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It seemed almost cowardly, disappearing into the night like that, almost like a thief.
But Bilbo didn't have the courage to do otherwise.
Bilbo could apparently fight a giant orc in a real battle, but he couldn't say goodbye to those with whom he had traveled for months, learning to appreciate them and their culture, which seemed so strange to Bilbo's hobbit eyes.
But like all good things, that too had to end, and Bilbo wasn't going to drag things out with an awkward, belated farewell.
He had been assured by the elves that Durin's line would not die out, and since Bilbo was leaving, his share of the treasure could be used for sensible things.
Like making alliances and mending old wounds.
A hobbit wouldn't know what to do with gold.
A hobbit was sensible enough not to care about gold, and especially not to value it more than friendship. Bilbo may have destroyed everything it meant to be a hobbit, but he was hobbit enough to respect at least that much about his kin.
Surrounded by dwarves, elves, and men for so long, moreover, Bilbo missed his kin, what it meant to be a hobbit. To speak and see recognition in the eyes of those he spoke to, rather than the astonished stares of those who didn't understand his perfectly sensible reasoning.
"Are you ready, Bilbo?" Gandalf spoke from his horse, casting a compassionate look at the hobbit.
"I am." Bilbo nodded, his expression growing determined. "I am ready to go home."
***
Waking from the Halls of Mahal was not an easy moment for any dwarf, especially one who had hoped to finally rest, his purpose finally achieved.
But Thorin Oakenshield had much to do, and the parting words spoken were not enough to silence the echoes ringing in the dwarf's mind.
But after the good news was spoken, after Thorin was reassured of the fate of his kingdom and his kin, of the survival of his family, Thorin challenged Balin to utter what he had been keeping silent.
"And where is Master Baggins now, Balin?" Thorin asked, the memory of the hobbit's grip on his hand all that had anchored him to this life.
"He, well, Thorin, he has returned home," Balin confessed, his gaze wary as if fearing punishment.
"Home." Thorin repeated, the word that seemed unfamiliar coming from his lips.
Whether from inexperience or surprise, Thorin could not have said even after more profound reflection.
"Yes, the Shire." Balin nodded, perhaps reassured by Thorin's mild reaction. "He offered his share of the treasure to mend relations with Dale and Greenwood, and then returned home, accompanied by Tarkun."
"Did he see Kili and Fili awaken?" Thorin asked again, unable to comprehend Bilbo's departure.
The contract didn't stipulate his remaining in the kingdom, but simply because a stranger had no place in Erebor.
But Bilbo hadn't been a stranger since the Carrock.
Why had he left so quickly?
"Ah... no." Balin confessed, his lips tightening. "Thorin, if he hadn't left now, he would have been stuck on the mountain for the whole winter."
"With us." Thorin nodded, agreeing with Balin's point but failing to see the flaw in the possibility.
"Away from his home," Balin reminded Thorin sternly. “Lad, Bilbo is no dwarf. He left the safety and comfort of his home to help us reclaim ours. Surely you cannot deny him the right to a safe return home.”
Thorin could not begrudge anyone his home, and he would not keep anyone from it against their will.
Yet, a part of him had longed to show Bilbo Erebor in its former glory, to see his intelligent eyes light up with the same light they had in that elven home.
“I see.” Thorin nodded. “Has he written letters?”
“Not yet,” Balin replied. “But perhaps he is waiting for us to make the first move.”
As he had every right, Thorin thought. Bilbo had already proved so much, without taking anything in return, if Balin’s story was correct.
And it was for that reason that, a few months later, Thorin stood before that same green door, where the mark Tarkun had placed still remained.
After a moment of hesitation, Thorin knocked on the door, waiting for the owner to open his own door.
“Hamfast, how many times must I tell you there’s no need to knock…?” Bilbo’s voice was music to Thorin’s ears, though it abruptly stopped as Bilbo recognized who had knocked at his door. “Thorin.” Bilbo murmured breathlessly.
