The blood was the last thing Bilbo saw, the tears stinging his eyes the last that he ever felt. Dirt covered him along with his own blood, and sweat and saliva mixed on his face. Hobbits weren't supposed to die this way. They were a peaceful race, a peaceful people, a people who died in their sleep, quick and painlessly. Hobbits didn't die in wars, the only of their kind, surrounded by dwarves and elves and men. If there was a respectable way to die, and respectability was quite valued among hobbits, then this was not one of them. It was too painful for the likes of a hobbit.

Oh, Bilbo thought, his mind heavy, swimming with words, so this is how it ends. You wanted to stop a war and you just made everything worse. Now all your friends hate you and your body will be lost along with all the others. The hobbits will all think you dead and the Sackville-Bagginses will get Bag End. You'll simply be remembered as the crazy Took who went off on an adventure and never came back. Maybe you'll even become a cautionary tale.

And maybe it would be good for Bilbo to become a cautionary tale, he reasoned. He did run off while knowing nothing of the world, knowing nothing of its pains. The Fell Winter was too long ago for him to remember. No hobbit deserved to die this way, and if to prevent any possible future deaths he would have to be remembered as mad, then so be it. It wasn't worth others of his race dying this way.

His parents' faces flashed through his mind, and he tried to smile. It hurt, but he was at least able to do that. Bilbo closed his eyes and waited to see them again. It had been far too long since they'd last seen each other.

Bofur was the one who found him. He himself was rather out of sorts, dealing with the fact that he was now dead. His body had been absolutely gruesome, covered in blood, his guts spilled out. His hat had fallen off sometime during the battle and was nowhere to be seen, and Bofur feared that any living dwarf who knew him wouldn't recognize him without it; it was like another body part to him, something that they just couldn't imagine him without.

"Bilbo," Bofur whispered, reaching down and wiping away a stray orange curl from his face. "Bilbo, I'm here for you."

Bilbo's eyes were closed peacefully, and he showed no signs of waking. Bofur bit his lip, fearing his friend to be wishing to sleep away his death. By the looks of his body beside him, Bilbo had died terribly. What could this have done to his spirit?

Bofur grabbed Bilbo, held him up to his chest like a child, rocking him gently, and carried him. Surely others had died, for it was foolish to believe that only Bofur could have been killed in this awful war. Bofur looked around at the bodies, the blood, and wondered if he should've gone on the quest. For a miner who was near dying of hunger back then, he'd died having plenty.

Everyone died over gold, he thought. What a waste.

Bofur looked down at Bilbo, who was still asleep, snoring softly. He was handsome even in death, and for a moment Bofur forgot about everything that had happened and just looked down at the hobbit. If this was death, then certainly he was an angel.

Thorin counted out his company, who were all now dressed in new clothing. They had come to the halls of their fathers, were given warm food and clothing, and now could relax after what happened.

"Fili, Kili, Dori, Ori, Nori, Balin, Dwalin, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bombur," he stopped. "Where's Bofur?"

Bifur and Bombur brightened.

"Do you think he could've survived?" Bombur asked. "Could my brother still be living?"

"Perhaps," Thorin said. The idea certainly was nice. Considering there had been such a high death toll, Bofur living would have been miraculous. Then again, he would be left as the only surviving member of the company save Bilbo.

Bilbo… Thorin thought. He hadn't let himself remember that name until now. Though he'd gotten so many others killed, he didn't want the hobbit dead as well. It was only as he lay dying that he realized what a selfish, greedy fool that he'd been. He'd let the one he'd loved, though he hadn't admitted it to him, be forced into a war, and probably die because of it. The poor hobbit was probably being scoffed at by others, wondering what a creature so tiny was doing in the battlefield.

"Nothing can be guaranteed," Ori said, suddenly speaking. Everyone turned to face the youngest dwarf, the one who had died before he could ever really do anything with his life. He hadn't so much as spoken a word once they got the halls of Aule.

"Correct," Thorin admitted sadly.

Bifur and Bombur both looked down, frowns on their faces. Thorin wanted to promise that Bofur was still alive, but he couldn't. He may be a king, or once was, but that didn't make him able to guarantee things. Bofur could be dead as well.

That was when there was a knock on their door. Thorin went over to answer it, wondering if it was any family members coming to check on them. It certainly was nice seeing his father and grandfather again, along with Frerin. Dis was not mentioned-no one wanted to think about her being then sole survivor of the Durin line and rightful heir to the throne.

But when Thorin opened the door, he saw Bofur. "Hello," Thorin said dumbly. Bofur was dressed in the same armor as he had worn on the battlefield, though he was free of dirt and bruises. There was no hat on his head. He looked down at what he held in his arms. "Our burglar?"

Bofur nodded, then walked inside. He glanced over at his brother and cousin and smiled.

"You're here," Bombur said. He and Bifur ran up and embraced Bofur. The hug was short lasting, however, as a squeak made them step away.

"What is going on?" Bilbo asked.

Thorin wanted to run up and embrace the hobbit now, then apologize repeatedly for what he'd caused. He had killed Bilbo!

"Bilbo!" Bofur said. "You're finally awake!"

"What am I awake from?" Bilbo asked. "And why are you holding me?"

"Oh, sorry," Bofur said, turning red. He walked over to the only empty bed left, the one closest to the fire (which amazingly hadn't been taken already), and placed Bilbo down. "I found you by your body fast asleep and decided to help you pass on."

"What?"

Thorin cleared his throat. "Bilbo, you're dead."

"Dead?" The hobbit seemed both amazed and in denial. "Dead as in dead?"

"There's no other dead that I can think of!" Kili said.

Thorin shot him a glare. He loved his nephew dearly, but he certainly wasn't helping out right now.

"Then where are we?" Bilbo asked, looking around. "Why am I here with you all?"

"You're in the halls of Aule," Balin said.

"The halls of Aule?" Bilbo suddenly shot up from the bed. "As in the dwarf afterlife?"

"Obviously," Nori said. "Where else would you be?"

Bilbo clenched his fists together tightly. "In, I don't know, maybe the hobbit afterlife? Or did I stick around you all long enough that you forgot that I'm not of your race?"

Bofur tensed.

"Don't be sad, Bilbo." Kili said. "We promise that this afterlife will be way more fun than your boring old hobbit afterlife. Besides, we can keep you company!"

"That's what I'm afraid of!" And just like he had shortly after Thorin had met him, Bilbo fainted.