Chapter Text
Bilbo did not have a single night of sleep without this recurring nightmare. He'd wake up with the same feeling of drying blood on his hands. The smell of smoke in his nose again. And their last conversation echoing in his ears like a prayer again again and again.
He ran down the stairs, nearly tripping on the ice that they were covered with. Far in the distance he could hear the first eagles arriving. At the bottom of the stairs covered in dirt and blood laid the King under the Mountain.
“No No No No No”, the Hobbit mumbled. Don't let it be too late.
The wet coughs that rattled through Thorin, reached his ears soon after.
Bilbo let himself fall to his knees and grabbed Thorin's hand. A desperate try to give Thorin comfort and reassure himself that he was still alive.
His eyes scanned over the unarmoured body. What a fool he had been to go into war like that.
“Bilbo!”a small smile appeared on Thorin's face as he turned to look at his burglar. “Don't move. Don't move. Lay still.”
And on his chest Bilbo saw the fatal hole that pierced itself through the king. Bilbo pressed his free hand onto the wound trying to help his dying friend somehow. The sight made him nauseous. The feeling of warm blood carving itself into his hands and memory. Thorin winced. His body tring to curl around the pain to stop it, not having the energy to do so.
The king's eyes were still fixated on the hobbits face, tracing every detail that he grew to love over the months, trying to absorb it, to save every little detail, holding it close to his heart and keeping it treasured there. Even if just for a minute. “I'm glad you're here.”
Bilbo only shushed him. He didn't have time for sentimental speeches now, he needed to focus on helping his friend.
“I wish to part of you in friendship.” “No.”, Bilbo replied, shaking his head. He did not care if it seemed rude or not but he could not let his emotions overtake his actions now. Not with someone so importing dying beneath his hands. “You are not going anywhere Thorin. You´re going to live.” And despite his best efforts tears gathered in his eyes and made it hard to see.
“I wish to take back…”, another wet cough,” my words and deeds at the gate.” Bilbo's eyes diverted from Thorin's chest to his face now. Bilbo shook his head. A desperate attempt to shake his emotions off of him. “You did what only a good friend would do.” Thorin eyes squinted in pain “Forgive me.”, he whispered. Bilbo's head fell between his shoulders as tears streamed down his face. “I was too blind to see. ” Another wet cough. The Hobbits' shoulders were shaking and his hands were losing pressure on the wound. This could not be it. There had to be a way he could save him.
“I am so sorry, that I led you into such peril.”, The king's voice was breaking. His breaths sounded wet now too. And yet again another wet cough rattled through him
“No, I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin.” Bilbo now took both of his hands and clutched them around the one resting on Thorin's chest. He looked him straight in his eyes and whispered:”It far more than any Baggins deserves.” Their faces were hovering only inches apart from one another. Thorin only smiled. His breaths became more ragged by the second.
“Farewell, Master Burglar. Go back to your books.” Wet cough. “And you armchair. Plant your trees.” Underneath Bilbo's hands Thorins twitched slightly, as if he was trying to return the sentiment of holding onto him. “Watch them grow.”
Bilbo could not look Thorin in the eyes any longer. His vision was becoming blurry and more tears stained his cheeks. Thorin groaned in pain.
“If more people… valued home above gold the world would be a merrier place.” His voice was so soft and yet…
Bilbo had never thought that he would one day fight in a war. Not even twelve months ago he would have thought that he had joined the dwarf on their journey to retrieve their home. But now he kneeled beside one of his most valued friends and had to watch, hear him take his last breath.
A violent sob escaped Bilbo's chest. “Thorin, please. No. Please hold on. Thorin. Oh by Yavannah.” He let his head drop to Thorin's chest and sobbed. There was no heartbeat any longer. But when he shut his eyes and let himself pretend…
In the not so far distance he heard someone scream. Dwalin.
He does not know whether or not he should be grateful that he passed the stage of nightmare where his brain twisted his imagination and let him attempt to save Thorin over and over again. Now it was only an exact replica of the events that haunted him at night.
At first he thought he would eventually forget the way the coughs sounded or the way Thorin's cold hands felt like in his. But his memories did not let him do that.
