Finally having chased their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren from the room, Bilbo allowed his exhausted and aching body to collapse back into the padding of his mother's rocking chair. It was becoming so difficult to remain sitting upright for any length of time now and, having been painstakingly brought from the Shire across most of Middle Earth as a prenuptial gift, his rocker had been well-padded to ease his old bones. He hummed tunelessly as he gazed at the table beside their bedroom window with cloudy eyes. Memory didn't need young eyes to remember every sketch framed there.
.
Ori captured their first son's adoption, Thorin and Bilbo standing so proud with Borin in their arms. He'd been born to a dwarf who did her duty to her race, but whose heart was firmly planted in her goldcraft and couldn't find space in it for childrearing. That was the first time Bilbo had been utterly baffled by the dwarven notion of birthing a child and then giving it to the leader of their settlement to adopt and raise among their own children. Dwarves could become heart-bound to their craft, and rather than neglect any precious child born to their people, the child was given to the wealthiest family to raise; in this case, Thorin as their king. Borin was the first, but they ended up taking in a dozen youngsters over the years, not counting the ones eagerly taken in by the rest of their company. Their extended family resembled a Hobbit's and filled Bilbo's heart with warmth when he saw all the generations together. The sketches and framed childish drawings covered the table with memories of love.
.
A framed copy of their marriage contract hung on the wall above the table, forever reminding them of their vows (not that they needed it, but Thorin proved sentimental over what he called his finest work) and of the chaos that surrounded that week as they added revisions and clarified wording. It was all very formal with Dori as Bilbo's negotiator, but chaotic to a Hobbit who didn't have a single scrap of experience with vows in such a manner. Hobbits made their vows verbally to their partners and Yavanna under the party tree, not on parchment under a mountain, but Bilbo had wanted to follow Thorin's traditions in this, the first wedding in Erebor since it was reclaimed.
.
Outside the window, the low sunlight reflected green, from the forest they'd rebuilt on the dragon-blighted mountainside. One sapling at a time planted with a green gem cried out of love to nourish and encourage it to grow tall and strong. His and Thorin's love was great enough over the years to create a sanctuary around Thorin's beloved mountain, their home. Every dwarf child adventured in it, fought mock battles between the tree trunks, and all animal life was safe from the predations of hunters under its leaves. It was a true Yavanna-blessed sanctuary for all.
.
They'd had so many years filled with love, exasperation, arguments, love, and acceptance under the mountain until the gold sickness from decades earlier took its insidious toll on Thorin's lifespan and he died ten years ago, still a young dwarf, by their count. Oh, how Bilbo missed him every day. Thorin missed seeing Ori's youngest daughter finish her journeymanship and become the youngest master of gem cutting. He'd missed Balin's coronation as King of Khazad-Dûm, after eighteen years of fighting goblin hordes to cleanse the ancient dwarven settlement.
.
The slight scuff of a boot on the floor roused Bilbo from his doze. "I said, go get yourselves…" he crankily started to scold, then stopped as his eyes opened. Perfectly clear sight looked onto his favorite daydream- Thorin standing at the foot of the bed, simply smiling at him.
.
"I'd wondered when you'd wake, beloved. It's time," Thorin held out a hand, covered in smooth skin, and looked as radiant and majestic as the night Bilbo first fell in love with him, the first night he saw Thorin at his door. For a moment, Bilbo could only gape before reflex had him reaching out to grasp his husband's proffered hand with one that was likewise youthful and well-maintained.
.
At that moment, he knew. "For all eternity, my love," he affirmed, "Let's go on our next adventure!" Bilbo rose from his rocking chair, leaving behind all his aching bones and aged infirmities without looking back. And so they did. Side-by-side as always in life, the pair raced toward their next grand adventure with hearts unmarred by grief or sickness.