Warning: Chapter five contains too much bittersweet angst. Christie went overboard on the angst factor and she refuses to go back and remove some of it. Do not read this chapter while listening to the song Zoë Jane by Staind over and over again, as it reduced its author into a whining, crying ball of whininess. And the story only gets angstier from here… don't say I didn't warn you, cos I obviously did.

Due to real-life things, I may or may not update frequently. Let's just see how this goes, okay? And thank you for everything, Baileymag. This delightfully hobbit-angsty chapter is for you!

Chapter Five – Sacrifices
7 Urui (August) 1419

The Golden Hall had never been a more welcome sight. After many long days and nights of traveling from Minas Tirith to Edoras, Merry was feeling strangely weary. Perhaps it was the almost unbearable heat, or just the foreboding in his heart.

"We are finally here," Faramir murmured.

"You will be glad to see Éowyn again, won't you?" Pippin asked.

Faramir nodded. "Aye, I have missed her. And we have arrived in good time, too. Éowyn and I plan to wed in a few days, and I knew not if I would be here in time."

"Oh," Merry said. "I did not know you two were to wed this soon."

"It was Éowyn's idea," the Steward said, dismounting and then giving Merry a hand down. "She wishes to settle down and start a family immediately, and how can I refuse her? She would probably slay me if I did not oblige, and I do love her. But I know not whether I am ready for such responsibilities yet, but we shall see."

"You are the best Steward Gondor has ever seen, my lord. You will be a wonderful husband and father, I am sure of it."

Faramir beamed. "Thank you, Meriadoc."

"You are very welcome, my lord, and I do mean it," Merry said, though he was unsure whether he did or not. He did believe Faramir to be a loyal and honourable man, it was true, but for some reason or other Merry could not bear to think of him as Éowyn's husband, let alone the father of her children. Somehow Merry was still in love with Éowyn, though he had given up all hopes of courtship long ago. He often thought of her, and for that he was sorry.

And so Merry had to apologise to her. Éowyn did not deserve to be hopelessly admired from afar, though he was sure that he was not the only one who had done so. Merry remembered Gríma Wormtongue, Théoden King's traitorous counselor, and how Éowyn had told him all of Gríma's affections for her. He would not put her through something like this again, and still Merry felt guilty for everything both of them had had to endure after that night at Dunharrow.

The Company was now entering the Golden Hall. Faramir ran off immediately, leaving the two young hobbits alone in the vast hall adorned with banners of many sorts. Merry looked around, hoping to catch some glance of Éowyn, but she was nowhere in sight, though her brother was. He had not seen her since their stay in the Houses of Healing, and the last time he visited with her she had been extremely ill and in no condition to speak with him.

"My lord," he said to Éomer. "Where is Lady Éowyn? I wish to speak with her."

The muscles in Éomer's face twitched, and he stood there staring at Merry with a strange gleam in his eye. But he composed himself and said: "She is with Faramir. If you wait here, then I am certain she will see you soon."

"Thank you, my lord," Merry said, bowing his head to the King of Rohan. Éomer went off to greet some of the other guests, and Merry heaved a sigh of relief. Something was definitely wrong with Éomer, and it was probably him. Ever since he caught his sister in Merry's tent, something about him changed. No longer would Éomer smile at him or even let him go by without a stern glance.

"What's with him?" Pippin whispered when Éomer had left.

Merry shrugged. "I'd be glum too if I had to surrender my sister to an older man. He's very protective of her."

"Who?" Pippin asked. "Lady Éowyn?"

"No, Treebeard," he said, rolling his eyes. "And I do not believe Éomer is fond of me…" Pippin shot Merry a curious glance, and he blushed. Merry had never spoken of the relations he had with Éowyn in Rohan, and he wished not to mention them now – or ever. It was not as if anything would come of that past anyway, he reminded himself. "Éomer, er, he overheard me saying how beautiful Éowyn was. He does not like it when men say things like that of his sister, I presume."

"It is true, and even you yourself said—" the younger hobbit stopped suddenly. "Ooh, an argument! Listen, Merry!"

"Faramir, it is my choice to give him, not yours!"

"You are being irrational! Have you even thought of what you plan to do?"

