"Uncle…are you sure?"
Bilbo paused, though only briefly amid digging through their supplies. Frodo had remained silent ever since his relation's return from the City of Bells but as he watched his elderly father-figure pull out the old Mithril vest and test his grip upon Sting, all the while leaning upon his cane for support, his heart ached.
Bilbo was not blind to this.
Setting his things aside a moment, he approached his nephew and laid gentle hands upon his face. "My dear boy. Do not trouble your mind with me. I have enough spunk left in me yet for another journey. And one of this much importance, I shall not fail."
Frodo hardly looked convinced, biting his lower lip. "Uncle…what about…you're not as strong as you used to be. Not as fast. The journey to Erebor wasn't an easy one. You told me a lot about it but I suspect you left out quite a bit."
"Aye, true indeed, I did, smart lad." Bilbo turned back to his packing, placing some folded clothes into the knapsack and taking special care to include extra rations of food. Valinor had plenty and while he could hardly fit a ostentatious amount of it, it was enough to provide some relief for aching bellies. "It will not be a pleasant adventure, at least as far as my old bones are concerned but don't you worry about that. What's important is that I was granted leave. I was given my chance."
Frodo nodded, sat down on his own bed by the window as daylight slowly sank. His Uncle was full of spunk, much more than Frodo had seen in such a long while but it did not stop him from pausing to massage his lower back or to reorient himself as he walked. The old Hobbit's eyes were hardly what they used to be and whiteness had all but taken his hair.
Frodo trembled to consider what a orc blade or even a sharp thrust of a troll might do to that body now. Less than two years ago, his Uncle seemed hardly beyond age, young and full of energy. All of a result of the ring, yes but it would have been all too welcomed now.
"Do you think you will be able to do what you desire?" Frodo's voice wavered slightly. "I do not doubt your heart, Uncle so please do not slew your poison on my ears. But I doubt the strength of your body. Did you not proclaim to take possession of the Ring and take it onto Mordor's fire yourself? Yet, Gandalf spoke true—your body could not bear that journey."
Bilbo took a breath to calm the fire that raged in his heart. His nephew spoke no lie and there was nothing but love in his declaration. So, after a moment or two, Bilbo turned, faced him and said candidly.
"Yes, Gandalf did say as much. I cannot say, my boy, if his words rang true or not. He no doubt was considering my rather lengthy history with the ring and I cannot deny that to take it up again may well have hindered the quest. Nor do I doubt that his words were meant to deny me further pain and suffering. But pain and suffering I have still endured and the fact that you have taken on pain that was never yours to bear brings hurt to my heart beyond what I can imagine. This is not just about saving Thorin, Fili, Kili…it is also about setting right a wrongward path. A path that led YOU to so much pain. I will not and cannot do nothing."
Frodo knew conviction when he heard it and he knew all too well, more so than any of the others, that his uncle would not be swayed. The deaths of Thorin and the others bore far too heavy a load on his heart and while he had never said so, he knew that each time Bilbo saw him grasp his wounds, a deep guilt took the old Hobbit's eyes.
No. He could not stop this. He had no power to stop it.
So, he sat still and nodded to the words of his Uncle. "We've been luckier than most Hobbits have cause to be," He finally settled on. "I hope it follows you."
OOO
Night was just as beautiful as day on Valinor and Bilbo ventured out into it. His legs trembled and quaked as he walked but he forced them. They would need to do far more come the morrow. He did not speak of his fears but they were certainly on his heart.
Frodo and Gandalf told no lies. He was old and his body not what it once was. The prospect of dying on the quest didn't bother him, not nearly as much as it maybe should have, but what did lie heavy on his mind was the possibility of failure. Of trying and still having to watch his dear friends fall, to watch the light leave their eyes again.
He did not know if he could bear it a second time. He barely endured when the moments returned to him in the darkness of night. It mattered not that decades had passed. Every time the dreams returned him to those horrific moments, it was as if no passage of time had occurred at all and the wounds on his heart, scarred over, were ripped open to bleed anew.
He could not allow this to fail.
Pausing in his walk, Bilbo winced and rubbed his lower back. His legs ached and throbbed so after a delay of thought, he slid to the ground amid the blue and white flowers and eased his feet to the small pool nearby.
The coolness was a balm to the ache. Well, perhaps he would be slower than last time but he would make himself succeed. On that, he was adamant. He did not know how he would succeed but he must.
On the trip back to the Shire, he had been on his own for most of the journey once Gandalf left him, and Bilbo had lost himself amid his dark thoughts. Thorin's death had dulled the colors of the countryside even as gorgeous as the autumn colors made them. He had found himself singing, writing songs and eventually, by the time he had crossed the Shire's borders, he had written a song of mourning and respect for his dear friend that he never failed to sing each year, on Durin's Day.
And one other time…
Tears in his eyes at the memory, Bilbo took a shaky breath. It had not been long after his return that news of a dwarf caravan had passed through. Yes, yes, with Dain in the mountain, the people of the Blue Mountains could return home. While had no intention of speaking with them, he had ventured down to watch them pass all the same.
Oh, such a solemn trek he had observed. True, there were children and talk he overheard of the return back to their ancestral home, but the bulk of the adults had traveled with dark cloaked and their hair stripped of any finery.
