Work Text:
Some quick info relevant to the fic: Personally, I feel like Bilbo would have a lot of issues about the Quest and perhaps would have given a very bare-bone summary. No names, just “the dwarves”, and no specifics about the places and people he met. He went through so much life or death situations and some of his friends died. So just assume that Frodo knows he went on a quest with some dwarves, and that’s it.
Frodo could hardly remember the day his parents died, or the funeral, or when he went to go live with his Brandybuck family. Life seemed to go by in a blur at Brandy Hall for the next nine years. The real clarity came on his 21st birthday, the day Bilbo Baggins of Bag End came to adopt him and declared him his heir.
His days suddenly seemed to come into a sharp focus, and his mind filled with a clarity and wit that had been absent since he was 12. And while Bilbo had been a joy, a delight, and filled his days with long walking holidays, foreign languages, maps of far off places, and of stories of places so outlandish Frodo could hardly believe they existed on the Middle Earth he knew, there where little things that Frodo remembered most about Bilbo.
How no windows in Bag End faced East, yet Bilbo could be found dutifully smoking a pipe and watching the sunrise outside, rain or shine or snow. And yet when Frodo suggested building one, after hearing Bilbo’s morning ritual of saying “Good morning, Frodo my boy. It seems to be getting harder and harder to drag these old bones out of bed, even though as I’m getting older I seem to be waking earlier and earlier.” for the nth time, Bilbo had gently turned him down, yet he said it in such a way that Frodo not once ever brought it up again, not even when he himself started waking with the sun to help his odd uncle outside. (Or forcefully bundled him up due to the weather.)
How Hamfast (and later Samwise) Gamgee where not allowed to tend to the acorn tree in front, nor the blackberry bushes, mushroom patch or the lone apple tree, for Bilbo insisted on doing it himself. (Samwise once confided to him that Bilbo apparently always had plants he tended to solely by himself, but his da had said ‘before his quest, it was only his tomatoes, Mr. Frodo sir’.) When Frodo had (admittedly embarrassingly) lost his temper in the summer of his 28th year, after getting scratched one too many times in the sweltering heat trying to help harvest the blackberries on Bag Ends out-of-control bushes and demanded to know why their gardeners couldn’t simply do it, isn’t it their job? Bilbo had simply gone quiet for quite a while, before gently responding “These trees, mushrooms, and blackberries represent some people very dear and near to my heart. They passed long ago, and their graves are very far away. By taking care of these plants, I feel like I am taking care of them and paying my respects. I hope that their spirits can feel my love and how much I still miss them. That is why,” here, Bilbo had turned towards him and given a wry smile, before continuining on in a dry tone, “our ‘gardeners’ simply follow my request of leaving me, and now us, to take care of them.” Frodo never forgot the sight of his 106 year old uncle continuing to pick his berries, humming a distinctly un-hobbitsh tune under his breath, all while sweating a river, with damp curls pasted to his forehead and neck under a particularly garish and large sun hat. Frodo never complained about them again. (Not even when, year after year, they had too many apples, blackberries, and mushrooms for two hobbits to eat.)
Uncle Bilbo also has a smaller shrine nestled beside Yavanna’s, and while the Green Mother’s shrine was beautiful with its ever-changing seasonal greenery, food, and gently curved lines, the small one beside it was quite ugly in Frodo’s personal opinion. Made entirely from rough cut stone, it was on top of a fur pelt with miniature tools and weapons, and consisted of harsh angles and straight lines. For offerings, Bilbo offered “particularly interesting” rocks and stones he picked up on his walks, from the garden, or even a couple smooth, polished worry rocks from the market. When asked, Bilbo told him it belonged to Mahal. (The seemingly made up name threw Frodo off, and it took him four years to realize it was actually for Aüle, Yavanna’s husband.) And if every year on the 28th of Winterfilth Bilbo placed a small barrel of Dwarven ale and a small bag of Dwarven pipe weed, well, that was none of Frodo’s business. (When asked why rocks, and not jewels or precious metals, Bilbo had told him that “Mahal loves his children so much he carved them from stone and awoke them first, before the elves originally. He created the mountains for them to live in, and for them to mine. He made stone for them, my boy, and carved them from stone. And when they die, they return to it.”)