"Yes, I have! I am not-"

Pippin paused to listen to them again, and Merry nudged him. Though he too was curious about whatever Éowyn and her betrothed were arguing about, it was none of his business. . . or so he thought then. "Pippin, listening in isn't polite! You're almost as bad as Sam, and that's saying quite a lot. Just ignore it…"

"Faramir and Éowyn are being loud. I am not at fault if I hear them! But what do you suppose they're yelling about?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Merry answered him, shrugging.

"Because you and the lady are close," Pippin said like it was obvious. "You cannot keep your eyes off her and you speak of her constantly. . . I know you are in love with her."

"That is not true!" he hissed, though he was aware that he was blushing. Pippin gave him a wry smile, and Merry turned redder. "This – and whatever Faramir and Éowyn are arguing about - is none of your business!"

"I am your cousin and I deserve the right to know," Pippin said. "I would never say a single word."

Merry snorted. "You said that when we were children, Pip. Do you expect me to trust you in matters like this? You told Estella Bolger that I liked her and she pushed me in the mud. I have never forgiven you for that one."

"And you cried like a babe after," Pippin added.

"I was only fourteen! What did you expect me to do, apologise to Estella?"

The arguing in the other room ended abruptly with a smash of what sounded like porcelain, and Faramir rushed out, cursing in Sindarin and touching his scratched and bleeding face gingerly. Merry and Pippin were silent.

"Master Meriadoc, Éowyn wishes to speak with you," Faramir said, pointing to the door from which he had just come. "And be polite," he whispered to Merry. "Éowyn has been rather emotional of late, and you would not want to upset her like I have done. She throws china." He turned and walked away, mumbling incoherently. Obviously Éowyn had won whatever battle they had been fighting.

"Watch out for the mud, Merry!" Pippin chortled.

When Merry entered the room, he noticed that Éowyn was seated in an old leather chair by a desk in the corner, a large bowl of mushrooms in her lap. She was clad in a midnight blue tunic he recognised to be Éomer's and a long, flowing skirt, and for some reason Éowyn looked much different than when Merry had last seen her. Perhaps it was because her eyes were peaceful, her face no longer pale, and her breasts fuller (not that he had been looking there, of course). Merry smiled at her and she returned the grin, though somewhat nervously.

"Lady Éowyn," he said quickly. "I have come to apologise for my behaviour. I never meant to hurt you, my lady."

"You need not be formal with me. Éowyn will do."

"Yes. . . Éowyn. And you can call me Merry."

"You never did hurt me," she said. "And I too must speak with you of something. Something. . . important. And you cannot tell a soul, save your cousin, for he is family now. I do not mean to bring bad news at a time like this, but this is inevitable. You would probably notice anyway, as it is becoming more obvious with each day that passes, but..."

He raised an eyebrow. "What is it? You can tell me."

"Please do not be angry with me. I could not bring myself to tell you before, for I still could not believe it myself," she rose from her chair. "This was not supposed to happen."

"I know not what you speak of," Merry started, but Éowyn quieted him with her finger.

"Meriadoc," she said, reaching for his hand and placing it on her swollen abdomen. Merry was surprised that he did not realise how much she had grown before. "I am five months gone with child. I do not doubt that it is yours."

"Oh, Éowyn! A child! Are you absolutely positive?"

Éowyn nodded. "I have been certain since the end of Gwirith, Merry. I cannot deny that this babe is yours; you were the only one I ever..."

The tears would not come, nor could he be unresponsive. Suddenly Merry felt a tiny foot, probably hairy like his, push up against his hand, and he choked on a sob. That child he was feeling could not possibly be his, or could it be? Merry looked up into Éowyn's face, and when he saw the mixed look of both joy and sadness in her large grey eyes, he knew that it was true: she was carrying his child. That babe growing inside the Lady of Rohan was his, not Faramir's, and it killed him to think that he had put her in such a dilemma.

"She is yours, I assure you."

"She? But you can't possibly know for certain." Merry would never admit it, but he had always wanted a daughter. But now, even though he was seeing Éowyn pregnant with his child, the dream still seemed unreal.

Éowyn smiled grimly. "It is only a mother's intuition, and I do hope for a daughter."

"Now what are we to do about her?" Merry whispered. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes, but he could not bring himself to weep. Éowyn too looked tearful, and he had to be strong for her… and their child. "You aren't going to. . . get rid of it, are you?"