Eight years had passed now since the battle of the five armies. That's what they called it in the history books now, he heard. He thought about talking to someone about what had happened all these years ago. Hamfast was the first to come to mind and even despite Bilbo not having the strength to talk about it freely his gardener and friend asked him regularly if he was doing alright and if he wanted to talk about it. Maybe one day he might be able to talk about it. But it was too hard.
So he tried writing everything down.
On one of the few days where he didnt feel like the grief was crushing him he rummaged through his house, desperate to find the red book he had bought many years ago and had not used until now. And he sat down and began to write.
The happy memories he so dearly treasured in his heart. The brave fights he and his dwarven friends fought. The evenings at the campfire when Fili and Kili would be bickering and everyone was laughing and even Thorin who seemed to be set on always being grumpy and serious would sometimes break into a smile and once or twice even in a chuckle. They seemed so unimportant in the moment but were now one of his favourites to look back upon.
He rarely let anyone into his home. And despite not wanting any visitors his cabins and pantry were always stocked with everything he could need to feed a group of thirteen.
Just in case, he thought.
The anniversary of the battle came and passed like it did every year. Along with it came the annual invitation for him to come back to the Lonely Mountain and visit Erebor. Not just the kingdom but his friends that refound their home there.
But he couldn't bring himself to go back. Not with the knowledge he wouldn't find him there sitting on his throne that he fought so hard to get back.
So every year on the day the battle took place Bilbo would go into town and buy the best wine he could find and drink that until he couldn't see straight anymore.
He was well aware that that was not a way he should deal with his problems but he couldn't really help himself otherwise. Nothing kept his mind quiet for long enough.
One year, the third anniversary to be exact, he tried it without the wine but that ended with a terrible panic attack. And he was not willing to put himself through that again. The only other hobbit that knew was Hamfast, Bilbo was also very aware that Hamfast did not approve of his habits but was too good of a friend to dig for answers or stop him from drinking on that night.
His gardener had found him three years ago after Bilbo had crashed in his own garden right next to the oak tree he had planted when he got back from his adventure.
On this particular day Bilbo believed nothing unexpected to happen. That would of course not be the case.
Yet again the hobbit woke up from his night terrors. His entire body was shaking and covered in a layer of cold sweat. Slowly he sat up and headed over to his bathroom, splashed his face with cold water. Quickly he decided that that would not do so he scrubbed his entire body down and changed into his favourite shirt and vest.
After he was done he walked into his kitchen and set on the kettle making himself his tea.
The morning passed rather fast and before he knew it it was late afternoon and he was sitting in front of his beloved red book. He had come to the point where they had reached Rivendale. He had been looking forward to writing that part. He loved the Elven Kingdom and their stay there. Bilbo wished to return to it someday in the future. He was in the midst of describing the conversation he overheard of Gandalf and Elrond as a heavy knock on his door echoed through his home.
“Hamfast, I'm sorry but I don't have time for visitors tonight. You can come back tomorrow morning if you want to! I can even make your favourite.”, Bilbo yelled towards his door a bit annoyed.
There were about five seconds of silence before the stranger knocked again. “Hamfast, I assure you I am fine. I don't need anyone over tonight.” Sometime ago his gardener started to randomly visit Bilbo and invite himself in and stay the night. Bilbo never really understood why he did that.
On their third attempt the knock became even more forceful. “Oh by Yahvanna. I swear if you don't really have a good explanation to why you are showing up at my door, I will…”
Bilbo flung the door open and came to an abrupt halt. His mind and body froze all at once.
“I know that I am not the face you thought you would see on this fine afternoon. Still I hope not to intrude on your merry home. But I had hoped to hear how you are doing, my friend.”, said Balin.
“What are you…? Why are you here?”Bilbo frowned. The soft smile Balin had slightly cracked and he looked rather worried now. “I wanted to visit you. We haven't… Oh this is so terribly impolite. I should have written to you beforehand. I can leave no hussle my friend i am sorry…” Balin turned around and started to walk off Bilbo's porch.
The hobbit was still in too much of a shock to do or say anything so he just watched the dwarf leave, unable to tell him how much he wanted him to stay.
“Bilbo Baggins, this is not how you greet a friend. Especially not one you have fought great battles with.”, Gandalf's voice thundered.
