his dancing. Belegor invited the assembly to go back to the other room, and begin the concluding ball.
Elrohir leaned over to Elladan then and whispered, as they made for the doors, "Let the games begin."
~*~*~*~
Legolas opened the ball with Lachwen, and had a good time doing so. They were, of course, far better dancers than they'd tried to make each other believe, and because they had been friends from childhood on, it was uncomplicated and relaxed. Legolas did not regret asking her. About what would happen later that night... well, he tried not to think of that just yet.
Elladan and Elrohir also had a couple of dances with some elf maidens of Mirkwood, secretly regretting the fact that they could not dance together. Thranduil was one of the few Elves to stay off the dance floor, either because he chose to, or because no one had the courage to ask him. But he went around the room, engaging in conversation here and there, laughing, talking and being a good host.
Somewhat later, as Elladan and Elrohir stood a little aside together, Anyriand approached.
"There he comes," Elladan said, spotting him.
"That's my cue," Elrohir said and he disappeared discreetly into the crowd.
Elladan feigned innocence as Anyriand came closer, a careful smile on his lips. "Elladan?" he said, not sure if he faced the right twin.
He truly was a beauty, Elladan thought, measuring the blonde in front of him. He wondered if the Elf's honey-colored hair smelled of honey, as well. "That's me," he nodded. The wine made him feel slightly light-headed, but he could still think clearly, and he had to fight hard to keep from smiling; the prospect of this evening pleased him greatly. The wine warmed him from the inside, made him feel alive, content and very much in love with Elrohir. Only two things kept him from dragging Elrohir in a tight embrace and ravaging his mouth in a searing kiss, right there: firstly, their plans with Anyriand and Thranduil, and secondly, the promise he'd made his father. He would love his Elrohir later though; after the two of them had worked their charms on this Elf.
"How fare you, Anyriand?" he asked.
"Well." The Elf's eyes shone towards him. He motioned for the dance floor. "I've seen you there. You and your brother are both good dancers."
Elladan smiled humbly. "Thank you. As the sons of our lord, we are supposed to make a good impression on the dance floor. I am not sure why, for our father is a terrible dancer himself. I guess one can't be graceful on the dance floor and wise at the same time."
Anyriand laughed, and did so several times more as their conversation progressed on the subject of Imladris and its Lord. Their eyes met for a long moment as the Lórien Elf brought his wine goblet to lips and took a draught. Judging by the color, it was honeywine.
"Tastes good?" Elladan asked casually.
"Yes. Do you want to taste?" Anyriand brought his hand with the goblet up. "It's sweet."
Elladan smiled. He gently pushed Anyriand's hand aside and leaned forward, bringing his lips close to those of the bewildered Anyriand. The tip of his tongue came out and with one, slow movement, licked the moisture on Anyriand's upper lip away, registering the tiny shiver that passed through Anyriand's body.
"You are right," he said, moving his face away from Anyriand's. "It *is* sweet."
He noticed with contentment the blush on Anyriand's cheeks. The other Elf quickly looked around, and Elladan said with a smirk, "I'm sorry, have I brought one of Lórien's most prominent politicians in a compromising situation?"
"You have," Anyriand said, slightly out of breath, "and I wouldn't mind if you did so a couple of times more."
Elladan laughed softly. "A couple of times?" He slid the tips of two fingers down the side of Anyriand's face. "You are quite eager, Anyriand. We hardly know one another."
"Not entirely true," Anyriand said. "I observed you from the distance, the last time you and your brother were in Lórien. And besides," he added with a hint of false pride, "I don't remember asking you to touch me thusly."
Elladan chuckled. "Your lips, no; but your eyes did." He withdrew his hand. "And what lovely eyes they are."
Anyriand blushed again, a little surprised at how well this was developing; far better than he'd expected actually. At that point, the dance ended and in the silence that followed, the musicians prepared themselves for a new piece of music.
"Forgive me, Anyriand," Elladan said. "I promised a lady a dance. We shall speak again later." And with a smile, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving a half puzzled, half amused Anyriand to himself and his thoughts.
Legolas, in the meantime, found himself constantly surrounded by Elves who wished to converse with him, be near him. When he found a moment of solitude, he gladly took advantage by escaping to the balcony, longing for a moment of peace. However, he found the balcony already occupied by two other Elves. They stood with their backs to him and one had his arm around the other's shoulder. Embarrassed, Legolas wanted to turn back, then felt a quick flash of... what was it, bemusement?... when he recognized the latter as Haldir.
The Elves heard him then and turned around. "Prince Legolas," Haldir said. The other removed his arm from Haldir's shoulder and they both bowed. Legolas remembered seeing the other Elf among the Lórien guards, blond and tall like all of them.
"I apologize," Legolas mumbled, "I didn't mean to disturb..."
"Oh no, please," Haldir laughed, "release me from his tedious company."
"Tedious?" the other said, but he too was laughing. "Thanks a lot, brother."
Legolas's eyes went from one to the other. "Brother?"