"I would never. No, I plan to wed on the tenth of August," she replied. "This babe cannot be born out of wedlock."

"Then you are to wed Faramir," Merry knew that if Éowyn was to wed Faramir, and he was to go back to the Shire, he would never know his own child. Merry wanted to hold Éowyn in his arms forever, to comfort her and be there for her. He knew that could not be so, however. He had already given up on winning her love, for she already loved Faramir, but the news abruptly aroused his hidden longing for Éowyn, and not just for her, but for his child as well.

"Nay, I did not say that," Éowyn said. "I should have spoken to you of this before; I realise that I have been wrong in hiding my condition from you. You saved my life and gave me love I never thought to find, and now I give you this choice: I am to wed either you or Faramir, if it be your will. I am forever in your debt, and I would sacrifice my happiness for yours. Faramir does not approve of my choice, as you may have heard, but it is my choice to give you and not his."

The thoughts danced through Merry's head, tormenting him every moment he dared to think. He could have what he desired, that peaceful life with Éowyn and their child in the Shire! He could have all he ever wanted! Merry's mind wandered to the possibilities of a life with the lady he wished to marry, but then he thought of someone else. The babe. He had been thinking only of himself and his desires, not what was best for his child.

Merry gradually realised that what was best for the babe was not a union between himself and Éowyn. She, after her betrothal to Faramir had been announced in Minas Tirith, would be disgraced and cursed for marrying him. Merry could not force Éowyn to love him, he knew that for certain. He did not wish to see her despair again and simply wished to see her happy and more radiant than she already was. He would only lead her to misery, possibly to her death. She was content when she was with Faramir, and even though Éowyn never proclaimed her love for him, it was apparent that she adored him. If she did marry Faramir as she had originally planned, the babe would not be conscious of the fact that he was truly its father, and Éowyn would not be in disfavour. He was the one who had to make a sacrifice.

Merry kissed her stomach lightly and vowed to go through with his decision, but he already felt attached to the life he had created and the woman carrying it. But he would not let both of them suffer because of him. "I could not wed you. I want to do what is best for our child, and I do not want you to suffer."

"I thank you, but there is naught that you can do to prevent me from suffering. I love Faramir, yet I am carrying your daughter, and it feels as if my heart is torn in two pieces."

Merry looked up and noticed the tears streaming down her face, and he hugged her closer. He had to be strong for her. "Do not be upset, not in your condition. Getting upset will not do you any good. I beg you to sit and rest."

"I cannot help it, Meriadoc," she said, slowly lowering herself back into the chair and sighing. "It is too much for me to handle at one time; this heartbreaking friendship, a wedding, and an unexpected and difficult pregnancy. Sometimes I think I will go mad from all this stress."

He touched her hand, and for once she was welcome of the touch of his warm skin on top of hers. Éowyn tried to blame it on the fact that she had felt more passionate than ever during her pregnancy, but in her heart she knew it was something else. "I'm here for you. I always will be."

"But your daughter will not know it."

"And you must remember that it will all be over in a few months. As soon as the babe arrives, everything will get better," he paused. "And when will that be?"

"Sometime in early December, according to Folcwyn. Only four more months and then we shall have a child together. . ." Éowyn's voice faltered and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing again. Merry quickly embraced her and he let her cry on his shoulder until she could cry no longer. "I apologise, I am not usually like this. . ."

"Hush, Éowyn. I am here," Merry whispered to her. "You will make yourself ill if you keep this up, and I am concerned for you."

Éowyn looked away from Merry, sniffling. "I should return to my chamber and lie down, then. I am beginning to feel queasy again, though that is nothing new. I am always queasy of late. And I do not think I could face the guests yet, not Faramir's uncle Imrahil and those Elves… no, I am too wary of it. They will notice."

"I did not notice at first," Merry said, and he was sorely tempted to add, because your fair beauty blinded me and I could see naught else. However, he bit his tongue. Blatant flattery was the last thing Éowyn needed… and, Merry reminded himself, his blatant flattery was what got them into this situation in the first place.

He rose and kissed her brow, and she shuddered. "I am sorry, Merry. It did not have to come to this."

"It was beyond our control. But if I could go back and change what happened that night, I would not do it. You gave me a lot to live for and I shan't forget it."

