Chapter Text
Bilbo sighed deeply. He knew he needed to get up. To leave the chair he had fallen asleep in, but he really didn’t want to. He knew what day it was, what would happen when he led down this night, and he knew he should be ready. After all, Yavanna gave hobbits the time to get ready and say goodbye, but all he could think about was Thorin. About leaving him behind. About how he would cope when Bilbo was gone.
Bilbo was old now, older than any hobbit had any right to be. He was pushing 141 years old. And Thorin could still have another 30 to 40 years before him.
Bilbo knew his husband, after being married to him for almost 90 years he should, he thought to himself. He would take his inability to save Bilbo, to stop time from catching up to Bilbo on his own shoulders. He would weather the grief with guilt that was not his to carry.
Beings died, they all knew this, but Bilbo had seen how each and everyone of their friends and family had found it harder and harder to keep their thoughts to themselves over his ailing health, the confused state he was often in.
Fili was a fine king. Better than Thorin in many ways, and at least Bilbo had the comfort that he wouldn’t let the mountain go to ruin around him the way Thorin might have if he hadn’t already retired.
Thorin was the first Durin King to retire and pass on the crown whilst alive in centuries and still he always acted like he was responsible for things that were and had never been his fault.
Bilbo couldn’t help but chew his lip in worry. How was his silly dwarf going to carry on without him?
He shook his head, trying to get his maudlin thoughts to work properly. He knew he occasionally lost his wits (more than occasionally, if he was honest with himself), and that no matter what, Thorin was always there to help and guide him when he did. One of his nephews or nieces or one of their boys were always hanging around to help. Bilbo was sure they had figured out some kind of rota even if they would never admit it, so he wasn’t left alone for too long.
Today, his wits were sharp, and his brain was churning in the correct direction. He thanked Yavanna for that final blessing on this day. His last day with his family.
Bilbo was already exhausted from just thinking about what he wanted to do, but he must do it. He would see if any of Bombur’s children were free to help him. After all, it was the younger generation’s duty to help their elders at the end in both dwarven and hobbitish society.
He really was sighing an awful lot, he thought as he sighed again before he hobbled to his walking stick. Another of Thorin’s masterpieces. This one, the handle of the stick was a dragon (not Smaug) with its tail flowing down to rest on the floor. It was a masterpiece that his love had created for him after he had declared the plain one Bilbo had picked as disgustingly under-decorated for the retired Consort Under The Mountain. Who was Bilbo to argue with his silly husband when agreeing got him that soft smile that was Thorin’s best look? One reserved for the children, their nieces and nephews, and Bilbo himself. That smile that even now, at 141, lit up Bilbo from the inside. It was a pity he was much too old for those sorts of shenanigans now, but at least Thorin’s arms had lost none of their strength or the way they made Bilbo feel as they curled around him and kept him warm night after night.
It was horrendously selfish of him, but he figured if this was the end of all things for him, at least he would be wrapped up in arms that had been a source of strength and comfort for almost a century. He was home wherever he was, as long as he was in Thorin’s arms. Something he knew he would have to tell him again tonight, before his end.
Bilbo quickly wiped the tears off his face that he hadn’t realised he was spilling. Tonight was a long way off, after all. It was before First Breakfast at the moment and he had so much to do.
He walked out of his bedroom into his family rooms and headed straight to the fire. As expected, someone jumped out to stop him and do it for him instead. “Your turn today, Frodo my lad?” he asked softly as he pulled the younger hobbit towards him. Well, it could have been worse. He got to spend his last day with his beloved boy. His all but son.
“You alright today, Uncle Bilbo?” he asked as he watched Bilbo fret but with more energy than he’d had for months.
“Of course, of course, my boy. Can you do me a favour and ask Uncle Bombur to come help me, please? I need a word with him anyway,” Bilbo said thoughtfully, wondering sadly if Bombur could still fit into his tight quarters. “Oh, also ask Uncle Dori to pop over, love? I need his help, too.” Bilbo added as an afterthought.
“Anything I can help with?” Frodo asked, unsure if he should leave Bilbo.
That was until Bilbo gave him that look. The one that was worse than Uncle Thorin’s disappointed face. “Yes, you can get your Uncles like I asked. And pass the word around that I want the Company Hall decked out for a family feast tonight,” he ordered the lad.
“A feast? Any special occasion?” Frodo asked. Something was niggling in the back of Frodo’s mind. Some Shire thing he had been much too young to understand when he had left. But something he could feel was important. “Uncle Bilbo?” He asked with his voice wobbling, unsure why.
“Oh love. It’s fine, it will all be fine. No matter, you always remember that as sad as your parents’ passing was, you are the greatest blessing I have ever been given. And that’s saying a lot, considering I married a King,” Bilbo said with a sad little smile.
He reached up to his much taller nephew and pulled his face down to kiss his cheeks. “All is well, all is as it should be, but I love you Frodo Baggins, my boy,” he said as he kissed the other male’s forehead before letting him go again. “Now, your Uncles. You may as well get the rest to help, you know they will. It is to be a grand party Frodo, because I want one,” he said sternly, wagging his finger at the younger hobbit, causing him to smile as he left Bilbo uttering assurances he would rope everyone into the party planning.
Bilbo had to take a deep breath as the door closed behind Frodo. Oh, he hadn’t even said goodby, or told the lad and already his heart was screaming for him, for Thorin, for his family. He just wiped his hands on his apron and carried on making all of his family’s favourite desserts.
It was no more than 20 minutes later when Bombur squeezed his considerable bulk into Bilbo’s kitchen. “Bilbo,” he called out happily to his friend.
“Bombur,” Bilbo called back. “Come, sit, sit down. I’m making tea,” he said as he hustled Bombur onto the larger chair he had placed in his rooms for his friends’ visits.
Bilbo bustled around his kitchen chatting aimlessly with Bombur about the children, the grandchildren and how Hezzu was enjoying watching all the grandchildren they had. Apparently, their fertility had passed to the children.
