I don't regret this, not one bit!
There were days when Bilbo would be relaxing outside, pipe lit, book in hand, and the Oak tree he settled under would seem otherworldly. The evergreen leaves rustling in the breeze would bring back memories.
Memories of boisterous laughter, rich wine, and the low rumble of a dear friends voice. These were all accompanied with a pang of grief and the warmth of love. It was a bittersweet feeling that he did not hate anymore. As much as the memories plagued him when he had first returned from Erebor, now he was glad he had experienced that.
He was glad to have met those Dwarves.
He was glad to have served under Thorin Oakenshield.
A Dwarf who was not his king, but a friend. And a friend that had always been something much more. Bilbo clenched his hands into fists as the memories started coming back.
"Farewell, Master Burgler. Go back to your books...and your armchair."
"Plant your trees. Watch them grow."
The hobbit could clearly hear the deep richness of Thorin's voice, he could remember the dwarf's features so clear that it made his heart squeeze painfully. He recalled the soft smile on his King's face as Thorin had spoken those words to him.
He had used every ounce of his energy to tell Bilbo those words.
The hobbit quickly tried to clear his head and focused his gaze on the tree once more. "Well Thorin, I planted my trees." The little hobbit murmured aloud, somehow hoping his words were being carried to the long since dead dwarf. Bilbo's lips tilted up in a wry smile, tears already prickling his eyes. Yes, it had been many, many years. And many a thing had changed in his hobbit hole. Bilbo had long since matured, aged to the point where grey now colored his honeyed curls, and wrinkles dusted smooth skin that had long since lost its softness.
The hobbit had even taken in his nephew Frodo, and raised the boy as if he were his own.
Yet even if these years had passed it still didn't stop the hobbit from wishing things had turned out differently. He had wished he had acted on his wants, had told Thorin everything he felt about him.
There had been looks the two had shared, and the smoldering warmth he caught in the King's eyes had only made Bilbo want all the more.
But the thing he wanted most at this moment was to only feel the warmth of Thorin's skin upon his own, to see the gleam of white beneath the scruff of his dark beard as Thorin would smile at the Hobbit.
He didn't regret going on that adventure, it had given him many a thing to be happy about, many a thing to remember. But no matter how many years would pass he would always recall the man who held his heart.
A stubborn dwarf long past his prime but all hard muscle and handsome features that had made the hobbit stop in his tracks. Long raven tresses that seemed to be dusted with starlight. He was a man that constantly butted heads with the hobbit, and Bilbo had never bent to his will.
He would always remember this ache fondly, even if it tore him apart from the inside.
This is what happens when I watch all the Hobbit movies and then I can't get rid of the overwhelming urge to write for these two! Though it's sad, but still. Hope you enjoyed this short little bundle of sadness.