"Mr. Baggins!"
Bilbo paused, hand on the door. He stood there, motionless, a long moment. Foolish it was, he knew, but he could not help but hope that instead of Hamfast, it was a younger sounding voice calling him and purposely replacing an a with an o. Oh, he had been so irritated at first but that simple phrase "Mister Boggins" had become so dear to his heart. Would he ever hear it again?
Turning at the call though, he set a smile upon his face. "Ah! Hamfast, my good fellow! A good morning to you."
"Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"
Foolish thing to be reminiscing on perhaps but Bilbo could not stop his thoughts from going to that morning...when his entire life had been turned around and a company of dwarves had arrived on his doorstep.
He wondered if they were greeting one another in Erebor this day or perhaps if Thorin had finally managed to make time for that hunting trip he promised his nephews or...
"Indeed!" Hamfast broke into Bilbo's longing rather abruptly or perhaps it was just how deeply seeped in memory that Mr. Baggins (or Boggins as he longed to hear) had fallen. The Gardner gave a nod. "And to you, Mr. Baggins. We've not seen much of you lately since your return though I'm sure you've much to repair on account of Lobelia." He dropped his voice, seemed nearly ashamed. "Bell and I tried to keep her out as best we could, honest we did!"
Bilbo approached the small fence, rested his forearms upon it. "Oh, I have no doubt of that, Ham. Lobelia is a furious creature on her best days and when she sees a chance to claim Bag End for herself, it is hardly the best of days." He shook his head. "I am still sorting through the damage everyone generated, trying to grab at my belongings! I will try and be a bit more sociable."
Hamfast inquired, "Might you join us for tea, later this afternoon?"
Bilbo paused, considered the proposition. On the one hand, it would be nice to engage in conversation, however menial it might be but his heart simply was not in it. He hated to disappoint the Gamgees, given they were some of the few that did not regard him complete contempt but it would hardly be fair for them to go through such trouble if he was truly not interested either.
"Thank you for the offer, Hamfast but I fear I still have so much to repair and clean up. Another time, perhaps."
"'Course, Mr. Baggins but remember our door is always open."
Bilbo gave a smile to that but it did not quite reach his eyes. "I shall bear that in mind, my friend. Do give my regards to Bell."
Without giving Hamfast time to respond, Bilbo slipped through his door and shut it cleanly behind him, the click of the latch far more of a comfort than it should have been. Far more than it used to.
Always a bit eccentric he was but since his return, how different he was had become so much more apparent. The way the others regarded him with eyes akin to fear and disgust. Not less than a year ago, he would have fretted about what he had done to cause such assumption but now, he felt no care to their thoughts.
Kind though they were by nature, his neighbors no longer understood. A flower was pretty to them but they did not know the utter beauty to be found in metal twisted and formed in fire by patient hands or the wondrous craft to be found in simple wooden toys, painstakingly etched and carved, inch by inch. They did not know the joy of being able to give people who had come at your call on a suicide mission everything they deserved and more.
Hobbits knew pain, discomfort but they did not know struggle.
Sighing, Bilbo took his walk through the empty smial. He'd not been fibbing when he said there was still work to be done. He'd yet to check all the rooms and was loathe to think what other damage had been done. The main foyer and kitchen had been frightening enough. Yet, as he entered the bedrooms, his heart sank.
He should have expected Lobelia to go for his mother's jewelry. It didn't look like she had taken much of it, thank goodness but Bilbo found his heart heavy nonetheless for what she HAD taken.
And the careless way in which she had done it!
His mother's old hand mirror was lying on the ground, the glass rightly cracked down the center. It had always been her favorite piece, as a small butterfly made of small gems had been made into the back. As Bilbo turned it over in his hands, he saw the silver cracked, multiple gems missing and it looked like the handle needed repair.
Lobelia had always loved the butterfly but not the mirror. If Bilbo had a means to angrier, he would have been. As it was, he tucked the piece into his shirt, swept up the debris and continued on his way. No point in lingering on it. A broken memento was better than no memento.
The guest room was in a much better state than the rest of the smial though it made his heart ache. Oh to have someone in these halls again! Not even a year ago, he'd shown Thorin and his nephews to this room. The two boys had bounded onto the bed like a couple of lambs and Thorin had shook his head at their antics.
Yet, when they'd left the room in the morn, the bed was made, blankets folded and all in all, it had been in near perfect order. Bilbo had learned over the course of the journey that for all their childish playing, both boys had been raised with manners and respect and they conveyed it well.
Sitting down on the mattress, Bilbo sighed heavily. What was he even doing here? The Shire, once a place that made him utterly content, left him empty and alone. Aside from Hamfast and his wife, there was no one here that would relish in his company or conversation and even the Gamgees did not always have the same enthusiasm as they liked to present, though not for lack of trying.
There was never any pretending with Dwarves, something Bilbo had come to appreciate about them. It had been quite the cultural shock at first but once he grew accustomed to it, he found he rather liked the prospect of not having to guess at one's intentions. Truly, it alleviated a great deal of work!
