Bilbo awoke with a contented sigh that turned into a smirk of disappointment that the place beside him was cold. Even when Thorin tried to sneak out when had to leave early, he usually woke Bilbo on accident, months of being on edge taking a toll on his ability to sleep deeply. He brushed a hand wearily over his eyes while reaching for his dressing gown, stopping in shock as his fingers brushed cloth. Looking down, he saw two hands spread out before him and felt tears prickle his eyes at the sight. Two hands.
It had been that damned dream again. The same dream that he had had nearly every night since they had buried Thorin all those years ago. He should have known. It always ended in the same place. They were always happy and together, planning their wedding, but he never went any further than that. But it didn't need to. He knew how things would have ended. Even if they all would have survived the Battle and remained in Erebor they would have still been separated. Time and age would have done what an army of orcs had failed to do. After all, hobbits and dwarves did not go to the same place in the afterlife. Death would still have parted them forever, just as it had all those years ago. With that depressing thought in mind and knowing that he would not get to revisit the dream that night—he never did, no matter how long he tried— he sat up to get out of bed, surprised at how easy the task was. He hadn't moved that freely in years.
As he dressed, he was surprised again by how easy the buttons were to fasten, almost as if the had been greased with butter or the holes made bigger. Laughing to himself at the preposterousness of such a thing, he moved to open the door and stopped, shocked to see smooth skin rather that the age spotted hands he had come to know as his. He studied them carefully, wondering if he had not awoken but had only moved from one dream to the next. That explanation made the most sense as he looked around and realized that he was somewhere he had never seen before. It was not Bag End, nor his room in Rivendell, nor any portion of the ship he had recently boarded. It didn't appear to be a room at all, but rather a misty dreamscape.
"This is not a dream, Bilbo Baggins," a voice deeper than the earth itself said behind him. Bilbo turned to face the speaker. Though he had never seen him before either, somehow he knew that he was in the presence of a Vala and he had a suspicion that he knew which of them was before him. Though taller and fairer than any dwarf, with his build and fiery-red braids, he still had a slightly dwarvish air about him, as well as the earthy, metallic smell that Bilbo had come to associate with them. There was little doubt in his mind that he now stood in the presence of Mahal.
"Then what is this?" Bilbo asked tentatively. He knew that it was rude to ask questions of a Vala, but he could not control himself. Perhaps he had spent too much time with dwarves over the years and their rudeness had rubbed off on him.
Rather than be offended by the hobbit's words the Vala smiled, recognizing a spirit akin to that of his own children in the child of his mate, and asked a question of his own. "Do you know who I am?"
"No, I'm afraid I don't," Bilbo replied, refusing to give voice to his suspicion, all the while wondering if he had lost his mind. It almost amused him that it had happened the way it did. It was almost ironic that, despite being called 'Mad Baggins' for the greater part of his life, he would finally go mad on the way to the Undying Lands where his state would be eternal.
"I believe you do. At the very least you do know of me, though you do not know I am me," the Vala replied with a smile that made Bilbo think that he may have heard Bilbo's thoughts on madness as well as his musings on whether Istari and Vala were trained in that circuitous speech or if they did it just to seem mysterious. "I am known by many names. The Elves know me as Aulë, though, perhaps, you know me, as my children do, by the name of Mahal. I have come to you because though the First Born believed they would be granting you a boon in allowing you to pass into the Undying Lands for the honor you gained through your suffering for the good of Arda, I feel that it would not be a boon, but rather a punishment.
"I have come to offer you an unprecedented choice, Bilbo Baggins. You may continue on to the Undying Lands, as the others have planned for you, or you may come with me," Mahal said smiling warmly down at the hobbit. "There are many in my halls who would take great joy in seeing you once more. It is your choice, my dear hobbit, and yours alone. If you need some time—"
"I don't need time!" Bilbo cried happily at having his suspicions confirmed and realizing what the offer truly was. "I will accept your offer!"
"Come then," the Vala said as he smiled and bent at the waist to extended his hand to the hobbit. Bilbo did not hesitate to take the proffered hand and allowed himself to be lead away, the mist around them melting away and being replaced by a grand hall. No sooner had the new scene solidified than Bilbo felt himself almost knocked off his feet as a he was engulfed in a strong pair of arms. He closed his eyes around the tears that were stinging them. Even without seeing the dwarf who they belonged to, he knew those arms. With a small sob he brought his own arms up and wrapped them around the body pressed against him, his mind refusing to believe what he was feeling. Then he spoke, his voice sounding just as Bilbo remembered it.
