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Welcome Home - Bagginshield Week Day 1
There it was, a round, green Hobbit Door.
The thing was, it had no business being there, set as it was in Gates that were clearly of Dwarf-make and design. But Bilbo Baggins knew that Door, because it was a perfect replica of the very same door that had been in Bag End.
Right down to that blasted rune that Gandalf had carved in it, which led to thirteen Dwarves and an adventure that involved a Dragon and the very best and the very worst time of his life.
A small, sticky hand patted his cheek and Bilbo turned his head and absently pressed kisses to all five fingers and never, in all his life, was he gladder to count five on one precious hand and five still on the other. Tiny little Frodo smiled at him encouragingly.
The dear boy had not wanted to be left behind on Uncle Bilbo’s next adventure.
It was a bit startling to have his nephew as a little fauntling again, but if it meant that Frodo was healing then Bilbo did not mind it at all. And now here they were, in front of this round green Hobbit Door, set in the Gates to Aule’s Halls, with every intention of stealing away a Dwarf King.
Except that it was obvious that they were being expected.
"Well, my boy, here we go," Bilbo breathed and opened the door.
There was a lot of laughter, a lot of yelling and goodness gracious, was that Oin wailing into his handkerchief about Gimli and Legolas? There were familiar and much-missed faces and glad cries.
"Bilbo!"
"Oi! Lads, he’s got a wee one with him!"
"Looks like a Hobbit-y Thorin to me!"
"Fast work, Uncle Thorin!"
"Would that be a Dwobbit then? He’s cute, ain’t he?"
"I have a granddwobbit! Oh Mahal bless him!"
"Would that mean Dwelves would be just as cute, Oin?"
Frodo was promptly stolen away, to much giggling, by a certain Pair of Dwarrow Scamps named Fili and Kili.
And at the end, Bilbo really just had eyes for one Particular Dwarf. He gasped as he was lifted up in strong Dwarrow arms and he lost track of who kissed whom first but it didn’t matter - he was with his King Under the Mountain, his Thorin, his Dwarf.
"My Bilbo," was whispered into his ear, with fervent words in Khuzdul that Bilbo instinctively knew needed no other translation. And in return, Bilbo held him tighter and whispered back Thorin’s Name, the Secret Name that Thorin had entrusted to him with his dying breath, which Bilbo had kept in his heart for all these years.
There would be time enough for talk later. In fact, there was all the time now and forever more.
Bilbo Baggins was finally home.
**** end ****