What to do...Bilbo did not deny that he felt an overwhelming desire to jump back on a pony and leave but what would come of that? It was a long journey—a good two months of one did not encounter obstacles—and he was already the talk of the Shire. Old Mad Baggins they were calling him.
Well, given the state he had returned to, he found he had every right to be angry! And a bit reclusive! The Hobbits of the Shire had not exactly been accepting of his adventure, far less so than he had even hoped.
Shaking his head, Bilbo moved to a stand. Sitting here, reminiscing woukd do no good and—
"Ow!" A sharp pain cut through his left foot which given he was a Hobbit was truly saying something.
No, not necessary a pain per say now that he took the time to analyze it. More of an odd pressure into the sole. Blinking amid the sunlight through the window, Bilbo knelt and his fingers curled about a simple bead, long and intricately decorated. There was a long slice where the bead had snapped open and fallen from its bearer. He recognized dwarven runes after a moment and his face softened.
"Oh, Fili, my boy, it was here the whole time?"
He remembered, all too well, the ruckus in the camp that first night when Fili had noticed the bead's absence. He'd all but torn their supplies apart before rushing back, looking over their footsteps until Thorin had all but tackled him and demanded he calm.
After they reached Erebor, Fili had remained melancholy about it; with all the treasures now at their disposal, he had looked at the absence of that one bead with such depression that it made Bilbo heart sick to remember it. Even when he'd been crowned, there was a weariness right him over its loss.
Curiosity had finally gotten the better of him and he'd approached Balin, requesting he wished to help in any manner he could. The old dwarf's eyes had been warm as he replied.
"Oh, there's nothing to be done Bilbo. Thorin will be seeking out anything that might be used for a replacement but with the damage from the dragon, it is not likely."
"But what makes that bead so special?" Bilbo had inquired. "Are all Dwarven beads such?"
"No, laddie. That bead was passed to Fili through Dis and Thorin from his Uncle Frerin, Thorin's younger brother who we lost at the battle of Azanulbizar." Balin had shook his head. "Fili and Kili never met their Uncle Frerin. The bead is their connection so that when their times comes to pass to Mahal's Halls, their Uncle shall know them. Without it, Fili has lost his connection to his Uncle."
Yet here it was. It had been here, in Bag End, this whole time. Fili need not feel cut off from his relations any longer. All that was left to do was to return the bead to its owner.
An odd elation filled Bilbo and he rushed back to his own bedroom and began throwing supplies into a knapsack. Clothing, bandages, a sack of gold from that treasure chest...
Food supplies. Yes, that would be next and could easily be obtained on his way to purchase an old pony from down the way. He would need to stop by the Thain to ensure Lobelia didn't try to get her ugly mitts on his property again...
It was so much to do but Bilbo found he didn't care. Even as he tossed that Mithril shirt on and pulled a tunic over it as he grabbed Sting, all he could think of was the collection of dwarves that would waiting at the end.
Tucking Fili's bead securely into his shirt pocket, the hobbit grabbed his walking stick as he went out the door, knapsack already swung over his shoulder. Spying Bell out in the garden, he called to her. "Oh, Bell! My dear!"
She turned, gave a smile "Oh, Bilbo...oh. Are you heading off?"
"Indeed. Indeed I am. Would you mind terribly watching Bag End for me? Help yourselves to anything I've stocked in the pantry. I'll speak with the Thain to hopefully keep Lobelia away. But I have a vital delivery to make!"
Bell blinked. "Well, of course. But...wouldn't requesting a delivery parcel be less trouble for you?"
Bilbo shook his head firmly. "No, that simply is not an option. I hardly trust them to deliver fruits without bruising them, let alone to understand the importance of this. No, I must hand deliver it myself."
Bell nodded but did not press. "As you say, Bilbo. How long will you be gone?"
"Hard to say for certain, my dear Bell but several months to be sure. I will send notice to you and Hamfast when I know more. I'm taking precautions to keep those nasty Sackville-Baggins away from my smial, rest assured!"
"Well, best of luck to you then!" She smiled and offered, "Take care and mind your safety, dear Bilbo."
"As much as I can, Bell, I assure you." Then with a clink of his walking stick, Bilbo was all but skipping down the lane to get the last of his provisions and set his affairs in order.
The mountain. He was going back to the mountain. Back to Fili and Kili's antics and Thorin's songs and Balin's stories. Back to Dwalin's teases and gruff smiles. Back to Bofur's dances and Dori's fireside knitting and Nori's not-quite-stealing dares. Back to sitting next to young Ori as they pieced history back together, book by book. Back to Glóin and Oin's tales of little Gimli! Back to Bombur's wondrous food and Bifur's beautiful craftsmanship.
Back to nights full of laughter and days filled to the brim with task, tale and song.
"Home." He finally said aloud to himself. "I'm going home!"