AN: Thank you to all of you lovely readers (and for all of the favourites, follows and especially the reviews)! It makes finals season that much more cheery! Anyways, here is another chapter and more to follow hopefully soon! I'll be doing a bit of travelling but I'll try to post anyways! :) Hope you enjoy and I'd love it if you left a review or let me know if you have any questions etc. :)

Also, a few quick clarifying details: so when Bilba returned after the quest she was shunned, so no one would talk or acknowledge her so that's why she left Bag End (fled really) and has raised Raven in Buckland (in an old previously-abandoned smial). Primula moved in with them during their first winter in the smial (Winter 2942-43) and has been crucial because she isn't shunned and can still buy things from the village (sorry chapter 1 and preface had a lot of little details thrown in so it might have been a bit confusing!) As for Drogo etc. I'm not sure when that's happening, but baby Frodo will appear (maybe as the son of Drogo, maybe not, time will tell! ;)

For future timeline/reference also: Bilba is younger in this version, sixty seemed a little old for the story I have in mind, so she's born 22 September 2907 so Bilba will be turning 51 (though since she was 33 when the Company left the Shire in April of 2941, she still looks much younger). Raven will be turning16, but still looks only about ten or elven. She's very mature for her age because of the way that she's grown up; Bilba hasn't really been able to shelter her.


two

Bilba


Buckland, by the Old Forest

early September 2958

Bilba paced nervously around the smial. She hated feeling so helpless, but there was nothing else that she could do. Once upon a time she'd have had the bounders at her back or, better, a Company of dwarrow ready to jump to do her bidding. Those days were gone. When she'd woken up that morning she'd found Raven gone and the bed beside her cold. It wasn't hard for Bilba to guess where Raven had gone; her dagger and her sling were missing and she'd been anxious the past few days to check her trap-line. Then noon had come and gone and Raven had still not appeared. Bilba knew it didn't take Raven that long to check the trap line. In a panic, Bilba had raced back to the smial, trying to figure out where else her daughter might have gone and to decide where she should go to search first. She'd found their cart missing. It had been there that morning when Bilba retrieved their basket and headed to harvest tomatoes so Raven had apparently returned and snuck out again. That, combined with the absence of their coin purse, could mean only one thing: Raven was going into town.

As ridiculous as it was, the notion of Raven alone in town frightened Bilba more than her daughter wandering the countryside alone. Raven could use her dagger and she knew how to hide in the forest, but the dangers that the other hobbits posed were entirely different. At sixteen, if Raven had only been a hobbit lass, then she would have been well on her way to adulthood, however, with her half-dwarrow heritage she barely looked eleven years old. Still, Primula had warned Bilba that hobbits were still beginning to look at her in less than innocent ways. In their eyes after all, Raven was still sixteen, no matter how youthful she might appear.

Bilba herself had fended off their advances before, but she worried about Raven. One day, sooner rather than later, Bilba knew that she'd have to explain the darker side of the world and specifically their social position to her daughter. Without anything else to distract her, Bilba found herself praying that she'd not regret keeping Raven in the dark even this long.

Usually, Raven had Primula's protection and Bilba knew that her feisty Brandybuck cousin would never let anything happen to her daughter. Luckily, hobbits would still face legal action if they attacked Primula and, though Bilba's cousin could be propositioned, the chances of attack were low. When Raven went on her own, however, there was no such protection. Luckily, however, Bilba also knew that Raven's youthful appearances were no reason to underestimate her. Raven was smart and capable, and any hobbit who tried to underestimate her would learn that quickly.

When Bilba had returned to the Shire she had dreamed about being able to protect her daughter from the harsh realities of the world. She had envisioned Raven growing up in Bag End, as Bilba had, with seven full meals a day and a peacefully sheltered existence. Instead, Raven had been forced to grow up far too quickly. Without Primula's arrival, midway through Bilba's first winter at the smial, they might not even have made it this long. Primula was their lifesaver, she had given up a comfortable life in Brandy Hall and chances of making a good marriage and Bilba would never be able to repay her. In spite of Primula's help, Raven had still been forced into a state of independent maturity far sooner than Bilba preferred. Indeed, the mother in Bilba still protested whenever Raven followed the game trail or ventured into town on her own. Raven knew it upset her to have to give permission so she had stopped asking; she simply did what needed to be done. Bilba respected Raven for her determination, but it didn't make her feel any better nor did it allow her to put a stop to it. As long as Raven was able to contribute to the farm then Bilba and Primula had to take advantage of her maturity, not to mention her strength. Although Raven was still young, her dwarven heritage showed in her strength and, with the proper diet and training, Bilba was sure that she'd also make a formidable warrior, much like— Bilba forced herself to stop that thought. At least for the time being Raven wasn't a warrior yet, she was only a child.

