madelineschomberg
It's been months since The Battle of the Five Armies. Bilbo has returned to the Shire, but he can't escape the memories. The sweet young princes, cheeky and wholesome, lying lifeless on the ground, the laughter and fire, which usually burned so bright, gone. They didn't even live to see a century. And the king-that-never-was, the brave, kind, stubborn dwarf, bleeding out in his lap as he begged for forgiveness, and he didn't even get the chance to tell him that he loved him before he faded away.
Months of pain.
Until the knock on the door.