But Bilbo had only eyes for one in particular. A tall figure, alone, on a pony in the front, clothed in dark blues but with a shawl of dark black hiding the hair and face. It was only when Bilbo came out from the side of the path that he had recognized that it was a she and that could only be one person.
Lady Dis, he had said without preamble, dropping to one knee.
Pulling on the reins, she had stopped and faced him with a eyes full of pain and sorrow and visage stripped of beard. A raise of her hand had stopped the train in their tracks. With the grace that was only offered to one of her stature, she had dismounted, approached and asked, "Are you the Hobbit that strove to protect my brother and my sons?"
Yes, Lady Dis, he had said to her, voice choked with emotion. Forgive my failure.
She had knelt and laid her forehead on his with a soft, "I have only gratitude for you, Bilbo of the Shire."
She had come in for tea at his insistence and the caravan had taken the opportunity to regroup, build supplies and gather food and water for the road. There had been little said between him and Lady Dis but somehow, they had ended up in Bilbo's garden before a series of three small trees he had planted upon his return. A small shrine and hardly worthy of them, he had said, flustered, but it is all I have to offer them. This and a promise that their memory will never be forgotten.
Bilbo sighed and without realizing it, he began to chant, the same soft song he had written on his ride home and the same humble dedication he had given unto Lady Dis: "How shall we remember our fallen friend? Who conquered Dragon Sickness in the end? A warrior, leader, and proud flawed King? A worthy descendent of Mighty Durin."
The landscape of Valinor was quiet, only the echo of his words disturbing the night's calm. It was something Bilbo was grateful for. He needed this night to think. He knew not what the next day would bring…where he would be dropped, when he would be dropped, and how long he would have to act.
"Young Bilbo!"
Jumping a bit at the sudden sound, the Hobbit turned and for a moment, he thought it to be Lady Yavanna but no…this one was coated in flowers and the bloom of youth, new petals seemingly flooded her face.
"Lady Vána?" He asked finally. For truly, this could only be the younger sister of Lady Yavanna.
Smiling, she approached and unlike the others, she took the liberty of reducing her size to be more on his level. Rather polite of her, he thought.
"Yes, I come on behalf of my sister and her husband and on behalf of myself." She knelt and sat next to him, her very presence seeming to make the landscape glow with a summer heat. She was called the Ever-Young for a reason, he supposed; the flowers about them seemed to reach up to her as a child does.
"I am flattered, dear Lady."
She shook her head. "Your tenacity and loyalty is to be admired. It's not often that one sees Námo smile, though he hides it so well." She folded her arms. "And he did it before Lord Manwë finished speaking. He knew…"
That was the first bit of news that gave Bilbo some hope! "Did he—"
"There's little that occurs that Lord Námo is not aware of." She assured him. "He is restricted by rules that only he knows but I have not seen his heart moved for so long. As is mine. There is little that we weep for more than love and yours is all but blinding."
Bilbo bowed his head. "I can do little else, my Lady. I do not know what I am capable of doing, as Gandalf is right. I am a Hobbit and I am old. I am sure his worry over my choice is well known but it is my choice all the same." He took a breath. "I appreciate your kindness, my Lady and do…do give my regards to Lady Yavanna and Lord Aulë. I dare say that I shall not see them again."
Lady Vána smiled, the hidden giggle of an eternal child. "I would not be so dismissive. While we cannot intervene in great ways, you have won our favor, Child of Earth. Your heart is stout enough to cause more change than you know." She knelt and laid her lips to his hair, resting them there for a moment before gently pulling away. It was nearly intoxicating, as if he were being wrapped in the personification of innocence and youth. He nearly whined when she pulled away. "We are all bound by the rules of Ilúvatar but every rule is open to interpretation." Her eyes grew wet and cold. "You spoke honestly within the Halls, little one. I was hidden from sight but oh, I did hear your passion. There is much we should have done within the past that we did not. You put us to shame, though many will not say as much. But I shall. I believe in your heart and that it will not fail you."
Standing, Bilbo bowed to her. "Thank you for saying as much, My Lady. I will not deny that there is fear in my heart but I mean to do all that my soul and body can endure."
Nodding, she knelt and kissed his head again, "Go with my blessing, Child of the Earth and know that love is not to be underestimated. It was love that sprung the Music into being. It was love that let your dear nephew endure as long as he did. It was love that kept dear loyal Sam to his side. It is capable of great things."
Feeling refreshed in more ways than one, Bilbo bowed to her again, "It is indeed fortuitous, my Lady, that I was blessed to share your presence this night. I will go forth tomorrow with hope and courage. I…mean what I said—there is a more beautiful song to be made."
"And sing it, you will." She stood herself and her arms waved a fluttered of flower petals to him which he took with a warm smile. The deep inhale of the scent of rose and bluebell filled him with memory and he could see Thorin's smile again. He could hear Fili's chuckle and feel Kili all but choking him with a hug. Yes, soon it would be more than memory.
So caught up in the thought was he that as Bilbo took his leave and headed back for the final night on Valinor that he all but forgot his walking stick. But so full of passion was he that his steps fell easier, his breaths came firmer and he stood taller.
Vána watched him depart.
"We are all bound by the rules of Ilúvatar but every rule is open to interpretation."
*O*O*
NOTE: Bilbo's song for Thorin is taken from Eurielle's absolutely gorgeous "Lament for Thorin." Check it out on YouTube, it's amazing.
