Epilogue

(Bilbo’s POV)

            A week was all that had passed since I had arrived back to Bag End. During that week, on top of rebuilding my home to something of what it once was after I found out my things were being auctioned because I was supposedly declared dead and surprising everyone by my reappearance, I had tried to convince myself that life would be normal for me again, that nothing had ever changed. Ha, as if I was capable of persuading myself that nothing had changed at all!

            My life was never going to be the same.

            To this day, even after a week, I still felt fatigued, plagued with a burden or two. I had yet to do a few important things. The longer I put them off, the heavier my guilt and heart became. I should have done what I should have last week, the moment I had come back to the Shire, but I didn’t, only because I knew it hadn’t been the right time. To top it off, I had had other things to deal with on the day I had returned home.

            For most Hobbits, today was like any other day to them. For me, it was another day of mourning, another day of important decision making. Should I give them what she wanted them to have? Should I put it off any longer? The longer they’re kept in the dark, the worse their grief will be, said my conscience.

            I sighed heavily. Today had to be the day. Not tomorrow, not next week nor next month, today. If I didn’t do it now, I probably never would, eventually forgetting, leaving them to eventually assume that she was gone and never coming back.

            Even though it had been almost a year since she was gone, I still wasn’t over her death. After all, who would be, when a person they cared deeply for died in their arms just as they were less than minutes away from being saved from death? I closed my eyes tightly, trying to erase all memory of that day. But it worked to no avail. Behind my closed eyes, I recollected all that happened on that day.

            We had just gotten out of a sticky situation involving Orcs and Wargs. If it hadn’t been for Eagles coming in to save us, we would have all ended up dead, I was sure. I remembered being by her side as we rode an Eagle, examining her wounds. I remembered seeing her face contorted in pain, hearing her whimpers, sobs, and choked breaths. I remembered how not only her life was on the line at that time, but Thorin Oakenshield’s as well.

            Every bit of the memory was burned into my mind forever, and I knew it would haunt me until the day I died. It would be just one of the many things that would.

            I was already dressed, mentally preparing myself for the grueling task I had to do today. I ate very little breakfast, as today I wasn’t feeling like myself. Well, I hadn’t really for a while. I ambled over to the desk where the objects lay, all that remained of her.

            A letter and a ring, the only tangible objects left to remember her by.

            My throat swelled in pain when glaring at the objects. I remembered her words as she handed me those things: They need something to remember me by. The ring goes to him, the letter goes to her. If I had had enough time, I could have written him one too. Delicately, I snatched the items and slipped them into one of my pockets. I blew out a somber breath.

            Today was going to be one of the hardest days in my life. This would probably be the second hardest, the first had been saying goodbye to her when I wasn’t ready to.

            I took my time leaving Bag End; I was in no rush to my first stop of the day. Maybe if I was lucky, her sister would be there with him, then I could kill two birds with one stone—an awful phrase to say, considering what I had seen in the past year and what news I had to tell.

            If others were watching me, I didn’t meet their gaze. I kept my eyes on the road, as though I had blinders on. I was engrossed with my thoughts, as grave as they were. I couldn’t bring myself to think or say her name anymore, not since she died that day. I felt like if I did say it, I would lose any stability I had left in me and have a breakdown. Not a meltdown, a breakdown. I’d had a meltdown and done it away from watchful eyes when I was still on the adventure with Gandalf and the Dwarves. They had known how much it affected me when the event was still fresh. And like me, all of the company was affected in some way by her untimely death, some more than others.

            At least she isn’t alone there, wherever she is, I thought thoughtfully. She’ll meet them soon enough. I thought of the fallen Dwarves: Thorin, Fili, and Kili. The brothers hadn’t adjusted to her passing well either. Even her death had affected Thorin in some way, but it could have never hurt him like it did the brothers and me.

So much death in such a short amount of time. I’d lost some dear friends on that journey.

            The letter and the ring felt like they were burning a hole through my coat. I hoped nobody pulled me aside to talk; I didn’t have time for it. I didn’t want anyone to ask me what was wrong, because really, it wasn’t their right to know why I was upset.