Outside the sun was setting, and the curl of worry formed into a solid pit in Bilba's belly. With a flash of determination, she marched into the back room, pulling open the bottom drawer of the wardrobe and withdrawing the little sword. It had been several years since she'd really wielded Sting, and it might not be the right idea to charge into the town with a sword in hand but, especially if Raven was in danger, then consequences be damned because Bilba was not going to leave her daughter at the mercy of the hobbits. They might be driven out later on, but then Bilba would figure that out if she had to. For now, Bilba knew better than anyone else just how horrible hobbits could be and she wouldn't be a fit mother if she did nothing.

With Sting strapped to her hip, Bilba slammed her door open, intending to march into town only to freeze as she heard the rattling of cart wheels. Bilba felt a rush of relief, her knees going weak for a moment before all of her worry changed into anger.

"Raven is that you? You have no idea how worried I was to wake up and find you gone!" she exclaimed as her daughter rounded the hill, fully intending to give her daughter a thorough talking to. Then, Bilba felt abruptly as if the air had been knocked from her as a towering figure in a familiar grey robe and pointed hat also appeared at her daughter's side.

"Gandalf?" Bilba gaped in surprise, taking a shaky step towards him, before coming to a stop. She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she turned Raven who dropped the cart handle and hurried to Bilba's side. Numbly, Bilba hugged Raven tightly to her, the day's worry easing as she held her child, safe and whole, to her bosom.

"Hello, Bilba." Gandalf smiled, as Bilba looked warily up at him over her daughter's shoulder. "I fear it's been far too long." If she didn't know better, Bilba might go as far as to say that Gandalf's tone was apologetic.


For years, when Raven was younger, Bilba had thought about leaving the Shire. When she and Gandalf had passed through Rivendell on their way back, the Lord Elrond had offered her an invitation to stay, but she had declined. After she'd been shunned she'd thought multiple times about returning to Rivendell to raise her child there but she'd never been able to follow through with it. Bilba Belladonna was a hobbit of the Shire, she'd been born here and she couldn't bear to become a real exile. At least, not after she'd already been exiled from the only other place that she'd considered home. Erebor might never have actually been home, but Bilba had intended it to be and she'd lost that. She could not bring herself to lose the Shire too.

Difficult as life had been for them, they had a roof over their heads, food on the table and she did not have to resort to begging; at least not yet. Bilba had set up the garden and, it was true, life was not luxurious but they harvested enough vegetables and fruits to pickle and can for the winter. In the summer they also had short-lasting greens and, in the fall, they gathered sweet apples and dried herbs for cooking and medicinal purposes.

The food was far less than Bilba had dined on while she lived in Bag End, but it sufficed. Bilba and Primula survived, Raven had grown and they had even been happy. Certainly there were many times that they had been miserable, mostly in the winters when their supplies ran low and the weather trapped them inside for days, but it was their's. Never before had Bilba felt so independent. She knew now though that she could survive off of her land, that she could provide for her family.

In the years that had passed since Gandalf had left Bilba at the edge of the Shire she'd hoped many a time that he would return. She had dreamed that he'd help her, but year after year had passed with no such luck so she had given up. Looking over Raven's shoulder, at the wizard Bilba felt a lump fill her throat.


"I see that you've met my daughter, Raven, but what brings you this way?" Bilba steeled herself and lifted her chin as she released Raven in order to step in front of her daughter; protecting her.

"Well, I was looking to visit you, but when I tried to call on you at Bag End I was told that you'd left." Gandalf replied, looking rather pointedly at Bilba.

"Sixteen years ago." Bilba glowered at Gandalf, her voice steely. "I left Hobbiton and Bag End sixteen years ago."

"What happened? Surely, you could enlighten an old friend?" Gandalf cajoled.

