Many Paths: Chapter Two

[flakedice]

Title: Many Paths (2 of 10)
Author(s): Flakedice
Artist(s): charlies_dragon, penumbria_fics and croix_souillees
Fandom(s): The Hobbit
Type: Slash
Rating: Mature
Word Count/Art type: 44,550 words
Characters/Pairings: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Warnings/Spoilers: major character death, graphic violence, gore, torture, psychological torture, ptsd, (tiny bit of) self-harm, suicide (sort of), mental illness (Please highlight to read)
Summary: Bilbo wakes up in Dale. With the memory of a battle won but lives lost, he finds an army of Men and Elves readying to attack Erebor. Bilbo tries to save his dwarves. Again and again.

MANY PATHS

CHAPTER II

The sun had long to rise when Bilbo slipped back into the mountain. It was still dark, his path lit by the braziers on the wall, the torches that had been lit and the deep glow of the far off forge lights.

But while most of the Company was sleeping, Bilbo knew where he would find Thorin.

He was near the throne, slowly pacing back and forth, his gaze fixed on the gold that spilled round the platform in a terrible glinting river.

"You should rest." Bilbo said as he made his way to solid ground. "You will need your strength." Thorin had not slept nor eaten for days, Bilbo realised sickly. And his weakness had surely contributed to his death.

Thorin stopped. He slowly turned, gaze softening slightly as he saw Bilbo. "Dwarves are a hardy folk, Master Baggins. It will take more than lack of rest to affect our strength."

Months on the road and a lack of food had done most of the job already, Bilbo feared.

Bilbo gave him a tight smile, knowing defeat. He looked down, flexing his toes against the cold stone. "You need something to eat, though-" Bilbo rocked nervously on his feet, uneasy under Thorin’s stare. Still seeing his lifeless eyes. "There isn't much but Bombur-"

There was a soft noise, heavy fur on stone, and Bilbo looked up to find Thorin had drawn closer.

He gave Bilbo a small amused smile. "When Erebor is secure, we will have a feast. You shall have whatever food you desire."

Bilbo couldn't remember the last time the prospect of eating had been appealing. Thorin's talk of feasts with an army camped beyond the mountain's walls only made him feel nauseous.

He twitched his nose nervously, taking a chance. "I had hoped you would join me for breakfast." If it took him eating to encourage Thorin to do the same, Bilbo would happily choke down some musty cram.

And if he could get Thorin away from the gold for long enough, Bilbo might be able to break him free from the dragon-sickness' grip.

Thorin's eyes were warm, his expression softening. "Another time, Master Baggins." His gaze returned to the gold around them, growing harder, more focused. "The Arkenstone must be found."

"Thorin-"

But Thorin was already prowling out onto the treasure, eyes scanning the tide of gold beneath his feet.

~x~X~x~

"You would steal from me?" Thorin regarded him with angry betrayal.

Bilbo shook his head. "No, Thorin. I’ve only acted upon the contract we made." He could see Balin's eyes slide shut as if the shut out the coming disaster, feel Bombur's petrified disbelief at his side.

Thorin regarded him incredulously, body held tight in deadly stillness. "That is your defence?"

"I am to 'extricate the Company from whatever difficulties they encounter' and this-" Bilbo gestured forcefully at the gathered army below. "Is most definitely a difficulty, Thorin!"

A difficulty that was going to get them all killed if he couldn't talk sense into Thorin.

"I have found you the Arkenstone, Thorin." Bilbo continued more quietly. "And it will be returned to you when honour your word."

"My word." Thorin repeated quietly. "And what do you know of honour, thief?" It was said with a sneer.

Things had gotten out of control and quickly. Bilbo held Thorin's gaze, repressing the urge to flinch. "I have given my word for yours, Thorin."

Thorin's eyes flickered. And then his expression twisted with anger. "I am king here!" His voice was an ugly growl.

"You are not yourself, Thorin!" The Company hadn't moved and Bilbo took strength from that. "The Thorin I know would never let his pride get in the way of the prosperity of his people."

