For the Love of a Maia

For the Love of a Maia
Chapter 9: Anysse and Ulric
A story by Sienna Dawn.

Pairing: Haldir/OFC Heterosexual
Rating: NC17 for sexuality

Summary: The Valar send Haldir to Arda in order to bring a stranded Maia back to Valinor. When he arrives, the possibility of civil war looms large. Will the Maia forsake Middle Earth and return to Valinor? A period romance set against the backdrop of Norman England.

Disclaimer: Based on characters from The Silmarillion and the Lord of the Rings, by JRR Tolkien, (used here without permission), as well as historical events which occurred in York, England, 1173-1175 AD, during the reign of Henry II. Copyright remains with JRR Tolkien. For entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from this work. All original characters are the creation of Sienna Dawn.

Chapter 9 - Anysse and Ulric

"Hold for the standard!" came the shouted order as Haldir and the four archers who travelled with him approached the first gate of Anstig Mote.

Pausing under the arched gate, Haldir let his eyes wander over the enormous castle ramparts. He was impressed, and he recalled the cities of his own people, most especially Doriath, whom Melian the Maia had protected by erecting a girdle of mountains to hide it from Morgoth. He suspected this immense structure could withstand many days and weeks of siege.

With confidence and a touch of practiced arrogance, Haldir walked slightly ahead of the four archers noticing the double standards waving aloft; one was of a rearing lion and the other of a bright blue circle. He felt a familiar stirring come from inside the castle. He approached the castle keep and past the bailey, the porticullis swung open for him. Inside Anstig's walls now, Haldir stopped, uncertain in which direction to proceed.

"Haldir!" A soft voice he recognized at once called from behind him. He turned.

"Ah", he allowed himself a smile of sheer pleasure. "Love," he swiftly approached Elyen and held her at arm's length. Looking into her eyes, he knew.

"Ill news?"

She nodded her head, "I feel pain and loss, Haldir." Her eyes flew beyond the bailey. "Death follows from the south."

Haldir's lips pressed into a fine line, "And of Ulric and the Lady Anysse?"

"Safe within." Elyen answered, "and wedded must they be within hours for I fear already York is under threat." Her face was grim and worried.

"As do I." He drew her away from the bustling activity around them, and chose a lonely corner behind an empty shed. He pressed her against the wall of the shed and then molded himself into her body.

"I love you, Elyen of York, and I worry for you." His lips hovered over hers, and his eyes lowered to her mouth, finding them slightly parted. Without waiting for her response, Haldir took her lips, placing a gentle kiss upon her mouth, but deepening the contact when she eagerly responded. Her mouth opened and she met his tongue, dueling with his, suckling his lips, trailing kisses along his jaw until he could stand no more and pressed his erection against her thighs.

"This is for you, my love, but hours are short." His breath was ragged, uneven. He wanted her, he wanted her then and there, and he knew she wanted him.

Elyen smiled, "I would have you, Haldir. But you speak true," and she reached up to place a lingering kiss upon his mouth, one that he returned with ardor, his hands played havoc with her breasts, until she placed her hands over his and thus stilled him.

Elyen drew away from Haldir and they let the moment pass. "There is much to be accomplished before York is sieged." She drew him with her, "I fear Almeric will attack York to make a point and I must fly there and learn what I can."

Haldir nodded, but said nothing.

Moments later, Elyen had led him into a massive hall inside the castle and she explained who the current owners were. Haldir wondered where Ulric was but decided to not ask and let Elyen tell him as much as she wanted him to know.

"The Lords of Anstig Mote are Edmund Mowbray, Earl of Anstig and his only son, Robert. Ulric is nephew to Edmund through his marriage to Ulric's mother. Robert is unmarried and has no issue." Quickly, Elyen led Haldir beneath a massive stairway where a large arched room suddenly appeared. He heard raised voices within.

" I tell you," Haldir recognized Ulric's urgent voice, "Almeric will not lay siege at Anstig until he has subdued Rowan Bold!"

Just then Haldir and Elyen entered the chamber. Scrolls, maps and trays of uneaten food were scattered about. Ulric turned and his face lit with a smile.

"Haldir of Lorien!" Ulric came forward and impetuously embraced the elf.

Uncomfortable with the sudden display of human emotion, Haldir slowly smiled and patted the younger man's back. "Tis good to see you alive and well, Ulric of Orsmby."

