III. Some Folk We Never Forget
The prosperous city nestled cozily within easy travel of the mountain. After being obliterated, the city of Dale flourished, having been restored after long abandon. It hadn't taken long for Bard to rebuild it; the gold Dain had given had proved more than enough, even with rewarding his allies and helping to repair Lake-town, Bard hadn't been short of gold.
People filled its streets with talk and laughter, children once more running about in play. To the north stood the Lonely Mountain, water spilling gracefully down from the front entrance where the re-erected front gate stood open. Trade passed freely between the dwarves and men, like it had been of old. High above the city, in a place that had once been useful for defense but was now a place of honor, stood the windlass: the mechanism that had fired the black arrow. Dragons no longer ravaged Middle-earth, Smaug having been the last, but memories from times when men had to be tougher were still treasured in the relics that had survived.
Glad to be near his journey's end at last, Bilbo urged his pony to hurry down the final slope and into Dale. His escort of elves and people from Lake-town followed him, smiling as they watched an ecstatic smile spread across his face, their hearts warming to see his reaction to seeing Dain and the dwarves who accompanied him.
Forgetting his interest in seeing the rebuilt Dale, Bilbo kicked his feet out of the stirrups and jumped out of the saddle, throwing himself into the welcoming arms of his friends as they reunited.
"Ah, Bilbo lad, it's good to see you!" Dwalin chuckled.
"Mister Baggins, welcome back!" Bofur greeted, clapping the hobbit good-naturedly on the back.
"Our burglar returned to us at long last!" Gloin declared.
Surrounded by arms, almost squeezed to death by hugs, and feeling happier than he had in a long time, many of the welcomes and well wishes from the dwarves passed over Bilbo's head, but he couldn't imagine a better welcome then this. His heart swelled with love for his friends, every trial they had put him through on their first journey being forgiven all over again in his joy at being back.
The only damper to his happiness were the three empty places in the company; Thorin, Fili, and Kili. They were laying in honor in their mountain tombs, buried in the custom of the dwarves, and Bilbo intended to visit them. The other thing to mar his happiness was the absence of Balin. Though hemmed in on every side by dwarves, he had missed seeing the white bearded dwarf among them.
Untangling himself from the group hug, Bilbo stood with his hands on his hips before the dwarves. "Now, let me greet you all properly," he grinned. "A group hug is well enough, but I can't very well take note of how you've all fared if I'm buried under you lot," he reprimanded fondly.
"I agree with Master Baggins," Dain commented, shaking his head in amusement and chuckling softly. "It's rather hard to get a word in edge wise when your tongues are running freely, and we can't easily invite our hobbit friend to come and marvel the wonders of Erebor and stay with us for a spell if nothing can be said."
"And Bombur's waiting to see him," Bofur commented cheerfully.
"Where is Bombur?" Bilbo asked, noticing that the large dwarf was missing. To his concern, he noticed that there were others missing aside from Balin and Bombur; Ori was missing, and Oin too.
"Bombur has trouble leaving the mountain these days," Bofur explained with a laugh. "In fact, he's lucky to even make it out of his room most days."
"Takes six young dwarves to lift him," Nori commented in a stage whisper, eliciting a good chortle of laughter from the group.
"And where's Balin?" Bilbo asked. "And Ori and Oin? Where are they?"
Solemnity fell on the group. "You'll hear in good time," Dain finally answered. "But for now, let's turn to merrier things."
While they had been talking, Bain, son of Bard, had been talking to Bilbo's assorted entourage, inquiring how their travel had been and assuring that the friendship between the people of Dale, Lake-town, and the elves of Mirkwood, was still as strong as ever.
Approaching the venerable hobbit, Bain greeted him courteously. "If the little master is ready, we have a feast prepared for you, I'm sure you must be famished after your travels."
"Ah, Bain, you've changed much since you were a child, but you still remember your hobbit lore," Bilbo replied with a smile. "I dare say I've had my share of feasts during this journey, but I shan't shy from another."
His statement was greeted with a cheer and a laugh from those gathered near, and with Bain leading the way and dwarves all around, they went, with whetted appetites, to appreciate the feast that awaited them.
oOo
Plate empty, stomach satisfied, and his glass only half full, Bilbo relaxed in his chair, picking at a few morsels to 'fill up the corners'. He was ready to turn his mind to other things, in particular, the reason as to why Balin was not there.
As if he was aware of Bilbo's thread of thought, Dain turned to the hobbit. "I promised that you should hear as to why Balin is not with us, and I imagine that you are eager to hear why, and now is a good time for telling."
Gravely, he told Bilbo that Balin had been gone these ten years past, gone to Moria, and Ori and Oin with him. Occasionally they received word from him, informing them of their success in reclaiming the ancient dwarf-kingdom, but letters were few and far between and it had been a while since they'd last heard from him.
Glad to hear that his friend (and the others too) was alive and doing well, Bilbo's only grief was that he wouldn't get another chance to see Balin again. Unless Balin returned from Moria, Bilbo doubted that their paths would ever cross again.