Bilbo decided that was the perfect opening as he settled next to his friend. “How long does Grorur have until the new babe comes?” He asked.
“From what Hezzu said, his wife is about 2 months away from giving birth to the latest babe,” Bombur said with a cheerful smile.
“And how many is that now? Between them all, I’ve lost count a little,” Bilbo said with a self-decrypting smile.
Bombur covered Bilbo’s hand with his and patted it gently. “You seem well today, my friend, and you’re still all the pebbles favourite, no matter what Thorin says, all 10 of them, 11 when the new babe comes,” he said kindly.
And that he was, kind, Bilbo thought. He looked at his friend, at his gigantic frame that gave the best cuddles, and at his large hands that held nothing but gentleness and kindness. Bombur was soft and kind and a wonderful friend and a better father and grandfather than any other Bilbo had ever known. So it hurt him to be so forthright with him.
“Bombur, I love you, I love everything about you, but, well, I won’t be around for too much longer,” he said slowly, stopping Bombur’s protests. “I'm a hobbit Bombur, an extremely old hobbit. The fact I have any good days left is a miracle of Yavanna. But you, you aren’t really old for a dwarf. But Bombur, you need to take better care of yourself,” he said quietly.
“What do you mean?” Bombur said, almost whispered in fact.
“I love you. You are like a brother to me, and I don’t like to see you do this to yourself. I understand. I understand your fears from before, from growing up. But Bombur, do you want to have to be on a briar? Unable to move like some of your Broadbeam relatives who visit with their envoys? Because, and I hate to say it, but that will happen. I have seen hobbits who died because their hearts couldn’t keep up with their girths. Eating yourself to death is the second third biggest cause of death in The Shire. I want better than that for you, my friend.” Bilbo said, as this time he covered Bombur’s hands with his own.
“You will never go back to the mines, Bom. There’s no need for it, no way for anyone to force you to. I can make it a royal decree if that is what you need,” Bilbo said with softness and sincerity in his voice.
Bombur almost choked on his tears, “I don’t …. Sometimes I can’t stop myself,” Bombur replied.
“Bombur, I’m a hobbit. If anyone understands the compulsion to eat in this mountain, then it’s me. My, the Fell Winter was over a 120 years ago now and I have enough preserved food in my pantry to feed the entire Company for 3 months. Thorin just indulged me and made it larger, the sap,” he said with a watery laugh, getting one out of Bombur too. “I wish I could indulge you that way too, but your life is precious, to me, to The Company, to Hezzu and the children. Your own and your nephews. You are important, Bom, and I’m not asking you to stop enjoying food. I’m asking you to try to be a bit more moderate, my friend. They can’t lose you.” Bilbo said, adding as well as me in his own head. He had to try to preserve his friend for as long as possible, for him and his right to live his life without old fears stripping it away from him.
“Just think about it, Bom, that’s all I ask. There is no pressure to do anything. You are loved for who you are, but that’s why we worry. Why I worry,” Bilbo added quickly as he slowly got up and allowed Bombur to pull him forward into a tight squeeze.
“You, as always, are the truest of friends Bilbo,” Bombur said as he finally let go of Bilbo.
“And you, like the rest, are a huge softy. Now Did Frodo lad tell you we were having a Company and family feast? Just a small one? I want mushrooms,” Bilbo declared, laughing as Bombur laughed at his haughty tone.
“Anything our Consort wants, now how about …” and then they were off discussing meals and drinks, what to serve, what to make for who. Bilbo said he would take care of the deserts, but everything else was up to Bombur. After all, he was an excellent chef and knew all of The Company’s tastes by now.
They were just wrapping up as there was a knock on the door. “Dori,” Bilbo said to himself. One of the few members of The Company who actually still knocked on his doors.
“Well, we are finished here. Want me to let him in?” Bombur asked as he lifted himself.
“Oh, yes please,” Bilbo said. “Saves me getting up for a moment.”
“I shall see you tonight Bilbo, take it easy my friend,” Bombur said as he bent over to press his head to Bilbo’s.
“You too,” Bilbo muttered, reigning in his tears. He was thankfully disturbed from his sadness when Dori bustled in, all smiles and pleasantries. “Oh, yes please Dori, thank you,” he replied to the unanswered question of more tea. Bilbo sat back in his chair with a lot of gratitude for not having to drag his old bones up yet again.
“So, not that it isn’t a lovely surprise, but what do you need Bilbo?” Dori asked in his no nonsense way as he settled in the chair he had declared his own many years ago. Bilbo couldn’t help but smile at the fact that his table had 20 chairs and each Company member had a favourite one they had claimed as their own.
“I need to look spectacular tonight, please?” He asked.
“Why, what’s the occasion?” Dori asked with an eyebrow raised.
“The occasion is I love you dwarves, and I love Thorin and I haven't dressed up outside of the very few formal events I have made an appearance at in a very long time. Thorin crafted me the most beautiful set of ear cuffs engraved with red roses, and I have been unable to wear them. I want to wear them tonight.” Bilbo declared.
“He did? When did he make those if we haven't seen them?” Dori asked, not at all surprised. Thorin spoiled his husband and everyone knew it.
“When was Fili’s daughter born? Just after that. He wanted something grander for the next occasion, but well, there hasn’t been one, so I’m making one.”
“Heali is nearly 8 Bilbo,” Dori said gently, watching as Bilbo prodded his memories for the last 8 years, many of which he had been stuck in the sort of fog that only comes with old age.
“Huh, well, I guess now is as good a time as any then,” he said decisively. After all, there wouldn’t be another time, so why not?
“So, why do you need my help?” Dori asked.
“Please, your eye is fantastic. Plus, as much as I’d love to go full dwarven, I can’t wear all those layers anymore. They are too heavy. I was hoping you could help me pick out an outfit that won’t be too much for me, but will blow Thorin’s clodhoppers off,” Bilbo answered with a smile. He wanted to wow his husband one last time. Even if they were long past the time where they indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, a well said compliment from his husband still filled him with the same warmth as it did when he was a 60-year-old hobbit willing to be dragged back to their chambers at the drop of a hat.
