Chapter Text
It was a warm day in Valinor. This was the place where Bilbo was hardly troubled by pain. For the hobbit was old and frail, and even though he knew he was in the Undying Lands, he was aware that he would leave this world sooner or later. The crazy thing was that the old hobbit didn't mind much. He had experienced so many things and was just tired and exhausted from the seemingly endless years of his life.
Yes, pain had followed him all these years. Often he wondered how his life would have gone if things had turned at a crucial point. At the crucial point...
"Oh Bilbo, isn't it beautiful here? I mean, after all the adventures and all the stress?" he heard Frodo's voice. Bilbo smiled slightly, asking himself why he still didn't really feel happy. After all, everything was done to honour him one last time.
Frodo lay down beside him in the sand. Moving like that had long been impossible for Bilbo. After all, he was no longer young. Wrinkled skin adorned his body, and folds lay on his face. Gray, thin hair blew in the gentle wind of the apparent paradise. Sometimes he missed his younger self. The younger self that had once bravely set off with thirteen dwarves to Erebor. The younger self that had not hesitated to act where and how it was necessary and had survived every danger. Had survived every single danger, so very different from...
"Try to calm down," Frodo attempted to soothe him. His nephew could guess his uncle's mood every time. Bilbo really liked Frodo. He, too, had unfortunately faced dangers and fears that no one wanted to imagine. The honour that was bestowed upon both of them, as ring bearers, to travel to Valinor was so much more than any ordinary hobbit could ever dream of. The Undying Lands were the purest paradise and perfect for the retirement of the 131-year-old, former adventurer. With the white beaches, the eternally healthy plants, and a sanctity that enlivened every speck of earth and water.
"Oh Frodo, I'm old and unfortunately not as young and healthy as you," said the ancient hobbit to his nephew. Lost in thought, he stared at the wide horizon.
"Yes, that's true," Frodo replied. "And I understand it. But isn't that all the more reason to enjoy life even more? To enjoy this view? Just look at the surf." His uncle looked up. The blue, pure water rolled wildly into the sand. Yes, that was indeed true, but no, Bilbo didn't want to hear about it. For he was nothing but a bitter, old hobbit who had bravely lived his life. But since that one journey, everything had been different. Whenever his thoughts returned to it, his heart seemed to cramp. Because of him, the one he...
A few years ago, Bilbo had written everything down. "There and Back Again" he had called the story. Frodo had read the book more than once. Each time he immersed himself in the adventure and suffered at the end when some of the dwarves left them; when the end devoured them, swallowed them, and shortly afterward spat them out again. Bilbo no longer read the book himself, for each time it brought tears to his eyes.
"Uncle Bilbo, may I read your book again?" His nephew seemed to have guessed the hobbit's thoughts once again. Somewhat cheerier, he nodded.
"Of course, my dear Frodo," Bilbo managed to say, trembling. Even though the atmosphere of the land largely did him good, and the old hobbit usually no longer felt his physical pains, it did not completely erase the pain of the heart. No matter how much he tried. His whole life, Bilbo had struggled with this pain. His whole, long life...
"I wish we could just cross out the end of your story and rewrite it," Frodo remarked as he held the copy of the book in his hands again. Frodo had once described his own adventure in the original, but he had left it in Bag End. Gandalf had given them the copy after their arrival in Valinor.
Bilbo agreed more than wholeheartedly. Sometimes he was on the verge of just taking the book, erasing everything, and rewriting it the way he liked. To be able to change the story, that was a beautiful thought.
For whenever his gaze fell on the clear sky, he seemed to feel the presence of the one. He never forgot the sight of his blue eyes, the black of his hair, the moment when Thorin...
No, it was no use denying the truth, for Bilbo was never meant to have a happy ending. That much he had learned.
~~~
Slowly it became dark, and the stars shone brightly in the sky. Frodo and Bilbo were still on the beach, but the younger one had already fallen into a nap.
Bilbo couldn't sleep, for he had trouble sorting his thoughts. It became even harder, however, when a crackling sound pierced the perfect bush behind him. Could it really be? Right before his eyes, a shadow seemed to move.
Bilbo swallowed hard.
Who was that? Was it time now? The end?
The last visions?
But no, the end was not in sight. Instead, there was suddenly a majestic figure, tall and beautiful, with pointed ears and a divine appearance. Like a shadow, she had appeared right in front of him. Her angelic white clothes lay gently over her shoulders and adorned her entire figure. With graceful steps, she approached, before suddenly standing right in front of Bilbo.
"Good evening, Mr. Baggins," she whispered gracefully.
"Incredible!" was all Bilbo could say. There were many of her kind here, but he had never met this elf.
"You have sorrow, my hobbit, and have had it for a very long time," her bright voice said. Bilbo's heart beat a little faster. Had she read his thoughts?
"I know you will wonder, but I have joyful news for you. Your fate is not written in stone." Suddenly, Bilbo felt very warm. The elves here were certainly special, crawling around you all day, but they rarely spoke. You never really knew what was going on in their minds.
"I can free you from your misery if you only follow me." With wide eyes, the little hobbit looked up at her. No more words were needed.
For, these were enough to ignite a vibrant hope that enveloped the hobbit like a warm light. As if real hope was hidden in hers. Step by step, he followed the elf through the warm sand along the beach, looking back at Frodo one last time. In his sleep, behind folded arms, he held the book of the most important story of his life in his hands.
Bilbo almost shed tears, for he felt that he would not see his nephew again soon.
The elf led the crawling hobbit into a small cave, hidden deep within the adjacent dense forest. Instead of dark and cold, it was warm, and the walls glittered in the light of a torch.
"I have something for you. I know you know it," the elf said solemnly. Bilbo raised his head, inhaling. He flinched as the elf pulled the once-great jewel from her pocket. It was the Arkenstone. Horrified, Bilbo leapt back.
"That's impossible, the stone was buried back then, along with..." He paused. The elf bent down and whispered:
"I know." The memories flashed through his head like lightning. This couldn't be! What did it mean?
"I'm sorry, no, Thorin is no longer alive. However, new insights about the Arkenstone have been discovered. Do you remember, little hobbit?" What should he remember?
"It grants you a second chance anew, but choose with care, for what's done stays true." Her rhymes confused him, but his life spirit seemed more awake than ever.
"Do you want to rewrite your fate, and if so, at what point?" Bilbo immediately had a goal in mind.
Excited, he thought of it.
"I know, I know!" he gasped.
"Of course, but are you aware that this could change the entire history of the world? Act with care and do not fret, for some will always remember yet." He was just as unsure what she meant by that again, but his thoughts seemed completely unfettered. It didn't matter how crazy this was. For the first time in ages, he had dreams and visions again, saw a flame of the old courage he had missed so much.
"Are you ready to irrevocably change your fate, for a second time?" the elf asked for certainty.
Bilbo briefly closed his eyes, saw his reflection from earlier before his inner eye, the experiences that had faded. No, there was no doubt.
"Yes, I am ready!" he shouted resolutely.
Suddenly, a huge light opened up and completely enveloped the hobbit. For a moment, the world disappeared into an endless nothingness, a vastness that stole the sense of up and down.
Suddenly, the hobbit opened both eyes. The ground was soft, a warm blanket was over his chest. Yes, Bilbo Baggins was really lying in his bed, in Bag End. The sun shone gently through the windows.
My goodness!
It had worked!