“Bilbo.” Thorin smiled. “May I come in?” he asked, wondering if it wouldn’t be more appropriate, after all, to send a letter to verify if there was a welcome for him.
The stop the dwarves on their way to Erebor had made at Bag End, however, had been taken by the entire Company as a good sign of Bilbo's benevolence toward them.
"Of course, please." Bilbo opened the door further, ushering Thorin into his smail, as Bilbo insisted the hobbits' homes were called, comfortable burrows dug into the earth, yet illuminated by sunlight.
Relatively similar to the dwarves' way of life, yet completely different, like two cousins who shared some resemblance yet pursued completely different professions.
"I notice differences," Thorin said, looking around. "Have you changed anything?" he asked, blinking.
"Not of my own volition, that's for sure." Bilbo looked irritated, shaking his head. “Lobelia persuaded Otho to invade my house in my absence. It was great fun to drive them out in full view of all our neighbors, along with the Thain's scolding for their deplorable behavior.” Bilbo seemed to smile at the memory, a smile much like Nori's after one of his more successful misdeeds. “I don't think they'll be showing up in Hobbiton any time soon, no.”
“I'm sorry you lost your home while helping us reclaim ours,” Thorin murmured after a moment, his heart sinking at the thought of Bilbo seeing strangers in his own home.
“Ah, lost!” Bilbo shook his head. “As if anyone here would truly accept Lobelia's presence for too long! No, Drogo would have taken over the house soon, he was just waiting for a reasonable length of absence to assert that I had no intention of returning.” Bilbo sighed, before nodding at Thorin's coat. “You can make yourself a little more comfortable, Thorin. You weren’t so reserved the last time you were here.”
“I apologize for my behaviour back then,” Thorin said quickly. “Even though I despised the hobbit way of life, I had no right to offend you.”
“Funny how you’re quick to judge elves by looking down at dwarves, yet you do the same to hobbits.” Bilbo snorted. “And don’t worry. I realized how charming your character was early on.”
Thorin wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, so he remained silent.
Instead, he stripped off his pack and coat, placing them near the door, before following Bilbo into what Thorin remembered as the dining room, where the Company had gathered for the first time ever.
A fitting enough place for their mission, if Thorin could be honest.
“No need.” Thorin then spoke quickly, noticing that Bilbo had brought food to the table. “I have not come to rob you of your food.”
“I am offering it, and you may rest assured that I would not have offered my own food if I had not wanted it.” Bilbo replied irritably, quickly losing patience with Thorin. “I am accustomed to dwarves and their hunger. I dare say I protect myself from the moodiness of a hungry dwarf.”
Thorin bowed his head, accepting the comment as true, and proceeded to eat a few bites of food, quickly followed by Bilbo.
“Fili and Kili have recovered very well from their wounds,” Thorin said. “This is certainly thanks to the elven medicine freely offered to them and me. Relations with Dale and Greenwood have also improved considerably. Thanks to your prompt offer to use your share to heal our borders, as well as our kingdom.”
“I am a hobbit,” Bilbo replied curtly. “I have no need of the gold, and it would have been better to use it usefully than to leave it lying around in my smail, which already needed to be cleaned even before I left.”
Thorin smiled slightly. “And I repeat my words. If more people valued friends over gold, this place would be a better place.”
Bilbo snorted as he took another sweet, chewing slowly and staring at Thorin.
“I’m just sorry you have nothing of our quest.” Thorin continued. “By contract, you were entitled to a fourteenth of Erebor’s treasure.”
“And that contract didn’t specify that I was to keep it with me.” Bilbo protested, shrugging carelessly. “So, the use it has been put to is very satisfying. Legolas and Bard both speak highly of the improvements in their kingdom. Who would have thought a non-grieving Thranduil would be so cheerful?”
“Do you receive letters from Dale and Greenwood?” Thorin frowned. “For what purpose, may I ask?”