“So, a lightweight outfit, but delectable enough to send a retired dwarf king around the bend? Do I have permission to look at your accessories and such?” Dori asked.
“Look away, there’s a jewellery box in my side of the wardrobe that has all the amazing pieces Thorin has made for me over the years. Feel free to look and see. Do you need my aid?” Bilbo asked, hoping Dori said no.
Thank goodness he did. “No, my friend, you sit and I will look. Do you need anything before I start my task?” He asked.
“Oh, yes, could you send a runner to grab Ori when he is free, please? I forgot to ask Bombur,” Bilbo said.
“Ori? Of course, what do you need him for? Everything ok?” Dori asked.
“Of nothing much, I just have some papers to go through with him and a request is all.” Bilbo said, waving away Dori’s questions.
Dori decided not to ask more and said he would be back shortly before bustling out of the door to get someone to fetch Ori. When he came back, he gently clapped Bilbo on the shoulder before walking into his bedchamber to see what he could put together that could leave Thorin speechless.
Bilbo sat smiling into his teacup, lost in memories when he felt a new hand on his shoulder. He jumped, having not even noticed Ori enter his rooms.
“Oh, I’m so sorry Ori, I got lost in my thoughts for a moment.” He said sheepishly.
“No worries Bilbo, something we’ve all done. You wanted me?” he asked as he settled in his chair.
“Yes, I need to check my will, please?” Bilbo told him.
“Your will? Why, are you ill Bilbo?” Ori asked, concern straining his voice.
“I as well as can be, considering I’m the oldest living hobbit ever recorded. And I feel it, Ori. I get lost in my head. And it’s getting worse. A few nights ago I woke Thorin up because I thought he had died. I mixed my nightmares up with reality, but unlike before, when we would all sit around the fire together, it took a long time for my muddled brain to understand where I was, who I was with. I was so confused. I tried to stab him Ori. It’s a good job I’m a frail and old hobbit, because I tried to harm Thorin,” Bilbo said with an aborted sob. He wouldn’t cry over this. He had cried enough on Thorin that night when he should have been begging for forgiveness.
Thorin, as usual, had been Bilbo’s rock, coaxing him back to the here and now. Bilbo looked at Ori, ready to tell another shameful secret. “I forgot how old Fili’s youngest is. I don't know her name Ori. I should, I'm her great Uncle and I know I love her, but I don't know her. I can’t remember her. I looked at Kili last week and ignored him. He was too old to be MY Kili. Thorin thinks I don’t remember that I’m losing my mind, and though I don’t like to lie to him, I just don’t mention it. But I am, and I know it Ori. So I need to sort the will out now, before I’m too muddled to do it properly.” Bilbo said, resigned to his fate that had taken him years to understand. And at least he wouldn’t have to endure this brain fog for much longer, he supposed.
“Bilbo, I … what do I say?” Ori said as he bit his lip.
“You say alright Bilbo and fetch my will. I believe the last one I made was after the Dragon Rot, before we had Frodo, so it needs to be done. That was almost 50 years or so ago now, I think.” Bilbo said.
“It was, well, 47 years ago, so you were correct,” Ori said gently, placing his hand over Bilbo’s. Bilbo looked at it with a sad smile. Bombur, Dori and Ori had now all done the same thing, he was sure his other dwarfs would at some point.
“Can you fetch it for me, please? And you may as well grab Gloin, maybe Oin too, as we need to talk about my funeral arrangements, even if we don’t want to.” Bilbo said.
“Do you have to do it all today, Bilbo? This is a lot,” Ori said gently.
“Pft, this is nothing. I used to run this bloody mountain,” Bilbo said, outraged. “Even now, Fili uses MY orders and decrees, my diplomacy lessons, my farming and agricultural know-how to keep this place up and running. It only seems a lot because I’ve slipped the last few years, and as wonderful as he is, Thorin is nothing if not hot headed so many of the duties I did until I was unable to, have sort of either been neglected or regulated to those not suited to them. I understand Fili thinks he is doing something clever by just waiting for me to slip back into my role, but I won’t. I won’t ever be that quick-witted and clever hobbit again, Ori.” Bilbo said with a sad sigh.
He looked over at Ori and saw the tears on his face. Bilbo slowly stood and walked over to Ori, taking his face in his hands. “The smartest decision I ever made was refusing to allow you to go to Khazad-dum, you know that? I got to keep you here and watch you thrive. And I’d feel guilty, but well, you’re alive and my friend, so I don’t,” Bilbo said as he kissed Ori’s head and wiped his tears.
“I hated you for a little while. Do you know that?” Ori said guiltily.
“Oh, don’t I know it well? Balin refused to talk to me for 2 months,” Bilbo said with a laugh as he used the table to help him walk back to his seat. “But, you alive and mad at me was better than you dead in some crypt a long way from home. My heart would have never healed.” Bilbo said as he settled himself.
“I’m glad you made Thorin refuse us. I’m glad I stayed here,” Ori admitted quietly.
“Oh, so are we Ori. So are we,” Dori suddenly said from behind them. “Your outfit is laid out Bilbo, I will come back later and help you get dressed if you wish?” He asked.
“That will be wonderful, thank you. You can send the will back with Oin and Gloin if you wish Ori. But know I love you, I love you both,” Bilbo said as he grabbed the hands of two of the Ri brothers. “More than I ever realised I would care for you when we first set out from The Shire long ago,” he said with a wet sniffle.
“Nor us Bilbo, not after you almost caused us to burst from laughing about your handkerchiefs,” Dori said fondly.
“Well, have you seen my collection now?” Bilbo said, putting his nose in the air haughtily. “It rivals anyone else’s in The Shire,” he said with glee.
“As it should, I embroidered at least half of them,” Dori said, making the three of them laugh.
