"And who was this, Thorin Oakenshield?" The auctioneer questioned Bilbo. From glancing up at the contract given him. "The one you pledged your service too?"

Mr. Baggins stayed silent at that, memories flooding back as a tear threatened to fall. "He was, he was my friend"... The Hobbit choked quietly, voice cracking a little in sadness as he glanced down. Remembering the Dwarf who had died in war. Along with his nephews and thousands of others. He still felt the pain, the heartbreak. And at times it was too much. Not caring about the onlooking gawkers and neighbors he silently went inside BagEnd.

Bilbo's eyes observed his home as he walked in for the first time in what seemed like years. It was a mess, his things had been torn and gone through. Papers scattered and littered the floors and halls. There was basically nothing left . He sighed softly and sadly , picking up the photos of his parents that had been tossed aside. Hanging them back on the wall above the fireplace as he nodded in satisfaction .

The Hobbit then moved on to the dining room, smiling slightly a little as he spied a white handkerchief with his initials sewn onto the corner. He chuckled, remembering the Wizard's words about how he'd have to learn to deal without a great many of things like it. And as usual, Gandalf had been right.

He then fell silent and grave again as he walked into his kitchen. Sitting down in a chair , The Burglar buried his head in his hands. And for the first time in awhile, cried. But they were not tears of joy at coming home. Though for grief and sorrow over a long departed friend.

A/N:
Part two to this onshot or no? Comment if you want more. :) Thanks for reading. -Isilwen .