            Before I knew it, I stumbled upon her house. Just being near it made my heart ache, and it reminded me that she would no longer live there. I remembered the day I had come bustling to her house, knocking frantically on her door, telling her I had changed my mind about the journey, and that she was to go with me. I laughed grimly to myself.

            It was my fault she was gone. I blamed myself, my teenage self to be more exact. If I hadn’t made that pact with her—or even if I had forgotten about it later down the road—she would have been safe. She wouldn’t have gone; she would have stayed with Jack and Remy. She would have had years ahead of her, and perhaps a family in her future.

My eyes watered, realizing what life she had been stripped of thanks to me.

            My brown eyes strayed to the paddock which I expected to be empty, but wasn’t. My heart dropped into my feet when I saw Remy, her pony, huddled in a ball on the ground. I remembered he had fled when Warg-scouts had tracked us down. How could he have found his way home?

Remy looked downright pitiful, which made the guilt in my heart grow more. He was missing her just as much as I was, possibly more. Solemnly, I went to the fence, leaning against it, watching the poor creature. At the sight of me, he picked his head up. Not a moment later, he jumped to his feet, lumbering towards me. He stuck his head over the fence, nudging me. I smiled bleakly at him, scratching his cheek.

“I wish she was here too, old boy,” I murmured to him. “I wish she was here, too.”

Normally, at this point, my allergies would have gotten the better of me, and I would have sneezed all over Remy. Yet, it sounds weird, but it was as if my emotions cut me off from my allergies today. It sounds strange, but it wasn’t impossible.

“I heard rumors you were back.”

My heart skipped a beat. Did he hear me talking to Remy? I swallowed, not wanting to look him in the eye, not yet.

“I’ve been back a week,” I muttered, finally looking at Jack.

The poor fellow, he looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks. Violent bags were under his eyes, blue eyes that had lost their energy. He looked as though he had aged in such a short time. Does he assume the worst?

“He came home a month ago,” Jack said quietly, nodding to Remy. “No tack on him. When I had heard him from the house, I thought she was back. But then she wasn’t with him…” He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. His lids pulled up to expose aged eyes. “Is that why you’re here, because you know where she is?”

I could only nod once. Jack nodded, as though he was confirming something in his head.

Silently, Jack gestured for me to go in the house. I almost refused, simply because I wasn’t ready to go into her house. Instead of backing out, I pulled out some courage—which I was shocked I still had any—and sauntered in after Jack.

He led me to the living room, where the fireplace looked dormant. He paced in the room, blue eyes waiting for me to say something.

“Is she dead?” he dared to ask.

Jack had to have worried about her since the day Remy had found his way home. I couldn’t imagine what torture he had gone through, wondering whether or not his wife would come knocking on their door one day, ready to throw herself into his arms and talk about her adventure.

I realized I left Jack’s question hang in the air as I pitied the Hobbit for suffering because of the unknown for a while.

I sucked in a large breath. “Yes, she’s dead.” I felt my throat catch, but I cleared it, hoping I would sound strong.

“I’d had a feeling that she was, but I didn’t want to believe it. Every day she was gone, I waited for her. I listened for Remy, or her voice calling my name.” He shook his head, rubbing his forehead with his left hand. My heart hammered when seeing his wedding ring. “How long ago was it?”

“Almost a year.” I clasped my hands in front of me, afraid to let them not have anything to hold onto.

“Almost a year…” Jack repeated. He leaned against the chair to support himself. “She’s been dead for almost a year…” He looked to me, weary. “How did she die?”

“I would tell you the details, but for your sake and mine, I will tell you this, for now: She died doing what she had always wanted to. Also…” I pulled out her wedding band, Jack’s eyes popped. “She wanted you to have this, as something to remember her by.” I held it out towards him.

Gingerly, Jack crossed the gap to take his wife’s ring from me. Tears cascaded down his face as he held all that was left of her in his hand. He covered his mouth, trying to muffle the sobs.

“I’m truly sorry for your loss,” I said sincerely.

“Have you told Cecelia yet, about this?” He sniffled.

“No, but sadly, I plan to once I leave here. It must be done.”