“Go on, off with you. I shall see you later Dori, thank you Ori,” he said as he finally shooed them out. He sat back in his chair and sighed from exhaustion. He was so very tired, but he refused to nap. He had plenty more dwarves to spend a bit of time on before the feast. And Thorin, well, he had until the time he was born tomorrow morning with him. He had enough time to wish his love goodbye.
Just the thought of saying bye to Thorin brought tears to his eyes. He shook his head, feeling his braid fly out, and once again had to choke back a sob. He couldn’t start crying now, otherwise he would never stop. He had to do this and say goodbye to each of his family members as best he could. He couldn’t tell them the truth. They wouldn’t enjoy their last day with him, or the feast. Bilbo’s life feast. And a life feast was a celebration, not a sad event, or it should be, but well, dwarves, he supposed. Bilbo looked at the small book he had brought out of his bedroom with him that morning. He had written a small book for Frodo. It was about what he could expect, being a hobbit and all. Bilbo hadn’t realised the lad didn’t know about this aspect of Yavanna’s grace until he had seen him trying to puzzle it out earlier. Bilbo also realised he had forgotten to tell him about a lot of other things. But he had now left a description of what happened and how you felt, that you knew 24 hours before the end and how hobbits were often given enough energy to say goodbye properly. The book also explained their funeral practices, the reasons behind it and other aspects of hobbit culture they had rarely partaken in, what with living with the dwarves. He had wanted to make sure his boy wouldn’t be unprepared because Bilbo had been too muddled up to tell him about being a hobbit. Even if he was called a dwobbit by most in the mountain.
If Frodo had more questions, then there were plenty of people in The Shire he could ask, Bilbo was sure of that. They would accept Frodo back with open arms. That at least was a blessing for Bilbo and his boy. He had been considered unlucky that Bilbo had appeared and whisked him away, but not odd and unwelcome, like Bilbo still was.
Bilbo sat there enjoying the expensive berry brew he had when he heard Gloin and Oin arguing over something in the hallway. You would think after all these years, both brothers would mellow out a little, but apparently not.
“Come in,” he called before they knocked his door down.
“Gloin, you can’t just open his door,” Oin shouted. Bilbo just snorted. Oin had never cared before. He was just riling his brother up. Gloin appeared to know this, too.
“Oh, shut up, you old coot. You never knock. Now get in there and sit on his right. This is too important for you to pretend you can’t hear him,” Gloin grumped at his brother, who was busy arguing back with him.
“Hello Gentle dwarves,” Bilbo said as he smiled at his friends.
“Bilbo, you're looking chipper,” Gloin said with a smile, obviously glad to see Bilbo looking so aware.
“You alright laddie, who am I?” Oin asked, cheeking Bilbo was aware enough for this conversation.
Bilbo couldn’t help smiling as he placed a frail hand on his heart. “Why, Frodo, you got old, and grew a beard. What happened, pumpkin?” he asked, a clever twinkle in his eyes.
“Cheeky bloody hobbit,” Oin said with a laugh as he flicked Bilbo’s ear, causing him to yelp.
Both of them ignored Gloin’s guffaws as they laughed together. Bilbo was happy to be able to laugh with his loved ones again. It had been much too long since he had been able to understand what they were saying properly.
“So, Ori said we had a will, funeral arrangements and accounting to sort through?” Gloin asked somberly when the three had calmed down.
“Indeed, would you both act as my witnesses, Oin signing to show I have all my marbles today?” Bilbo asked them both.
“It would be an honour to aid you Bilbo,” Gloin said as he grabbed one of Bilbo’s hands, Oin grabbing the other. Bilbo couldn’t help the sad whine he let out as he gripped them back. He didn’t want to leave his loved ones, he wanted to be with them always but knew he couldn’t, and the more he did today, even as his heart broke, the less someone else had to do after they lost him.
“Right, accounting, then funeral, and then the will?” Bilbo asked the brothers before him.
“Makes sense,” Gloin said as he pulled his paper out of his folder. “So, what are we looking at, Bilbo? What do you want to know?”
“How much wealth do I have?" He asked. “I don’t need an exact figure, but I need to know if there is enough for Frodo for his whole life, especially if he moves back to Bag End at some point,” he said as he explained what he wanted to check.
“Bilbo, I know, even after 90 odd years you don’t quite get the level of wealth we have here, but Frodo and his children and their children will be sitting pretty. A small percent of the business profits that you make is enough to keep the boy rolling in gold, my friend,” Gloin explained again.
“If my boy, if any of my boys start rolling in gold, they are getting a frying pan to the head,” Bilbo declared loftily, sniggering along with the brothers after he did so.
“Aye, but we nipped that in the bud long ago. No cursed gold in this mountain and now we have laws, thanks to you, that stop a gold mad king from destroying a kingdom,” Oin said as he softly patted Bilbo’s hand.
“I know Oin, Gloin. I just worry. I won’t be here much longer, my friends. You especially must know that, Oin,” he said as he looked at his healer friend sadly.
“Aye, I’ve seen it coming Bilbo, I’m sorry I can’t spare you from it,” Oin agreed sadly.
“I’m not afraid of dying, Oin. I’m well past the age any hobbit should live. No, I’m scared of leaving you all behind, of leaving Fili and Kili and Frodo and the others. And Thorin, you will all help him, yes?” he beseeched them, his blue eyes wide with tears.
“As if you need to ask,” Gloin said in his gruff way.
“But I do need to ask. He will blame himself when I go. And now the kingdom is running smoothly under Fili and Kili, with Dis advising them, well, keep Frodo close to him, alright? Least he follows swiftly in my footsteps. Frodo will need him here,” He said as he squeezed Oin’s hand that he was still holding tightly.
“Now enough being maudlin, time is getting on and we have official things to sort out,” Bilbo said as he finally relinquished his friend's hand to do the official documents he wouldn’t leave for Thorin to have to deal with on top of his grief.