It seemed as if Éowyn's grief and loveliness would pierce Merry's heart, and the fact that he would not be here much longer to console her made him begin to cry. Merry would not be there when Éowyn gave birth, he would never hold his child, and she would never call him her father. He did not think he even had the heart to ask her what Faramir thought of all this and how she would go on without him. Sobs shook his small body; it was too much for him to deal with. Merry let go of Éowyn and quickly left the room, leaving her to wonder if she should have given into his desires long ago.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X

The next week went by in a haze. Merry could only watch from a distance as his hopes fell to the ground and shattered, and often he paused to think. Of Éowyn, as usual. She was the only one other than his child that occupied his thoughts during those long, humid nights at Meduseld. Merry knew Éowyn would be awake late at night, as he was, perhaps reading from her favourite books or simply lying in Faramir's embrace.

Merry saw all of it: how Éowyn beamed after Faramir kissed her, how Faramir would let Éowyn sit in his lap and feed her whatever she craved, and the sadness that seemed to envelop her whenever Merry was around. He knew as well as Éowyn did that they could not have the best of two worlds, and already it seemed as if she had decided. Merry tried to be happy for her, he truly did. But she was not content, he realised; she had never looked more miserable, and that was only when he was around.

Even Éomer seemed to notice this; on the day before Éowyn was to wed Faramir, he approached Merry, which was quite odd as he had been avoiding the poor Halfling.

"Master Meriadoc," King Éomer said. "You bedded my sister at Dunharrow and got her with child? Is that the truth, or does Éowyn lie?"

Merry looked away and mumbled, "It is the truth, my lord."

"I should never forgive you for it," Éomer said coldly. "Yet I feel I must, as you saved my sister's life. If it were not for you and what you did for her, she would have died long ago. I could not let you leave without letting you know, for now you are family. Is there any enmity between us, Meriadoc?"

"No, my lord," he had answered.

"And do you love Éowyn?"

"I do, but I could not wed her. I would only hurt her."

Éomer clapped Merry on the shoulder and smiled, and for once it was not forced. "You have a good heart, Master Meriadoc. I find no indignity in your actions towards Éowyn, and I honour you for that. You are always welcome here, Holdwine of the Shire."

Sometimes Merry wished he were.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X

Merry tossed and turned all through the night, unable to sleep. Sleeping on a wooden bench in a guest room was hardly comfortable, and not only that, just hours ago Merry had attended Faramir and Éowyn's wedding, and it had both made him upset and joyous to watch it. You're happy for her, you idiot, Merry whispered to himself, you can't go on like this, Meriadoc Brandybuck. And so Merry decided to rise and get a breath of fresh air to clear his mind. In the morn he would have to apologise again for the behaviour he knew upset Éowyn, though he had no way of knowing why he had hurt her so.

Pippin had already passed out hours ago and Frodo was sleeping peacefully in Sam's embrace down on the floor, much to Merry's relief. Merry stepped over them as best as he could in the darkness and then stumbled out into the main hall and then outside onto the terrace. He heaved a sigh of relief, glad to be alone at last in the cool air, but he realised that he had not been alone at all.

A figure in white stood on the other side of the terrace, her fair hair blowing in the gentle breeze. Merry tried to leave, not wishing to bother her, but she saw him first. "I knew not that you had come until now, Merry. How long have you been here?"

"Only a minute," he murmured. "But what are you doing up at this hour of the night?"

Éowyn yawned, her hand going to her belly. "I cannot sleep with the child moving so. I know not what she does in there, but it feels an awful lot like dancing," she turned to Merry, and in the moonlight he could make out a small smile on her face, and for that he was glad. "And may I ask why you too are awake?"

"I am quite sorry, then."

"Sorry? What for?"

"For the baby being a hobbit. We hobbits like to dance. If you were ever in the Shire during one of old Bilbo's parties, well, he doesn't attend the ones Frodo throws in his honour every year, and if you were to see Frodo dancing, it is a hilarious sight, especially when he tries to twirl with Sam while drunk-"

"I believe you are evading the question," Éowyn sighed and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and it was then that her smile faded. "All is not well with you, though, is it? Why can you not sleep? Does something bother you?"

He pulled away from her. It was not right for her to touch him or for them to be so close to each other, especially in a public place like this, even though it was dark and no one else was around. It still was not proper. "Sam snores. I could probably hear him if I were in Mordor."

