Chapter Text
Bilbo had been there and back again to Erebor, gone to Rivendell many times, raised his nephew as best he could, and been to the Undying Lands of the elves. All in all, it had been a very fulfilling life, and he wasn’t at all put out about dying at long last, and awakening in Yavanna’s garden. He had his own hobbit hole there, and his parents were there too, and he’d reunited with some old friends of his, and had a wonderful time of it all.
At least, he had in the same way he always had after Thorin’s death. There was still that gaping hole in his chest, but the difference now was that he finally had hope that they could see each other again.
With that at the forefront of his mind, he stepped carefully into Yavanna’s sanctuary. There were ents here, creatures he’d only heard of in legend, and the forests of the glass dome were not to be trifled with. The hobbit had been restored to his youth (around fifty, the same age he’d been when he’d first set off on his adventure) in death, and he crept quietly through the underbrush towards his maker.
“Excuse me,” he said, and Yavanna turned to face him.
At least, he thought she did, because there really were too many eyes and leaves for him to see anything clearly, but he got the sense that she was paying attention.
“I was wondering where dwarves went when they died?” he said quietly, and Yavanna seemed like they understood why he was asking.
“They go to the halls of my lover, Aulë,” she replied softly. Her voice was like a warm summer breeze in a field of wildflowers, and Bilbo felt relaxed just hearing it. He shook himself inwardly.
“I’d like to go there,” he replied stubbornly, and he felt Yavanna’s surprise.
“Why? You have everything you need right here,” she replied, and he shook his head.
“I don’t, though, that’s the thing,” he said, and his tone was bitter.
At last, the Vala nodded. “You want Thorin Oakenshield.”
It wasn’t a question, and Bilbo simply nodded in response. The Vala paused.
“I will see what can be done,” she replied.
It was a long time before anything was “done,” but Bilbo waited. Frodo arrived after him, then Merry and Pippin and Sam, and all of them were reunited at last and still he waited.
After what felt like decades, a moth arrived to tell him Yavanna wished to speak to him. He went gladly, his sword at his side and a coat around his shoulders, prepared for whatever the Vala would tell him. When he arrived, however, Yavanna was not alone.
The great smith, Aulë, was there too, and the two of them regarded the hobbit as though sizing him up. Bilbo squared his shoulders and returned their gazes defiantly (for as long as he could before his head started to hurt).
“You wanted to see me?” he asked. Much of his timidness had burned away with age, and the last of it had died when he had. The Tookish side of him was far louder than the Baggins, and he was determined to meet whatever they had planned for him head on.
They seemed to sense his thoughts, as Aulë chuckled and Yavanna smiled down at him. Bilbo tilted his head to the side.
“We have come to a decision,” Yavanna said softly.
“What is it?”
“You may come to my halls and see Thorin Oakenshield again,” said Aulë. Bilbo could have leapt for joy, but Yavanna held up a hand. “However,” Aulë continued, “You must journey there alone. It will not be a pleasant trip, and you will have many hardships before its end.”
Bilbo buckled his sword on a little tighter. “I’m ready,” he said, and met their eyes fiercely.
Aulë smiled at him. “You will pass through the pits of Melkor first,” he said softly, and Yavanna made a strangled noise. “That will be the hardest part of your journey. Melkor no longer resides there, but there will be many foes on your road. Stay on the path, however, and no harm will befall you. From there you will then pass through the mountains of Manwë, where I think you will find a friend waiting for you. After that, you will come upon my halls.”
Yavanna set a hand on his shoulders, then handed him his little bag filled with provisions for the journey. “Travel safely, little one,” she said, and Bilbo nodded.
“How long will the journey take, do you think?” he asked Aulë, and the smith considered.
“No more than a few years,” he said, “but it will likely be longer than you think.”
Bilbo shrugged. “I’ve waited this long for him, and I can wait a little longer.”
And with that he thanked the two Valar and walked out into the wastelands of Melkor.
His journey through the Dark Lands (as he later named it) was a cold one, and he ran into many old enemies of either his or Frodo’s, including Azog and Bolg, who were both drowning in their own hatred. Shelob could be seen spinning a web for her own purposes far off in the distance, and in her threads many orcs struggled. Goblins and orcs clashed against one another with ferocity as wargs snarled and bit indiscriminately, and through it all the hobbit walked. He walked through fire, and through death, and though he never had to use his sword once his head was swimming with the sounds of drums and battle by the time he reached the gates of Manwë.
There an Eagle greeted him, and he bowed and greeted him in proper fashion in return, and then he was inside, wandering the starlight and the rock of the Mount Taniquetil. It was not until he was far from Melkor’s domain that he realized he was in Valinor again, and he could see the lands spreading out far below him, trees dappled in beautiful sunlight and elvish song lifting up on the wind. It was peaceful, and he nearly stopped there to rest, but something reminded him of Thorin, then, and he kept walking. It was only when he walked headlong into someone that he stopped and got his bearings again.
“So sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you,” he began, but a familiar laugh stopped his apologies.
Gandalf stood before him, though now he was no longer the wizard but the Maia, Olórin, and Bilbo stared at him with wide eyes. “Hullo,” he said, and then he laughed.
Gandalf laughed too (he would always be Gandalf to Bilbo, no matter what his true name was), and patted Bilbo on the shoulder.