“Can you ask for Dwalin and Balin for me, please? We are running out of time before the feast and Dori will be coming back soon,” he asked of the brothers as they went to leave after having made everything official. Both agreed before gently squeezing Bilbo’s shoulders on the way out. Their pain of knowing they would lose their friend soon was clear in their every step.
Bilbo blinked back his tears and clamped down on his wails as he finally stood after watching the In brothers leave his rooms. He needed to stretch his old bones anyway; he thought as he walked to the kitchen and grabbed the plate of Dwalin’s favourite cookies, his heart hardening at how unfair he would have to be to Thorin’s oldest friend.
He watched as the very different In brothers allowed themselves into his room. Both looked at his face and bowed. “Consort,” they said in unison.
Bilbo couldn’t help but scoff. “I haven't been your consort for a few decades, gentle dwarfs,” he said with a soft smile.
“And yet, Erebor rejoices that you are The Consort Under the Mountain all the same, even if Fili’s wife is a sweetheart.” Balin said.
“She is, which is why I wished to talk to you. Give Feniza this,” he said as he handed a small book over to Balin. “I’ve been writing it for when she would be the ONLY Consort Under the Mountain and that time is coming closer, my friends. She is a sweet, dear heart and she can’t afford to be. She needs to toughen up. I apologise that I haven’t been able to help teach her the way I should have.” Bilbo said, feeling guilty.
“Give over hobbit, not your fault,” Dwalin said gruffly.
“No, I’m sure it had something to do with the Ring and not me personally,” Bilbo agreed quickly. “Thank goodness Gandalf destroyed it before Frodo ever had to,” he said with a huff as he crossed his arms at the memory. Most of the last 20 years might be fuzzy, but his argument with Gandalf that shook the entire mountain wasn’t. Gandalf the Fool had wanted him to wait so Frodo could destroy the most Evil Of Evils, as if Bilbo or Thorin would have allowed that. Instead, Bilbo had convinced an eagle to fly Gandalf and the One Ring to Mordor, promising he would never forgive him and have Gandalf stressed from every part of the world he could if he even tried to pin this responsibility on his boy.
Left without much choice, Gandalf had done it, and only the trust of one small hobbit who had changed the world without even realising it allowed him to cast it back into the fire depths from whence it came. The world had rejoiced. Bilbo had just gone to bed and slept in relief, glad the vile thing couldn’t make their lives any harder than it already had.
“I suppose, if we think of Gollum, it is the only reason I have lasted this long,” Bilbo said thoughtfully.
“Nay, you're just a stubborn, crotchety old hobbit is all,” Dwalin said with a small smile.
Bilbo clicked his fingers, “that’s it, how could I forget that?” he asked with a laugh.
Balin watched as Bilbo and Dwalin bantered back and forth. A soft smile on his face. He was happy to see his friend having such a good day. He had spoken to all that Bilbo had this day and his ability to stay with them seemed to have already lasted for hours, a rare treat indeed for them and their frail hobbit.
“What ever it is, tell us friend,” Balin suddenly said as Bilbo trailed off. Not in the way he had so often lately and that they despaired off, but in the way he used to when his mind was hale and whole and he was chewing a difficult situation over.
Balin watched as Bilbo chewed his lip in thought. He expected it to take longer before Bilbo got to the point but he suddenly blurted out, “don’t let him follow me, no matter what, he will try to, but he can’t. He is still needed here. Frodo can’t lose him too.”
“Bilbo ...” Dwalin croaked out, unsure of how to comfort their friend. Balin was just struck silent. Bilbo was right, as usual, but to hear it so bluntly had almost ripped his heart in two.
“I know, I know Dwalin. I wouldn’t leave if I had a choice, but we all knew it was coming soon. There is nothing we can do about it. Nothing I can do about it. But you are Thorin’s very best friend and Frodo’s favourite Uncle. I beg you to keep him here as long as you can. You will know when it’s time to let the ropes you hold him in loose, but until then, hold him tight. He will need you more than anyone," Bilbo begged him.
“Aye, I’ll hold him, I’ll help him. I’ll be there for him. Bilbo. I won’t let him go until there’s no other choice,” Dwalin said gruffly.
“Thank you, my friend,” Bilbo said as he grasped Dwalin’s hands tightly. “I.....” trailed off trying to compose himself." I was ever so lucky that day all those years ago when you barged into my smial. When because of you all, I found adventure, a purpose, a home and a family. Thank you for loving me as much I love you all," Bilbo finished, his voice trailing off to a whisper at the end.
“Thank you for being our Hobbit, Bilbo,” Balin said as he grasped Bilbo’s other hand and held on tightly.
The three sat there holding on to one another tightly. Years of fun memories beaming between the three. “I am sorry it has come to this. I’m sorry it’s me that has to hurt him this time,” Bilbo said sadly as he held on tightly.
“The ravages of time are not and will never be your fault, Bilbo. That I am here, that Oin is here, that Ori is here is all due to you. That Thorin, Fili and Kili are even here is only because of you. Nobody begrudges the fact that it is almost your time to leave us. We begrudge the fact that we lose you, but that’s not your fault. It will never be your fault, my friend,” Balin said. as he softly pulled Bilbo towards him and rested their foreheads together. Bilbo somehow reeled in Dalin and all three sat there pressed together, just breathing in one another’s air. They were a part of Bilbo’s family of choice, a part of those he loved more than life itself, part of those that his heart hurt to leave behind. But he would have to leave them behind and there was no point being too maudlin about it when he had the last few to see and a feast to attend.
Dwalin was the first to move back as he stood, grabbed the cookies that were left, and went to leave. Before doing so, he rushed back and gently pulled Bilbo into the highest hug he could. “Thank you for it all Bilbo,” he said so softly that even Balin didn’t hear him before he cleared his throat and left, leaving the door open for Balin.
“He’s gruff and a bit abrasive, but he has a big heart,” Balin said as he watched his brother leave. He had seen the sheen of tears in his brother’s eyes before he left.