"You do not expect me to believe that outrageous lie, do you?"

"Please, I do not wish to burden you with my problems. Do not think of it. Come now, you need your rest, for it has been a long day…" he gestured towards the door leading to the hall and tried to steer Éowyn to it, but she would not budge. "My lady, please…"

"I told you to stop calling me that."

Merry blushed. "Yes, Éowyn. And you really should go back to bed, I am certain that Faramir is missing his wife already. You should not be outside at this hour. You could catch a cold or be kidnapped by Dunlendings or eaten by wild animals; really, it is not safe for you out here."

"Wild animals running rampant in Edoras? You must come up with a plausible reason if you want me to leave without an answer," Éowyn said, yawning again. "Why will you not tell me what bothers you? I know that something does. Is the matter truly that private?"

"Not quite, but it may trouble you."

"You comforted me when I needed you the most, and now I shall at least listen to you."

"And that comfort led to a child and more problems than we can handle! Do not think of it!"

"Merry," Éowyn said softly. "I simply wish to know what bothers you, for some things are also on my mind."

"If you desire it, my lady," he stepped in closer to Éowyn and stared at his feet for a while, then looked back up at her. He could not possibly tell her, but he did anyway. "I know it is wrong and that it may hurt you… but I love you, Éowyn."

They were so near, so close that he could almost feel her despair. They were close, and yet he could not lay a single hand on her.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X

The rest of the week flew by in a heartbeat. Merry could not believe that soon he would be saying farewell to his child's mother, but when he woke on the morning of the fourteenth to the sound of drawers shutting and a soft voice singing in Rohirric, he knew it was inevitable.

"Éowyn?" he blinked, rubbing his eyes vigorously. "What are you doing? It is not proper for you to be in here!"

"You were not going to pack yourself, and you were bound to forget your things," Éowyn said, stuffing the last of Merry's breeches into his pack.

Merry opened his mouth to protest, but decided against it. He knew better than to chide Éowyn, and he did not want china thrown at him either. "Thank you, Éowyn."

"You are quite welcome," she said, handing the pack of clothes over to him, along with a smaller bundle of cloth. "I have also included food for your journey, including the last of the mushrooms, just in case you are in need of it."

"You worry too much."

Éowyn shrugged. "I guess I cannot help it. But come now, Merry, the others wait for you outside. You overslept and missed breakfast, and King Elessar hopes to depart soon and travel far today. It will be a long journey to the Shire, I deem."

She led him outside, where he did indeed find everyone waiting outside, preparing to depart. And when Merry looked at Éowyn, he realised that perhaps it would be the last time he saw her in years, and when he saw her next they would have a child. The mere thought scared him.

"Merry," Éowyn called, gesturing for him to come to her. He could only oblige, and then he was close enough to see the tears forming in her eyes. And then it struck Merry again: this was it. This was goodbye.

"Take care of my child," Merry whispered. "Let her know that I love her… and will you at least consider a flower name for the baby? It is a custom in the Shire to name our daughters after flowers and jewels."

"She will know it, Merry, though I believe she already does. And I have yet to discuss names with Faramir, but I will consider a flower name, if Faramir will allow it," Éowyn knelt down at Merry's level and held him close, silently wishing that she would never have to let go. "Meriadoc, goodbye is not forever. We shall see each other again, I promise."

"That I know," he said. "The Lord Faramir has told me to visit you in Ithilien when I am ready, but how long that may be, I am not sure. But I promise to visit you, even if it is fifty years from now."

Éowyn nodded, though on the inside her heart was breaking. She could not bear to turn Merry away when they needed each other the most. She could not bear to see the pain and wonder in his bloodshot hazel eyes when she spoke of their child. But fate had already decided for them; there was naught that they could do.

"Write to me in the meantime, if you get the chance. I shall respond. And... and when our daughter is old enough, she too can write..." she hesitated, biting her lip. "Oh, I cannot believe all of this has not been a dream."

"Merry!" he looked up to see King Elessar standing by the horses and the rest of the company, who were all mounted and ready to leave. "It is time to depart!"

"Yes, sire," Merry replied. "I will meet you at the gates of Edoras."