“It seems I have found you on yet another adventure!” he said lightly, and Bilbo smiled.
“I’m going to meet someone,” he said, and Gandalf smiled at him and knew exactly what he was talking about, as was the way of the Maia.
“Well then, I will walk with you to the halls of Aulë. It’s been some time since I was last there, and I look forward to seeing them again!”
Bilbo smiled at him. “Some company would be welcome. I just passed through Melkor’s domain, and-”
Gandalf’s eyebrows shot up. “On your own?” he asked sharply, and Bilbo nodded.
“It wasn’t that bad,” he lied. “I saw Azog again, and Bolg. They didn’t bother me though.”
Gandalf made a noise that sounded a lot like hmph before nodding. “He will be suffering for the rest of time, I believe. Those lands, such as they are called, are not to be emptied again.”
Bilbo sighed with relief. “Well, that’s one good thing,” he mumbled.
He started to hum his walking song under his breath and Gandalf smiled before singing along with him, and before long they were telling stories and recounting adventures, and all the troubles of Melkor’s domain seemed like a long forgotten dream. And that is how the two of them, some months later, came upon the halls of Aulë laughing. The great stone gates opened before them and they entered the Forgemaster’s chamber, which contained forges and metals greater than those to be found even in the halls of Moria. Bilbo stared around in wonder as the Vala turned to face them.
He smiled. “I am glad you were able to reach my domain,” Aulë said, and Bilbo looked up at him anxiously.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Aulë guessed his question and gestured to a side door. “Through there. He is anxiously awaiting your arrival.” The smith smiled. “I got the impression there was something very important he wanted to tell you.”
Bilbo turned to the door and shoved his heart out of his throat and back into his chest with as much force as he could. His fingers touched cool stone and he pushed gently, his pulse racing.
The door swung open and- oh, Thorin. The dwarf was standing there, and he looked exactly the same as he had that day, that very first day when they’d all gathered in Bag End. He looked up quickly as Bilbo stood there, frozen, and the two of them stared at each other. The decades spent apart felt like a physical barrier between them, as solid as ice, but just as brittle. Neither of them moved for a long moment, the silence stretching out to infinity. And then Thorin took a small step forward, and the barrier crumbled, and before he could think better of it Bilbo flung himself into the dwarf’s arms. Thorin clung to him like a rock in a storm, and both of them were crying, trying to hold as much of the other as they could before the moment broke. They stayed like that for a very long time, until Bilbo eventually stepped back to wipe his eyes and Thorin swiped at his own.
“You look the same,” Bilbo eventually managed.
Thorin nodded. “You as well,” he said hoarsely, and the two of them looked at each other.
Bilbo sniffed, then scowled. “I’m still angry with you, you know.”
Thorin looked like he could kick himself. “Of course, I understand. My deeds at the gate-”
“What- no, that’s not what I’m upset about at all!” Bilbo cried indignantly. Even after all this time he still jumped to those sorts of idiotic conclusions. “I’m upset you up and died and I didn’t even get to say that I love you!”
Thorin had a struck look on his face, and it dawned on the hobbit that he might have said more than he meant to. “I- that is to say,” he stammered out, but Thorin cut him off.
“You love me?” he said softly, and Bilbo let out an angry breath.
“Yes,” he said stiffly, “Yes, I love you. Now if you’d let me die of embarrassment-”
But he didn’t get to finish because Thorin had already pulled him close and kissed him. Oh, and it was perfect. Everything he’d imagined and then some, and he didn’t ever want it to end, but his stubbornness was getting the better of him, and he pushed Thorin back after a long moment. Thorin blinked at him in confusion and Bilbo shook his head.
“I’m not- Thorin, if you’re just doing this to make me feel better about-”
The dwarf took his hands. “Bilbo,” he said softly, and the hobbit had to swallow back a fresh wave of tears, “I would never toy with your love. My heart is yours if you would have it, as it has always been.”
Bilbo looked up at him, and there was nothing but the utmost sincerity in Thorin’s gaze. He nodded weakly and Thorin grinned at him, then pulled him into another tight embrace.
“I missed you,” they said in unison, and both of them laughed.
Thorin opened his mouth to say something else when they were interrupted by someone else’s laugh. Bilbo squeaked and turned quickly to look, but Thorin rolled his eyes.
“Aww, you two are adorable,” said a playful voice that reminded Bilbo of Kili.
Thorin sighed and stepped back, revealing another dwarrow. He had blonde hair that fell to just past his shoulders, and his beard was done in a series of intricate braids that had clearly taken time and effort. He was shorter and smaller than Thorin, but their eyes were almost identical.
“My brother, Frerin,” Thorin said with a small smile.
Bilbo looked up at him quickly. “The one that-”
Thorin nodded. “Aye. The same.”
Frerin grinned. “Nice to meet you! Thorin hasn’t shut up about you since he died, so it’s a bit of a relief you’re here now. Also, the rest of the Company is back that way-” he indicated the other door out of the room “- and they’re very excited to see you again.”
Bilbo blinked at him and then laughed. “I can’t wait to see them.”
He looked up at Thorin and carefully pulled on one of his braids to get him to lean down, then kissed him again, long and slow.
“Right,” he said when they broke apart, “We should probably join the others.”
“That we should,” Thorin replied, and they both laughed as they made their way out and into the Halls of Aulë.