“I don't know why you are trying to convince me. I know. I’ve lived with you all for nigh on 91 years now, Balin. If I didn’t understand you all, a poor friend and brother I would be, don’t you think?” he asked with a soft smile directed at where Dwalin had scurried off to.
“You are too good for us all, Bilbo,” Balin said quietly.
“Well then, you are all too good for me too. Come, smile my friend, we have a feast tonight,” Bilbo said in a faux chipper voice.
“Indeed, and I have duties before I join you. Is there anything I can do before I leave?” He enquired.
“Not before, no. But can you get me Bifur please?” he asked, thinking of the time and what he still had to get done.
“Bifur?” Balin checked.
“Yes, Bif please,” Bilbo said as he nodded his head in certainty. Bifur had as many bad days as Bilbo since he had lost the axe in his head in a skirmish, but if Bilbo wanted him, even addled Bifur would run to his friend’s side.
Balin left shortly after, having promised to fetch Bifur for Bilbo. Before he turned the corner, he took one last look at the old Hobbit sitting at the table. They had all known that Bilbo was getting much too old to carry on; they had all known that this was going to come to pass and soon but to see it, to see him so frail as he sat there contemplating, was enough to make tears fill Balin’s eyes and his heart to ache for all they were going to lose. all Thorin was going to lose, when Bilbo was called back to Yavanna’s gardens.
Bifur didn’t stay long with Bilbo. They’d had a scattered conversation with what little ancient Kuzdhul Bilbo had picked up and what Iglishmek he could remember. It wasn’t really enough for either of them, but unlike everybody else in the mountain, both Bilbo and Bifur understood how hard it was to communicate when your brain didn’t work in the right direction. When you were fighting to get the thoughts and feelings out, when you knew what you wanted to say, but your body just wouldn’t say it. As such, when Bifur left, clutching the piece of paper in his hand as tightly as he could, Bilbo sent a sad smile after him. “Thank you, my friend,” was heard following Bifur up the corridor as Bilbo watched his friend walk away.
Bilbos suddenly realised that he hadn’t asked Bifur to fetch the next two dwarves that he needed to see. The two that would know instantly that something was wrong and would badger him until he told them.
He slowly rose himself to his aching legs and walked through the door, looking around for the runner that he knew would be in the hallway. Thorin would never leave him without a means of getting in touch with somebody from The Company. Just as Bilbo started to worry, there suddenly came the sound of little boot steps racing down the hallway. “There you are, lad.,” he called to the rushing young one.
The young dwarf all but skidded to a halt in front of Bilbo, out of breath as he tried to compose himself in front of the old Consort. “I'm sorry I’m late Sir. My amad...” the boy started to say before he was hushed by Bilbo.
“Don’t you worry, lad. Amads are tricky things, especially dwarven ones, don’t you worry about it. But I was wondering if you could do me a favour?” Bilbo asked the out of breath youngling.
“Of course, Sir. Anything for you, Sir,” the youngster said, excited to be able to help Bilbo with whatever he needed.
“Come now, child, it’s nothing that important. I just need somebody to find Bofur and Nori, if you don’t mind?” Bilbo asked the lad politely.
“Of course not, Sir. It will be my pleasure,” the lad assured him, before suddenly rushing off without a by your leave to find the dwarves Bilbo had asked for.
Bilbo just marvelled at the speed of the youth. He could hardly get himself up into a standing position, let alone tear around the mountain like he used to do, like he would never be able to do again these days.
There were some perks to being old and addled though he supposed. Nobody expected anything of him, at least. Not like they had for most of his life before this.
He sat there with three tankards of ale set before him. He heard the pair long before they were near his door. Laughing and joking. Pushing and shoving. Their laughter filled his heart, filled his soul with a little bit of happiness to chase away the despair he was feeling.
“Bo, Nori, you came,” Bilbo croaked out, fighting against the tears that had been trying to fall all day.
“Course we did, Bil. You asked,” Bofur said happily as he slapped Bilbo on the back gently.
Nori just chuckled as he sat down and grabbed his ale. "You doing alright mate?" he asked gently as he watched Bilbo’s shaking hands.
Bilbo sighed. He didn’t have the heart to lie to them again. Not these two. Now, he would already have to admit everything to Thorin after the feast anyway. But he also couldn’t tell them. He didn’t want to tell them. He didn’t want this to be their last conversation. Their last goodbye.
“Not really, Nori,” he finally admitted with a slow blink. “But I haven’t been alright for a very long time now, my friend. I’m alright today. I really am. Today is a good day. I’ve seen most of you. I’ve talked to most of you. I can even remember what the conversations were about too, you two. Today’s a good day. Can we leave it at that?” he all but begged his two best friends.
“Course we can, Bilbo,” Bofur said softly as he wrapped an arm around Bilbo's shoulders. Nori doing the same from the other side.
“We can make sure today stays the best day, alright Bilbo? The best day for the best Bunny under the mountain,” Nori said, choking on his own words.
Predictably, “‘m not a Bunny,” came out from Bilbo’s mouth. A well-worn joke that had the three of them cackling quietly together.
Bofur picked up his tankard, encouraging Nori and Bilbo to do the same. “To our burglar. To the best friend of Dwarf could ever have,” Bofur said sadly as he gently squeezed Bilbo’s shoulders again
“To the best Consort a Dwarven Mountain has ever been blessed with. The best brother at Dwarf has ever been blessed with,” Nori finished the toast, also squeezing Bilbo tightly, but oh so gently.
“I said it a few times today. But I’m the lucky one. I gained more than any Hobbit could ever dream of. More than any Hobbit deserves. I love you,"Bilbo said quietly before burying his head in his tankard.
“Aye, we love you too, Bil. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing!” Bofur said adamantly.
Bilbo wasn’t sure how long the three of them sat there for. He wasn’t sure how long they soaked up one another’s company. He knew it was a long time because his joints felt like seizing up on him. His legs were cramping and aching and yet he didn’t want to move, nestled between his two very best friends in all of Arda.
