Chapter Text
Bilbo’s hand curled around the railing as he stared out in the endless sea and admired the reflection of the moon and stars on the dark waters. He wasn’t sure what was keeping him from sleep but he was glad to have some time to himself. Ever since Bilbo had boarded the ship to sail to the Undying Lands with Lord Elrond, Gandalf and his beloved nephew Frodo, the pain in his heart and soul had started to ease.
Of course that may be the problem, he supposed. For almost a century he had carried the guilt and longing that plagued him, even as he tried to avoid dwelling on the thoughts of his dear friends. Sadly, he had outlived most of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. He had learned of their fates on his one last grand adventure to see Aragon crowned as King of Gondor and marry the lovely Lady Arwen. With a heavy heart, he had returned to Rivendell and eventually the Grey Havens to set sail.
“Bilbo?” The old hobbit jumped slightly and turned to see Gandalf walking across the deck to stand by his side. “What troubles you, old friend?”
Bilbo was silent for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “I have many regrets, Gandalf. I’m not sure I am ready to let them go as we travel closer to the land of healing and peace.”
The wizard sighed. “I do not think that they would have wanted you to live in guilt, dear Bilbo.”
“And yet I have for the last 90 years.” Bilbo snapped, unable to hold in his grief and irritation. “I sail to the Undying Lands, where only elves and elf friends may trod. The Company rests in Mahal’s Hall of Waiting. I shan’t see them even in the afterlife. By the time I made it to Erebor in time for my 112th birthday, Bifur and Bofur were caught in a tunnel collapse; Balin, Ori and Oin had left for Moria only for me to find out that they didn’t reclaim it and it became their tomb. Nori was killed while stopping an assassination on the Lady Dis. Only Dwalin, Bombur, Dori and Gloin were there to greet me. And now Dwalin and Dori are buried beneath the stone with Thorin, Kili and Fili after the siege by the Easterlings.”
No longer able to hide the tremor in his voice and a sheen of tears in his eyes, he looked at the white wizard. “Hobbits aren’t meant to live this long Gandalf. I should have been the first one to die. A dwarf’s lifespan is nearly three times that of a hobbit’s. And yet, here I stand. One of the few left of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. I was lucky enough to see Gloin at Aragon’s coronation but I had to settle for sending a letter to Bombur. I do not know what will become of me without my grief.”
The taller being studied Bilbo with sadness. “Bilbo, I know that you must miss them dearly-“
Bilbo scoffed as he dashed away the few tears that had started to slip down his face. “Miss them? Of course I miss them. But that is not why I wish to see them.” Gandalf raised his eyebrow in a silent question. “I wish to smack Thorin over the head with my skillet.”
Bilbo managed to hold his frown for a few moments before he chuckled at Gandalf’s flustered look. Silence reigned as they stare peacefully over the water once more until the small hobbit broke the quiet once more.
“I miss them with all of my heart.” His voice was quiet and full of longing. “There were so many times as they were growing up that I confused Merry and Pippin with Fili and Kili. Young Samwise reminded me of Ori with his silent strength. I wish I had been able to help Thorin more with the gold sickness. I wish that there had been in time to warn Fili and Kili of the trap. I wish I had never found that ring, or that I knew what it was before Frodo was forced to carry that burden to Mordor. I would have done anything to make sure that he was not the one to carry it.”
“Even if you had to carry such a thing yourself to the mountain of fire?” Gandalf asked, his voice also low, yet inquisitive.
Bilbo turned his sharp gaze up to such familiar blue eyes. “Even if I had to jump into the pits themselves, Gandalf.”
Gandalf rested his hand on Bilbo’s. “One day you will meet them again. But for now, it is no use to keep yourself awake wishing for things that cannot be.”
Nodding, Bilbo sighed before stepping down from the box he had been standing on and grabbing his cane. “I suppose I should rest these old bones.”
Gandalf chuckled. “If you are of old bones, what am I then?”
“Dust.” Bilbo managed to respond with a straight face. “You are very much a dusty old bat, Gandalf.”
He was pleased when the wizard threw his head back with a laugh. “That I would certainly believe, old friend.”
“Goodnight, Gandalf.” Bilbo had reached the door that led below deck.
As the hobbit made to travel down the stairs, Gandalf responded. “Sleep well, Bilbo.”
When the small being had disappeared into the passage below, he uttered to himself. “And Good Luck.”
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Bilbo lay in his bed, listening to Frodo’s breathing across the room and timed his breath with the slight rocking of the ship. Try as he might to sleep, his thoughts returned to Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews. He had never told a soul but after many decades of mourning, Bilbo realized that he may have in fact loved the stubborn and infuriating king.
When they had finally reached a positive turn in their relationship, Bilbo had learned more about the more humorous side of the stoic warrior. He had listened to the lovely music that he had produced on an old harp he had picked up in Laketown. They had many a talk about what to do after they reclaimed Erebor in terms of tending to the lands surrounding the desolate mountain. Their conversations had turned to the Shire as they had made their way from Laketown to the mountain, but Bilbo had not been able to say much when they had come across Dale.
When they had finally reclaimed Erebor, Thorin had retreated into his own mind as he scrambled to find the Arkenstone. Bilbo no longer recognized the almost manic dwarf as the steadfast and honorable friend he had gained after all their troubles. Bilbo had not stayed long after they returned their bodies to the mountain, instead wishing to return home as soon as possible and pretend the adventure had never happened.
But of course it had, there was no forgetting it when for years after his return he had to endure rumors and questions about the dwarves he had gallivanted off with. The dirty looks at having to return his things despite his need to buy most of it back with what little treasure came in the trolls’ chest. There was no forgetting the many battles fought as he would spend hours staring at Sting above his mantle and yet he could not convince himself to lock it away. As much as he wanted to forget, he could not banish the memories of the shenanigans and laughter that came with Fili and Kili’s smiling faces. Nor the way Thorin would hide his amusement even when scolding his kin.
With thoughts of the companions he shared many of fireside camp dinners with, songs and stories, jokes and laughter, he drifted off to the last sleep he would have in this time.