Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, or any of the characters.

Summery: A brief conversation between Lindir and an aged Bilbo Baggins on mortality, and the loss of cherished friends. Hurt/comfort/tragedy.

"You know," the elderly hobbit known as Bilbo Baggins began, "I am now one-hundred and eleven years old."

He puffed on his pipe to give himself time to gather his thoughts.

"No other hobbit has ever lived so long as I," he decided. "At least, none that I know of. But in the eyes of the elves, how short a life it must seem. We must appear as fruit flies to you."

His friend, who had been listening in thoughtful silence by the fireside, spoke at last.

"Certainly not," Lindir disagreed gently. "The lives of mortals can be fleeting, it is true. However, this does not diminish our view of them. A mortal life is just as important and meaningful as that of any immortal."

"Thank you, Lindir. You are very kind to say so," Bilbo stated. "Though I cannot help but wonder… what is the point in Illuvatar creating mortal beings, when there are already immortal beings. Why place people, so short lived, alongside such a long-lived, graceful, and wise race such as yours?"

Lindir appeared to think for a moment, then set aside his current musical composition to turn and look at Bilbo directly.

"While I cannot- nor will I- presume to know the mind of Eru Illuvatar, I believe I have an idea or two of my own," he offered. "I truly think it is to teach us, the Eldar, a great many things that we would not likely realize on our own."

"Such as?" Bilbo asked after taking another long inhale from his pipe.

"Patience," Lindir answered. "Kindness, and humility, among other things. I, personally, have learned how to appreciate life's simpler joys and moments. Such as philosophical discussions with an old friend in the Hall of Fire."

Bilbo chuckled, and Lindir smiled.

"I have also learned not to take so many things, including time, for granted," he added. "Immortal we may be, but we are not impervious to battle wounds, or fading due to a broken heart."

Bilbo's eyes widened at his friends' words.

"I had no idea," he admitted quietly. "About the latter."

"Not many do," Lindir stated.

Both were quiet for a several long moments. The only sound was the crackling of the fire before them, and the soft squeak that came from Bilbo's rocking chair as it moved back and forth.

"I once knew a young hobbit who taught me- and all who met him- such things," Bilbo finally remarked. "Though, I'm afraid I knew him not even half as much as I would have liked."

Lindir waited patiently for the elderly hobbit to continue, curious as to who Bilbo spoke of.

"It was ever so long ago," Bilbo went on. "I was but a young lad at the time, not quite grown up. But I remember… his name was Rian. He was very tall for a hobbit, you know. Could've given my ancestors a real run for their money!"

Bilbo smiled at the idea.

"Anyway… he was a gentle, quiet soul. And strong as can be. He never spoke as far as I can recall. But I remember he would sing whenever he was happy. No words."

Here, Bilbo gestured with his hands in an attempt to make his point, almost knocking the pipe from his mouth in his earnestness.

"No words, but rather beautiful, soft vocalizations of his happiness. All who came to know him, cared for him very much. I remember working beside him when it was time to bring in the harvest, and my friends and I would sing a work song. He would sing with us."

Bilbo tried and failed to imitate the kind of sounds he remembered Rian singing, and soon gave up.

"I've no talent for it," he admitted. "But he sure did. Every day, we would pick him up in the morning, and in the evening we'd walk him home to his family."

Bilbo's face fell as he recalled what happened next, however.

"But I'm sorry to say that he was sick often. When he passed away, he was close to my own age at the time. I believe the entire shire turned up to mourn and remember him. Everyone spoke of how he lived, like each day was a gift to him."

"That Autumn, we were silent as we worked. Save for one song, near the completion of the harvest. In his memory, you know. He would have wanted us to sing."

"I'm ashamed to say that I forgot that lesson- of appreciating the small things, for example. Of finding happiness in the everyday, whether it be boring or busy. To live while I had the chance, really. Fortunately, Gandalf managed to knock some sense into me later on, as well you know."

Lindir nodded, while Bilbo leaned back in the rocker, his tale complete.

"He sounds like he was a treasure to know," Lindir commented, nodding respectfully. "I'm sorry to hear of his passing."

"He was," Bilbo agreed. "And I am sorry, too."

To Lindir's great surprise, however, Bilbo brightened up, ever so slightly, a few moments later.

"But… do you know what?"

The hobbit did not give Lindir the time to answer, though.

"I quite like to think that I shall see him again- on my next grand adventure, you see!"

The hobbit smiled.

And Lindir did see, indeed.

This story is dedicated to all those who have left us far too soon. A humble tribute.