Edmund and Robert, and their Constable, Sir William Purvey, stared at the tall, blonde haired stranger.

"This is your kinsman?" asked Robert slowly, turning his gaze to Elyen's face.

"Aye."

Ulric stepped away from Haldir.

"The Lady Anysse?" Haldir asked.

"She is well, and spitting like a rabid hen!" Ulric grinned and Haldir cocked an eyebrow, unsure if this was a good thing or not.

"Haldir," called Elyen and he turned to her.

"Meet Edmund and Robert Mowbray. These are the Lords of Anstig."

Haldir bowed in respect and saw the Atani copy his greeting. The men were well built, strong and judging from the many maps and scrolls about the room, ready for battle.

It was Edmund who broke the silence, "Welcome to the Mote, Haldir of Lorien," he eyed the elf and realized he was in the presence of no mere mortal man. The thought did not concern him overmuch as tales of wizards and other immortals had been a part of his education and all of his issue knew their own ancient bloodline. He suspected Haldir was an elf, but said nothing of his thoughts. Instead, he was grateful for the elf's presence, for he knew here he had a warrior of great ability, as the elves had been rumored to be.

"Make ye comfortable, Haldir," Edmund said and pointed to the food, "eat and drink as is your wont, for soon supplies will be rationed."

Haldir frowned. "You expect an attack upon this fortress?"

Robert stared at the blonde stranger, watching Elyen's face and then reverting his gaze back to Haldir. "Aye, we do and we prepare for it."

"How many warriors have you?" Haldir asked.

"One hundred twenty archers within the lands beyond Anstig and near eight-hundred inside the castle walls." It was Edmund who responded. "I can lay call to arms from at least four barons allied to our family and we could raise a standing army of nearly three thousand in perhaps a week."

Haldir frowned but said nothing. A week was far too much time to wait for reinforcements but he bore in mind Eonwë's words and stayed silent. This was not his war, though he had been involved in it to some measure. But that was only because Elyen had asked it of him and he knew he could deny her nothing.

"Edmund," Elyen spoke now, "have you sent for your priest?"

Ulric felt his face flush.

"Aye", Edmund replied, "is this marriage really necessary?"

"Yes, as I explained to you." Elyen was about to say more, when a suddenly flash of pain tore down her side and she gasped, reaching for the back of a chair to steady her. She could feel her heart beat frantically.

Instantly, Haldir was at her side, concern in his deep silver eyes, "Elyen?" he breathed softly.

Elyen shook her head, letting the pain wash over her, "I fear war has already begun." She looked into Haldir's face and then turned a haggard countenance to Edmund. "Bring the priest to the Great Hall." Her gaze travelled to Ulric, "bring Anysse hither, Ulric." She saw him nod, "and Edmund, you must have at least four witnesses to the marriage or Almeric may have grounds to contest it." Edmund nodded and followed by Robert left Haldir alone with Elyen.

He led her to a chair and gently guided her to sit.

"Tis passed now, Haldir," she protested, but her voice was soft and worried, her eyes distant, as if watching and listening.

"What do you see?" Haldir asked quietly.

"Wyat," Elyen responded, "he lies gravelly wounded."

"Where, Elyen, for I am ready to bring him to you." Haldir dropped to one knee before the Maia.

Her bright blue eyes were glazed with concern and she still had the distant look to her face. "Nay, Haldir," she answered, finally focusing on his face. "He is being brought here. I fear we might not be able to save his life."

Haldir frowned and said quietly, "They should not have sent an untried youth."

Elyen stood, "Nay, they should not have, for now Almeric must know there is reason to fear Anstig, although my heart tells me Rowan Bold is still in danger."

"Then," said Haldir, coming to stand behind Elyen, "we must return and help them."

Elyen turned and studied Haldir's face. "Help them?"

Haldir nodded, "Aye," he replied quickly, meeting her gaze openly, "I do not fear for myself," he saw Elyen's eyes soften at these words, "but the Atani at Rowan Bold are lax and ill-trained. I could help them."

Elyen smiled despite the desperate situation. "Ah, and do not let Hugh Malet hear you say they are ill-trained, but," she nodded slowly, "perchance you can help them. Long did you defend the borders of Lothlorien, so," she smiled tenderly, "Sir Hugh will not be pleased and will make it known. You must prove yourself to him first, Haldir, or you will not be of much use."

