Bilbo Baggins, Elrond, other inhabitants of Rivendell; gen, fic or art
How did it come about that Bilbo ended up in retirement in Rivendell? Did Elrond invite him? Did he invite himself? Did Gandalf arrange it? When were the arrangements made--before he left the Shire, or before or after his last journey to Erebor? What were his living quarters like? What did he bring with him from the Shire? Did he adjust easily to living among Elves? And how did the Elves feel about this small, elderly mortal dwelling among them?
Also inspired by
Someone opens the pages of a book and something falls out.
The book is either a volume from the Rivendell library or the personal copy of an inhabitant of Rivendell.
Books! Create something from the Library of Rivendell
Any kind of fanwork - story, art, craft - show us or tell us about a book/scroll/manuscript from Elrond’s library. Title, description, summary, cover, binding, endpapers, the art of book-binding, illumination or anything related, or a story about one particular book, be it its creation, history, content, or just playing a major role in any kind of story. It doesn’t have to be a complete work/book either. Anything goes here, provided it centers around anything that has to do with the Library of Rivendell.
Format: Short story
Warnings:brief mention of violence
Characters: Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir , Bilbo
Summary: A chance discovery awakens old memories.
The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been nor will be made from this story.
A/n; The words of the poem are by Tolkien.
Faramir sat at a table by the window in Rivendell’s library engrossed in The Lore of Old Númenor, a weighty tome, which Master Elrond’s son had suggested he should read.
At the far side of the library, Aragorn and Arwen were trying to decide which books to take back to Gondor with them that Eldarion might enjoy.
“The History of the Kings of Arnor, we certainly should take that one,” said Arwen. “I doubt Eldarion will enjoy it, but he ought to read it.”
“It is actually quite entertaining,” said Aragorn. “I loved the more gruesome parts as a lad, such as the tale of my namesake who was eaten by wolves. Apparently all that was left of him was a booted foot and a hand with the Ring of Barahir upon it!”
Arwen shuddered. “Such a story would give Eldarion nightmares! I will choose something else.”
“I very much doubt it would trouble him once he is a little older,” said Aragorn. “It was my favourite bedtime reading. Of course, at the time, I had no idea that poor Aragorn I was my longfather.”
Arwen looked unconvinced. She selected another volume, Walking in the Northern Kingdoms. “This looks more suitable,” she said. “Look, here are illustrations of all the flora and fauna that one might see in these parts. She turned over the pages, admiring the exquisite illustrations. A loose sheet of manuscript fell out from between drawings of a hare and of a rabbit. She held it up and began to read
“Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.”
Aragorn smiled. “Bilbo’s Travelling Song!” he exclaimed. “I keep finding the old Hobbit’s compositions tucked into the books here. He liked to write in the library, but never knew quite where to keep his finished poems until Master Elrond gave him a book of bound parchment to collect them all in.”
Faramir looked up from his reading. “I always meant to ask you just how Bilbo came to retire to Rivendell,” he said. “Frodo told me that his kinsman lived here for many years.”
Aragorn took Walking in the Northern Kingdoms and Bilbo’s poem from his wife and walked across the room with them.He sat beside his Steward. Arwen followed him and took a seat opposite. “I was only ten years old when Bilbo first came to Rivendell,” he said. “I remember, though, how much he loved it. He was full of enthusiasm, especially for the Hall of Fire and the Library.”
“I thought you were kept hidden?” said Faramir.
“Master Elrond mostly concealed my identity rather than my person,” said Aragorn. “He believed it would be harmful for me to see no outsiders at all during my childhood. I later learned that he had it known abroad that I was a foundling, the likely result of some youthful indiscretion of a Ranger and one of the Bree- folk. People are ever willing to believe a scandal!”
Faramir nodded. “So you met Master Bilbo during his first visit?”
“I sought him out during his stay here with Thorin and his folk. I was pleased to meet one who was smaller than I and less fierce than the Dwarves he travelled with. He seemed to like my company too and told me about his home in the Shire and his dozens of relatives. I was fascinated, believing then that I had only my mother as kin. He was a delightful fellow and I believe Master Elrond enjoyed his company too.”
“Master Bilbo was very special,” said Arwen. “His presence brightened Rivendell greatly. There is something about the enthusiasm and joy in daily living that mortals experience that those of Elven kind both envy and admire. I remember when Bilbo first made Rivendell his home; every day was filled with new delights for him. Delights I had long forgotten how to experience. The taste of freshly baked bread, the opening of the first daffodils, or the thrush singing for his mate. My father took real pleasure in seeing how he enjoyed the Hobbit sized furniture he had made for his rooms and the pleasure he took in the clothes we had made for him. Bilbo brought little luggage with him, only two sets of clothes, his pipe, his sword and mail shirt and a few books and other personal possessions.”
“I saw Bilbo a few times between meeting him in my childhood and his retirement to Rivendell,” said Aragorn. “He liked to take long walks and would seek out Elves or Rangers to give him news. When I returned to Rivendell and found him living here, I wondered if it were Gandalf’s doing to help him recover from bearing the One Ring for so long. Maybe Master Elrond and Gandalf put their heads together and decided to issue an invitation, or maybe Elrond had suggested it years before, little thinking the Hobbit would ever leave the Shire.”
“I am so glad that he did,” said Arwen. “He was a good friend to me. He was one of the very few who knew of my betrothal and the banner I was making for Estel in secret. He was so disappointed that he was too old and frail to travel to see our wedding.”
“Bilbo was a good friend to me as well,” Aragorn said. He looked fondly at the parchment in his hand. “He believed in me and my destiny. His poems helped inspire me to become the man I was born to be.”
“I wish I could have known him,” said Faramir.
“I wish you could have too,” said Aragorn. “He made out that he spent his retirement sitting beside the fire and thinking, but he did so much more. He wrote much of the Red Book while he was here as well as many poems and was a friend and inspiration to all who knew him.”
“Especially the cooks,” said Arwen. “He must have taught them more new recipes during his stay than they had collected in the previous millennia! His mushroom soup and his seedcake with honey, my mouth waters just to think of them!”
“We ought to have a meal comprised exclusively of Bilbo’s recipes,” said Aragorn.
“It would be an excellent way to honour his memory,” said Arwen.
“The children would love that,” said Faramir. “They are fascinated by stories of the Hobbits. I expect the girls would enjoy assisting the cooks with the preparations.”
Aragorn smiled. “Bilbo would love that. He has long since departed from these shores, but his spirit lives on here in Rivendell. If I close my eyes I can still see him in his corner by the fire, writing in his book.”