Bilbo turned his head to the wizard at his fence which he had not seen approaching.
“I… Of course not. I mean…”, Bilbo turned around looking into his untidy hallway. “I wasn't expecting anyone tonight but your visit is always welcome Master Balin. My sincere apologies. I was just taken aback by seeing such someone as yourself in the Shire.”, a forced smile plastered itself onto Bilbo's face.
In all those years of living in the Shire with many relatives which he did not like all of, Bilbo had learned one especially useful trait: faked politeness in times of fear.
Balin turned back around and smiled at his friend.
“It is so great to see you again after all these years, my friend.” As the dwarf reached Bilbo he carefully placed his hand on his neck and let their foreheads touch just briefly. Bilbo stepped aside and let Balin enter his hobbit hole. “You can just place your stuff over there if you'd like.”, he advised the dwarf.
Balin looked around in awe. “It looks just like the day I came here for the first time. I understood then as well as now why you missed it so much on our journey.”
The hobbit shuddered a nervous breath. “Do you also want to come in, old friend?”, he said to Gandalf.
The wizard smiled brightly at him. “Your hospitality will always be my pleasure.”
Bilbo would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy having Balin and Gandalf in his home. For the first time in months he genuinely laughed at a joke again. For the first time in months he felt like he was at home again.
Balin tried to tell Bilbo about the things that had happened in Erebor after he left.
“Well, as you know Dain Ironfoot got crowned King under the Mountain. And has been slowly restoring Erebor for the past eight years. It is not easy. The entire kingdom was shaken by death and grief for a long time.” Balin stared at his wine mug and swallowed. “ But things got better eventually. Dwalin was put in charge of the soldier training. It is similar to the stuff he used to do in Ered Luin with Fili and Kili…” Balin nearly choked on his breath. “He really likes it.”, he said at last, avoiding Bilbo's eyes again.
“Yeah… That's great though. I am glad he is doing something he enjoys so much.”, Bilbo tried not to look too heartbroken at the mention of the Princelings. “What are you doing in Erebor? I mean I knew you were some kind of lieutenant, but…”
“Well, with Thorin… dead and Dain having his own dwarfs to help him do his job as king I have gone into the great library we have in Erebor. I missed the many transcripts and books we had there. There are a lot of them about dwarven culture that I had thought lost long ago. To be honest I did not believe any of them would have survived through Smaug's reign. But I was so wrong, my dear friend. I think you would have loved them as well.”
Bilbo vaguely remembered the dusty library. It was a very dark place in the mountain because it was so far down and so didn't have any windows. “I think I would have.”
“I am sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad, Bilbo.”, Balin admitted. “You didn't make me sad, Balin. It is nice to hear their names from another.”, Bilbo fiddled with his fingers. “No one in the Shire knows them. Never will. One part of me is glad about that, you know? But it makes it harder to keep them alive than it should be, that way.”
“I wish I could take the burden from you, my friend. You know the doors of Erebor are always…” “I cannot go back there, Balin. I am sorry. I just cannot… Not with them…”, Bilbo looked away and fought his tears. “I cannot stand in these halls pretending to enjoy the sight when I know Fili and Kili could only look around in them in fear of their uncle. I cannot live there with their absence. I just can't.”
A single tear made its way across his cheek before Bilbo sprung up. “I am going to get more pie. I am being a terrible host.”, he let out a fake chuckle.
In his kitchen he reached for the apple pie he had made a day earlier. It was then that he noticed his shaking hands. Plates were already at the table. So he simply grabbed the pie, flexed his hands, took a deep breath and walked back into his dining room.
He carefully placed it in the middle of the table and replaced the empty pie dish with it. “That one is apple pie. I made it with the apples in the back of the garden. Maybe you have seen the tree on your way here. But really you have to thank Hamfast for them. He's my gardener and takes care of everything back there.” Bilbo brought the dish back into his kitchen and placed it near his sink. He would do the dishes later.
With another calming deep breath he sat back down at the table. Balin had started to cut the pie and carefully placed a slice on each plate.