Voices in the Great Hall echoed within the chamber and Elyen turned her head toward the voices. "But first we must marry Ulric to the Lady Anysse." She extended her arm to Haldir. "Come, to a wedding we go."

Haldir took her arm and together they walked out of the Strategy Room. In the Great Hall about a dozen men and women had gathered and Haldir spotted a very serious-looking Atani, wearing bright purple robes.

"Tis the Bishop of Claudell." Elyen explained, "and he shall marry the two."

Completely unfamiliar with the traditions of the Atani when it came to courtship and marriage, Haldir hung back and watched, fascinated, his mind working and thinking back to Rowan Bold.

"After they are wed, then what?" Haldir whispered as the Bishop took position before the assembled witnesses.

"We return to the Bold and learn what ill news Almeric has delivered to Godfrey."

"And of Wyat?" Haldir asked, his keen ears picking up a heated argument above their heads, his eyes raising to the ceiling.

"I will not deliver news to Godfrey that may weaken his resolve. Wyat's fate rests in the hands of the Valar now. I can do naught to help him."

Haldir turned his grey eyes onto Elyen's face, surprised at the vehemence in her voice, but mindful of his promise to not interfere in her handiwork. His heart told him she could, if she wished to, heal the boy of whatever evil had befallen him, yet he wondered why she would refuse to do so. He decided to not pursue this topic any further and place his trust in her hands. As he had done thus far.

Above the Great Hall, in a small, bright bedchamber, Anysse and Ulric argued loudly.

"Nay!" Anysse cried, "I shall not marry you unless you tell me all of it, Ulric de Graville!!" Anysse's dark eyes held Ulric's gaze.

"There is precious time to waste!"

But Anysse sat at the edge of the bed and crossed her arms, her gaze following to the open window.

"Anysse," Ulric began, "If we are wed and bedded, then the betrothal to Almeric is invalid. The priest shall see to that. You will help your father defend Rowan Bold and its shires."

"And that is all to this?" She turned and asked him sarcastically, "There is no gain in it for you or Anstig Mote?"

Ulric was reaching the end of his patience. "Would you prefer to wed Almeric or spend your life cloistered?"

"It is better than to be wed to a man who pretended to love me!" she shot back, tears misting her eyes, "Marriage to Almeric affords me many advantages and at least I knew he coveted me for my dowry, and made no pretense to love me."

Ulric softened at the sound of Anysse's voice, "I did not pretend to love you." He began. "I do care for you."

But Anysse snorted and made to rise. Ulric's hand shot out and grasped her wrist, whirling her to face him. Her eyes were both sad and defiant.

"Think you that I have not lain awake in bed, yearning for you, wishing with all of my soul and body you were mine to claim?" His eyes flashed with the fire of his love for her.

Anysse stood rigidly before him, still defiant in her stance. "You never claimed me, Ulric. 'Tis been three years we could have wed and you never claimed me!" She made to turn away from him, but he forced round to look at him.

"Your father desired a royal match, this you have known from the beginning."

Anysse gave Ulric a hard stare, "Then there is your arrangement with the Lady Elyen." she countered bitterly.

Ulric sighed and changed his tone, softening it. "Nay, I do not love her, Anysse. Once I tried to tell you about the de Gravilles, our history, who we are, and you laughed it off as fancy fairy-tales."

Anysse's eyes grew wide, "Surely you are not telling me Elyen is a sorceress?"

"Nay, I am not saying this." He amended quickly, "what I am trying to tell you is that Elyen and I worked in farce as betrothed so we could gain the ears of the high born, all of it for the sake and safety of Rowan Bold, the King and your own father!"

At Ulric's words, Anysse thought back to the many mysteries she had never solved about Elyen and a great many things fell into place.

"So it was all a game?" She asked breathlessly.

Ulric nodded, "A very dangerous scheme, but no game."

Just then a knock came. Ulric crossed the chamber and opened the door. A hushed conversation followed. Softly, Ulric closed the door. "It is ready, Anysse."

"We truly must marry now?" Her dark eyes grew round with anxiety.

Ulric came to her and caressed her cheek, "Aye, sweeting, we must."

Anysse briefly closed her eyes at the sudden fire of need that the simple caress elicited. "And what after?"

