Chapter Text
My dear Thorin,
It has been years since I have received word from you. I don't fault you for it. The war has kept me up most nights, though my part in it is already over. I cannot imagine what it must have been like for you, with Erebor on your shoulders.
I do hope that you would forgive my handwriting, as my hands tend to not stay still these days. Old age has thoroughly devoured my body. My vision isn't quite the same as it once was, as is my memory. With that, I also apologize if this letter seems disjointed at times. I have given up any semblance of order in my mind and am resigned to just say, or in this case, write, what comes to mind.
Rivendell is still these days. You would think the end of the war would bring life back in this wonderous (Yes, yes, I know you don't find it as such, but do indulge me, if you please.) place, yet the halls are eerily quiet, and the leaves fall from the towering trees that surround it. I suppose a foolish part of me wished that upon Sauron's defeat, the elves would remain here in Middle Earth, yet one by one, they sail towards the West. Seeing them all leave feels so final, as though we have come to the end of something... My words fail me, but I do hope you understand what I mean.
Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin had recently arrived here. They had travelled with Elrond from Gondor. I cannot properly describe the whirlwind of emotions that I felt when I saw Frodo again, alive and smiling. As I hugged him, I was afraid to let go, thinking that it was my fool mind playing tricks on me once again, but no. Even as we pulled back, he was still there and I couldn't help but shed a tear or two. I do not cry easily, as you know, but I'll make one exception for my dear Frodo's safety.
Our roles had reversed, you know. These four hobbits, who used to be my young audience as I weaved the story of our journey, weaved their own tales of what they had gone through. I listened with both awe and worry as they told me their own adventures which, in a way, made my own pale in comparison. They had grown up into such brave and wonderful gentlehobbits, though gentle could barely be used to describe them these days.
I still worry about Frodo sometimes. There are times when he thinks I'm not looking, and I would glimpse a shadow in his eyes. They look haunted with grief and sorrow. As much as I had wished that he would go through this journey unscathed, it is not so. He has not only been scarred physically, but emotionally as well. I suppose a part of me always knew that it would happen. I, of all people, know that the Ring leaves a mark in you. It is something that does not go away easily, if at all. It would seem that it has corrupted us both albeit in different ways, and it would seem that the Ring would be added to the mountain of regrets that I've accumulated throughout the years.
I wish... I suppose there is no use wishing to undo things that have already come to pass. All I can do is help him carry the burden that he has with what little time I have left in this world. I do not know how I would be able to do such a thing, but I will try for his sake.
I do hope that you are well, Thorin. I worry about you just as much as I worry about Frodo. It has been months since the war has ended, yet I have not received word from you or any of the Company. Has something happened? Were you under attack? Is Erebor safe?
Or perhaps my lack of nerve years ago has reached the final straw-
No, I mustn't think that. You all have made it clear that you all care about me. I must remember that. I am prepared to forget many things, but I mustn't forget that.
I do hope you are all safe from harm, and to hear from all of you again. My days have grown dull from the lack of letters from all of you. I wish I could get my pack and finish what I had started on my 111th birthday, but I cannot even hold my pen properly these days. Letters would have to suffice, much to my dismay.
Yours,
Bilbo
[This letter, like the others, was unsent. Upon compiling the letters, this particular letter was found by Frodo Baggins years later after it was written, underneath a pile of books in Bilbo Baggins' study in Rivendell.]