"Raven, why don't you go inside and prepare some tea for our guest?" Bilba suggested softly, but firmly, and even though Raven scowled she did as she was told. As she turned, however, the light caught the silver clasp in Raven's dark locks, and Bilba caught the way that Gandalf's eyes widened in recognition. Bilba lifted her chin as the old wizard looked back at her with a familiar fondness.

"You want to know what happened?" she demanded, after the smial door had closed behind Raven. "What happened is that you let my imaginings get the better of me. I dropped everything, went on your quest and ,when I came back, I didn't have a home or a place in society. I was pregnant and outlandish, the hobbits were already most of the way through auctioning off Bag End and its contents. They didn't give me my things back, they mocked me, and I had no money to buy back my things or my place in society. I was tired from running after the Battle, and pregnant. I used Sting to force my way into Bag End and the Thain refused me access to my funds after that. I was shunned socially, unable to buy food, without any supplies or even furniture. I fled here, staving and pregnant in the night like a thief. I took what remained of my possessions and I bore Raven alone in this smial. I almost died for it, but I had no one and no other options because I was too far pregnant to return to Rivendell. After Raven was born she was so little, I couldn't travel with her. Then the winter came, and we stayed. I stole food, I am a professional burglar after all, and we survived, if barely, until Primula arrived.

"We were friends before I left on my adventure, and Primula didn't care that I was shunned. She came to check on me and, without her, I think we would have died. She brought food, supplies, and company. She helped me to care for Raven and to keep the smial warm enough for us not to freeze to death. She could go into town and buy us what we lacked. We still almost starved, but we survived and miraculously so did Raven. When the spring came, Primula decided to stay with us, to give up her life and make a new one with us. Crazy thing to do, but I've been so glad for her. She's more a Took than Brandybuck I think, and enjoys living with a little bit of excitement and more purpose than tea and gossiping.

"We planted seeds, we began to tend to the earth because we didn't know what else to do. We were too weak to leave, and after that winter we had grown even closer. The farm's expanded since then. We grow our own food, hunt on occasion and the Rangers bring us other supplies. We give them some food and mostly medicinal herbs from our garden in exchange. I'm sure it's not a fair trade, but they insist and because of that they've keep us alive and supplied." As Gandalf continued to regard her, the anger that had first consumed Bilba vanished, a wave of self-pity that she'd been denying for years overtaking her.

"Raven's sixteen, or she will be in a fortnight, and I think she's aging well. I don't know for sure because I never really knew much about dwarrowdams or children, but according to what I know of when dwarrow come of age, she's matured far faster than a dwarrowdam. We've needed her to be mature too, to help on the farm and sometimes to hunt or go into town." Gandalf frowned, and Bilba bristled again. "I'm not neglecting my child, Gandalf. I will kill to protect her, don't get me wrong, but I can see that you disapprove of finding her alone and that's my defence. I've had few friends and we don't have excess of anything so some luxuries, not even childhood. Raven's missed out on it because of me." Bilba held Gandalf's gaze as she defended herself and her actions. She'd read the disapproval in his gaze when he'd arrived, but she truly didn't know what else to do. Gandalf was, after all, the only one who'd known that she was pregnant. Well, that wasn't strictly true, but Beorn lived far from her and Elrond was an elf lord, not a traveller capable of stopping in.

"Lord Elrond always would have taken you in, even if you had to wait for Raven to be old enough." Gandalf said softly.

"I know, but I couldn't, not after we started the farm. We can provide for ourselves, Gandalf, we survive here and it's peaceful for the most part. Raven's a special girl, and I would not force the world on my child until she's ready to face it." Bilba said softly.

"You fear that Erebor would hear of her if you lived in Imladris." Gandalf concluded.

"Yes." Bilba finally admitted. "I won't keep Raven from Erebor or her father, but she's still a child. When she comes of age I will tell her and she can decide after that what she does but, so long as I can, I will keep her from that world. There are enemies she'd have to know how to fight and the chance of gold sickness. Perhaps here we go a little hungry, but her life hasn't truly been in danger, not since the farm's been established. I cannot send my daughter, my baby girl, into that world alone, certainly not as a child, not if I can help it." Bilba replied, an edge of steel in her voice.

"You would not go with her?" Gandalf asked and Bilba frowned.

