It was kind of strange returning to the shire, to step back in Bag End like nothing had happened. It seemed so unrealistic, after orcs, dragons, elves and dwarves, he didn't knew what to believe. Did he had a really long dream? Or was he still dreaming while being somewhere in the wild?
But no, there was enough dust on every thing to choke on the slightest movement, and the little chest of gold was enough proof of the incredible journey.
He didn't really know what to do now that he was home, he had left bag end with so much hast that there were many things to clean and order , and yet,he couldn't think of anything to do.
Nonetheless, he couldn't bring himself to care, the way he had left the company had put a sour taste in his mouth, and a ache in his heart. He knew that, at the time, he had done what he thought was the right thing to help the dwarves, to have them still alive in the end.
But in the battle, he had seen some fall under the attack, and while he had done all he could to save them, coming to their aid, under the invisibility given by the ring, he didn't knew if they were alive. He had left after having his wounds partially healed.
He had left, bearing in mind that he was a traitor in Thorin's eyes. Not willing to think that the kind might have died, with his nephews, believing the hobbit to be a betrayer.
It was a lonely day for Bilbo Baggins in the shire, after two whole years surrounded by loud dwarves. It was a lonely day, and yet he was glad he had survived, if not for the joy of being with friends, at least for the knowledge that he had helped some dwarves to find a home again.
Thorin might have lived, but he didn't knew, and he had lost something precious in this journey...
And now, where was his home?