"It is beautiful, isn't it?"
Bilbo turned to his nephew and he lay a hand in his curled hair. The boy leaned into it, as he had done when it was just a small lad. There was a deep desire, longing in need in it now that made Bilbo's heart ache. If he had known that little golden ring would have caused so much heartache for everyone he loved…
"Aye, it is, my dear boy. Valinor, the undying lands."

"You used to tell me stories about them." Frodo remarked, one hand still over the old Morgol wound on his shoulder. It had begun to ease on the journey over the sea though a faint throb still remained. "I used to spend hours drawing and painting what it might look like but none of them came close to this. I don't think even if I had seen it, in some far off dream, would I have been able to replicate it."
"Such is the wonder of Aman."
The soft, almost angelic voice behind them gave way to a fading white light that was the Lady of Light, Galadriel. Her smile, as always, was welcoming and warm. She looked upon the two Hobbits down with grace and thanks even as her fingers brushed first Bilbo then Frodo's brow as she gazed out upon the land where she had first drawn breath. "As Middle Earth was meant to be once, before it was marred by Morgoth." She knelt and lay her hand over Frodo's, gently easing it from his shoulder. "I promise you, Ring Bearer, you will find comfort here. Aman is a land free of the posion of Morgoth; his grip over you will break on these shores."
Frodo smiled but Bilbo saw the raw pain in those eyes. The pain that comes with leaving those you find so dear behind you. He had seen the tears and pain when Frodo watched the docks of the Grey Havens until they faded away, though he knew it was for the best that he left. Bilbo knew that pain all too well. It was not one healed, even by the lands of the Spirits and Gods. Loss of those dear to you was a wound to the spirit that no amount of time or magic could undo. It had been so long but the pain he felt in his heart when he thought of Thorin or Fili or Kili was as fresh as the day it had happened. He had learned to let the pain ride over him and pass but it only shortened in length, not intensity.
Not things to haunt his nephew with. He had enough to try and recover from. The burden he had been settled with was unfair in the deepest measure. It was a cruel irony not lost on Bilbo. His first adventure that had given him the dwarven companions that were the nearest thing to family he had ever had was the same adventure that had snatched them from him, in one way or another. Then, when he had left this time, he had damned his nephew to a fate worse than death. The slow deterioration of the ring.
If he had known…
"Uncle?"
Shaking himself from the somber thought, he set his nephew with what he hoped was an encouraging smile and was ever so grateful when the old wizard—one of his remaining oldest friends—appeared at the doorway.
He gave a nod of encouragement and "Nothing to bother your head about, my boy" with a gentle nudge towards the stairs. Frodo met Gandalf at the door and followed him up to the deck. The ship had ceased its movement and soon, they would set foot on the land that they only knew in legends.
To the Lady Galadriel, he waited and then, once alone, she spoke.
"You wish something of me, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire?" It was more a statement than a question but he appreciated her consideration in awaiting his reply.
"Aye, I do." He bowed lightly to her. "I would ask something of you milady."
"Ask, dear Hobbit. I cannot guarantee anything but I shall listen and do what I can. You began the downfall of Sauron. A small ripple in an ocean of possibilities." Riddles. It must have had something to do with Aman. Seemed everyone from here spoke in riddles.
He took a breath and locked eyes with her, "I would meet with Manwë if I could."
She laughed, a lovely sound and not one done out of distain but rather out of genuine contentment. "Oh, Bilbo Baggins. Mithrandir is right to view all Hobbits but you especially with such high regard. You have not yet taken step on Aman and yet you request his counsel?" Again, there was a hint of lack of surprise despite her laughter depicting otherwise.
"I do, Milady. As soon as I may. If he insists on refusing then do be so kind as to inform him that Bilbo Baggins will plant himself firmly as near to him as possible and will carry on a conversation as if he were by my side. And I will do so until he would acknowledge me."
Galadriel smiled, again, that gentle, caring smile. "Not many would risk the wrath of Manwë, Bilbo Baggins."
"It would be far more unpleasant to risk the wrath of Bilbo Baggins. I can name many a folk that can attest to that. Mortal though I am, it, in many ways, makes me far more adept at being unpleasant if it suits my fancy."
"I have seen it for myself and it boils in your kin just as strong and nay, I do not believe the wrath of Bilbo Baggins would be welcomed by any, even a mighty Valar." The elven Queen offered her hand. "Come. I will appeal to Manwë on your behalf."
"Many thanks, gentle Galadriel."


"Bilbo Baggins, I swear of all the Hobbits of the world, you are undoubtedly, the most obstinate."
"I will not argue with you, dear Gandalf." Bilbo remarked as they took step by step together down the shore. "All the same, Lady Galadriel insists that I have been granted my audience." He folded his arms firmly, as if planting his commitment.
"Out of pure curiosity, I am sure and no small amount of mercy." Gandalf shook his head. "My dear Hobbit, take care. Manwë, though having a deep heart of caring, is not openly hospitable. He was not thrilled at the prospect of non-elven kind on these shores but he has relented. You, while an honored guest, are a guest all the same!"
"I shall not forget it, Gandalf. I am well aware of what a poor guest makes one feel." Bilbo assured him even as he stopped to gather his breath. "Nor am I ungrateful for what I have been given. But I must make my request of him alone. I hope you would grant Frodo some of your time. I shall return if I am able."
The older wizard scowled and blew a puff of smoke on his pipe. "You are not aware of how truthful that statement may be, my dear Bilbo. Mind your tongue."
"I will mind it as much as I do with others who are worthy of it."
Gandalf shook his head but he lay one hand on the Hobbit's shoulder. "I do not know what you have to ask of him but do with grace." He frowned deeply. "And if I cannot persuade you against this foolishness…"
"You cannot."