Thorin stilled, shoulders hunched. He peered at Bilbo, one eye caught beneath straying strands of hair, as icy and chilling as a wolf's. "Do not seek to lecture me on prosperity, you who have never known hardship in your life!" His words cracked out as he advanced. Thorin's eyes remained fixed on Bilbo, glinting with unshed tears and a deep wild rage. "A shire rat who has wormed his way deep into our Company in order to steal our wealth for his own!" His words were a deep growl. "You have shown your true colours at last."

A sense of desperation seized Bilbo, any chance for reason slipping from his fingers. "Thorin-"

Thorin's expression twisted at the use of his name, affront and disgust combined. "Throw him from the ramparts!"

~x~X~x~

Bilbo watched as four large rams charged through the army of orcs, punching their way through the lines. It was the same as last time, which meant whatever change could be made was up to him.

Bilbo reached for the ring in his pocket. He wasn't going to wait. The climb to Ravenhill would be long enough.

~x~X~x~

It took longer than Bilbo remembered to get free of the knots of fighters scattered through Dale. Men and orcs clashed at every turn; even trolls were loose within the city. Even invisible as he was, they were hard to avoid. He had heard Gandalf shouting for him at one point but there was no time to stop and explain.

He wasn't sure that Gandalf wouldn't stop him if he did.

After Bilbo had slipped through Dale's broken walls, he had made his way across the battlefield. Most of the orcs and men fought within the city but there were still running battles outside the walls.

It had taken longer that Bilbo thought it would. He had started up the path to Ravenhill at a run.

Now the dark patchwork of stone and earth gave way to the pallid sky. The ground beneath his feet levelled, shadowy figures appearing before him. Bilbo pulled off the ring as he came to an exhausted halt.

The world suddenly came into sharp clarity.

"Where are Fili and Kili?" His voice was sharp with fear. He had come too late. Too late.

Thorin's look of shock at his appearance, sharpened at his words. "Scouting the tower."

"It's a trap." Bilbo staggered forward, clasping Thorin's arm in one desperate hand. "When did they leave?"

Thorin's eyes flashed towards the tower, the expression on his face one of frozen horror.

Dwalin had run to the edge of the jutting stone to look over the frozen river between their position and Ravenhill. Now he turned. "They're inside." His voice was dark.

"We must find them." Thorin pulled free of Bilbo's grasp, drawing his sword. "Azog will-"

There was the blast of a horn. The sound of drums.

Bilbo's eyes shut against the sound, dread and fear an ugly twist in his gut. He forced them open and turned to face Ravenhill.

Where Azog walked out of the shadows, dragging Fili at his side.

"Fili." Thorin's voice was little more than a devastated whisper.

Bilbo's heart clenched.

Azog strolled to the edge of the cliff and lifted Fili until he dangled over the long drop below. The white orc smiled. "Hon, Torin undag Train-ob. Hon mata."

It was happening again.

"Fili!" Bilbo surged forward. Willing Fili to twist free, to escape what was coming-

The look of resignation on Fili's face was gut-wrenching. But he drew in a breath. "Go! Run!"

Azog's blade thrust through his back. With a terrible smile, the white orc opened his hand and let Fili fall.

Dwalin let out a roar.

Thorin turned and started running, a look of terrible purpose on his face.

Bilbo staggered after him, despair making his breath short.

There was no chance of them leaving Ravenhill now. Azog had just killed Fili in front of them and Thorin was not going to leave now. Not when Kili was trapped inside the tower as well.

Azog would die. But Thorin. Thorin might yet live.

Bilbo wouldn't let him die.

Orcs appeared. Dwalin swung his axe into the side of one with an infuriated roar, slashing the arm off another as he pulled it free.

Thorin fought silently, orcs falling to his sword. He kept running towards Ravenhill, whatever orc that stood in his way left bleeding and dying behind him.

Bilbo did his best to keep up, stabbing and slashing at any orc which had escaped Thorin's sword or Dwalin's axes.

He wasn't going to be left behind this time. He would stay with Thorin and they would make their way to the tower.

Kili would be saved where he had failed Fili.

There was a guttural shout. Another white orc had appeared, this time leading a band of orcs.

