AN: Alright folks, here's the end! Thank you to all those who've read and reviewed, I appreciate it endlessly :)

Part VI: Valinor

Bilbo Baggins had certainly never entertained the notion or even dreamed that he might one day find himself on an elven ship bound westward to the Undying Lands, along with a wizard, several elf lords, and his nephew, whose own adventure had apparently turned out to be even more damaging and fraught with danger than Bilbo's had all those years ago.

He also had not expected the tiredness and sheer dullness of the mind that comes with age suddenly creeping up on one, the way whole days blend into each other and he keeps forgetting who he is with, what they have just talked about. A younger him would have been terrified by the notion of, perhaps, being not quite there mentally, but with age had also come a slightly mellower, more pragmatic view on life – and truth be told, he is not feeling particularly bad, just a little woozy more of the time than is strictly speaking normal. Or maybe it is – he has never grown old before, after all (and grandfather Mungo had seemed a little dreamy in his later years, now that Bilbo thinks about it).

Though later he will remember snippets of conversations with Frodo and sometimes Gandalf and Elrond, most of the journey flies by in a blur of sleep and blue all around them, and the first Bilbo really feels aware of his surroundings again, is when the ship finally reaches its destination.

The white sand under Bilbo's feet is almost soft when he first sets foot onto the shores of the Undying Lands.

The first thing that he notices is that the beach is deserted. A not entirely small part of Bilbo had wished for people (Thorin) to be there to greet him, even though he knows that such hope is futile, for Thorin is dead and the dead do not walk among the living. Yet he had hoped.

And still he feels strangely invigorated, as if the burden of his many years has lifted – he feels young again. Raising a tentative hand to his face, he is astonished to feel no wrinkles, just smooth skin and his curly hair of old. And that is the second thing he notices.

"You revert to the state of being when you were the most happy," Gandalf explains quietly from next to him. Bilbo had not even heard him coming, so distracted had he been by the sudden changes in himself.

He nods, entirely unsurprised that he seems to be inhabiting his fifty year old body once more. "The quest," he states thoughtfully. "Around Lake-Town I would imagine."

Gandalf nods, smiling. "It is good to see that my decision to drag you along on this adventure all those years ago has not been regretted. And has turned out rather for the best, without trying to give myself undue credit."

"Yes, I would say so," Bilbo agrees, a little distractedly as he is still busy staring at his smooth, unwrinkled hands. Well, whatever else might happen, at the very least he would be able to hold a quill properly again without having to look out for his shaking fingers and the resulting ink splashes.

And only then, when he finally looks up and around himself, he notices the unreal, breath-taking beauty of Eldamar laid out before him and stares for a good long while.

Yet, when the first moment of awe and the first few sunrises over the sparkling water have passed, and his elven friends have shown him many of the wondrous places to be found here (more wondrous than anything he could ever have imagined), a loneliness returns to his heart, along with a yearning that not even the beauty of the home of the Valar can ease.

Gandalf finds him sitting quietly in his favourite spot at the shore, as he stares out on the impossibly blue sea, only little waves disturbing its flawless peace. He thinks it might have been around two months since their arrival, but time passes strangely in the Undying Lands – if it passes at all, the sun rises and falls and yet nothing changes, and any perception of time might simply be a comforting routine he clings too.

"You have been brooding, my dear friend," Gandalf observes, voice grave as ever as he sits down beside him.

"I don't think it's possible for anyone to brood here, Gandalf," Bilbo returns, keeping his tone deliberately light. He does not turn and look at the wizard, but keeps his gaze fixed on the hypnotizing motions of the sea in front of him.

Gandalf snorts, an undertone of amusement colouring his blatant disbelief (he always did call Bilbo out on his bullshit). "If that is so, Bilbo Baggins, then you're doing an admirable job of attempting to do the impossible."

Bilbo does not say anything. He knows that he should be happy, that this is a place – the place – to be happy in and cannot help but feel as if his unintentional surliness somehow taints the atmosphere around him. Yet, he is not happy, is not content for all that he tries to be – there is always something missing.

Gandalf has been regarding him with that especially piercing looks he gets when trying to work something out for himself or come to a difficult decision (and Bilbo does not even have to look at him to know that that is the look he is sporting) and now sighs deeply.

"I had wished to avoid this," he says quietly, his brow creased in what some might have called frustration or annoyance, but Bilbo sees the fond glint in his eyes, "but it seems that you have truly given your heart away." He smiles a little at Bilbo's faint surprise (though the hobbit should have known, really, Gandalf always seems to understand everything after all). "There are not many who would not find happiness in Valinor, Bilbo, and all who do have this in common."

Bilbo makes a non-committal sound which probably does nothing to hide the sudden curiosity blooming in him. He has not talked to anyone about Thorin for, well, he cannot really remember when the last time had been, but it certainly has been a long while. Not that he has talked to Gandalf about it either, but then again Gandalf rarely needs to be told anything.