Ulric chuckled, "Then we must make sure the marriage is irrevocably consumated." He let the words sink in and then he lowered his gaze to her lips. Suddenly, his love and desire overwhelmed him. For years he had wondered at the taste of her mouth.

Of its own volition, his lips closed over hers and he began a gentle, undemanding kiss, mindful of her inexperience and innocence. Suddenly, Anysse groaned deeply into his mouth and Ulric's body instantly responded.

His hands caressed her back slowly, as he felt her press herself into his, molding her body to his, feeling her heat. His hands travelled to the nape of her neck and without thought, he opened his mouth and devoured her lips, his tongue begging for entry inside her mouth.

Anysse felt the flood of desire flow through her body and she became light headed, a strange buzzing beginning to pound inside her head, her legs trembling and she realized Ulric was walking her slowly toward the edge of the table at her back.

When the table bumped against her, their lips still locked in a kiss of desire and want, moans escaping their mouths, Anysse felt Ulric's strong hands lift her onto the table.

Breaking the kiss to slowly trail kisses along the column of her neck, Ulric slowly began to raise her skirt, his lips following the curve of her jaw until they found her earlobe and he teased his tongue inside, drawing from Anysse an instant and deep growl of lust. Her hands grasped his strong shoulders and she opened wide her thighs for him.

Ulric left her earlobe and licked her neck, mindful of not ripping her clothing, though his blood was throbbing at the temples and his one thought was to love this creature who had come to mean life itself to him.

Anysse felt the cool air on her bared legs and then Ulric's strong hands caressing her legs, travelling upward toward her thights until his fingers reached the core of her womanhood and he parted the folds of her undergarment, dipping his hand inside, caressing the smooth skin of her belly, dropping lower to the moist curls at the apex of their thighs, and parting the petal folds to caress her lovingly.

Anysse bucked her thighs at this intimate yet welcome touch, her hands splayed behind her back on the table to give her support. Her legs were opened wide and wrapped about Ulric's waist. His fingers were maddingly delicious and she thought she would swoon until she felt one finger dip inside her body and at this unexpected intrusion she shrieked but then sighed.

Ulric was struggling to not lose control, for lust now clouded his mind and his one thought was Anysse. His finger delved deep inside her, and he felt her honeyed response to his touch. Opening his eyes, he fastened his gaze upon her face and he saw she had her head thrown back, her eyes closed, her lips moist and parted.

"I love you, Anysse of York, and I want to be inside you, loving you, showing you what love is, giving you pleasure." His voice was hoarse and he slowly began to ease his finger in and out of her body, his tongue licking her neck until he captured her mouth in a kiss of passion and mastery.

Seduced not only by his touch, but by Ulric's words, Anysse felt her body tighten and a coil of lightning heat grow inside her, flowing and spreading from her belly to her toes and back again. She could not speak, and could barely breathe, while Ulric teased her to a release she had never known existed. When he took her mouth, she kissed him wildly, moaning her encouragement until Ulric's finger teased her into a state of fevered lust where she knew not where and who she was. Then she broke the kiss as explosion after explosion rocked her body and she laid back on the table, moaning and turning her head and body from side to side, all of her feeling concentrated on what Ulric's hand was doing to her.

In a few moments, Ulric stilled and eased his finger out of her body, sitting her upright and lowering her skirts. Her eyes were darkened with passion and her breath was coming in short gasps. He smiled and placed a light kiss on her lips, grinning when Anysse splayed her hands on his chest and tried to deepen the kiss.

"More," she breathed into his mouth, her hands playing about his tunic.

"There will be that and more, later." Ulric promised, his erection hard and painful against the confines of his leggings.

"I cannot wait!" Anysse breathed into his mouth, "I want you, Ulric. I want more!"

"We must first be wed, sweeting," Ulric promised, lifting her off the table and setting her on her feet. "Your tiring woman will come and help you change into your wedding dress and I too must make ready. The priest is already waiting and time we have little of."

Anysse suddenly pressed her cheek to Ulric's chest. "I love you, Ulric."

Ulric smiled and brought her chin up to meet his eyes, "I love you as well."

Nearly half an hour later, Anysse sent word she was ready. Ulric had already changed and was waiting in the Great Hall, nervously looking toward the great stairway that he knew she would use to come to him.

