![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elwendell posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
b2memB2MeM Prompt and Category:MARCH 23 DAILY PROMPT:Fanwork Prompt:
Bright is the ring of words
When the right man rings them,
Fair the fall of songs
When the singer sings them.
Still they are carolled and said --
On wings they are carried --
After the singer is dead
And the maker buried.
(Robert Louis Stevenson)
Format:vignette
Genre:angst
Rating:gen
Warnings:character death
Characters:Frodo, Elrond, Celebrian, Galadriel
Pairings:None
Summary:Bilbo takes the final path
I don't own any of the characters and settings. They all belong to JRR Tolkien and this is fanfic.
THE TIME THAT IS GIVEN US
Frodo let his eyes roam the faces of those around him. Were he truthful, it was only to give him an opportunity not to look at the small bundle lying in the hole at his feet. Neither elves nor hobbits adopted the habit of men, to coffin their dead in wooden or stone boxes, so Bilbo was wrapped in a length of beautiful green figured velvet. Frodo wondered if it would be easier to deal with, if he was looking at a box, for he could too clearly guess the shape of his uncle beneath the wrappings.
He was surprised at the number of people surrounding the grave, and yet, supposed he should not be. The Lady Celebrian and Lord Elrond stood to either side of Frodo, Elrond with a gentle hand upon his shoulder. Then there was Erestor, Glorfindel, Olorin, Faerwen, Galadriel, several others who had befriended Bilbo since their arrival, and Lindir with his harp. Indeed, the little grave side was crowded with those who wished to say their last goodbye to Bilbo Baggins.
Frodo was jolted out of his thoughts by Elrond's strong voice. “Do you wish to say anything before we commit him to the earth, Frodo?”
The words drew his gaze back to the bundle, so tenderly wrapped by his friends. What could he say that would sum up the life of Bilbo Baggins? Frodo swallowed.
“Bilbo Baggins was many things. In his own words he was clue finder, web cutter, stinging fly, the friend of bears and eagles and barrel rider.” Despite the occasion, around him Frodo heard soft chuckles, for his uncle's tale was well known, mostly through being oft repeated by the adventurer himself. “But he was so much more than those titles. He took me from a place where I was but one of many, and brought me to a home and family. He was my uncle, my cousin, my brother and my friend.” He rubbed absently at the stub of his finger, aware that tears were rolling down his cheeks. “Bilbo encouraged me to see a world beyond the paths of our little village and, were it not for his boldness, the world would now be a much darker place.” He accepted the hanky that Celebrian held before him and dabbed at his cheeks before wiping his nose. “I shall miss you dreadfully, Bilbo.”
Now Elrond spoke. “Bilbo Baggins was not the first hobbit I had seen, but he was the first who I came to know. When we met he seemed to be a most unlikely choice for any adventure, but I soon learned the error of my assumptions. Bilbo Baggins was one of the bravest souls I have ever encountered, for he could not rely upon strength of arms. His was an inner strength, tempered by dragon fire, and he had wisdom that would shame many an elf who could boast ten times his years. But it was not these attributes that I will treasure most in my memory. Bilbo Baggins' pure fea saw into the heart of any problem and he was never afraid to tell the truth, even if it led him into personal danger.” Frodo was surprised to hear a small catch in Elrond's voice. “Bilbo, I shall miss your honesty of heart and soul.”
To Frodo's left, the Lady Celebrian spoke, her soft voice, as always, a balm to all who heard it. “I was not fortunate enough to know Bilbo for long, but in our time together he brought laughter and youth back into my life. He had a joy of living that I have rarely encountered, and he seemed determined to fill to overflowing, every corner of his fea. Were he to live as long as we, I have little doubt that he would be one of the greatest among us . . . and yet, I suspect he would not have wanted to be acknowledge as such. Thank you, Bilbo Baggins, for reminding me of the joy to be found in a simple life.”
“Does anyone else wish to speak?” Elrond asked, quietly.
It was the Lady Galadriel who stepped forward to smile down at Bilbo's shrouded form. “I am elven kind and understand little, the brief span of mortal life. All our races are tied to the path laid down for us, by a being beyond our comprehension, and we can but tread them to our different endings.” Here she paused to fix Frodo with her starry gaze. “But this is not the final destination of Bilbo Baggins. Unlike elven kind he is not destined to continue, until the end of this world, rather his path leads beyond the borders of this life to a new adventure. Though we may mourn for our own loss of his bright presence, we do not mourn for Bilbo Baggins.”
Her words brought a shaft of light to Frodo's soul and he glanced up at Olorin, remembering now words the Miai had spoken once, from different lips, within the distant comfort of Bag End's parlour. “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” Bilbo had made his decisions and lived a full life in this world. Frodo must now do the same. He would mourn the past, then he would walk on into the future, filling his life with experiences, friendships and love. That was the best way to honour the memory of dear Bilbo.
Frodo drew in a deep breath, filled with the smell of damp earth and blossoms, and it felt as though a tight band that had been encircling his chest, suddenly shattered. Through a shimmer of tears he smiled up at the Lady Galadriel.
The company fell to their knees at the graveside, and tenderly began to push mounded soil over the earthly remains of Bilbo Baggins. Frodo joined them, finding a deep comfort in using his bare hands to tuck his uncle in. As they worked Lindir took up his harp and began to sing a song that would have seemed incongruous for any other burial.
“Earendil was a mariner
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in;
of silver were her lanterns made . . .”
Other voices joined the song and soon Bilbo was hidden from sight and his friends arose, to bow once before turning for home. And what better way was there to celebrate the life of Bilbo Baggins, a simple hobbit of the Shire, than with the words of his own song, followed by a feast of course?
END
Bright is the ring of words
When the right man rings them,
Fair the fall of songs
When the singer sings them.