"I never thought I would see you again," Thorin whispered into his ear squeezing the hobbit so tightly that he was unable to breathe. It felt so good for him to be holding his hobbit after so long that he couldn't restrain himself. He knew that it was not proper behavior, but he could not care less. Bilbo, who he known was lost to him forever due to his own foolishness was here.
"Thorin," Bilbo managed to gasp out. The dwarf, realizing his mistake, loosened his hold though he did not release the hobbit from his grip. Bilbo took advantage of the freedom he now had to move to pull back slightly and look at the dwarf. While it was clearly the same dwarf he loved, Thorin was not exactly the same as Bilbo remembered him. His face had no lines, his hair no grey and his eyes held none of the weariness they had possessed in life, though they did hold a sadness that hadn't been there before. As he looked at him, Bilbo realized that he was seeing Thorin as he would have looked as a young dwarf if he had not been so burdened by life circumstances. It pleased him to see the dwarf he loved this way.
"I've missed you," Bilbo said quietly as he looked up at Thorin and raised his hand to stroke his face as he had desired to do for eighty-one years. He felt tears sting his eyes once more as Thorin leaned into the touch and he felt his lover's beard scrape along his palm, the warm heat of him radiating across the space and warming Bilbo from a distance. He had never been so happy and thanks to Mahal they never had to be parted again.
Realizing suddenly that he had committed a severe rudeness to one who had been so kind to him, Bilbo turned to try and find the Vala to whom he owed so much only to discover that he was no longer there. In the place where he should have been there were other dwarves, all recognizable but, as with Thorin, not the same as they had been the last time he had seen them—with the exception of Fíli and Kíli who were unchanged. Though he was sad to see them, as it meant that they were dead, he had missed them all so much that he soon forgot that it was something tragic that had brought them all together once more.
Thorin watched as Bilbo was greeted by the portion of the Company that was already in the Halls of Mandos with a smile on his face. Watching them embrace and clap shoulders, it was as though no time had passed, though he knew that it had. He could see the years in the eyes of the hobbit though the love that burned in Bilbo's eyes as he looked at him was stronger than ever. He found himself wondering what he had done to earn the undying love of such a sweet creature despite the wrongs that he had done to Bilbo. He now knew that no amount gold in the world was worth what he had given up to gain it. Bilbo's love and the lives that had been lost were worth more than a mountain filled with gold, even if he'd forgotten it for a time.
Almost as if he had heard Thorin think his name, the hobbit turned to smile at the dwarf. It was a gentle smile, but one that was filled with promise. Despite all that had passed between them, they would be fine. They were together again and everything would be fine. And now, Thorin had an eternity to make up for his mistakes to his hobbit and he knew just how to start. Walking towards the hobbit, he carefully extracted Bilbo from Kíli's hug and nuzzled along his ear.
"Come, Gishavel," Thorin muttered, not missing the shiver that went through the hobbit at the term of endearment—though he didn't know the true reason behind it. "We have much time to make up for and I have much apologizing to do."
"This apologizing," Bilbo asked, smirking up at the dwarf, "does it require clothing?" Thorin did not reply, but his smirk left Bilbo's skin tingling and with a laugh he allowed the dwarf to lead him deeper into the halls. Perhaps he wasn't too old for adventures after all.
ooOO88OOoo
Gandalf felt a tear prickle his eye as he entered the room where Bilbo had laid down to rest during the voyage. He could see before he reached the bed that the hobbit was no longer breathing. It was always hard, and it never got easier no matter how many times it had happened, to watch those that he had grown close to grow old and pass on, but this death—despite the fact that he would miss Bilbo—brought a smile to the face of the Maia. He could feel the magic of the Valar in the air and knew Bilbo had been granted something none had before him and that none would after.
"Uncle?" Frodo called poking his head around the door and seeing the wizard sitting on the edge of the bed. "Uncle?" When the old hobbit did not stir Frodo walked to the wizard's side and saw that though there was a smile on Bilbo's face he was not breathing. "Is he . . .?"
Gandalf nodded offering Frodo a sad smile. "He has taken a journey on which we cannot follow him," Gandalf said placing a hand on Frodo's shoulder.
"Why?" Frodo asked. "I was sent to get him. We're almost there. He almost made it home."
"No," Gandalf replied gently, pulling the young hobbit against him. "No, Frodo. He made it. Bilbo is home."
ooOO88OOoo
Here we are, the final chapter of this fic. It's a bit bittersweet to finally finish a fic after two years but I hope you enjoyed it and do not feel too cheated by the ending which (though tweeked a bit from the original) has been written since this fic was begun. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this story, followed or favorited this story so far and those of you that will after it is over. A special thank you to those of you that took the time to leave me a comment. I do apologize for the lack of timely replies to those but want you to know how much they warm my heart. Thank you all!
Stickdonkeys