“Well, Dale and Greenwood need help making the land arable again, don’t they?” Bilbo wrinkled his nose. “It was natural that they would ask me for advice, though letters are a way of keeping us in touch. I would have missed them terribly, if I’m honest.”
“And you don’t miss the Company?” Thorin asked. “You haven’t sent any letters to the dwarves.”
“I am not the one that sends letters, I answer the ones that come in.” Bilbo replied curtly. “It may surprise you, but not many are willing to travel from the Shire all the way to Erebor, and certainly not to send a measly letter.”
Thorin bowed his head, accepting the answer at face value.
“You must wonder why I came all this way,” Thorin said then, eager to change the subject.
“The thought has crossed my mind, once or twice, though I am polite enough not to ask.” Bilbo replied.
“I would not have wanted you to leave like this,” Thorin said, smiling sweetly at the hobbit. “I would have liked to show you Erebor in all its splendor, introduce you to my sister, mother of Fili and Kili, and see life slowly return to the Mountain you helped restore. I would have liked to have you see Esgaroth and Dale come to life as they should, and the men lose the sickly look that had come over them in their lakeside city.” Thorin sighed. “I wished you could stay a little longer, so I could give you a just reward for what you’ve done for us.”
“Unfortunately, you don’t always get what you want,” Bilbo said. “Life isn’t about wills given, but only about facts achieved.”
Thorin smiled at the typical hobbit saying before asking, “What do you want?”
“You gone.” Bilbo replied, an automatic response, before a guilty expression crossed his face, his lips tightening.
Thorin’s eyes widened. Then, realization dawned on him: it wasn’t Tarkun who was in a hurry to return to Baggins House, but Bilbo, who wanted to get as far away from Thorin as possible.
“I see.” Thorin sighed, closing his eyes in pain. “I knew you hadn’t forgiven me. Not that I can judge you for that.”
“I have forgiven you, Thorin,” Bilbo said quickly. “I forgave you the moment I stepped down from the side of the Mountain, safe at Gandalf’s side.” Bilbo hesitated. “Forgiving and forgetting are two different things, though, Thorin. I have forgiven you, but I cannot forget.”
Thorin was silent before speaking. “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. Is there anything I can do to make amends?”
“You’re not even listening to me!” Bilbo exclaimed, losing whatever goodwill had held him back and glaring at Thorin. “You didn’t ruin a piece of clothing or verbally abuse me, Thorin, you almost threw me off the side of the Mountain for a shining stone you no longer even needed! I can’t be near you, and I can’t be in Erebor, because all I see when I close my eyes to sleep is that bastion! I feel your hands around my neck! And Gandalf never arrives in time, and I fall!” Bilbo shook his head. “You can’t make amends, and I can’t forget it.”
“I know,” Thorin murmured. “The knowledge that you forgave me, that you stayed there with me at Ravenhill, is what saved my life.” Thorin sighed. “For that, I thank you. I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for you, Bilbo. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you the same way.”
Without hesitation, Thorin stood up.
Staying there only hurt Bilbo, and even though his heart ached for the distance of all Middle-earth between them, he knew he couldn’t hurt Bilbo any more. Of all the souls in Middle-earth, Bilbo was the one who least deserved such pain.
“Thorin.” Bilbo called after Thorin when he'd put his coat back on and picked up his pack for the journey. Thorin stopped, unable to resist Bilbo's voice. "I wish I wasn't afraid of you, Thorin. I know you wouldn't hurt me without that illness. I know you weren't yourself, and I know you've recovered from it." Bilbo paused, as if unsure how to articulate his thoughts. For someone called Silver Tongue, Thorin knew Bilbo must be quite shaken. "I know you'd never harm me," Bilbo finally concluded.
"But, sadly, I've already done so." Thorin concluded. "Goodbye, Bilbo. I'm glad you're back in your armchair, your books, and your garden. If anyone deserves it, it's you.”