Still they are carolled and said --
On wings they are carried --
After the singer is dead
And the maker buried.
(Robert Louis Stevenson)
Format:vignette
Genre:angst
Rating:gen
Warnings:character death
Characters:Frodo, Elrond, Celebrian, Galadriel
Pairings:None
Summary:Bilbo takes the final path
I don't own any of the characters and settings. They all belong to JRR Tolkien and this is fanfic.
THE TIME THAT IS GIVEN US
Frodo let his eyes roam the faces of those around him. Were he truthful, it was only to give him an opportunity not to look at the small bundle lying in the hole at his feet. Neither elves nor hobbits adopted the habit of men, to coffin their dead in wooden or stone boxes, so Bilbo was wrapped in a length of beautiful green figured velvet. Frodo wondered if it would be easier to deal with, if he was looking at a box, for he could too clearly guess the shape of his uncle beneath the wrappings.
He was surprised at the number of people surrounding the grave, and yet, supposed he should not be. The Lady Celebrian and Lord Elrond stood to either side of Frodo, Elrond with a gentle hand upon his shoulder. Then there was Erestor, Glorfindel, Olorin, Faerwen, Galadriel, several others who had befriended Bilbo since their arrival, and Lindir with his harp. Indeed, the little grave side was crowded with those who wished to say their last goodbye to Bilbo Baggins.
Frodo was jolted out of his thoughts by Elrond's strong voice. “Do you wish to say anything before we commit him to the earth, Frodo?”
The words drew his gaze back to the bundle, so tenderly wrapped by his friends. What could he say that would sum up the life of Bilbo Baggins? Frodo swallowed.
“Bilbo Baggins was many things. In his own words he was clue finder, web cutter, stinging fly, the friend of bears and eagles and barrel rider.” Despite the occasion, around him Frodo heard soft chuckles, for his uncle's tale was well known, mostly through being oft repeated by the adventurer himself. “But he was so much more than those titles. He took me from a place where I was but one of many, and brought me to a home and family. He was my uncle, my cousin, my brother and my friend.” He rubbed absently at the stub of his finger, aware that tears were rolling down his cheeks. “Bilbo encouraged me to see a world beyond the paths of our little village and, were it not for his boldness, the world would now be a much darker place.” He accepted the hanky that Celebrian held before him and dabbed at his cheeks before wiping his nose. “I shall miss you dreadfully, Bilbo.”
Now Elrond spoke. “Bilbo Baggins was not the first hobbit I had seen, but he was the first who I came to know. When we met he seemed to be a most unlikely choice for any adventure, but I soon learned the error of my assumptions. Bilbo Baggins was one of the bravest souls I have ever encountered, for he could not rely upon strength of arms. His was an inner strength, tempered by dragon fire, and he had wisdom that would shame many an elf who could boast ten times his years. But it was not these attributes that I will treasure most in my memory. Bilbo Baggins' pure fea saw into the heart of any problem and he was never afraid to tell the truth, even if it led him into personal danger.” Frodo was surprised to hear a small catch in Elrond's voice. “Bilbo, I shall miss your honesty of heart and soul.”
To Frodo's left, the Lady Celebrian spoke, her soft voice, as always, a balm to all who heard it. “I was not fortunate enough to know Bilbo for long, but in our time together he brought laughter and youth back into my life. He had a joy of living that I have rarely encountered, and he seemed determined to fill to overflowing, every corner of his fea. Were he to live as long as we, I have little doubt that he would be one of the greatest among us . . . and yet, I suspect he would not have wanted to be acknowledge as such. Thank you, Bilbo Baggins, for reminding me of the joy to be found in a simple life.”
“Does anyone else wish to speak?” Elrond asked, quietly.
It was the Lady Galadriel who stepped forward to smile down at Bilbo's shrouded form. “I am elven kind and understand little, the brief span of mortal life. All our races are tied to the path laid down for us, by a being beyond our comprehension, and we can but tread them to our different endings.” Here she paused to fix Frodo with her starry gaze. “But this is not the final destination of Bilbo Baggins. Unlike elven kind he is not destined to continue, until the end of this world, rather his path leads beyond the borders of this life to a new adventure. Though we may mourn for our own loss of his bright presence, we do not mourn for Bilbo Baggins.”
Her words brought a shaft of light to Frodo's soul and he glanced up at Olorin, remembering now words the Miai had spoken once, from different lips, within the distant comfort of Bag End's parlour. “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” Bilbo had made his decisions and lived a full life in this world. Frodo must now do the same. He would mourn the past, then he would walk on into the future, filling his life with experiences, friendships and love. That was the best way to honour the memory of dear Bilbo.
Frodo drew in a deep breath, filled with the smell of damp earth and blossoms, and it felt as though a tight band that had been encircling his chest, suddenly shattered. Through a shimmer of tears he smiled up at the Lady Galadriel.
The company fell to their knees at the graveside, and tenderly began to push mounded soil over the earthly remains of Bilbo Baggins. Frodo joined them, finding a deep comfort in using his bare hands to tuck his uncle in. As they worked Lindir took up his harp and began to sing a song that would have seemed incongruous for any other burial.
“Earendil was a mariner
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in;
of silver were her lanterns made . . .”
Other voices joined the song and soon Bilbo was hidden from sight and his friends arose, to bow once before turning for home. And what better way was there to celebrate the life of Bilbo Baggins, a simple hobbit of the Shire, than with the words of his own song, followed by a feast of course?
END
no subject
Date: 2018-03-24 11:25 am (UTC)What a marvelous epitaph that would be for anyone. I'm happy to imagine Frodo surrounded by friends, and Bilbo remembered with such love and respect.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-24 10:03 pm (UTC)