He wasn’t sure how long he would have stayed there, how long he would have kept himself nestled between the two, but they were disturbed when the door bounced open and through it fell a whole heap of mischievous dwarflings. He said dwarflings, but they were all adults by now, and yet they were still his dwarflings, each and every one of them. Well, not everyone was a dwarfling, he supposed as he looked down at Frodo’s big feet sticking up between who were obviously Fili and Gimli.
“And what exactly are you all doing on my floor?” Bilbo asked the group to the youngsters piled up in his doorway.
“Well, you see...” Kili started, but suddenly got an elbow to the chest, causing him to cough and stop talking.
It was Bomfrida who pulled herself up off the ground first. “Hi, Uncle Bilbo.” she said innocently.
Bilbo wasn’t falling for it. She may be a grown Dwarrowdam now, but as the last of their collective children, barring Frodo, and one of only two little girls out of the 8 royal children, Bomfrida had learned the art of manipulating her male relatives at her Aunty Dis’ knee. And just like Hezzur, she was bloody good at it.
No, he was supposed to be stern; he thought as his eye twitched at her bright smile. He wasn’t supposed to indulge her. He really didn’t care today, however. Today was a day for indulging those he loved. For spoiling the young ones. Spoiling all the children he loved and adored. Today was the day to make sure they understood how much he loved them. How much he cared, how much they were his, as much as they were their actual parents.
“Well, hello, Little Miss Bomfreda,” Bilbo said, smiling back at her, using his childhood nickname for her. Bomfreda smiled back widely that Bilbo thought she was going to split her face in two.
Not wasting a moment, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Bilbo. “I love you, Uncle Bilbo,” she said as she nestled her head in the crook of his neck, like she had when he would hold her as a youngster, or when he would rock her, or when she wouldn’t settle for Hezzu and Bombur. It wasn’t that Bilbo had a favourite. He didn’t. He loved all of his nieces and nephews the same. Well, Fili Kili and Frodo especially were like his sons as opposed to his nephews, but nobody had ever begrudged him that distinction. And it wasn’t as if Bilbo didn’t have enough love to go around to all the children that he adored.
However, out of the other six dwarflings that he had come to know (if he included Ori, which Bilbo usually did), that he had come to love, that he had watched grow up, Bomfreda was the only one he’d known from her birth. Gimli, Hezzur and Grorur had been almost grown, even if they were children when he first met them. That hadn’t stopped his instant love for them, of course. He adored each and every one of them. Boldfur had been the equivalent of a 12/13-year-old faunt. But Little Miss Bomfreda, Bilbo had been honoured to be named her stone father (and wasn’t that a strange conversation concerning hobbit faunts just went to whatever relative could take them), he had sat with her Hezzu on the endless nights when Bomfreda wouldn’t sleep. He had been given the privilege of being her favourite uncle for as long as she could remember, and Bilbo adored her for it.
“I love you too, darling,” Bilbo said as he wrapped his arms around her, holding as tightly as his frail muscles would let him. He then let go of and helped untangle the others that were still led on the floor. "I love all of you, you little group of menaces," said with a laugh as each one popped up and hugged him, saying they loved him too.
He continued to laugh softly as he ushered them all down into the comfortable chairs around his and Thorin’s living space. “Not that it isn’t a pleasure to see you all, but why are you here?” he asked the group at large.
It was his dear sweet Frodo who answered. Frodo, who hadn’t left Bilbo’s side since he stood up and was trailing after him as Bilbo settled all the others down. “You were being weird earlier and then all of The Company has been in to see you. Are you alright, Uncle Bilbo?” The others echoing his worries.
“Oh, love. Don’t worry about me. I am alright. At least I am today,” he said as he gave both Bofur and Nori a startled look, not sure how much to say. Nori just grimaced, but Bofur gave him an encouraging nod towards the young ones.
“However, in general, no I’m not alright, Frodo,” Bilbo said as he pulled the younger Hobbit towards the throng of others in his rooms. “I’m never going to be alright again, my loves,” He said as he looked around at the fresh faces around him, the next generation of young ones in the mountain that he wouldn’t get to watch grow more. Some, like Fili, had children of their own already. An 8-year-old from what Bombur had said earlier. An 8-year-old that Bilbo had no recollection of other than the fact that he knew he loved her with all of his heart. Some like his sweet, sweet Bomfreda and Frodo, we’re barely more than adults. Bilbo had thankfully made it to both of the comings of age. He had survived that long. He got to see them become the adults that he was proud of. His heart just hurt that this was the end of the road for him.
“You’ve never met any Hobbits but me and Frodo before. Hobbits aren’t like dwarves’ children. We are softer, easy to break both in body and mind. We are of the earth, not the stone, and it is back to the earth that we go. Elderly dwarfs, they go to bed and they seize up and then they go to Mahal. I am not a dwarf." Bilbo said softly to all the pairs of panic-stricken eyes looking at him.
“I am a Hobbit, my little saplings. I am an old Hobbit. I know that seems silly when some of you are, what, 150ish now?” He asked, looking at Fili and Kili, who just nodded back at him. “You don’t have to be geniuses to notice that I have more bad days than good ones now. But I have had more bad than good days in the last 20 years and I can count. Hobbits rarely live past 100, children. I am 141. I’m not just past my prime, but I went and blew past it a long time ago.” Bilbo said with a sad chuckle. “We all have to accept the fact that I won’t be here much longer. But today? Today is a blessing for us all. I am here and I am lucid. And I love each and everyone of you with all of my heart. Me and Thorin could obviously never have our own children. But we never needed to because we had all of you. You have filled my heart with so much joy and happiness that I’m surprised I could contain it. You have made our lives, my life richer, better. And I am even more grateful that I walked out of my smial all those years ago. I am Valar blessed to be your uncle. I am Valar blessed to have helped raise you all. And I am Valar blessed that you love me, too. So remember that. When I’m gone, I will be gone soon. Remember that you were part of the reason my life was so blessed. That you filled a longing I never knew I had until I got here. Until I saw you. Until I held you. Each and everyone of you is a miracle. Miracles that were heaped upon me the moment that I married Thorin. I didn’t just get a husband. I got a whole family. Sons. Nephews. Nieces. Brothers and best friends. I am the richest, luckiest Hobbit that has ever lived in Arda and you are all no small part of that,” Bilbo finished. This time he wasn’t able to stop the tears that were flowing down his cheeks. But these weren’t tears of sadness. Not really. These were tears he couldn’t control because of the joy he felt being surrounded by the youngsters of his family. Being surrounded by the love that they poured into him, that he had been so desperate for and had found in a decimated mountain halfway around the world.
