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The last color Thorin Oakenshield saw was gold. However, it was not the sought-after gold of his newly reclaimed kingdom, Erebor. It was Bilbo Baggins’ hair, illuminated by a singular ray of sun, curling over his face as the other pressed his lips onto Thorin’s forehead. Death was surely at hand, yet the dwarven king felt solace in the shimmer of Bilbo’s hair, smelling faintly of autumn flowers in the meadow. As he breathed his last, and the hobbit had whispered his final farewell, a solitary tear trailed from his eyes.
At least he knew that this burglar had stolen his heart to be kept safe before he brought it with him, untouched and cold, to his grave.
***
The last color Bilbo Baggins saw was blue. He had asked his nephew Frodo to seat him by the bow of the ship that carried them to Valinor, so he could look at the stars. It was twilight then, and Bilbo thought that the blue of the sky resembled so much like Thorin’s velvet cloak. Death was surely at hand, yet Bilbo swore he could hear the low hum of a dwarven song, lulling him to his final, lasting sleep. As he breathed his last, and Frodo squeezed his hand gently, a solitary tear trailed from his eyes.
Wherever he was going, Bilbo thought, he was sure Thorin will be there, arms open and waiting for him.