Dwalin set to work with his axes, shouting insults and wordless ferocious taunts. Bilbo scooped up some rocks and started throwing them, thinning out the tide before they could overwhelm Dwalin.

Thorin was almost out of sight.

Bilbo threw one last stone, about to follow-

Bolg was running towards him.

It was now that he was knocked out. Taken out of the battle long enough for Thorin to be mortally wounded.

Bilbo dodged Bolg's elbow-

Only for the orc to swing his heavy stone mace.

The last thing Bilbo saw was Bolg's mace racing towards his face.

~x~X~x~

Bilbo jerked awake, trying to avoid the blow. He nearly toppled from his bed, a hasty grab at the bed head catching him short.

He was in a familiar wooden room. His room in Dale.

It had happened again. Exactly the same.

Almost exactly the same.

There had been a change. A small one but a change nonetheless.

Perhaps there was more Bilbo could change.

The thought filled Bilbo with a sudden hope. What if he could prevent Fili and Kili's deaths? Thorin's?

Bilbo nodded to himself and straightened his shoulders. As long as he was stuck reliving the battle, he would do everything it took to keep his dwarves alive.

~x~X~x~

Bolg was running towards him.

Bilbo threw the rock he held, as hard as he could.

Bolg lifted his mace to deflect the missile; it clipped the weapon and tore across his scalp.

And while the white orc was distracted, Bilbo slipped on the ring.

The word became distant, muffled and ghostly. But Bilbo had kept his eyes fixed on Bolg and the white orc was impossible to mistake against the figure of Dwalin and the darker orcs.

Bilbo unsheathed Sting and raced forward. Bolg's mace was lowering but Bilbo was quicker. Sting held in both hands, he ran past the white orc, drawing the blade deep across Bolg's stomach.

Sting pulled at his grip, caught in Azog's flesh, but Bilbo wasn't able to stop and the sword tore free.

Dark guttural words filled the air. Bolg turned, trying to lift his mace, only to fall on one knee.

Bilbo darted around behind him, slashing Sting across his back. Only barely jumping aside as one of Bolg's large hands reached back in a desperate grab.

But Bilbo's blow had landed true. The thin slash opened wide at Bolg's movement and he topped to his side with a snarl.

Bilbo ran forward to finish him off.

Bolg would not get the chance to kill Kili. He would not!

Bilbo pulled Sting free, a wet splatter across his face jolting him back into awareness.

Bolg wasn't moving. Dark liquid pooled around him, disturbing slashes of flesh on the snow around him. He was very, very dead.

Bilbo tore off the ring, breathing hard and horrified. He staggered backward, nearly losing his meagre breakfast as Bolg's injury suddenly grew clear in graphic detail.

"Go!" Dwalin shouted, catching sight of him as he kicked an orc off his axe. “Find Thorin!" He spun around, axes a lethal gleam of metal that cut another orc clear in two.

Bilbo staggered away from Bolg, one hand rising to his mouth. It was wet and Bilbo pulled it away. Only to realize in horror that it was covered in blood.

He started running, stumbling over snow and stone. Thorin. He needed to get to Thorin.

~x~X~x~

Thorin had made the most of his lead while Bilbo was-

Bilbo flinched away from the thought. He averted his gaze from the fallen orcs that littered the hillside, focusing instead on the large dwarven boot prints in the snow.

Bilbo ran across snow and icy stone, praying that he would arrive in time.

What he saw as he reached the frozen river, however, stopped him dead.

Thorin stood on the ice, bloodied sword held tightly in his hand. There were dead orcs on the ice around him but he ignored them. He was looking up-

Up towards an outcrop of rock where Azog stood, one hand clenched tight in Kili's hair, holding him half kneeling before him.

Sting hit the ground with a muffled thud. Bilbo, staring at Kili, barely noticed.

Kili was struggling, desperate curses spilling from his lips as he strained and twisted against Azog's hold.

The white orc held him down easily, pale gaze fixed on Thorin below. "Hon mata, khozdayil!" He twisted his grip in Fili's hair lifting him up.

"Kili!" Thorin's voice was desperate. He was already running forward.

But he was too far away.

