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Beta'd by WithinHerHeart
Bilbo dies and Thorin greets him on the other side.
Bilbo didn't fear death. He hadn't for a long time, so when he finally did come to pass from old age for he had been around for far too long. He welcomed it.
The loss of breath was welcomed. The tightness in his chest was a contented weight. The faded vision as his eyelids fluttered closed for the last time was comforting.
It was peaceful, easy, the way he died. In fact, he probably wouldn't have realised he had died if he hadn't seen him.
Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain.
Vivid memories of fallen bodies, many of the enemy, and too many of those he loved. There was so much blood, staining the muddy ground an earthy red that had never really washed away. He remembered a lot of it belonged to Thorin, his king, his love. The dwarf, forever stubborn, had hung onto life with a determination that had only been rivalled by one other Durin in his life. Shaking hands, bloodied and dirtied, cupped his cheeks and he mouthed words that he was unable to voice. The frustration of this had shone in his eyes, then open with emotion and desperate to express them – at least, that's what Bilbo had hoped.
Now though, standing there, clear of wounds and the cloud of death that had hung over head in the last of Bilbo's memories, as young as he was when they first met, the king had no such issues.
"Bilbo!" Thorin bellowed joyously – a rare sight, the old hobbit recalled – and dragged the new arrival into an embrace that lifted the smaller male off his feet, as if he weighted nothing more than a babe.
The large muscles bunched under his shirt and Bilbo tensed, expecting the whine and ache of his bones as they protested the roughhousing that his body could no longer withstand. None came, and the hobbit found himself relaxing into the hold, head dropping to nuzzle the underside of the dwarf's chin, the familiar beard burning and reddening his own smoothing skin. Little hands clung to his broad shoulders and Bilbo breathed in shakily, the scent of leather and iron and something he'd only never been able to classify as anything other than Thorin overwhelmed him oh so completely.
Thorin pulled away slightly, eyebrows furrowed in concerned confusion. "What's the matter dear burglar?" he wondered gently, one hand removing from the underside of his arse where it was offering support cheek. Bilbo blinked surprised – he hadn't been aware he was crying.
"Nothing, nothing is wrong," Bilbo assured, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands, "In fact, nothing could ever be wrong again."
"Why the tears?"
"They are not tears of woe," he explained, "They are happy because I am happy." He cupped the dwarf's cheeks, "I have found you again, my love, how could I be sad?"
"You have left your heir behind," Thorin pointed out, "perhaps you cry for him?"
Bilbo sighed heavily. "I shall miss him," he admitted truthfully, "But Frodo will be fine without me." He shot the dwarf a sly look, "He's far too much like his father not to be."
A hopeful smile broke across Thorin's face. "Is he truly?"
Bilbo ran a hand over the braid that swung precariously in his love's thick hair. "Oh yes," he murmured fondly, "The stories I could tell you…"
"I wish to hear them all," Thorin announced.
"But later uncle!"
Bilbo jerked at the familiar voice, so full of laughter and youthful excitement, just as he had remembered it to be. In the distance, he could see them – Fili grinned widely at them, hand settled on his belt. Kili had an elbow positioned on his elder brother's shoulder, leaning into his side. They hadn't changed one bit in 60 years of parting, and he was glad for it.
"Bombur spent ages getting ready for our burglar's arrival," Fili continued.
"Yeah, and we're not allowed to eat anything until the guest of honour get here," Kili added, "You can finish your 'reunion' later."
Thorin grumbled under his breath. "Damned boys…forever getting in my way…block me…"
Bilbo pressed a kiss to the centre of his neck, feeling the roll of the adam's apple under his lips as the stream of words were cut short.
"We have later," the hobbit reminded softly.
The dwarf corrected him, "We have forever."