"Yes... oh, I apologize," Haldir said, "this is my older brother, Orophin."
"His senior in life years, but his inferior in the ranks," Orophin said with a smile. "Well met, Prince Legolas."
p "Well met, Orophin," Legolas said, and he instantly liked the blond Elf a lot better. "Are you two studying the stars over Mirkwood?"
"I was," Haldir replied, "until my dear brother came and disturbed my peace. It is a lovely night." He motioned for the sky, which indeed was clear and filled with many bright stars and an almost-full Moon. Legolas smiled appreciatively when he saw it.
At that point, Elrohir appeared in the doorway. "Forgive me the interruption," he said with his usual smile, "but your father is looking for you, Legolas."
Legolas smiled apologetically at the Lórien brothers. "I'm sorry, it seems I must leave you again. Enjoy the sky as long as you like." And with a slight bow of his head, he disappeared inside, together with Elrohir.
Haldir and Orophin turned back to the wooden railing of the balcony. But instead of gazing upwards at the sky as they had been doing before, Orophin's eyes rested on Haldir until the younger Elf frowned and asked, "What is it, Orophin?"
"He likes you," Orophin said matter-of-factly.
Haldir's brow furrowed even more. "And I him. So, what is your point?"
"That is not what I meant. He likes you... more than that. He assumed we were lovers and was relieved when we turned out to be brothers. Didn't you see it on his face?"
"You are delusional," Haldir muttered.
"Maybe I am," Orophin said with a laugh. "Just don't stand surprised when he asks you to join him in his bed tonight!" And with a smirk he added, "You lucky bastard."
Genuine irritation on Haldir's face now. "You know I would never do such a thing. My heart is not available."
"Your heart, no. But your body..."
"Orophin! Don't you know me at all?"
I know you all too well, Haldir, Orophin thought. Better than you might think. But understanding you, that is the hard part. The blond guardian felt sadness in his heart for his younger brother.
"Haldir..." he began.
"Orophin," Haldir warned.
Orophin sighed and gave up. He knew that tone; Haldir considered this conversation finished. Orophin was silent as they both watched the stars again, and wished he could, for once, get through to his brother. But getting through to Haldir, that was something which no Elf, for almost six hundred years now, had been able to do.
In the meantime, in the ball room, Elladan and Elrohir set phase two of their plan in motion. Elladan spotted Anyriand across the room, alone, and whispered to Elrohir, "Your turn."
Elrohir walked over to the blond Elf, knowing exactly what pose to adopt to become Elladan. Draped one arm over the shoulder of Anyriand, who nearly jumped out of his skin.
"So," Elrohir began, as if casually resuming a paused conversation, "tell me about Lórien. How have things been in your fair land since my brother and I were there last time?"
Anyriand laughed. "Do you really want to know?"
"No," Elrohir admitted, chuckling. "I was just trying to be subtle in my seducing. Tell me something about yourself then."
"What would you like to know?"
"All kinds of things." Elrohir stepped behind the other Elf, circled his arms around his waist and pulled him close. "Like... what you're doing tonight."
The Lórien Elf's body stiffened under his touch, but then started to relax. "You are awfully direct," he said, a little hoarse. "Is that a custom among Imladris Elves? Or are you drunk?"
Elrohir laughed softly and stepped in closer, bringing their bodies in full contact. "Maybe a little. Does it matter?"
"Not to me," Anyriand said, gasping softly. "Why don't you come to my room tonight?"
"Hmm... why would I do that?"
"To see for yourself what my plans are for tonight."
Elrohir laughed again. "Who could refuse so tempting an offer?"
Elladan watched his brother's actions from a distance, amused; then, found himself temporarily distracted when Legolas walked by, a little pale in the face and with uncharacteristical glassy eyes. "Legolas!" Elladan exclaimed happily, and before he knew it, his exceptionally merry mood had led him to draw the Prince into an embrace. As always, Legolas felt tense under the touch before he gradually relaxed. "Are you having a good time, my friend?" Elladan asked him affectionately.
"Yes," Legolas said with a smile.
"You look tired, little one. Are all these obnoxious Elves claiming your attention?"
"Govern your tongue, son of Elrond," Legolas said, but he was laughing. Then he asked, "What are you two up to with Anyriand, by the way?"
"Are we up to something?" Elladan asked innocently.
"Yes. Don't think I haven't noticed." Legolas smiled. "Right now Elrohir is grabbing him, pretending to be you. Why is that?"
Elladan laughed. "I should have known we couldn't fool you! So you know Anyriand, then?"
"He is a friend of my father's."
"Is he, is he really?" Elladan said thoughtfully. "Well, not to worry, dear Legolas. We won't harm your father's friend. Just an old twin game, that is all. Perfectly innocent."
Legolas smiled. He didn't know why, but somehow, the word 'innocent' sounded everything but reassuring when spoken by one of those wily twins. But he asked no further questions. Elladan kept Legolas company for a while, and the Prince was thankful for the distraction the conversation with his new friend offered, as the party continued around them.
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