Kili thrashed in Azog’s grip, trying to get free. "Uncle!” Azog lifted him higher, blade poised and Kili suddenly twisted-

Azog let out a roar. He thrust out his blade, sinking it through Kili's armour and deep into his chest. He pulled it free with a spray of blood and tossed Kili aside.

Kili fell to the rocks, slipping on snow. He left a vivid smear of red and he wasn't moving.

Thorin let out a wordless cry of rage. He started climbing the icy stone, pulling himself up towards Azog.

Bilbo scooped up Sting with numb fingers, mechanically straightening and starting across the ice. Head ringing as he ran.

Thorin. Thorin was still alive.

Bilbo's feet slipped on ice. He skated for a terrifying moment then regained his balance. Sting held tightly in one hand, the other arm extended for balance, Bilbo ran over the ice, eyes fixed on Thorin.

Thorin had pulled himself up to the ledge where Azog stood. The white orc prowled forward with a mockingly calm stride, calling out another taunt in black speech.

Thorin replied with a vicious upward striking blow.

He'd managed to cross the frozen river. Bilbo skidded over the last expanse, gripping frozen stone and hauling himself up.

A large stone fell from above and Bilbo froze, pressing against the hill as it crashed passed him. The clash between Thorin and Azog rang out above him, terrifyingly fierce. Bilbo climbed faster.

He paused when he reached a large out-thrust boulder.

Kili lay crumpled against it, body twisted. His eyes were open and he was still. Too still for the boisterous young dwarf who had barged into Bag End.

Bilbo reached out to touch him only to snatch his hand back. It was stained with Bolg's blood and filthy.

A roar had his head snapping up. Thorin was pressing Azog, forcing him back towards the ledge.

The white orc simply jumped, landing on a shelf of rock further down the slope.

With an audible snarl, Thorin leapt down to follow him, sword descending in a vicious slash.

Bilbo started climbing again, changing direction to follow them. Moving faster, intent on reaching Thorin before he was too reckless and lost his life.

He couldn't die.

Thorin was fighting like a dwarf possessed, pressing forward regardless of risk and chance of injury.

And he was without armour, Bilbo noticed with an internal curse. What possessed him to charge into battle without even a shirt of mail?

It had cost him already. Bilbo could see the darker stains on Thorin's sleeves, the stain of red where cut cloth parted wide.

And he fought Azog whose armour was almost a part of him, sharp metal pressed into flesh.

Bilbo finally reached level ground roughly level with the area where the two fought. Thorin had lost none of his vigour but Azog had the advantage of size and strength. He was herding Thorin, Bilbo suddenly realized, battering him back towards the edge and the fall below.

After a desperate glance of the area, Bilbo bent and scooped up a handful of jagged rocks weighty enough to throw. It had worked with Bolg - they might distract Azog long enough for Thorin to gain the upper hand.

Bilbo drew in a breath and threw the first stone.

It caught Azog in the side of the head. He staggered at the impact, blade lowering.

Thorin was already in motion. He lunged forward, sword angled to cut deep into Azog’s side. He ended up behind the white orc, halfway through another strike as Azog turned to meet it.

Off-balance and out manoeuvred, Azog staggered backwards. Just far enough that his last step left him standing on the edge of the outcrop on which they stood.

With a terrifying smile, Thorin charged him, using his sword like a battering ram and pushing Azog off the edge.

The white orc tumbled down the rocky slope, large hand uselessly grasping at boulders to slow his fall.

And Thorin followed, leaping from one out thrust rock to another, sword held at the ready.

There would be no end to the fight until one of them was dead.

Bilbo scrambled down hastily in their wake, tucking a couple of stones into his coat.

Azog landed heavily on the ice. He rolled slowly to his feet, staggering upright just as Thorin jumped down, sword held high for a powerful overhead blow.

Azog barely moved aside. He stepped back and Thorin stepped close. Thorin thrust his blade home even as Azog lifted his bladed arm, pulling Thorin close.

For a long moment they stood still, white orc pressed close to dark-haired dwarf. And then Azog tilted, falling lifelessly to the ice.

Bilbo covered his mouth with his hand, mouth twitching into a tremulous smile. Azog was dead. Azog was dead.