"Go with her?" A humourless laugh issued from her lips as she dropped Gandalf's gaze, letting her own eyes wander the land. "I'm trying to protect my daughter, not to scar her, and seeing my head adoring the gates of Erebor courtesy of her father? That would not be protecting her. We've made a home for ourselves here, it's not much, but it's home. It has what we need and she knows what it is to grow up loved and trusted. We look after each other and, when she is older, and wants to travel, well, I'll spend the rest of my days here, working my land." Bilba raised her gaze back to meet Gandalf's; daring him to challenge her future.

"You don't know then." she thought she heard Gandalf murmur, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Gandalf-" she began, her voice trailing off as a pit formed in her stomach.

"Thorin took back your banishment." she heard the words, but they sounded far away and it took her a long time to process them.

"What? When?" she whispered.

"On Durin's Day, the first year anniversary." Gandalf replied softly. "You were granted a royal pardon and many honours were bestowed on you. It as quite the feast and celebration. Nor all the dwarrow were happy, but the Company, Thorin, he insisted."

"Why? Why would they do it? Why care?" Bilba heard herself ask faintly.

"Well, they felt incredibly guilty for what happened both at the gate and afterwards." Gandalf dodged and her eyes narrowed, sensing his avoidance.

"But why give me honours? Why make it a celebration? I was just a hobbit burglar to them, a traitor." Bilba met his gaze, this time demanding silently that he tell her the truth.

"They searched after the battle for you. They wanted to ask your forgiveness, but we were already on the road. They could only find your coat. It was torn and bloodied and, when you failed to appear, there were so many dead after the battle. Pyres were used to burn the bodies lest they fester and surely you can understand then, assumptions were made-" Gandalf trailed off and Bilba felt as though the air had been forced out of her lungs.

"They think I'm dead?" she managed to gasp out.

"The honours were given posthumously." Gandalf nodded and Bilba felt her world blurring as tears filled her gaze. She stumbled back, partially sitting but mostly falling onto the cart with its sack of flour.


Dead. Her dwarrow thought she was dead. Bilba's mind turned helplessly in circles. Like with Gandalf, at times she had wondered where they were, what they were doing and, secretly, had dreamed that they might come looking for her. Bilba had not imagined that they thought her dead. The more that she thought about it, however, the more she realized how they could have come to that conclusion. Her body shook slightly. Bilba had missed them, had missed them so much it hurt but at the same time she'd always been afraid that they would find her. She thought that for sure if they did then they would take Raven from her, and Bilba could not survive losing her daughter.

Bilba was used to not feeling accepted. She had always been an oddity in the Shire, dancing along the fragile barrier between acceptable and unacceptable behaviours. Then the Company had come though and she could simply be herself. Well, eventually she'd been herself. The first months of the quest she'd been in hiding; pretending to be Bilbo Baggins, not Bilba. Then the truth had come out to everyone at Beorn's house and it had been so freeing.

Certainly, Dwalin had known from the beginning because he had shown up by surprise her on her doorstep. Of course Gandalf claimed that he was going to be there earlier to explain everything, and blamed Dwalin who had come early to ensure that the Company would be safe in the Shire and with their burglar. Bilba privately thought that both Gandalf's lateness and Dwalin's eagerness had caused the issue. Dwalin had been furious, feeling that it was not right to endanger a woman but, even then, her temper had gotten the better of her. When she'd determinedly gone about becoming Bilbo, even cutting her long hair to Dwalin's horror, he had reluctantly accepted that she was not to be stopped so easily. During the evening he'd tried to have a private word with Gandalf, but when the wizard simply insisted that Bilba could come along, well, Dwalin wasn't sure what to do. He had still believed that Bilba would be shamed by staying with her cut hair and since she'd made such a sacrifice already for the company she supposed that he respected her loyalty. Dwalin had glowered at first, but eventually resolved to guard her as best he could and, perhaps more importantly, to teach her to fight. It was an odd friendship at first, but Bilba had come to love Dwalin as a brother. By the time that the Company arrived in Rivendell Nori, Bifur, and Oín all knew her secret too. Nori and Bifur because they were the most observant and Oín because he was the Company's healer and Thorin had insisted that Bilba be examined after the troll incident.

