He couldn't quite believe it. The brave dwarf ruler, king under the mountain, Thorin Oakenshield – most importantly, his friend – was dead. At first it didn't quite hit him, he just felt numb. He remembered sitting down and staring at nothing in particular. The past few days rattling through his head like a broken movie reel, some blurred, some slow. He was certain that he would never forget a moment he shared with the leader of the dwarves – the good and the bad. He vowed it to himself.

A calm voice broke his revere and he looked up to see Gandalf before him, his large shadow engulfing the Halfling. "Bilbo," He spoke, solemnly. His lips were upturned in a sympathetic smile and he knelt down to be closer to the hobbit. "I know it must be hard to comprehend this situation," Bilbo only nodded and sniffed. "But know that Thorin died for victory. We won." The hobbit raised his head, causing Gandalf's smile to widen. "We have won this day."

Bilbo rose from his seat and wrung his hands together. He let out a shaky breath and looked back to the wizard. "But what of the other dwarves?"

"Planning a celebration."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips, ready to question but the wizard beat him to it.

"A celebration that others are still living and a celebration of lives that were lost but lives that lived greatly."

A celebration seemed unorthodox to Bilbo, it seemed highly irregular to him but the sincerity in Gandalf's voice led him to believe that washing away any bad feelings was a better thing to do than to wallow in grief.

He remembered blinking and no more was the wizard before him, offering soothing words but a merry throng of gallant warriors were conversing, dancing and drinking the day away. He stood solemnly on the side lines, adamant that he didn't want to be a part of it. He wasn't in the right mood and he knew it – he would only get in peoples way.

Bilbo couldn't help but sway to the joyful music, as much as he tried to deny it; he was feeling better even though he didn't want to be. Seeing his dwarf friends and others alike dancing and laughing made his heart ache and he let out a shaky breath and turned to look at the blue sky. The setting sun gave a bright orange glow to anything it touched and Bilbo closed his eyes as the warmth hit him, making a serene smile crawl across his lips – though he knew he could never smile properly again.

A soft gust of air blew across his face, causing him to open his eyes and he almost choked on the site he saw. Up in the sky, amongst the wispy clouds, Thorin's face was smiling down at him.

"Th- Thorin?" Bilbo whispered, barely able to stand.

The dwarf king did not reply but only nodded. Bilbo reached out an arm, hoping that he could reach into the sky and pull him down but the absurd thought made him retract his hand quickly.

"I miss you," He blurted out.

Thorin's smile turned into a frown and his eyebrows contracted in pity.

"Are you happy… are you happy where you are?"

Beside the dwarf, two more figures appeared and Bilbo couldn't help but let out a sob. There, either side of the dwarf, were his two nephews, Fili and Kili. They looked up, a prideful gaze at their Uncle, who happily returned it before looking back towards the hobbit. Thorin nodded, answering Bilbo's question and he placed his hands on his nephew's shoulders, confirming it so.

Seeing the true smiles on their faces made Bilbo's lips turn upwards in a smile – a sincere one – and he couldn't help but laugh at himself. The dwarves chuckled back but calmed down when they noticed someone behind Bilbo. The hobbit turned and saw Bofur there, his gloved hand on Bilbo's shoulder, a kind smile plastered on his face. Bofur didn't say anything, scared that any utter of a single word would frighten the being before him, but instead, he opted to motion for Bilbo to come and join in the festivities.

Bilbo nodded and followed Bofur back to his friends, but just before he went, he turned back to the royals in the sky and nodded at them, smiling as he did so and just for a moment, Bilbo could've sworn he saw a genuine, yet all too real tear in Thorin Oakenshield's eye.