Bilbo started scrambling down the hillside, leaping over icy boulders with a braced hand, feet finally touching ice.

He ran towards Thorin. Thorin who was alive-

Thorin was still standing over Azog's corpse. For a long moment Thorin simply stood there. And then he fell.

"Thorin!" Bilbo ran. There were jagged stones and treacherous ice between them but Bilbo found himself at Thorin's side without any memory of traversing the distance.

He fell to his knees at Thorin's side. "Thorin."

Thorin stared up at him with weary eyes. "Bilbo." It was barely a breath.

Bilbo took one of Thorin's hands in his. "Hold on Thorin." He touched his hand hesitantly to Thorin's chest, trying to gauge the extent of the wound without causing pain. "Just-"

The chest beneath his hand was still.

Bilbo's eyes shot to Thorin's face. He wasn't moving. He wasn't even looking at Bilbo anymore.

"Thorin." His voice was cracked and too soft. Bilbo cleared his throat. "Thorin. Thorin you have to wake up." His mouth twitched into a forced smile that disappeared a moment later. "Thorin?"

This wasn't meant to happen.

Thorin wasn't meant to-

Bilbo patted Thorin's chest uselessly. He no longer moved, no longer breathed. The eyes that stared up at the eagles were blank and did not see.

Thorin was gone.

Bilbo's lungs heaved as tears ran down his face. His hand was not enough to choke back his sobs. A high noise escaped his throat, the rising cry the whimper of a broken thing too deeply wounded to hide. And with such a terrible noise escaping, Bilbo broke.

A broken cry ripped out of his throat, sobs echoing over the icy waste. He tightened his arm around Thorin's shoulders, tipping forward to bury his face in Thorin's chest. The fur of his coat was a cool smooth slide against Bilbo’s cheek, the cloth rapidly growing cold as the warmth leeched from Thorin's chest.

It soon grew damp as Thorin's blood slowly seeped through and Bilbo's tears fell.

Heavy stuttering footsteps crunching ice under their weight, finally made Bilbo raise his head. He was stiff and chilled through but barely felt it. He was numb, hollowed out.

It was Dwalin who stood in his blurred vision, his usual grim face slack with horror. "Melhekhul." His legs gave out, felling him heavily to his knees.

Bilbo sat back. Watching with a curious light-headed feeling as Dwalin bent forward to press his forehead to Thorin's still brow, rough broken words falling from his lips.

Bilbo found himself staggering on the ice, red blood giving way to foul black smears as orc bodies wavered into view.

Dead. All of them dead.

Bilbo kept walking until the murmuring faded into silence.

~x~X~x~

Bilbo stared up at the cobwebbed roof.

He was cursed.

There was no other explanation for why Bilbo was being forced to relive the worst day of his life.

The worst events, a tired part of Bilbo's mind supplied wearily. They had spanned for more than a day. Much longer.

Bilbo buried his face in his hands. Was this a punishment for his part in the downfall of the Durin line? For taking the Arkenstone and betraying Thorin?

~x~X~x~

He found Gandalf just outside the Elven encampment, staring towards the mountain pensively, staff clasped loosely in a gnarled grasp.

"How can you tell if someone is under a curse?"

Gandalf's eyebrows rose in surprise. But then he glanced at the mountain, realization dimming the light in his eyes. "I suspect you have seen for yourself, Bilbo." His voice was grave. "There is a curse on that gold and you have seen it at work."

The gold. Bilbo hadn't even thought about it. Could this all be the work of Smaug, taking malicious pleasure from his suffering even after his death?

If he had really died. Bilbo wasn't sure if this was all truly happening or he had been struck down and the entire quest was some sort of waking dream.

"Could-" Bilbo struggled with the thought of it. "Could the gold have affected anyone else?"

Gandalf turned to regard him sharply, his eyes narrowed in shrewd assessment. "That you might have been affected by the gold yourself?"

Bilbo nodded, jaw clenched tight.

Gandalf stared at him intensely for a long nerve-wracking moment. Finally he spoke.

"Any wizard worth the name can sense the dark magic of a curse at work." Gandalf's face relaxed into a smile. "And you, Bilbo Baggins, are under no curse."

