The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings Imagines

The Last Chapter -Platonic!Bilbo X Thorin

(Author's Notes: okay no this isn't me saying that I'll stop writing, just so we're clear 😂 although I am slowing down on writing one-shots (I'm working on that Elrond fic as lazily as one can be and classes started sooooo

This was a WIP that started because of the time a friend of mine was reblogging about Bilbo and Thorin and all that heart wrenching stuff 😭😭😭 I only got to finish it but here it is and I hope you still like it 💕

All the comments you guys leave on my works, I really appreciate them and they make me happy and smile. I'm trying my best to reply when I have free time because I want to keep on interacting with you lovely people. Classes started and I'm still trying to figure out my schedule and stuff. But I'll reply as soon as I can. I see your comments and I really do appreciate them and keep them in my heart. So thank you, thank you so much.

Warnings: a bit of angst)

There was a knock on the door, and it was a knock that he did not expect on that particular day.

Bilbo had been in his study, quill in hand, with his journal open on the table. He was going to start writing about his journey, the one he went to years ago with dwarves and a wizard to reclaim the Lonely Mountain. It was the journey of a life time, and even when he went away to meet elves and dwarves again after that, he could not find other experiences that could be better than that one.

He was about to start writing, because he wanted to tell Frodo about the journey, something to leave for Frodo and something for Frodo to add on to when he starts his own adventure.

But the knock on the door was quite persistent and Bilbo had to put his quill down to answer the door. He was about to frown (even though he was very fond of visitors, visitors that told him they'll be visiting in advance, that is) and maybe even tell the visitor that he was quite busy. But all that was washed away when Bilbo saw who it was at the door.

"Master Baggins, you have not aged at all!"

A wide smile appeared on Bilbo's lips as he greeted an old friend, a very good old friend of him that lived in the Lonely Mountain, an old friend that he went with on the journey.

A very good old friend that led the Company.

A very good old friend that was the King Under the Mountain.

"Thorin!" Although Thorin had said that the hobbit looked like he hadn't aged at all, Bilbo felt younger, like the white hairs on his head began to go back to their original color and his body felt lighter and more alive. "I did not know you were coming!"

"Well you did say there was no need to wait to knock and that tea was at four." The dwarf grabbed Bilbo's arm, which the hobbit mirrored, and they shared a smile. "It was quite a spontaneous decision of mine to visit. It was the only time I was free to travel, having fixed all the things that had to be dealt with back in Erebor. Kili and Fili are with me."

Bilbo's eyebrows went up because clearly the brothers weren't with Thorin at the moment. But he then nodded in understanding when Thorin said his nephews were at the center of the town, looking around and maybe even having a drink.

The hobbit then rushed to prepare some food and drink for his friend and Thorin made himself at home. Soon they were chatting and catching up, exchanging stories about what they've been up to since the last time they saw each other. Thorin's stories were more interesting, because the Shire was good for those who loved and yearned for a sense of permanency.

When their cups were empty the door opened and in came the brothers. They have aged since Bilbo saw them but they were still filled with the light the youth had. Fili and Kili hugged Bilbo and made themselves at home too and the conversations continued.

As Thorin, Kili, and Fili laughed, Bilbo sat on his chair and looked at his dear friends with a fond yet sad look in his eyes. This did not escape the attention of the dwarves and they soon asked what was wrong.

It took a while for Bilbo to speak, because Bilbo's throat began to hurt. His lips trembled. Taking a shaky breath, he closed his eyes.

Tears ran down his cheeks.

Reality struck him.

"I wish this was all real."

When he opened his eyes, he was all alone. There was no sign that there had been guests. Everything was in order. There were no weathered cloaks hung up by the doorway nor any mud on the floor.

Bilbo was still in his study, sitting by his desk with a quill in hand. He had written something, and that something is all that he had imagined, all that he had wished could happen, that Fili and Kili and Thorin could visit him.

That they survived.

That they were still there.

Ripping the pages he had written on off the journal, he looked at them one last time before heading off to the fireplace and throwing the papers into the fire.

Bilbo stood there, watching the paper turn to ashes, and his shoulders and heart felt heavier.

It was a journey of a lifetime, a journey worth writing for the next generations to read.

But it was a journey that, no matter how much time had passed, the wounds he attained would never heal.

Wiping away the tears on his face, he walked back to his study and whispered,

"That could have been the ending to my story."