"I thought as much. Peregrin Took was mere preparation to deal with you again, I see."
"I shall be mindful of my manners, as a proper Baggins should but I shall be heard."
"Yes yes but that Tookish blood runs fierce in you as well." But Gandalf left it at that and withdrew, leaving Bilbo at the base of Mount Taniquetil. His mutterings to himself was heard for quite some distance before it faded.
That left the Baggins of Bag End in front of the mighty mountain of the world. It stretched above him far beyond what he could imagine seeing and he stood, still and silent for quite some time. Snowy fluffs could be seen faintly in the disrtance but it was hard to tell if it was from sleet or the clouds themselves engulfing the mountain tip. The very faint screeching of eagles or something similar to them in any event gave an eerie sense of a journey for a very different mountain, so many years ago and Bilbo found himself drifting in the memory far longer than was advisable.
Finally, a figure approached him. He did not see where he had come from but he did not waste time pondering it. Rather, he stayed where he was, standing up straight and the man-like figure drew closer. Clothed in flowing robes of blue and purple, hair that spiraled long and soft as the clouds above, and eyes that pierced everywhere at once, the distance between them closed until it was simply Hobbit and Valar. One a mere ant in size and power to another.
Bilbo's firm posture did not falter.
"So, this is the Hobbit Bilbo Baggins that has the strength of heart and will to ask for me, is it?"
Bilbo looked upward at him (and thought it quite rude that he had to arch his neck to do so when the Valar could certainly have adjusted his height to be more pleasant). "Aye, it is. Am I to take it that you are Valar Manwë, Lord of the Breath of Arda?"
"So I am. What would you have of me, youngling?" The voice roared and whispered all at once, of all the winds of the world.
Bilbo, despite his advanced age, chuckled, "I suppose to you, all things are young. I come to you with an unusual request though I suspect me coming at all is unusual enough."
"So it is." There was no anger in that statement but no compassion either. It was a statement, nothing more and nothing less. The King of the Valar had no time for pleasantries, it appeared.
"I am grateful for the gift that has been offered me. Aman is beautiful, beyond all account of measure and my spirit feels weary no longer among these shores." He paused and laid a hand over his chest. "But my heart is still heavy. I may have served my purpose in this war but there was more I could have done."
"You and your halfling kin did more than even the Valar thought you capable of." Now, there was a hint of pleasantry and heart to the voice, though it did not lessen in intensity. "Your kind are favored of Yavanna and her pride in you has not been misplaced."
"Perhaps but I am unsatisfied. I come to you with a request, Lord Manwë. A chance to correct those mistakes. I would ask that, in exchange for my remaining time, however short it may be, among these Blessed Lands, I be allowed to return to the time of the Quest for Erebor and set right my wrongs."
There. He had said it.
The sky itself seemed to rumble. "You jest, Hobbit."
"On the contrary, Lord Manwë," Bilbo bowed again. "I am quite serious. Though it may be beyond your power, it is not beyond Ilúvatar's."
"It is not customary for Ilúvatar to be granting desires of mortals when life does not go as they would wish–"
"Not accustomed but He HAS allowed it." Bilbo set his fists upon his hips and settled his form to be as tall as he could manage. "As I recall, He allowed the adoption of the dwarves and has shown mercy to those whom carry true humility and sincerity within their hearts. He allowed the return of Lúthien as a mortal woman. I do not pretend to be as worthy as those but I am requesting that it be presented unto Him, all the same." Bilbo folded his arms, "If He does not permit it, I shall accept as such but I cannot rest until it is at least presented. If I am to be given any gift for my service to Middle Earth, I would wish it to be thus."
"What drives such a desire," This question came from above. Not from Manwë. No, this was feminine and the stars above seemed to shimmer in a smile. It lasted but a hair of a moment before it was as if the darkness of the night sky had taken physical form before him in the tallest woman he had ever seen. With eyes made of pure starlight and blackness that wrapped around that was as much cloak and clothing as hair, her voice and the manner in which she spoke meant it could be none other than the Queen of the Valar.
"Lady Varda, I presume. Or do you prefer Elebereth as the elves know you?" Bilbo gave her a bow of deep respect, as he had given her husband.
"Either, young Hobbit. The name is of little significance." She spoke again, "My husband is not always best with words. Hence, I will speak in his stead. What drives such a desire, I ask you again."
"The same desire of Ilúvatar, for his world, his children." Bilbo answered. "Love. I ask the chance to stop needless death, ease the pain of parting and to save those dwarves that are family to me. I once crossed Middle Earth for them. I shall cross Aman for them as well, for the chance to right a most egregious wrong." He took a deep breath. "I do not presume to be worthy of this chance. But I am asking for Ilúvatar's mercy in hearing me, all the same."
The King and Queen of the Valar exchanged glances. Varda, in the flowing manner that was accustomed to her, wrapped her arms around her husband and spoke. "The Hobbit has a heart of valor, far more than many we see, Husband. And he speaks no untruth."
"Nay." Manwë allowed. "He speaks nothing but facts. His heart is stout."
Varda nodded and lay a hand on her husband's cheek. "We have appealed to Eru for less and we shall appeal to him for more. Bilbo has fought a long life, and yet, here among the Blessed Land, he seeks only to do more. The least we can offer is that his request be heard. Eru, in His wisdom, will make His decision. Only He knows how the music shall play."
The King of the Valar was silent for a few moments more. He looked upon his wife, into her eyes of starlight and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away except for those two. Unspoken conversation, a thousand words in a gaze, passed.
Manwë turned to Bilbo after what seemed an eternity. "Return to your rooms. I will speak to Eru on your behalf, Bilbo of the Shire."