In the Mountains, her attraction to Thorin had grown. Bilba had longingly hoped that Thorin realized she was a female only to be disappointed. Then came their dratted trip to Goblin Town and well, after that it was right on to Beorn's house where the truth had come out. Poor Bofur and Ori had nearly fainted at Beorn's announcement. Fíli, Kíli, and Glóin had been in denial. Dori, Balin, and Bombur had nodded as though their suspicions were confirmed and Thorin. Oh how scared Bilba had been of his reaction. He had looked at her with such great alarm that it was almost comical and then muttered something about Dís skinning him alive before he stormed out of the house. Bilba had resolutely followed him, expecting to have to fight with him not to send her home. He had tried, but she was not to be left behind or returned. The argument that had followed, well, it had abruptly ended when he had kissed her very, very, thoroughly.

Bilba wished she could go back to those days. She remembered how worried they'd all been about her wellbeing. The Company had been horrified that a woman would be sent on their suicide mission, much less to face a dragon, because females were sacred in their race. In fact, with so few dwarrowdams, the Company had gotten angry when she had said that is wasn't a big deal and that she was expendable. Then of course she'd gone and begun courting Thorin on the road and their protectiveness, which had already gone through the roof, tripled at least. They'd treated her like a queen, and she supposed for a short while she was going to be their queen. That was why she'd lain with Thorin. Well, because they were to be married anyways and she'd been so scared to even hope that they might survive the dragon. Then it had all fallen apart because of the gold. The cursed gold. She hated it all. It had taken her family and her love and now, well, she didn't even know what to think.

Her dwarrow had been lost to her after she betrayed their trust and took the damned Arkenstone to the elves and Bard. She respected that they could not trust her, after all, the Arkenstone was an heirloom of their people and a symbol of Thorin's right to be King. It was unforgivable to have stolen it.

Now though, she was beginning to question all of it. Had she been wrong to stay hidden? Could she and Raven have lived a spoiled life as royalty in Erebor with Thorin and the Company there as their family? Years of worry, however, kept Bilba from accepting it all so quickly. Had her dwarrow only forgiven her because she was dead? Because she could not come back? Was it a lie to lure her back? To trap and punish her?

A flash of rage returned to Bilba as she returned her gaze to Gandalf. All of her struggles had perhaps been for naught. If she was truly forgiven then Raven might never have known what it was like to go hungry and be cold. As a proper hobbit mother, Bilba dreamed of feeding her daughter seven meals a day. In a perfect world she would have baked day in and day out to provide her baby girl with everything and anything that she could ever want. Instead, they had been rationed to three small meals a day; just enough to survive on without any access fat from having to farm and hunt day in and day out.

At times, even when she thought that seeing her dwarrow again would mean her instant death, Bilba had secretly longed for them to come. She had even contemplated taking Raven to Erebor after particularly bad winters. Raven might be half-hobbit, but the blood of Durin still flowed in her veins and she was female so surely, Thorin couldn't turn her away. At least, that was what Bilba hoped and, even if she would die for returning to Erebor, wouldn't any mother sacrifice herself for her daughter?

It would have been more reasonable to go to the elves, but Bilba didn't want to be a guest in their halls. No matter how much she might have liked Imladris, or how intriguing elven society was, it would never truly be home and that was what she wanted: a home for herself and Raven, a place for them to have a family. The dwarrow and elves had hated each other for years and though many did not take unkindly to Raven, there was no ignoring her half-dwarrow lineage and neither did Bilba want Raven to feel unwelcome because of her lineage. Moreover, Bilba worried that, if she gave up the farm, she'd be dependent on others for the rest of her life and she couldn't do that. That wasn't even to mention how vulnerable their dependency would make Raven, no matter what others might demand. With the notorious hostilities between the races, Raven would be a valuable pawn, but a pawn nonetheless in the great game of politics because, whether Thorin accepted her or not, she was a daughter of Durin.

Thorin. Ultimately, his reaction had always ended up stopping Bilba. She had seen him as the determined leader and protector of his people and then he'd transformed into a passionate lover and loyal husband-to-be but, overnight, he'd also become crazed with gold sickness. If he was still crazed then Bilba could not subject Raven to that future. Even if his mind had cleared, would seeing Bilba or having Raven there bring it all back? And, what of Raven herself? Could she fall prey to gold sickness? Raven was happy enough at the smial and gloriously oblivious of gold sickness. Bilba shivered at the thought of her daughter becoming a captive of the disease as Thorin had been. It was her worst fear to see Raven come to any harm because of gold sickness and, at least in the Shire, Bilba always knew that she was doing everything she could for her daughter. Moreover, Raven always knew what it meant to be loved. Primula and Bilba made sure of that. They could not shower the girl with presents, but they could shower her with love.