The youngsters just sat there for a moment. All stunned into silence. Fili and Kili especially had their own tears pouring down their faces. It had been a long time since they had last heard Bilbo so eloquent. Their wordsmith of a Hobbit had found his words again. And he had aimed them at them and their cousins. It only took a moment for Kili to look at his brother and for the pair to be out of their seats and wrapped around Bilbo. Carefully, but with strength, they wrapped their arms around him and held him tight. Their tears falling on his tunic. In less than no time at all, Bilbo had all the young ones wrapped around him, all of them clasping him tightly and telling him how much they loved him. How much they were sorry he would leave them soon.
Frodo had wiggled his way to the front, using his smaller size to get up close to his uncle Bilbo. “I don’t want you to leave me,” he said in a small voice, sounding more like the faunt he had been when Bilbo first found him rattling around in the great smials as a child then the full grown Hobbit he was.
“Nobody ever wants to go Frodo, or at least not those who have a family like mine, like ours. But when the Valar calls you, the Valar calls you love. And I’m sorry to say I’m close to being called by the Valar.” Bilbo sighed into Frodo’s hair sadly.
“But ....” Frodo trailed off.
“Hey, it’s alright Fro. I mean, it’s not all right. But you won’t be alone. We are here cousin and when ... When Uncle Bilbo has to go, Uncle Thorin will be here and we will be here, we will all be here,” Kili said as he wrapped an arm around Frodo and pulled him as close as he had Bilbo.
Bilbo wasn’t sure how long they all stood there. How long? The young ones sniffled and cried and held him as tightly as they could without hurting him. It wasn’t until Bofur shouted up that he even realised time had really passed. “Bil, your legs are shaking. You need to sit down, friend.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so,” Hezzur instantly scolded Bilbo as though he was a naughty faunt.
They all heard Nori’s scoff at her exclamation. “As if. He would stand there till you all fell down if he had to. He’s never willingly let go of a hug until the other person has first,” Nori said softly.
They all watched as Frodo helped to settle Bilbo into his favourite armchair. A look of understanding covering their faces as they realised the truth of Nori’s statement.
Bilbo was finally settled in his armchair with a blanket over his legs. He must have dozed off because he suddenly jerked awake as he was receiving kiss after kiss on his cheeks. He watched as each of his youngsters left, hugging him and saying I love you as they walked through his door. Their sad eyes watching him till they had to turn to safely walk away. All had gone apart from Frodo, Bofur, and Nori.
“I didn’t want to sleep, but I don’t think I can stay awake at the moment,” Bilbo said sadly with a yawn.
“You sleep Bil, we will be here when you wake up,” Bofur assured him.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Bilbo reassured them, really hoping that they actually would and that they would ignore his insistence.
“We know, but we’re going to, anyway. You never know what’s best for you anyway,” Nori said, without wasting a moment.
“Luckiest Hobbit in all of Arda,” Bilbo said, half asleep. “Oh, Frodo. Please make sure Dori comes to wake me up in time to get ready for the feast. I’ll just have a little rest before them. Need to be bright eyed and bushy tailed to knock the socks off your uncle, right?” he said with a soft chuckle, before descending into sleep.
Froda looked at his uncle Bilbo. Even old and not quite all there, Bilbo had never looked as small as he did right now. Frodo was terrified that if he walked out of the door, Bilbo wouldn’t be alive when he got back.
“Go on, lad. He’ll be here. We will make sure he is,” Bofur reassured him.
“You can’t promise that,” Frodo choked out.
“Any other day, I’d agree,” Nori took over reassuring the other Hobbit. “It's a good day today, Frodo. We’ve all deserved a good day with Bilbo for a very long time. And your cantankerous, stubborn, mardy uncle will not go when he’s having the best day he’s had for a long, long time. Go on, lad, Remind Dori. And then you can come right back.”
“Very well, Uncle Nori,” Frodo said softly, before running as fast as he could out of the door and to Dori’s workroom. He ran like he used to when he was playing with Fili and Kili and Gimli. Like he used to when he and Boldfur had run around the mountain, skipping lessons and leading everyone on a merry chase. Like he had when he had pilfered something from Bombur’s kitchen. He ran faster than he had in years, before running right back to his uncle Bilbo, breathing heavily when he saw him there, still asleep in his chair.
Frodo huffed and puffed to get his breathing back under control before slowly walking towards Bilbo and settling on his knees before him, resting his head on one of the elder’s knees as he had done many, many times as a younger Hobbit. He was listening to the rattle going through Bilbo’s. If he was breathing, he was still here and Frodo would stay right where he could hear him. He didn’t want to leave his uncle's side again today.
Bofur and Nori watched the two hobbits before looking at one another. They had a silent conversation and came to the same conclusion. Bilbo knew he didn’t have long left. This was him saying goodbye to all those he could. Whilst he could, whilst he remembered their names, their faces, whilst he knew who and where he was.
Nori bent his head and rested it on the table in front of him while Bofur lent forward and rested his head on Nori’s shoulder. Both cried silently, grieving their Hobbit. Understanding that this could be the last time they ever saw him coherent. That this may be his last good day in Bilbo’s life. They mourned their best friend of 90 years, even as they saw his living body before them.