"Master Baggins," Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, looking like he hadn't aged a day, stepped forward and bowed. Bilbo was frozen in the middle of the path, the grip on his cane so tight his knuckles were turning white. Thankfully he'd paid for most of his groceries to be delivered, so all he had in his basket was a couple loaves of bread, some jars of jam and some packets of tea. He'd gone deathly pale, face almost as white as his hair. He couldn't find his voice, looking over the dwarves before him. They were here to kill him, weren't they? Or maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he had finally snapped.
"Oh sweet Aule," Bilbo gasped, blinking furiously before swiping at his eyes. "You can't be here. You just cannot be here."
"Master Baggins, we have come to apologize," Thorin decided to power on, slowly moving closer seeing as the old hobbit before him looked about ready to faint. "We should have come sooner. I should have come sooner. I know you will probably never forgive us, but I wish you to know that your name is sung throughout our halls with words of triumph and joy. Master Baggins?"
"You….you are not here. Just…just be gone! Leave me in peace! What have I done to deserve this!" Bilbo was blinking back tears now. The dwarves were so surprised that Bilbo was able to quickly shuffle past and into his home, slamming and locking the door. He pressed his back there, breathing hard as tears flowed freely down his face. This could not be happening. They couldn't be here. After all these years…..they were here. All of them, his boys, looking so young while he had aged, crippled now with grief and weary bones. Oh, if only….Bilbo couldn't hold back the sobs then as he sunk to the floor, the pain tearing at his heart as he dragged himself to the wall left of the door, one hand pressed to his heart as he curled up into a fetal position.
Outside, the dwarves could hear the heartbroken keening all too well. Thorin stood in the gate to the yard, watching the door, face as blank as stone. Behind him, Dwalin was holding a crying Ori with Balin and Dori, both visibly shaken, leaning on each other for support. Bifur was patting Bofur's arm as the dwarf glared at the green door through his own tears. Bombur had pulled Nori and Oin into a tight hug, his face red as Nori, Oin and Gloin tried to calm the large dwarf. Kili and Fili stood away from the others, watching their uncle with sad eyes. It had shaken them all when the little hobbit lad had arrived only weeks ago, shortly followed by one of the longest letters they had ever seen. Both would have been ignored if it were not for the name on the letter attached to the front of the book.
Bilbo Baggins
Former Burglar
Bag End, Bagshot Row, Hobbitton, Shire
To my dear, dear friends.
It was a short letter compared to the second from some unknown hobbits and very formal, written by a shaky, aged hand. The tears stains here and there had spoken volumes of the mindset of the writer.
Dear Friends,
Its been some time since we last spoke. Nearly 50 years. My, how the time has flown. I've missed you all so dearly. All of you. Kili and Fili and Ori in all their youth. Gloin with his tales of little Gimli, who I hope is making all of you proud. Oin and Balin in all their years and wisdom. Nori and Dori, how you two cared for each other. Dear Bombur, I wish you could have baked with me. Bifur and Bofur, my fine warriors. Mighty Dwalin and your pining after Ori, I hope you finally did something about it. And Thorin. Dear, sweet Thorin. My king, my love. Oh, how I miss you.
Oh, look at me, blubbering and not even that far in. Tis the age, I fear. Makes one very emotional. When one is at the end of their life, they look back and find all the regrets, all the missteps and wish to fix what they can. I can no longer think of traveling to Erebor to beg at your feet for forgiveness, doing much of anything is now a chore for me. So, I have written all of you this book, detailing not only our journey together, but my journeys after.
I have led a full life, my dwarves, or as full as a bachelor can. I have never married nor have I ever sought out another's company since my Thorin. Oh, my dear Thorin, I am so sorry for the pain I caused you all those years ago. I do not regret it, but I do regret the words we shared after. My love for you has never wavered. It has never been said a Baggins has been unfaithful.
I am hoping this finds you all healthy and happy. I don't have much time left here in Bag End. I have fallen ill from a disease that has plagued by family for generations and it only seems appropriate it should take me. By the time you receive this I will more than likely be gone and traveling in another world. The Green Lady has always been kind to her children, so I will be happy where ever I am.
I only ask one thing, dear friends. Please, please stay true to each other, to the company. Don't ever forget, but please remember to forgive.
Forever you grocer,
Bilbo Baggins
Thorin had let Balin read it to all of them as he slowly opened the book, tracing a careful hand over the sketches drawn in among the words telling of a great and foolish journey. He had gained so much, but lost something very dear. It was feeling like he was losing it all over again. Balin could barely finished the first letter and let Dori read the second. This one had a harsher tone, for the majority. Thorin does not remember all of it except for one simple statement at the end.
Bilbo is a dear and true friend to me, do not let him pass alone and empty. Do not let him go unforgiven. Please, oh mighty king and company, don't make him suffer any more. Please.
It had only taken moments for it to be decided the company would travel once again to the Shire. Days later found them headed away from the Lonely Mountain, not chased away by a mighty fire drake, but racing to catch their poor little burglar before there was nothing left to save.