Frodo found a white-haired Bilbo sat on a bench, next to a red-bound journal, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief.
"What's the matter Uncle Bilbo?"
Bilbo looked up and smiled through his tears.
"Ah, Frodo! Come here, my boy, sit next to me a while."
Frodo nodded, picking up the journal before sitting down and placing it in his lap and flipping it open.
"Can you tell me why you were crying Uncle?"
He shook his head, fresh tears filling his eyes.
"Ever since that day...Ever since I saw the King Under the Mountain and his nephews be placed in the tombs, I made a promise."
"What promise was that?"
"That their deaths wouldn't be in vain. So from that day forth, I kept trying to make their deaths be worth something, my boy, but the thing is...I couldn't. Not with that damned ring's influence on me."
Frodo smiled.
"But you do not have the ring anymore, Uncle. You could try now."
"Not now, Frodo. I am far older now and can no longer do what it was I had set out to do. That task now falls to you my boy. You are so much stronger than I was at your age and a touch more adventurous I wager."
Frodo nodded, a grim look on his face.
"Have no worry, Uncle. I will do this, not only for you but for them as well."
"Just maybe it will come true now..."
Bilbo leaned over and his fingers traced the letters as he mouthed the words.
"'And he lived happily ever after to the end of his days'..."