Pardoned. The notion flitted across Bilba's mind again. If she'd known that years ago then, fears or not, she would have made her way to the mountain, she was sure of it. The cold and threat of starvation combined with Raven's youth and needs would have driven her there: to their family. Even if it was some kind of trap, she had been desperate at times when Raven was still young because Bilba had feared that her daughter would starve or freeze to death. Before, Bilba realized with utter certainty, no matter what she told herself, only the fear that Thorin would take Raven, that he might hurt her and that Bilba would not be able to see her ever again had kept her from going to Rivendell.

Now, Gandalf had reappeared and brought with him a whole future of possibilities that Bilba had long since given up on. All of her emotions came tumbling out; her fear and longing, her love and hurt, her hunger and exhaustion. It was a tide that she could not stop.


"Ma?" Raven came over to her side, her blue eyes wide, as she drew Bilba out of her thoughts. So much like Thorin, Bilba thought before she could stop herself. She still loved the stubborn dwarf king. She had nearly died up on Raven Hill saving his royal highness and that was when she still thought he'd kill her. She knew it was not right then to love him, and even now she knew she should not forgive him, but her resentment seemed to dissipate as she looked into her daughter's eyes. Thorin had not abandoned her, intentionally or not, because he didn't care, but rather because he thought her dead. All of her friends thought her dead.

"Ma?" Raven asked again her eyes widening before she turned to glare at Gandalf. "What have you done? I told you that I wouldn't let you hurt her!" Raven shouted at the wizard.

"Raven." Bilba forced her emotions back, bottling them up once again for the sake of her daughter. "It's alright, Raven, he hasn't hurt me, just gave me some surprising news, that's all." Bilba tried to smile, but Raven kept frowning and glaring at the wizard.

"Is the tea ready? Come, help me to bring the table and bench out, we should enjoy the nice weather." Bilba forced her legs to support her and went into the smial.

It was dark, but the cooking fire warmed and lit the space. The smial was only two rooms, the front with the kitchen on the left and the living space on the right and then the bedroom in the back. It had been plastered, but it still looked very rough and Bilba had never been able to afford to paint it; that was simply a luxury that they'd had to do without.

The living room held two worn armchairs and a sofa as well as bookshelves. They were hand-made shelves filled with all of the tomes that Bilba had rescued from Bag End, top shelves protecting her treasured books from the sometimes damp ceiling. It was not a fancy hobbit hole, so occasionally it did get a little damp. The kitchen was open, but then again there were almost no walls in the smial. Primula and Bilba had made the kitchen table and trestle benches themselves and it separated the living space from the kitchen. Then they had two fireplaces along the single dividing wall. Both were open so that they could be accessed from the front rooms or the bedroom. Through the one doorway was the bedroom. They had a little storage space to the right, but it was damp and not good for much other than the pickled food. There were two beds and they had crammed an armoire and two dressers into the space as well, but it was cramped and far from fancy.

Still, simple and small as the smial was, it was their home. Bilba had only really felt trapped in the smial when it was raining or the weather was otherwise so bad that they could not venture outside. In the winter for the most part it was cozy; a warm safe haven from elements. In the spring, summer and autumn, the door and windows were left open to the yard outside, expanding the space and filling it with fresh air.

Before the quest, Bilba would never have let herself be caught in such cramped quarters; especially not when she had a daughter and a cousin living with her. Then again, before she'd run out of her door, Bilba had been a very different hobbit. The Bilba who she was now was content with the little smial, or at least she had been this morning before Gandalf had arrived to fill her head with more wild imaginings.

"Bloody wizards!" Bilba cursed, her mind spinning in many directions that she did not want it to go in.

"Ma?" Raven asked softly.

"Yes, Raven?" Bilba asked.

"I don't think I understand everything that's happening, that Gandalf said. What does it all mean?" Bilba sighed, but better they do this now rather than later. Gandalf wasn't going anywhere, and it was true; she owed Raven an explanation.


AN: Minor edits made June 26 :)