“Bilbo.”, Gandalf´s warm voice cut through the quiet. “You are not alone. We are not haunted by the dead. We are haunted by the living and the graveyard of memories they leave in our head.” Bilbo shook his head disapprovingly. He knew very well what the wizard was saying but he did not have the nerves to talk about it now.
“You should really talk to someone. It is eating you from the inside up. Soon there will not be anything left of the good in you.”
“So you're saying that I am bad simply because I am mourning my friends? The ones that saved my life multiple times after they gave it a purpose for the first time? You cannot say stuff like that just becauseI don't fit into the expectations you had of me before the journey.”, the hobbit voice was dark and hinted with anger.
“I am not accusing you of anything, Bilbo. I am just saying that grief can destroy a good soul. It has happened before. I just don't want that to happen to you.”
Anger tickled in the hobbits' hands. “Well, it is good for you to be saying stuff like that eight years after they have died. Eights years of which you never visited once. Don't talk to me about not wanting to see me rot away, Gandalf. You did not care for it.”
“Bilbo.”, Balin intervened with a small and broken voice. He was crying.
“I want you to leave, please.” Bilbo stood up from his seat gesturing towards his door. “It was really great to see you both but I cannot do this tonight. I am sorry.”
“Bilbo, please. We can talk about something else.”, the dwarf tried to reason with him.
“Balin, I am sorry but no. You both will have to leave. If you hurry you can make it to Bree before midnight. They have lovely accommodations there.”
The Dwarf wiped away his tears and nodded firmly. “Yes, of course. I apologise again for intruding on your home unannounced, Master Baggins.” “It's still Bilbo to you, Balin. And you shall return sometime soon if you'd like it just…”
“No, I understand. It is fine. Have a wonderful evening, my friend.”, Balin said at last before gathering his things and vanishing through the door.
“I hope you find back to yourself, Bilbo Baggins. Don't let it overtake your soul, whatever that means.” Bilbo frowned at the wizard. He couldn't possibly…
And before Bilbo could ask, his front door fell shut and he was alone again.
70 years later…
“Do you remember the encounter we had when you came to visit me in Bag End for the first time after the battle of the five armies?”, said a way older Bilbo, leaning on his crutch.
The wizard looked down at the Hobbit next to him. “Yes, I believe I do.”
“I would like to apologize for that. I wasn't… My mind wasn't in a good state.”
“Oh my dear, Hobbit.”, Gandalf laughed. “I had not taken your reaction quite personally. I knew you were not well. I am glad to have seen you come back to yourself over the years.” Bilbo only nodded in response, satisfied with the answer he got.
“What do you think it will look like? Where are we going now, uncle Bilbo?”, Frodo asked after he placed himself to the other side of Bilbo.
The elder Hobbit let his eyes wander over the water and the reflecting sunset.
“I don't know, my boy. But I believe it to be beautiful.”, he said at last with a small smile.
“I am sure that it will be just that. They mention Aman only little in the books you have at home.”
“Oh to be quite frank, I never bothered to learn about what would happen after we have passed on. I don't know why I never gave it a thought now looking back on it.”
Silence fell between the two Hobbits.
“You know, uncle Bilbo. I spent all my childhood pretending to be off somewhere else, off with you on one of your adventures. And now… I must be honest with you. I never imagined it to be this kind of adventure but I am glad to share it with you nonetheless.”
“Oh my boy. I also wished our journey would not be of this kind. But this is what fate has decided for us.”
Frodo only nodded in reply, looking down to his folded hands.
“I finished it.” Bilbo looked at his nephew.”The red book you gave me once. About your adventure with the dwarven. I wrote down my own tale in it, just like you asked me. I gave it to Sam before we left.”
“Oh I am so proud of you, Frodo.”
“I also finally read your part.”, his nephew replied quietly. “And? Did you enjoy it?” Bilbo replied. He closed his eyes and turned his face towards the sun, letting himself feel its warmth one last time.
“I did, uncle. Your dwarven friends seemed very nice. I would have loved to meet them.”
Bilbo laughed at that. “Oh, they would have loved you, my boy. I am so sure of it. Fili, Kili and you would have been an unstoppable trio. Always doing shenanigans.” As many times over the years Bilbo let himself pretend to live that life.
