The Hobbit and Her Memories

EPILOGUE

BILBO'S POV

10 years later...

"Frodo!" I called, groaning. "Where is that boy?" I stepped outside of Bag-End and looked out over the Shire. "Frodo!" I called louder. Just as I was about to walked out, a wild filthy hobbit crashes around the corner with a book in his right hand.

"Sorry, Bilbo!" he laughed, those bright blue eyes in shining the sun. "Just having a bit of fun!"

"Obviously." I grumbled. Then, I chuckled. "Come on," I gestured towards the door. "Let's get you cleaned up." Frodo followed me in.

After a long bath, I dried out his curly hair with a towel. While doing so, Frodo complained. "Bilbo, tell me the story about your adventures!" I laughed. "Again!? I've told you the story a hundred times!"

"I know, but it never gets old." Frodo said, slipping on his suspenders. I folded the damp towel. "Oh yeah? Well maybe I'll write down the whole story so you can read it any time you like." I suggested. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Now who could that be?" I asked out loud.

Walking towards the door, I had a strange sense of deja vu. Slowly, I turned the doorknob. When I opened it, the world seemed to stop.

There he stood, dressed in a casual, yet neat, dark clothing. His dark hair had grown longer and had small braids hanging in the middle and sides. His black beard was trimmed clean and short. His eyes shone with gladness and his smile brought me to tears.

"Hello, Bilbo." he breathed.

"Thorin."