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“Can you tell me about my Da?”
Bilbo knew this day would eventually come—Frodo was nearly thirty-five years old for gods sake—but he still was completely and woefully unprepared with what to say. What could he say? That Frodo had the same exact shade of blue in his eyes, or that the young hobbit had royal blood in his veins—but no, no. That wouldn’t do; Frodo was a fragile child and that was partly his fault, he had raised him that way.
He could practically feel Thorin’s eyes looking disapprovingly at him and now more than ever, Bilbo wished he was here. Thorin would know what to say to cull Frodo’s curiosity—he would mention Erebor and the grand halls of his forefathers which would enrapture the young hobbit enough so that he forgot his original question.
But Thorin wasn’t here; Orcs had seen to that.
Bilbo didn’t really remember what had happened during the Battle of the Five Armies—and what stuck around in his memories wasn’t pleasant. Gandalf had made it a point to not tell Bilbo anything, but the great gaps in his memory had caused Bilbo to suffer more than was intended and eventually the wizard caved.
Gandalf told Bilbo of the fate of Fili and Kili, who were the closest friends the hobbit had ever had. Kili had fallen first with arrows in his back and swords cutting through his chest. “He died protecting Thorin and you, as he found out what you were carrying.” the wizard had said, alluding to Bilbo’s closest kept secret. Fili had been hurt not long after; he took a blow meant for Thorin—as he was the real target in all of it—and collapsed at the feet of his mortally wounded uncle.
Gandalf had offered to restore his lost memories but Bilbo (after much thought) declined.
The wizard never told him what exactly had happened to Thorin and the hobbit wasn’t sure he wanted to know. His memories of the good times caused him pain more than knowledge of how the dwarf died ever could.
“So you want to know about your father, eh?”
Frodo’s eyes were wide and he shook his head frantically. “Yes, please.” The young Halfling sat in front of Bilbo, his knees to his chest. “What was he like?”
“Well Frodo, what you really need to know is that he died protecting your mother, my dear boy.” He said, his voice wavered slightly as tears pricked his eyes. “And he loved you more than you’ll ever know.”