"But what of your own travels Master Baggins? Did you enjoy your second journey here as much as your first?" Dain asked.
Shaking off his sorrow, and silently wishing Balin the best (wherever he was), Bilbo chatted gaily about his travels, telling all who would listen. He didn't mention how the memories had pressed upon him though, every step of the way. Like children coming out from hiding, memories had flocked unbidden to him, reminding him of this scene, or that phrase, or how utterly disgruntled he had been the whole time. It'd been bittersweet to remember, knowing how it had all ended, but Bilbo wouldn't have missed the opportunity to see the sights of his first journey for anything.
Once he finished talking, the dwarves invited him to gaze upon their works and labor to repair the mountain, and Bilbo eagerly accepted. Later, he would explore Dale, but his thoughts were chiefly concerned with seeing Erebor, and until he did not even the grandest Dale had to offer would interest him. And Bilbo had something else that he wanted to do. A visit he had to pay.
oOo
Head swimming with the marvels that he had seen of Erebor, Bilbo walked thoughtfully toward the last place he had yet to see. The work the dwarves had done was truly amazing, a masterpiece compared to the ruin he had first entered when it was still Smaug's abode. If only Thorin could've seen it.
Feet scuffing the ground, the stone smooth, clean, and cold underneath, Bilbo entered the tombs. It hadn't changed much since the last time he'd been there, only the amount of light and the number of people had changed. Picking his way out, with only a dim light filtering in to show him the way, Bilbo approached Thorin's tomb.
Softly running a hand over the smooth stone face of the tomb, Bilbo's voice was low and his smile sad. "Hullo Thorin, I've come back, just as I dreamed I would." Tears rose to his eye, and caught in his throat, but with an inhaled breath he continued, "You should see how beautiful your home is! Your people have done wonderful work in repairing it, it would make you proud. But I've not forgotten our journey; coming back, it all returns to me, everything. I can still see the dragon Smaug vividly in my mind; and that day on the Carrock, when we gazed across the vast distance of Mirkwood and saw the peak of the Lonely Mountain; the merriment of the festivities of Lake-town when they celebrated the return of the King Under the Mountain… it all seems like just yesterday." His hand dropped to his side, his eyes fixing on the middle distance as he strayed through his memories.
Bowing his head, Bilbo breathed deeply, aligning his thoughts before speaking them. "The grass grows over Smaug's desolation, old wounds are healed, and the young grow old, yet I've never forgotten. Nor have your people," he added quickly. "They say that you guard the mountain, keeping it safe from all enemies by warning of their approach." But sorrow pressed on Bilbo's thoughts. As much as Thorin was remembered, so also were Fili and Kili forgotten. All that was remembered of them was that they had been Thorin's sister-sons and heirs, no more for they hadn't lived long enough to make a name for themselves. Bilbo's only consolation to that despairing realization was that he had preserved their memory. In his red book, the book of the west march, "There and Back Again", was recorded the story of his travels with Thorin's company and with it the memory of Fili and Kili. Whispering, he added, "But I haven't forgotten."
Passing his hand once more over the tomb, Bilbo reverently touched the hilt of Orcrist. The naked sword gleamed palely in the wan light on top of Thorin's tomb, where the elf king had laid it when he'd given it back. That was how the mountain was warned of approaching enemies, for in the dark Thorin's sword still glowed in times of danger.
"This will be my last journey, I think," he concluded. "I don't think I'll be returning here again." Brushing his fingertips over Fili and Kili's graves, which lay near Thorin's, he included them in his good-bye. "Farewell my friends," he bid the three, knowing that he would never see them again.
Exiting the mountain, he wandered upon its slopes till he found a place of solitude where no one would disturb him for a while. Gazing across the golden lined roofs of Dale, the sunset painting the scene with its brilliant colors, Bilbo reclined on the grassy mountainside, pipe in hand, and smoke rings making their way away down the wind. Yes, he was done with adventuring; he would return to Rivendell and finish his book at long last. Who knows? Maybe after that, he'd return to the Shire someday, but for now, the wanderlust that had made his feet itch so often was dying away and he was content to find rest. Softly under his breath, he sang, "The road goes ever, on and on…"
Note: The title for this one "Some Folk We Never Forget" is based off the song lyrics by Neil Finn, and is in reference to Balin (with the fact that he is no longer there at the Lonely Mountain), Thorin, and Fili and Kili (after all, initially that's what started this piece, the death of the Heirs of Durin), and the title also applies to the other dwarves because we don't see very much of them in the LotR.
I also wanted to take Bilbo back to the mountain because Tolkien only mentions it, he doesn't show it to us. I believe that Bilbo's return would be a very emotional time for him, what with all that's happened and that he's basically recovering the ground he tread over the first time, and what with the fact that Balin isn't there. For that, I felt that it deserved to be written.
Thanks for all the support guys, hopefully you liked it, and most of all, thanks for reading!