Their brief lovemaking had left him hungry and flushed. Haldir's eyes had lit upon Ulric's face as he first entered the Hall, the elf's grey eyes warming with amusement. Suddenly Ulric had had the uncomfortable thought that the elf had guessed what had happened in Anysse's chamber. He knew their moans and groans were not loud enough to carry for mortal ears to hear, but elvish hearing was keen, and Ulric guessed Haldir was already aware that their consumation had nearly taken place.

Finally Anysse began her descent and all eyes turned toward her. She felt weak and small, but when her eyes alit on Ulric's face and she saw the encouraging smile he gave her, then all of her fears vanished.

As was the custom, her gown was made of the best finery the castle had. Since Anysse had not taken any of her finest gowns with her, she was given the garments of Sir Edmund's dead wife. From it, Anysse had chosen one gown, and with a few tucks and nips, she had managed to make the larger gown fit her small frame. The fabric was satiny, golden in color, and trimmed at the hem with the finest ermine. Its sleeves came snugly to her wrists and about her waist was draped a belt inlaid with rubies and sapphires. She wore no cap on her hair and this she had done so after much arguing with the tiring women who had helped her dress, but instead had accepted a small golden circlet with a lone diamond in its center, a gift from Sir Robert.

With her dark coloring, the garments and jewels Anysse wore stood out and flashed inside the Great Hall, their exquisite handiwork paling all others by comparison.

Anysse looked at Ulric and saw he too wore a fine overcoat of ruby red, the chevron of the Anstig Lords crested in gold thread upon his chest. About his neck hung a great golden chain and from it suspended the great emerald which she knew was the symbol of power and lineage of the Lords of de Graville and Ormsby.

Anysse approached Ulric and she saw Elyen with Haldir standing behind her. She gave them a small smile and saw that Elyen nodded her head in approval, no sign of animosity in the bright blue eyes. This also served to encourage Anysse for she had worried her marriage to Ulric would make an enemy out of Elyen. Haldir simply cocked his head and gave her a small bow.

Finally, she came to stand before the priest and the brief ceremony began.

Less than twenty minutes later, as was the Norman custom, the marriage ceremony was over after the couple had taken vows. But there was one more important issue at hand and the Bishop extended his arms over the couple and intoned in a loud voice.

"Let it be decreed from this day hence that any and all previous promises of betrothals to this Lady have now been annulled and declared invalid. Only this marriage, affixed by me, shall be the only true and valid marriage of the Lady Anysse Fitzwalter, daughter of Godfrey, Lord of York. No other promises, betrothals nor contracts will be considered true and binding."

With this announcement, the legality of Anysse's betrothal to Almeric Atteford had been declared null and thus with it had sealed the fate of Rowan Bold and its people.

Elyen turned to Haldir and he leaned closer to her, "This is a dangerous time now," she said. "they must consumate the marriage as quickly as possible, before spies of Almeric get word back of the annulment of his contract to Anysse and Godfrey." She frowned as she watched the couple slowly leave the room.

"How shall we return to Rowan Bold, Elyen?" Haldir too followed the couple as they strode, followed by the entire group of witnesses and priest, out of the Great Hall, and up the stairway.

Elyen pulled on Haldir's tunic and whispered, "Come with me."

Silently, they left the Great Hall and Haldir followed Elyen into a part of the castle which was unknown to him. They crossed open arches, inside narrow passages, until they came to a small closed wooden door. Elyen unlatched it and the bright afternoon sunlight filtered in. Haldir could see an open grassy field beyond the door and further out he spied the waters of the wide moat.

Elyen pushed Haldir ahead of her. He turned with a quizzical stare but already she was beginning to utter words in that strange language he knew not. In a moment, a blinding light flashed before them and Haldir felt an unfamiliar tug at the base of his stomach, but waited quietly. He suspected this was the method she was able to get around so quickly and without benefit of horse or carriage.

In moments, the light subsided and Haldir blinked, seeing Elyen already walking quickly ahead of him, the gatehouse of Rowan Bold directly before them.

They had taken no more than a few steps when a strong voice called out, "Hold!"

~*~*~*~*~

Back in Anstig Mote, as the wedding of Ulric and Anysse had now taken place and the couple had been left alone in their chambers, Robert and Edmund began directing the knights and supplies should Almeric decide to lay siege after all.