“Yes, it must.” Jack closed his hand on the ring. His eyes shot to the ceiling, tears still flowing from them. “Thank you, for this. If you think that I blame you for her death, I don’t.” You’re only lying to yourself; you just don’t want me to feel guilty. It’s too late for that, my friend. “She knew the risks going into leaving…”

We both knew, deep down, that the one thing that she could not have anticipated was dying. She had been so full of life, so optimistic, and to know that she would never walk this earth again made me uneasy to the point where I wanted to be sick.

“I-I must be off,” I said awkwardly, slowly shuffling towards the hobbit-hole door. “Listen, i-if you ever want to talk, just stop by.”

Jack was too consumed by his emotions, so I let him be. I wasn’t even out the door when I heard him let his crying get the better of him. I made my retreat further, hoping to not catch the crying bug.

            One visit down, one left to go, I thought soberly as I trudged along the narrow dirt road back to Bag End. I hoped Jack got some closure from me telling him the news and giving him her ring. I really hoped the poor fellow didn’t do anything drastic, she would never want that for him if something happened to her. The same could be said for her sister, Cecelia.

I remembered she told me that shortly before I lost her: When you return, after you give Cecelia and Jack what I just gave to you, I want you to look after them both. I—I know the news will hit them hard, but who will be worse, I don’t think I want to guess. Watch over them both for me; don’t let them do anything stupid. They may not seem like the people to do extreme things, but you can’t assume that.

            I remembered I had told her yes in a heartbeat in my mind, I couldn’t get the word out at the time.

            Once my home was in sight, everything looked normal, aside from the Hobbit pounding on my green door. My eyes squinted, and I heard a voice yelling.

            “People have seen you, Bilbo Baggins!” she barked. “I know you’re in there! How come they can see you, but I can’t?”

            “Maybe I’m not at home,” I called to her. She gasped, turning to face me.

            Cecelia Purefoy. She didn’t look like she had aged a day since I had last seen her. Her deep red hair remained thick and glossy as always, so many emotions were muddled in her green eyes it was hard to tell how much she was feeling inside. My heart knotted picturing her alongside Cecelia.

            I was going to have to get used to the image of seeing one sister instead of two.

            “Bilbo!” She crashed through my gate only to tackle me into a hug that nearly sent us to the ground. Her grip was iron-tight, constricting me to where I was sure I would start turning blue if she didn’t let go. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She jumped away; a blush crept into her cheeks. Even now, she looked adorable when she blushed. That hadn’t changed about her.

            “Let me guess, you’re wondering about where…” I couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out.

            “Where Lily is”—I winced—“yes, I am.” Her eyes narrowed in earnest. “I know you know, Bilbo.”

            “I’ll tell you, but I think it’s better if we talk inside.”

            With a gloomy cloud above my head, I led Cecelia inside of Bag End. I made sure she got settled in. I couldn’t remember the last time she and I had been alone together. It brought back memories I had never let go of, memories that I didn’twant to get rid of.

            “Have you talked to Jack?” I asked her.

            “Not since a few weeks ago, not since the day he told me Remy had come back home without her.” She gulped. “I think he assumes the worst, Bilbo, that Lily is…dead.” Cecelia had a hard time forcing the last word out. “But”—a happy twinkle set in her eyes—“I’m sure you aren’t going to tell me that she’s gone, are you?”

            I didn’t meet her eyes.

            “Bilbo?” I heard Cecelia’s feet patter towards me. Slowly, I met her eyes, eyes that were waiting for an answer that would never come.

            I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth even though not long ago I had just told Jack that his wife was gone. Why was this so much harder? You would think being the bearer of bad news once would make it seem easier the second time.

            Cecelia’s happiness dissolved, replaced by fear and concern. Her mouth dropped, as if I had just dropped a huge secret on her head. Her green eyes went wide with confusion and apprehension.

            “No,” she whispered, taking a step away from me. “No…” Her mouth moved, but no words came out. She knotted her fingers into her hair; a panicked look now took over her eyes. “Bilbo, please tell me that Lily isn’t really…gone. Please tell me this is some sort of joke, and that she’s hiding from me somewhere in this house!” Her voice became desperate, which made my heart ache even more.

            I exhaled heavily, soon to regret confirming Cecelia’s horrible suspicion. “I wish I could, I really wish I could.”

