Chapter Text
He came into the world as one does, as a child. A wee little thing, born to loving parents who didn’t deserve the fate that had been carved into stone for them.
His adventurous and curious side came from his mother - of course.
And his father's blood gave him the longing to curl up with a good book.
Took and Baggins.
In perfect harmony inside their little Bilbo.
Through the years Bilbo’s curiosity grew, wandering off in the morning and returning in time for supper.
Often returning with tales from passersby. As such it was only natural for him to turn those tales into books.
His heart would flutter every time he happened to glance at the cosy nook that held all his stories.
Some poetry, others folk songs, but most were of the adventures that he loved to read of, but never dare go on himself.
At the young age of 36 he had watched as his father slowly succumbed to an illness.
A month later his father returned to the ground. He had placed flowers on the freshly overturned soil and cried into his mothers shoulder.
He stood there eight years later, placing flowers onto both father and mother.
He had cried for weeks after both their deaths, many in the Shire had tried to comfort the young Bilbo. But he had turned each of them away at the door, until finally they left him alone.
After months of being in the dark, crying until no more tears would come. He decided to continue writing, if only to feel closer to his father.
By the time he turned 50, the wounds on his heart had healed leaving only scars from the loss of his parents. And at that point he was invited to do the one thing he had never dared to do himself. To go on an adventure.
He had mulled it over that night.
After falling asleep in the comfort of Bag End, he had dreamt of the tales he could write. The stories told generations later, of the heroic hobbit that stared death in the eye and said “Not today,”.
So, when he saw that contract still sitting on his table that morning, an empty spot where his name would be, he jumped on the opportunity.
It had gone nothing like he expected. First the trolls who almost ate them, then Gollum who chased him across middle earth, and of course Mirkwood, Smaug and the battle of the five armies, which ended with three members of the house of Durin dead.
He hadn't thought any of them would die during their time together. But as he watched the light fade from Thorin's eyes he knew that living in a world where Thorin no longer existed would be the hardest thing he would ever have to do.
He had mourned each and every one of them in turn. Every companion who had died in the battlefield, and those who died years later. Especially those who died too soon. But mostly he mourned for Thorin.