"Begin to barrel fresh water!" Robert ordered, pointing at three knights, "and you there," he shouted, "Cook is to begin to count rations as of tonight. Three meals to everyone and no more." The knights nodded and headed toward the kitchens to issue their Lord's commands.

"William!" Robert called out to his Constable and strode toward him.

The courtyard of Anstig Mote had suddenly exploded into a frenzy of activity. The tanners were already collecting leather strips and working these into corded whips. The smithies were in full drive, working to produce as many blades, swords and shields as possible. All of it had an air of controlled chaos, but Sir William was an experienced Constable and everyone was carrying out his orders to the letter. Anstig Mote had not known siege for at least sixty years, but Sir William and Lord Robert made sure drills and mock attacks were part of training in order to keep everyone at the ready.

Hearing Robert's call, Sir William turned, "My Lord!"

"How many archers made it to the Mote?"

"Close to six hundred, my Lord." Sir William answered.

Sir Robert raised his head and looked at the towers of the Mote, "Keep the wagons rolling and the towers well-stocked with arrows."

Sir William nodded, "I've already given the command. Loopholes are also manned with three reinforcements per window."

"And the gates?" Sir Robert's gaze focused on the porticullis.

"They have been raised and drawn. If they try to cross they will either fall into the moat below or be scalded from the killing holes."

Sir Robert pondered upon this bit of news for a moment, "What have the men on the gates got? Oil or sand?"

"Hot sand, my Lord. Should they advance somehow, our men will drop the hot sand onto their backs."

Sir Robert sighed, "How long can we last, William?" Robert's gaze came to rest on his Constable's face.

Sir William thought for a moment. "If we need to slaughter the cattle and the sheep, providing the ale and water hold out," he pursed his lips, "perhaps eight weeks at the most."

Robert nodded, "Aye, I agree." Then he had a sudden thought.

"The water conduits," he looked behind him, "they are our greatest weakness, William."

Sir William nodded, "Aye, Sir Robert, I know. Twelve archers are set upon the ramparts watching all sides of the conduits. I say, if we must, hack them down." He watched Robert's face.

"Nay, I am not willing to cut off our fresh water just yet. We must continue to rely on it until the time comes to destroy it. In the meantime," Sir Robert turned to Sir William, "stock up on as much water as possible and ration every drop you can."

Sir William nodded, "Aye, my Lord."

Robert was about to turn and head toward the stalls when a loud commotion startled the castle. He turned to look toward the first gate and saw the standard of the rearing lion flying high aloft.

"I though the gates were pulled." Robert turned to Sir William.

Grim-faced, Sir William began walking toward the lowered porticullis, "Raise the gates!" he shouted and at once the iron gate began to roll up. The two men strode toward the gates and they saw that three knights carried the body of a man. Robert frowned, "What is this, then?"

By then the knights had been allowed passage over the first and second gates and then the massive doors were once again pulled up. Sir William shouted, "There are to be no further lowerings of these gates!" The knights on the towers above the gates shouted down their "ayes".

The three knights carried the still form of what appeared to be a youth. His face was pale and his tunic was caked with mud and dried blood. Robert recognized the face at once and dropped to one knee, feeling for a pulse at the youth's neck. He felt it, faint and distant.

"He still draws breath, but is on the brink of death." Sir Robert stood. "Take him inside to the Healer's House."

Sir William waved off the three knights and then turned to Robert, "Do you know this man, my Lord?"

"Aye," answered Sir Robert, "Tis Wyat Fitzwalter, from Rowan Bold." In his voice there was worry. If Godfrey had sent his son toward the Mote then surely this bode ill not only for Rowan Bold but also for Anstig. The youth's life must be saved so they could learn whatever message he carried from his sire.

Turning toward the house, Sir Robert walked briskly, searching out for his father.

~*~*~*~*~

Key:

bailey - outer wall of a castle/keep

porticullis - iron grate which lowers open and closed

Loopholes - small windows used by archers during times of siege.

Tiring woman - lady's maid

Killing holes - in Medieval warfare, holes made in the roofs of towers, etc, through which hot oil or hot sand was dropped onto the enemy below. Also called "murder holes"

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Disclaimer: All familiar characters are owned by JRR Tolkien and are used without permission. No monies are being made from this work.
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