Chapter Text
My Dearest Thorin,
Would you believe it has been close to a week between me writing those first three words and the ones I write now? It is strange; how difficult I find it to sit and address you directly rather than make vague allusions in a song or poem. Even now, my heart pounds and I find my gaze repeatedly drawn to your name. I have written two other letters like this before now, I fear this will be the most difficult as it is one I never thought I would have to write.
Your parting words still sit heavily in my mind, you spoke of home and comfort, despite getting most of my belongings back, Bag End doesn't seem to hold either of these for me. There are many more trinkets adorning the walls and shelves, more books to occupy me, the pantry is once again full and a fires burn merrily in each grate and yet it feels vastly empty and cold.
Perhaps it is because my memory lingers on a time when it was filled with song and laughter. No matter how intrusive it felt at the time, I look back on that rather unexpected party with great fondness and more often than not, I find myself yearning for that company once again. I have even caught myself singing the words of particular song when doing the dishes.
Though I was reluctant at the time, I already knew I was searching for something. While Bag End was my home and held everything I could ever want, there was a small thing missing. I didn't know what it was at the time, but now, it could not be any more obvious. It's funny, how hindsight brings such clarity, how, once it is too late to change or have something, it is the one thing you desire most.
My mother was endlessly going on adventures before I was born, she told me great stories of her travels when I was young. As a fauntling I would wander further into the woods than any other hoping to catch a glimpse of the elves she spoke of. Oh, I dreamed of the world and all it had to offer! As you know, those dreams remained just that: a distant hope. One I buried deep after my mother passed, so deep I had all but forgotten it.
I was rather rude to Gandalf when he first approached me, the memory makes me cringe with embarrassment, though I was so set in my ways that it seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. As a Baggins of Bag End, what business would I have running off into the sunset? It just wouldn't do at all, not for a respectable hobbit such as myself. I confess I still do not know when I changed my mind.
When you sang of home, I felt the stirrings restlessness, for a long while I looked out of my window and up at the cloudless sky. I recalled the warm summer evenings spent with my parents atop the the hill. My father would point out the various patterns in the stars and tell the stories behind them, then my mother would spin great tales of heroes and wanderers of ages gone and say the names given to the same patterns by others.
When I awoke the next morning and found everything (save the pantry) as it was before you all arrived, I felt listless, as if it had been some strange dream and I was still half asleep, clinging to the remnants of foggy illusions. I spied the contract, left in plain sight, and the stirrings from the night before bubbled away, the small adventure of having one's home invaded by dwarves rekindled my long forgotten dreams.
You know well that I was of two minds for most of the journey. An endless road stretched out before me, further than it ever had before, yet I often looked behind at the path already trod, the winding way that would lead me home. The temptation to follow it was great, and there was a time I almost did.
I am glad that opportunity was taken away from me, or I never would have realised. You once told me that Gandalf had said the quest would have failed without me, looking back, he was right. It sounds terribly immodest to write it so plainly, but it is true nonetheless.
In the end the quest was fulfilled, your mountain was won. It still is.
Another thing was achieved, you know. I realised my dream. I found my adventure. One I hoped would last for the rest of my life, but it was stolen from me. Unjustly, unfairly, taken just as I began to recognise it.
Oh, I do still get that wanderlust, the urge to pack a bag and follow the wind, but my heart is grounded and longs for the greatest adventure I never had. We both got what we wanted in the end, the price we paid was far too high, yet I would give everything to have you here, to share this life with me, to forge new paths together and name star patterns of our own.
Perhaps we will meet again. One night I hope to fall asleep and traverse the world in my dreams and you will be there, waiting for me just over the crest of the next hill, we can start a new journey with no real destination. If I do, I pray I never wake.
Forever yours,
Bilbo Baggins