Date? I don't believe in dates
I come home again
A new shore is in sight, a new adventure for Bilbo, who thrives on such things; for me a new home, a new peace. I feel no apprehension – only joy. Nothing but joy. I am a child again, opening a book to its first page – but not for the first time; I am living as if new an existence as familiar to me as…as my pants, the ones with the threadbare knees.
I must speculate, though, that being one of two Hobbits in a fair country peopled with Elves – wise, radiant, and tall – will be a bit strange. Perhaps it will be no stranger than being one of four Hobbits in a city of Men – except that height is not the greatest difference that will set Hobbits apart here. For me and Bilbo, this is not the end of our journey. The Elves who come find joy and repose here forever, but in fifty years or so, according to the wont of our people – in far less time for my dear cousin, whose age now shows so markedly – I alone will set off on a new Road. The Straighter Way, perhaps, because I have heard it said that there is only one escape from the circles of the world, and Valinor is not really it. It is the one that Elves cannot take, the one for which they envy Me; and Hobbits, after all, are more closely related to Men than to Elves – even accounting for the pointy ears.