Bilbo watched as Thorin led the pony through the winding paths of the Shire. Bilbo blinked furiously, forcing back tears as familiar shape of his friend faded into the morning mists. At the border that separated the Shire from the outside world, the dark smudge turned and raised a final farewell. It was with a broad smile and a quiet sniffle that accompanied the reciprocating pale hand in the air.
Only when he could see the dark blur no more did Bilbo straighten from the doorframe of his hobbit hole. Gently closing the bright green door with a soft click that seemed to echo through the empty halls, Bilbo stood in his foyer at a loss of what to do. The morning dishes were still at the table, laundry needed washing, dusting had been put off for far too long, and he should really be getting to the market to restock his bare, by hobbit standards, pantry. But at the moment it was all Bilbo could do to sit quietly on the small dowry chest that had been his mothers and stare off into the spare bedroom.
After a few melancholy moments, Bilbo gave himself a good shake. "Come on lad, this is not doing you any good! You're a grown, well almost anyway, Hobbit!" Still muttering to himself, Bilbo rolled up his sleeves and began clearing the first breakfast things off the heavy oak table. Dishes were scrubbed, table polished, followed by a thorough cleaning and organizing of the pantry. Having eased into his familiar pattern of housecleaning, Bilbo was soon standing in the hallway smiling at a gleaming Bag End.
A quick change of clothes saw the contented Hobbit walking to the market humming softly to himself. Stopping at the fruit stand Bilbo's eyes gleamed at the shiny green apples. Grabbing the biggest apple from the pile, Bilbo half-turned. "Thorin! Look at these! They'll make a wonderful…" Bilbo trailed off as he realized he was alone. Shakily he set down the apple and finished his shopping. Some time later, after the produce had been put away and his garden seen to, Bilbo
found himself facing the closed door of his best spare room. Gentle fingertips traced the worn ridges of the door. Thorin's room. His mind helpfully supplied.
Quietly, as though not to disturb a sleeper inside, Bilbo turned the brass doorknob. The curtains were open and sunlight danced with the dust motes that had been disturbed with the movement of the door. Clutching his cleaning rag to his chest Bilbo felt almost as if he were intruding. He had not been in this room often in the past few months. Thorin and himself had spent most of their time in the common rooms of the house, each giving the other privacy in the little time they had been apart. Thorin had certainly left his stamp behind. The room had transformed from the sparsely furnished room to a space that looked lived in. Spare clothes peeked out from the wardrobe and Bilbo's herbology book lay open on the bedside table. The brass cup that Thorin had used to hold his grooming supplies gleamed in the evening light. The sight of such familiar things made Bilbo's easy smile quiver a bit.
Because it made his heart warm to see the everyday objects of his dearest friend laying out as if he was only gone to the smithy, Bilbo gave the room only a cursory straightening and washed the pile of dirty clothes he had discovered under the bed. Honestly, Dwarfs were such messy creatures. Bilbo gave the door one last pat as he walked to the kitchen to make supper.
Feeling full and warm in his pajamas, Bilbo curled up in Thorin's chair and tucked himself into the throw that had been Thorin's. As he was wrapping the blanket more snugly around himself the hard edge of something made itself known. After a few seconds of searching, Bilbo's fingers closed around a small package that was folded up inside the blanket. "Hello, what is this?" His name was printed on the front with small rune-like characters beneath the broad strokes that marked the writer as Thorin. He turned the envelope over to see a seal set in dark blue wax. Taking great care not to damage the seal, he made a mental note to save the seal later; Bilbo lifted the heavy parchment flap.
There, on a piece of parchment same as the envelope was a sketch of his face. He was looking forward with a very serious expression. Thorin, for whom else could it have been, had captured him contented and in his pajamas and housecoat. His hair was mussed, Thorin must have drawn him while he was puttering around in the kitchen cooking them breakfast. Smiling to himself, Bilbo put the picture aside and picked up another page. Thorin's face stared back at him. The drawing was very similar to Bilbo's. Thorin's clothes were the casual shirts he had taken to wearing during his relaxed time at home. His hair wasn't mussed as Bilbo's had been, but was very neat and detailed with the braids. Bilbo could almost reach out and feel the silky softness. A small half-smile graced the dwarf's face. A tear dropped onto the page as Bilbo sniffled into his housecoat sleeve. The final page, however, was the best of the group. Two chairs sat facing each other in front of a roaring fire. Bilbo was seated in his tall backed armchair. A lit pipe was held in his hand as he was apparently laughing at a joke Thorin was telling. The Dwarf himself also held a lit pipe and had his arms spread gesturing widely in the air. Both males were smiling and had an air of complete and utter serenity. Bilbo could tell that Thorin had spent many nights working on these drawings. The detail on each of the pictures took Bilbo's breath away. A half-slip of thinner parchment floated to the blanket spread over Bilbo's lap. Placing the other drawing safely with its brothers Bilbo picked up the scrap.
Bilbo,
I hope that you enjoyed the drawings I left you. Consider them a thank you for all the time you allowed me to stay in your home. I greatly appreciated the welcome and the lengths you went too to make me feel at home.
(Here Bilbo could tell that Thorin had paused for there was a smallish ink splotch on the paper.)
I will miss the time spent in the Shire. Life on the road is difficult and often inhospitable. But the kindness you showed me has warmed my heart. I wish that I could fully repay you for the care you have provided me. In the chest at the foot of my bed is a small gift for you. It is my thank you for all you have done.
Thorin Oakenshield
Above the signature were another set of tiny runes that Bilbo could not translate. He knew the books in his study were sadly lacking in their knowledge of Khuzdul; the traditional language of Dwarfs. Thorin had often shaken his head over the paltry knowledge of the Dwarf people in general. Thorin had taught Bilbo what he could, but had hesitated to teach him the alphabet of Khuzdul. It was only after Bilbo had changed topics that Thorin seemed to come to a decision and began teaching him the basics of the runic alphabet. Even with the lessons and his scratched notes Bilbo could only make out a few words.
Quickly unwrapping himself from the throw, Bilbo rushed to the heavy wood chest in Thorin's room. Throwing open the lid he carried the precious package back to the cozy chair. Inside a plain wooden box no bigger than his hand, lay a silver chain with a pendant. The pendant was of the same pattern as the seal that had been on the letter. Blue stones ringed the seal and more of the runes graced the edge of the metal. Bilbo wept as he slipped the delicate chain over his head. The pendant nestled against his heart, the cool metal creating a comforting weight against his heart. Bilbo smiled and wiped the last of his tears away.