Summary: His life didn't change much after he returned to the Shire, but his view of it had.


After Bilbo left Erebor and after he had returned to the Shire he tried to return to the life he had had before the Adventure.

Only he found himself in a too large Hobbit Hole, it was clean, neat, warm, and perfect.

It was just quiet, too quiet and too lonely.

The halls echoed the song thirteen Dwarrows had sung before their long Journey, the fire crackled with mockery of Dwarven laughter, the absence of simple touches, a hand on his shoulder, a brush of hands, made Bilbo reach out, call out for someone not there and someone who would never be there again.

His once perfectly respectable life gone with a wave of a Contract and proven to him just how lonely and empty his life was with a single Adventure to a Mountain filled with a Dragon.

For a moment Bilbo sat watching the flames dance, he wondered just who had been helping who get home. Bilbo had found his along the way to Erebor and lost it once they had reached it, only, for him, no one could help him regain it again.

Perhaps though, someone could help him find a new home, and maybe someday it would be as good as the old one, but for now Bilbo sat alone in his empty house, listening to the sound of days gone by.