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After his long journey back Bilbo didn't bother turning and checking to see if Gandalf really was leaving the Shire once more and into the big, strange world. He'd long accepted that the wizard would come and go whenever he pleased. But walking through the green grasses of greater Hobbiton he was relieved, the familiar fields he played in as a child, walked through as an adult, were soft on his feet. Greener by far than the lands around the Lonely Mountain, which left a familiar pang in his heart at the thought.
He walked. Sometimes it seemed like the only thing he's been doing for the past 13 months has been walking. In fact if he wrote his story as a book it should be called ‘a long walk,’ or, well, maybe he'd think of a better title.
He began passing houses, hobbit houses, filled with warmth and light, and the smells of Second Breakfast. Based on how the Company left his pantry he won’t have anything appropriate. Well, it’s not like he’s had a proper Second Breakfast in a while. He walks the path between the Proudfoot’s farm and the Cotton’s fields. At the end of the path he walks by Mrs Marleen Proudfoot, walking out of her house with a basket of some truly delicious smelling baked goods.
“Oh Mister Baggins!” she exclaims, “I was dropping off some treats at Old Mrs Brandybuck’s for elevenies. Oh you look just famished! Here take some,” she grabs a handful of divine smelling blueberry and apple muffins. “Thin as a branch if I do say so myself, all this adventure business is no good on the stomach. Oh better take a couple more,” she starts piling on another three before Bilbo has the time to protest.
“Please, it’s alright! I've already got my hands full!”
“Oh alright, now that you’ve turned up again you should come on by for dinner, need to fatten you back up!”
She starts heading back on her way for the morning, Bilbo starts heading back to his own long awaited hole and armchair, what’s happened to it in his absence? “Oh, Mrs Proudfoot?” she hums in question and stops a little ways away, “What happened to Bag End while I've been gone?”
“Oh! The Gamgees have been taking good care of it, I hear,” the Gamgees! They were already excellent gardeners but Bilbo’s going to give them a sharp pay increase, “I best be off or I'll be late, I'll be seeing you later, Mister Baggins.” Mrs Proudfoot says as she heads back down an opposite road. With a polite good goodbye Bilbo starts heading his own way with considerable enthusiasm. He was worried he’d spend the first weeks back doing nothing but dusting.
As he approaches Bag End he runs into many more neighbours who greet him, fuss a little over his lost weight, and hand him even more baked goods, cured meats, and lovely cheeses, he even gets a basket of fresh plums from the Farmer Maggot (which was quite useful for holding all the other foods he’d been given, truly he never quite realised just how much food was in the Shire).
When Bag End is in sight he finally feels a small part of his chest loosen, not all the way, he doubts he’ll ever quite feel light again after what's happened, but lighter. He is home, the closer he gets he spots old Hob Gamgee in his front garden, tending the newly bloomed roses. Bilbo’s been making an awful racket with the troll den treasure he picked up along the way (not much of a bugler right now), so it’s a given that he’s spotted before he’s able to even open his mouth in greeting.
“Mr Bilbo!” he shouts, waving his arms above his head as if Bilbo wasn’t already looking at him, “you’ve come back!” Old Gamgee puts down his pruning shears and opens the front gate for him, “I knew you was coming back, I just knew it, kept the place nice and dusted for you.”
“Thank you, Hob,” Bilbo can’t quite keep the tiredness from his voice but all it does is emphasise his pure relief, “had any trouble while I was gone?”
“Trouble? Well,” he scratches his hair under his hat, “them Sackville-Baggins tried to get you claimed dead, but you have to be gone for 3 years for that to happen. That was all thrown out. Oh it’s so good to have to back Mr Bilbo!”
“Thank you, Hob,” there's no way he could express his gratitude for the man in that moment, oh, actually. He reaches into the chest of troll treasure he picked up on the way, pulling out a handful of gold, “this is thanks for watching the house.”
“My! I- you- Mr Bilbo!” Gamgee exclaims.
“Now go on home and make yourself some Elevenies, you’ve earned an afternoon off.”
“Mr Bilbo!-” he’s cut off as Bilbo steps through his green, circular door, right into his hallway, just as he left it. The windows are open, letting in a warm breeze. He walks through his home like he stepped into a memory, just as he left it, not a speck of mud or dust, nothing out of place. Bless old Hob Gamgee, he kept the place perfect.
He is home, back to his armchair, to his books and maps, to his fireplace, to his blasted handkerchiefs he forgot. Home, at last. Now, time for a good long bath, and a good long meal. Maybe he should start writing a book on his adventures? He still has to think of a title.