"The children of Aulë who have perished gather in the Halls of Mandos to wait for the last battle and the renewal of the world." Gandalf's voice has gone utterly serious, not even a glimmer of his usual humour or mischief remaining. "If you are completely certain that that is where you wish to be, you can go there, Bilbo, and spend the rest of eternity as we know it among your dwarven friends."

Gandalf pauses, and Bilbo, firmly ignoring the suddenly frantic, hopeful thumping of his heart, raises an eyebrow. "And what's the catch, Gandalf? If it were as easy as that you would have told me ages ago."

"Indeed, I would have," Gandalf sighs. "You must remember that Mandos' Halls are the realm of the dead, Bilbo. You are allowed entry if your heart has a claim to it, but you would never be allowed to leave. The dead and the living do not mingle."

Oh. Bilbo's heart sinks. "Frodo," he whispers, more to himself, a sharp stab of pain accompanying the thought of leaving his sweet, burdened nephew behind forever.

But if it is a choice… he has had decades with Frodo, and plenty happy memories of their shared time. With Thorin however (and Fíli and Kíli and Bofur and everyone else) there had been precious little time together and now there is only the ever-present ache of what should have been to keep him company. And he cannot deny that his heart has long longed to see the beloved heir of Durin once more – and never let him out of his sight again.

As much as the thought of abandoning Frodo hurts him, he knows that if he chooses to stay where he is at the moment, he will never find true happiness (and a small, selfish part of him argues that after everything he has gone through, has he no earned that, at least?).

"Would I never see him again? Even after this battle you've mentioned?" he finally asks Gandalf, who has waited patiently for him to sort out his thoughts.

"You would not see him for a very long time indeed. It is my belief that after the Dagor Dagorath all Children of Ilúvatar will be reunited on the face of the new Arda. But know that my knowledge is limited, for neither Eru nor the Valar have been very forthcoming on the subject and my guess is that the latter might not even know what will happen after the Second Music."

Bilbo nods along, though he cannot pretend that he has understood everything that Gandalf has just said, safe for 'the future is uncertain'. Yet Gandalf believes there is a chance, and one thing he has always done is trust in Gandalf. And even if he is wrong, well, for Bilbo there has never been much of a choice in this matter.

"Then my choice is clear," he says, voice strong as he meets Gandalf's eyes.

Gandalf's lips twitch into a small smile, caught between joy and sadness. "Still so brave, my dear friend, after all these years."

For a short moment he appears like a young man, years of age and experience wiped from his face as he stands up and proclaims, "Thus shall it be."

But when he turns back to Bilbo, all the hobbit can see is his kind companion of old. "I will come for you on the morrow. You should make your goodbyes."

Bilbo nods tightly, not in the least relishing the prospect. Gandalf's hand is warm when it comes to rest on his shoulder. "I, at least, will do my best to pop by now and again. There are some advantages to being a Maia after all."

Bilbo cannot help but smile at that and when he looks up from his clasped hands again Gandalf is gone.

When he tells Frodo early the next day just as the first rays of sunshine illuminate the land, his nephew looks at him with sad eyes, which still look far too old for his body, and no surprise at all. For a moment Bilbo wonders if Gandalf had warned him, but in all probability he had just been more obvious than he had wished to be in his disquiet, and Frodo had always been a quietly observant lad. Not that he is a lad anymore, but Bilbo suspects that in his heart he will always remain one. An uncle first and a rational being second.

Minutes pass before Bilbo finally tears himself away from their last embrace and turns away with a last smile. He does not look back to see the solitary figure of the only living hobbit in Valinor receding into the distance.

One other he bids goodbye before Gandalf arrives and Lord Elrond receives the news that Bilbo will leave to live with dwarves with graciousness tempered by sorrow. They have grown dear to each other during the years Bilbo has spent in Rivendell, but Elrond, with his intrinsic far-sightedness, has always known that Bilbo's heart is still searching for its true resting place and would never begrudge the little hobbit that. In the end, they part gladly.

Gandalf at least, when he comes, Bilbo does not have to bid farewell, a reassurance in the face of changing his life permanently and forever. The Istari would remain and continue to offer his wisdom and guidance should Bilbo ever need it, much as he is now guiding the hobbit towards the Halls of Mandos.

Somehow Bilbo is not surprised that the entrance to the dead's last resting place is marked by huge gates hewn from black stone.

Standing in front of the tall doors, Bilbo cannot help but feel small, yet when Gandalf turns to him with an unspoken question, he only takes a deep breath and nods firmly. He is sure and as ready as he will ever be, the thought of Thorin urging him on.

The dark portal opens to Bilbo's hesitant touch. Light spills out, and with it the shadow of a distinctly dwarven figure.

An achingly familiar deep voice rumbles, "Took you long enough, âzyungel."

As a wide smile spreads across his face, Bilbo muses that somehow, he cannot think of a single more romantic thing that Thorin could have said.