Ever since his eyes fell upon the small Frodo for the first time he was so sure that his dwarven friends would have loved him. They would have begged to show him their ways. To braid his hair and show him what loyalty means to dwarven folk. They would have spoiled him with everything they had to give.
Even years later he could see Thorin's eyes beaming at his boy. They resembled each other to the point where Bilbo sometimes thought… Oh well, it doesn't really matter what the Hobbit thought because it was never real. Would never be real. Because Thorin was dead.
Frodo smiled kindly at Bilbo. “Did you ever regret it? Going with them?”
No one had ever asked him that before. Did he?
“It is not as easy as regretting it or not. There were moments in the past seventy years since I returned to the Shire, where all I wanted was for someone to take all the memories away from me. To let me forget that I ever even knew any of them. I hated to speak about it, dream about it, or even think about it.
But the older I got the more I understood the values these dwarven taught me in the long run, you know? Writing it down helped with that. So no. In the end I don't regret it. I don't think I ever truly did. Even when I cursed them all in my mind.”
Frodo stayed silent. The elderly hobbit closed his eyes again. “Sometimes I wondered if I could have prevented it. The three of them dying on that day or maybe it was something far bigger than me and already carved into fate and I was unable to do anything about it.”
“I don't believe it is that simple. There is no reality of all of them surviving just because you changed your course of actions somehow. Sure in a way I also believe it was some sort of fate what had happened there. And maybe you will get a second chance somewhere. A chance where you can try to change what has happened.”
Bilbo smiled at the thought. “As much as I would love to have a second chance at this, I don't believe I would be granted one. I am just a Hobbit afterall.”
“Oh, uncle Bilbo.”Frodo shook his head with a laugh. “I believe neither of us can be considered “just a Hobbit” anymore.”
“Maybe you are right, my boy. Maybe we are not just Hobbits.”
Their journey was far. But eventually they reached the shores of Aman. Their final destination. Bilbo was pleased.
As he set foot on the land he felt his weight shift and with another he felt how easy it was to walk now. How he had missed this, being able to walk freely without the ring in his pocket or his entire weight leaning onto his crutch.
He took a deep breath through his nose, focusing on the way the fresh air felt in his lungs.
“You have made it.”, said Gandalf behind him, placing a reassuring hand on his right shoulder.
“We made it both, Gandalf.”, Bilbo replied with a smile looking at his tall friend.
“Do you…?”Bilbo shifted his gaze toward the white fog in front of him.
“I do not know if they will be there if that's what you wanted to know.”, Gandalf dropped his hand off the shoulder and his gaze followed the one of Bilbo. “But you will know if you step through the fog. They might be there if Yavannah views your life as worthy enough to reunite you.”
“I am scared of what will happen if they are not there.”, he whispered softly.
“They might not show themselves the way you would want them to, Bilbo Baggins. You might have to look for them.”
“But what if…” “Bilbo,”the wizard sighed. “ You proved yourself to be worthy of their loyalty once before. Don't doubt yourself and think you would not be able to do it a second time. If it would come to that I assure you, you will one day find them again. It might just take a few more moments than the first time around.”
“You speak of this place like it was not a place to rest but more like a second chance at things.”
“I will not pretend to know what is behind that gate, Bilbo Baggins. But I know you and I know what your heart desires most.”
The hobbit breathed in deep. He focused on the sand beneath his feet. He shifted them slightly letting the sand run between his toes.
“Will I see you there again, Gandalf?”, he said looking back at the wizard. Gandalf only shrugged. “I don't know that either. You might.”
“This seems not so reassuring.”, replied Bilbo with a nervous chuckle.
“Time will tell, Master Baggins. You will only know what will happen if you continue to walk forward.”
Bilbo nodded firmly. He turned around and looked at his nephew who had tears running down his cheeks.
“I am…”, he began but was interrupted. “You can tell me later uncle Bilbo. Now.”, Frodo gestured widely at the fog.
With slightly unsure and shaky steps the elderly hobbit walked towards the white fog. The closer he got the colder he got as well. Carefully he stretched one of his hands out and let his fingertips trace the outer layer of the white fog. Immediately he felt calmer.
For the last time he turned back and smiled brightly at his companions. “Farewell, my friends.” He waved them goodbye, took another step forward and was swallowed by the fog.