Dearest Bilbo

Chapter Seven

He had responsibilities within the Shire. Not only of taking care of Bag End, but he was an active member of the Hobbiton Celebrations Committee. There was a meeting this morning and he'd already missed it, but Bilbo couldn't bring himself to care.

Soon, there would be a knock on his door, by someone wondering where he was and why he had missed the meeting. Following that, his cousin Lobelia would more than likely make her presence known in order to make sure he was doing his duty and serving the community. Not because she was worried about his health.

Still, Bilbo was not planning to come out of his bedroom. Not until he had read every single letter Thorin had written him. He had started with the first one late in the afternoon yesterday and after having a bite to eat of the slightly undercooked blueberry pie he'd made, he returned to the letters and ended up reading the first one several times over. At one point, he got in bed, read it again, and fell asleep with the message lying on his chest. He hadn't even managed to read another! There was absolutely no way he was going to leave to attend some ridiculous committee meeting!

He would pretend to be sick. Something he ate had upset his digestion. Although he had used that excuse once before, it had been a while and Bilbo doubted anyone would remember.

Before settling back down in the chair in his bedroom, he shoved it into the corner as far away from the window as possible. He didn't put it past his cousin to go creeping around his house like a peeping Tom!

Once he felt safe from prying eyes and pounding fists, Bilbo drew his attention to the second letter, marked by a date nearly three months ago.

Dearest Bilbo,

I dreamed of you last night. I've dreamed of you before but always the visions had been twisted by my own greed and despair. This dream was different. It was such a pleasant experience, that I nearly didn't rouse myself in time to meet with the elven king. You remember him. He's the one who must not ever move his bowels like the rest of us. Certainly, he's above such things. Or at least he wants everyone to believe he is.

I wanted to stay in such a wonderful fantasy for as long as I possibly could because in it, you were here with me. In Erebor. Your shining light chased away all the remaining darkness that infects these halls. Your laughter condemned the sorrows of the past that haunt us. I wish you were here. I want so badly to ride to the Shire and demand your return. What would you do if I showed up at your door? Would you welcome me inside or slam it in my face? You welcomed me in before and look where it got you! I wouldn't blame you if you refused to open it in the first place.

I often think about the day we met and I can see your face so clearly. You were surprised to see us and we were not particularly welcome. But being the gentlehobbit that you are, you were not about to refuse us or let any of my Company go hungry. By the end of the evening, I had decided my first opinion of you had been incorrect. That there was more to you than meets the eye. It took much longer to determine that I was right, for you showed your true character and courage by not only making it out of the goblin tunnels alive, but when you faced Azog in order to protect me. At first, I was angry with you for putting yourself in danger, but then I began to think about your actions. There had to be a reason you had summoned such courage. Was it possible that you saw me as more than just a friend? It was then that I began to dream of something I only wished was possible. I began to believe that you cared about me.

When I offered my embrace, you accepted it. You didn't push back or shrink away. That only fueled the hope that had just sparked to life. I told you I had never been more wrong. At the time, I meant that. However, as time progressed, I began to see that indeed I was wrong about a great many things.

I had been wrong to hope. To see something between us that did not exist, and now I am left with a hole in my heart and an emptiness in my life that cannot be filled with any type of treasure. You were my greatest treasure. My ghivashel. And I lost you.

Yours Forever, Thorin

There was no point in reading anything else now! It's too difficult to do when your eyes are full of tears.

Oh, Thorin! Why hadn't he said anything? If he had, would that have made a difference? Would that have kept him from leaving Erebor? Bilbo wasn't sure, even after reading such a painful letter!

Even after learning Thorin would recover, and even though he had told the King he had forgiven him, the truth was, the memory of nearly being cast off the wall to his death was still fresh in his mind. Almost being murdered by someone you care about is something that sticks with you.

Only now, knowing what Thorin had actually been thinking all this time, was the wound finally beginning to heal and the hole in his own chest had closed just a little.

Bilbo had been so excited to read these letters, but dammit it was difficult! Perhaps it would be better if he stopped where he was. Bilbo managed to set them aside for a moment, only to pick them right back up again with newfound determination.

Who was he kidding? There was no way he wasn't going to take advantage of gaining an insight into what made Thorin Oakenshield tick! He was such an impossible dwarf to read anyway. This may be Bilbo's only opportunity! And yet, his vision was still blurred, so he hurried off to the bathroom to freshen up, only to freeze in place when he heard someone pounding on his front door. Just as he'd expected.

The knocking continued for several minutes until whoever was there finally gave up and went away. Before Bilbo had managed to dry his face with his monogrammed towel, the knocking returned, only this sounded far more frantic. Perhaps he should answer it. There might be an actual emergency. But the second he stepped out of the washroom, his eyes returned to the chair in his bedroom where the letters lay waiting for him. It was a struggle to decide what to do, but finally, Bilbo stepped down the carpeted hallway that led to the front door, only coming to a stop when he heard the first shriek.

He recognized that voice and wanted nothing to do with the hobbit who possessed it.

Slowly, Bilbo walked backward down the hall, returned to his room, and bolted the door. For all he cared, Lobelia could declare him to be missing or dead, because nothing was going to stop him from reading the rest of those letters!