Oh god~ I've finally managed to gather my nerve enough to post something lol XD Truthfully, The Hobbit is my all time favorite story and anything I write about with it is never going to be quite up to the standard that I would like so please let me know if there is any mistakes that I overlooked and what you think. Thank you! That being said:
I do not own The Hobbit
Edited: 12/18/16
Memories are fickle creatures.
This is one fact that Bilbo can certainly attest to and try as he might, even he falls down in despair in the most unlikely of times. Feelings and impressions seep in through the fog and the muddle that clouds his mind, keeping him awake by his fireplace.
He remembers a night long ago, a night very much like this one, but only in the way that a somber mood graces his halls. There is a silence where there had once been rumbling voices and he can practically touch the fading image of a figure standing close to the glowing hearth. A tightness in his chest, followed by a sigh is all that is left in these moments.
When he does dream, Bilbo's dreams are frightening. A long time has passed since the days where parties and gatherings danced through his unconsciousness. Now the occurrences are anything but pleasant. They plague his mind and chase him into the next day like the wargs that hunted them. It is but a silly desire that has him glancing into the living room, always half expecting there to be a folded parchment awaiting him, alight with an adventure just a short sprint through the Shire. But there is no parchment and there is no adventure. Bilbo wonders if he will ever truly rest.
Sometimes during his morning walks, when the day is just beginning, he is reminded of great hikes with mountains far in the distance, of low tones murmuring alongside a river. These days he only has rolling hills to gaze upon and Bilbo is unexplainedly tired of how this sight seems to cage him in.
There is a period shortly after his return, in which all of the Shire deems it necessary to butt into his business.
"Have you heard the news yet?"
"Baggins has returned-"
"-a disgrace really-"
"Why I never! Such tomfoolery is unbecoming-"
"Nasty business I say, who knows if it's contagious."
"-been better if he hadn't come back at all-"
It is only his newly orphaned nephew that keeps him sane. Frodo's youth in invigorating and Bilbo brushes the latest gossip into the back of his mind in order to lead his charge through the forests to hunt for elves, where he regales him with tales of trolls and late night campfires. He tells Frodo of sights far beyond the hills that bracket them and this is where Bilbo feels his life slowly coming back. Even if it is for just a moment.
However, in the days before his farewell, Bilbo's mind goes on a rampage. He is bombarded with the remnants of poor choices and he is left struggling to hold himself together. In his state, he leaves his nephew to eat meals alone and there is hardly any time left over for him to spend with Frodo as he grasps at decisions that he thought he had committed himself to ages ago. Bilbo's heart is laden with guilt when he leaves his home for the second and final time. He cannot help but feel as though he has left Frodo with a burden heavier than he can carry. It is one of the hardest things he's ever done and yet he can't bring himself to regret this decision, for at least this way the ring will be gone for good, even if he can't be the one to dispose of it himself.
It is years later, far later than Bilbo had ever imagined, that he learns of the journey his nephew must undertake. Frodo is older now and the eyes that look back at him have the beginnings of the soul worn appearance that his own have come be. He thinks of another person with dark hair and a quest that seemed near impossible and it is these thoughts that lead him to giving Frodo his own treasures to protect him in hopes that his worry will lessen. It doesn't.
When he watches the fellowship depart from his view in a balcony, Bilbo idly minds the image of a larger group escaping through the dark and wonders if this is what it looked like on that night so long ago.
The news he waits for in the end is both a joy and a sadness. Evil is shorn from the world, but he weeps for all that he has lost.
A king who was never crowned before his people.
Two young princes barely into adulthood with so much life to live.
An adviser who reclaimed two lost kingdoms.
The scribe who died alone with only his records left to carry on his legacy.
Climbing onto the boat is as much of a relief as it is a hardship. Bilbo has lived a good life, one longer than most, and while he must move forward to heal, he is so tired. The wounds from years ago ache, but he has gotten used to their presence. It is hard to believe he can finally rest and he almost doesn't want to leave, but looking at the rest of his companions he knows this is where the next leg of his own journey begins. The small ship rocks and the wind raises to carry them towards the Undying Lands. Gazing over the waves, Bilbo relaxes and swears to himself the shapes in the distance are ones he has been waiting to see for over a lifetime.
'And not unlike the first time,' he thinks as Thorin Oakenshield stares back at him.