"You must leave," Éowyn said quietly, glancing at the departing company. She turned back to Merry and kissed his brow. He hung his head, trying to avoid the tearful gaze that never ceased to make him feel remorseful for all he had done. "Farewell, Merry, and I thank you for everything."

He kissed Éowyn on the cheek and helped her to her feet, which was becoming increasingly difficult for her to do on her own, and she leaned against a column, breathing heavily. "I do not want to, Éowyn. My heart is with you and our daughter."

Merry laid his hand against the swell of Éowyn's belly and was greeted with a bombardment of hasty kicks. Éowyn gasped in surprise, but Merry pressed harder and laid his head on her abdomen, smiling slightly. "Farewell, little one," he whispered. "I will not be here to see your beautiful mother grow with you, or to hold you, or to watch you become the lovely lass I do not doubt you will be, but I love you. I always have and I always will, little one."

The baby kicked again in reply, and Éowyn caressed Merry's small hand. She held it there for several minutes more, both of them in awe of the life they had created. Neither of them said anything. "Go now, Meriadoc," she breathed at last. "Go now before we regret this parting."

"I believe we already do regret it, Éowyn."

It was hard for him to tear himself away, but at length Merry embraced Éowyn for the last time and ran down the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him, determined not to look back. He mounted his pony and rode off down the hill and to the gates, not stopping for fear of returning to the dream he had given up. And as he rode away, Merry could still hear Éowyn's muffled sobs in the distance.

But Éowyn still stood there, unable to avert her gaze toward Meriadoc. She did not move at all, but stayed there until Merry became a speck on the horizon an hour later, unaware that he too kept looking back as well.

"Éowyn, my love," Faramir called from behind her. "Will you not come inside now?"

She did not answer him, nor did she run into his arms like half of her wanted to do. She was beyond that now.

"Please, Éowyn, come inside and lie down. You seem ill and you have not slept in two days," Faramir insisted. He came to her and began to stroke her golden hair gently as she wept, trying to ease the pain he knew he could never fully heal. "Are you not hungry, Éowyn? If it would please you, I could bring you all the mushrooms in Edoras."

"I am not hungry," she mumbled.

"Then will you not at least rest? You are under orders to stay in bed for the remainder of the summer, if you can recall. You will make yourself ill like this!"

"I feel fine. You have no reason to worry, Faramir."

He sighed, exasperated. "Éowyn, please listen to me. I simply wish to ensure that you and our child are well."

She turned to Faramir this time, shaking a little. Her tired, bloodshot eyes met his and she gazed at him long and hard, standing perfectly still.

"Our child," she repeated at last, but something in her voice belied her, and Faramir knew it.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X

THANK YOU! I LOVE ALL OF YOU!

Next chapter: Merry doesn't seem to get a break with all the angst, does he? But he does get to see Estella again and there's no mud involved. And I may feel generous and throw in some Faramir/Éowyn stuff… and if I'm really generous, then perhaps some lovely fluff to distract you from the angst.

Kaladelia Undomiel: Merry knows, Éomer knows, Faramir knows... woohoo, and now it gets angsty!

Lindahoyland: Oh, another fellow Briton! Yay! I'm living in New York, but I'm a native of Cobham, Surrey... so, basically, I still have British pride! And you will have to wait and see more of Faramir... it may or may not be a pleasant encounter for poor Éowyn.

Cuddlehelm: Firstly, thank you for everything (you know of what I speak). Second, who is Patricia Heaton? She's probably before my time or something, you 80's child. Ugh, again with me and the language. Must stop reading things other than The Lord of the Rings, then.

Crazzymonkey: But you have to remember that the only thing better than a trouserless hobbit is a trouserless hobbit covered in chocolate icing. My birthday's on the ninth; I hope to receive David Wenham and Dom Monaghan, and then we can have our ways with the cream...

Eathiln: Well, what about this line: Yo, hobbit! Let's create bodily friction? Haha, inside joke between Cranberry-Ice88 and I. But anyhoodle, I do my best to make the dialogue archaic. I work at a Renaissance Faire, so I'm pretty much used to the language and style of Middle-earth. And that place looks like Edoras!

Carcilwen Thorned-Rose: You know now. Happy? Well, considering how angsty this was, probably not.

The little purple button is calling your name! I'll be on vacation from 20 August to 27 August, so no updates until September at the very least. My birthday is the ninth of September; reviews make good presents!