If hobbits where of the stealing sort (besides the Sackville-Baggins, but they are statistical outliers and should not be counted), Bag End would perhaps be the safest smial when it comes to potential robbery. Not because of any particularly strong locks, but because Bilbo refused to let anything gold in Bag End, even if it was only gold plated. When Frodo was young and convinced he was in love with Camellia Cotton, he had carved a love spoon and had tied it to a Bellflower which had been dipped in gold specially ordered in from Bree. When he had gone to show Bilbo, that was the only time he had truly seen his uncle angry (or even close to). (In the end, the flower hadn’t mattered as 2 days later Camellia Cotton had a compulsory wedding with Hobson Grubb. A distant Brandybuck cousin who found himself needing a compulsory marriage as well ended up using both the spoon and flower.)
Acorns where a prominent theme at Bag End, no matter the season. Carved into door knobs, on all the buttons, embroidered onto the throw pillows and towels, on the head boards, on top of pies, they where even on Bilbo’s custom-made preserve jars. This time, Frodo hadn’t even needed to ask, as Bilbo had laughed at him as he walked into Bag End for the first time and had his eyeballs assaulted. “I know it’s lot, my dear Frodo, but the acorns are a symbol and reminder of my only love.” After moving into Bag End, and up until the day he left the Shire, Frodo had never slept a single night without being buried under a quilt with an acorn pattern. (And if he drew an acorn onto his bedroll during the quest to destroy the One Ring, none of the Fellowship ever mentioned it.)
There was a closet by the front door that stood permanently empty. “Why, it’s for the boots and weapons, my dear boy!”
“Boots and weapons? Surely you jest!”
“You’ll see one day, Frodo lad. My friends will come for tea and we’ll need that closet. Dwarves aren’t like hobbits, you know! Hmmph. They live far longer than we do, so they’ve probably lost track of hobbit time. But I gave them an open invitation for tea, so they’ll come! I’m sure of it.” (They never did.)
Sometimes, when Frodo was particularly rambunctious or stupid, or even when Bilbo was in a particularly good mood or full of humour, Bilbo would accidentally call him “Firi”, or “Kiwi”. When that happened, Bilbo would immediately withdraw and gently send Frodo outside or to his room. Bag End would then be as silent as a tomb for the rest of the day. (Frodo peeked on Bilbo only once during one of these times. His uncle had such a heartbroken, sorrowful look on his face that Frodo never peeked again, for such a look never should belong on Bilbo Baggins.)
Frodo’s favourite memories where of the nights where Bilbo would just stare into the dying fire, and slowly sing a haunting song . The nights Frodo fell asleep listening to that song always guaranteed the best sleeps, and gave him dreams about giant eagles, giant bears that could turn into equally giant men, riddles, elves, and mountains.
But perhaps the thing he remembered most was also one of the bigger things. Upon arriving in Valinor, Bilbo loudly declared he had somewhere to be and someone to greet. He then pointedly looked at Gandalf, who looked quite exasperated yet fond. (Which was quite notable, as everyone else looked as equally confused as Frodo felt.) But before any of them could try to ask Bilbo what he meant, Bilbo appeared in front of Frodo and pulled him into a tight hug.
“My dear, dear boy. I have loved you like my own son, and I shall continue to do so. Not a day goes by where I don’t thank the Valar for bringing you into my life. Giving you that burden of that cursed ring will always be one of my biggest regrets in life, but you bore with with such strength and dignity that I’m nearly bursting with pride.”
“But I failed, uncle.” Frodo said gently into his uncle’s shoulder.
“That ring was not something any one being should be forced to shoulder all by themselves, and bebother and confusticate anyone who told you otherwise! Yes, you failed to destroy it alone. But you and Samwise did it. It is gone now, unable to taint another being’s life or the rest of history. That is more than any one else can say. Now, I am going on one last adventure. I am going to be heading towards the Southwest, to where Yavanna’s Garden and the mountains meet. There is someone in those mountains I’ve been waiting 81 years to see again. I’ll find you in the Garden’s again, Frodo.” With that, Bilbo planted a kiss on Frodo’s forehead for perhaps the last time, and started walking away.
Frodo scrubbed his eyes of the tears that where trying to spill over, and cleared his throat. “Wait! Uncle Bilbo!” Running to catch up , he added “I’m coming with. Mountains are cold right? Who else will tell you to put on a scarf or button up your coat. Gandalf? I’ve never even seen him in something else than those thin, ratty robes, even in a blizzard. And he won’t even help you climb any steep hills or mountains or stairs!”
Bilbo just laughed long and loud, and the last thing the rest of the White Ship passengers heard was the incredulous shout of one Frodo Baggins. “Acorn Love was a KING?”