            It happened in slow motion. First, the shock hit Cecelia like being hit head-on with a shovel. She had a faraway look in her eyes, disbelief. She reminded me of myself as I held her—Lily—in my arms, not seeing her eyes blink or feeling her heart beating underneath my hand.

            Cecelia dropped to the floor; I lunged for her to catch her. I barely snatched her in my arms. No crying had come yet, but her body shook terribly, as if she was spending the night outside in a frozen wasteland. Her vibrations shook my body just as bad.

            Then it began. A loud, piercing wail echoed through Bag End, nearly deafening me. Cecelia doubled over, crying as loud as she saw fit. I said nothing, holding her in my arms, pressing my cheek atop her red head. I comforted her silently, letting her take in Lily’s death.

            We stayed that way for what seemed like hours. Cecelia, at first, sounded as though she would never stop. Hearing her be in such pain almost caused me to cry along with her. Instead of giving in, I put on a brave face, all the while battling my emotions.

 Gradually, Cecelia had no tears left to shed. Slowly, she picked her head up, her eyes red, sniffing. Tenderly, I wiped her wet face with my thumbs, flashing her a sympathetic smile. Cecelia dipped her head, choking out one last sob.

“W-were you with her, w-when she…?” she dared to ask.

“Yes, I was.” My throat felt like it had a huge lump in it. “I made her as comfortable as possible. I was there for her until the very end, I promise you.”

“I—I never even got to say goodbye to her.”

            “She wanted me to give you something,” I said quietly. This peaked Cecelia’s interest, for she picked her head up again to look at me in wonder. Carefully, I placed the rolled letter in one of her hands. She looked down at it, then at me. “She was going to have it delivered to you, but we had to be off, so she didn’t have a chance to pass it along to someone.”

            “Should I read it aloud, right now?” she asked.

            “It’s a letter she gave to you, Cecelia, not to us. You read it when you feel the time is right to.”

            She wiped her eyes. “Oh, this will hurt Jack when he finds out!”

            “He already knows.”

            “Huh?”

            “That’s where I was coming from.”

            “How did he take it?”

            “Not much better than you did, I’m afraid.”

            “Who can blame us? He lost a wife, I lost my sister.”

            “I lost my closest friend,” I murmured, holding her tight. “We all lost someone.”

            “Mum and Papa should know.” She sniffled. “I’ll tell them, when I feel it’s right to.”

            “Don’t put it off for too long,” I warned her.

            “I won’t.” She buried her head into my neck, dowsing it with her wet face. “I miss her so much, Bilbo.”

            “I do too, Cecelia.” I squeezed her. “I do, too.”

            I will do as you asked of me, Lily. I will keep an eye on Jack for you. I will watch over your sister. I will not let either of them be taken by their grief. And, I promise, I will never forget you. You were my best friend, the best friend I could ever ask for. If only you hadn’t gone so soon and so suddenly like you had. You could have seen the things I did, and maybe even experienced them, all the good and the bad.

            I hope that you are in a better place than you were on that Eagle, Lily. You deserve the finest in the afterlife, if it exists. I hope you are able to watch over us all, because I don’t think any of us will be ready to let you go for a while. Though you told me to let you go, I never truly did.

            “Bilbo?” Cecelia questioned me. She was looking up at me.

            “Hmm?”

            “What are you thinking about?”

            “Nothing. Let’s not talk anymore.”

            I held Cecelia in my arms, on the floor of Bag End. We both mourned the loss of Lily Purefoy-Petrova in our own manners.

            If Lily were here right now, watching, she would probably be happy by the sight of Cecelia and I being close again, even though this was for a sad time. I could picture her being hidden from our eyes, giggling quietly to herself. I forgot what her laugh sounded like, what she sounded like all together. The only things I remembered of her were her orange hair and her determined brown eyes, eyes that hungered for adventure.

            For all we knew, Lily could be watching us right now. But, we would never know. 

**Well...thus, for the most part, ends 'Red'. Not exactly a happily-ever-after tale, as it was never going to be that, I'm afraid.  Your usual fan fictions have that, a happy ending. Some of mine may have nice endings, and others (like this one) may not. It all depends on the character andtheir story.

Oh, and, if you want to continue further, I've got two bonus chapters for you all to read on with. I think you'll like them if you've loved this story**