Bilbo's shoulders sagged.

"No, when you took the Arkenstone, it was to attempt a negotiation." Gandalf squinted back at the mountain. "Though whether the stubbornness of dwarves will yield to your efforts is yet to be seen."

Not Smaug's curse. Nor any curse if Gandalf was to be believed. But if that was the case, why was this happening?

"Until then I suggest we get what rest we can." Gandalf continued. "I fear we shall need it." He clasped Bilbo's shoulder and made his way to the tents.

Bilbo watched him go with a sense of grim resignation, knowing rest was not waiting for him.

~x~X~x~

Bilbo crouched by the wall, the fighters battling around him strange figures of smeared colour. Orcs shades of black and grey, the Men a strange blend of pastels.

An orc raised its blade, readying a blow to strike down the man who had tripped before him.

Bilbo clutched the crumbling brick in his hand. Waited one second. Two.

His arm shot upward, propelling the brick in a hard sharp arc. When it fell, it crashed down on the Orc's head, his dark blade falling from his hand.

The fallen man surged up from the ground, sword extended before him. He ran the orc though and then scrambled to his feet, running forward with a cry that was taken up by other men battling close by.

Bilbo seized the opportunity and scrambled over the wall. It was partly crumbled, individual stones jutting out from the wall in small shelves. Bilbo jumped down, leaping from one rough step to another until his feet were on the ground once more.

Bilbo braced himself, Sting held tightly in his hand, eyes fixed on the towering shadow of Ravenhill. He would-

There was a loud whuff. A curiously familiar rush of air.

Bilbo froze, slowly looking up with a sense of dread.

A troll stood not a dozen feet away. Even as Bilbo watched, its nostrils flared as it sniffed, scenting the air. It stepped forward.

Towards Bilbo.

Bilbo barely breathed. The ring might make him invisible, he realized in horror, but it didn't hide him in any other way.

The troll drew in a series of sniffs, its head jutting forward like a hunting hound. Its small eyes narrowed and it took another step forward, hand tightening on the heavy mace that hung from its hand.

Eyes fixed on the advancing troll, Bilbo took a slow step backwards.

The troll let out a roar and surged forward.

Bilbo futilely pressed back against the wall as the troll's club smashed down.

~X~X~X~

Bilbo gasped awake, tearing free from jumbled images of blood on stone, a massive grey face splattered with scarlet, fear and pain. His hands fluttered above his rib cage, afraid to touch.

He pressed them to his heaving chest. It was reassuringly solid, ribs intact.

Bilbo let out a sobbing gasp of relief, slumping forward. His hands clenched in his blankets as he concentrated on breathing, calming his pounding heart.

He was alive.

And in Dale. Again.

Bilbo stumbled free from the bed, barely registering the cold floor. Not even death was a release. In a few hours he would have to face Thorin again, face his wrath as the dwarf learned of his betrayal.

He would have to do his best to prevent the deaths of Fili and Kili. Of Thorin himself.

Bilbo pressed his back against the wall, breathing deep. He would have to do it all again.

And this time he would have to avoid the troll.

~x~X~x~

Bilbo threw the brick and ran. He was aware of the orc falling and its intended victim running him through.

And then Bilbo was in the thick of it. He darted through the battling men and orcs, avoiding falling bodies and wide-swung blades.

There was a familiar roar - the troll laying about with its massive mace - but in the midst of battle as he was, Bilbo's scent was disguised.

At least that was what he hoped.

Bilbo ducked below a blade and darted past a snarling orc. An arrow thudded into the ground nearby and Bilbo twisted away, taking cover behind a large orc before running again to avoid a man coming to stab it in the back.

Once he cleared the melee, he chanced a glance behind him. The troll was held at bay, a group of men in the middle of bringing it down with spears and rope.

Bilbo turned towards Ravenhill and started to run. He had been delayed again and there was no telling if he would reach Thorin and the others in time.

Bilbo ran faster.

~x~X~x~

"Wait!" Bilbo stumbled over the rise, legs like jelly, wrenching the ring of his finger. He staggered, disoriented by the sudden clarity of his surroundings and breathing hard.

"Bilbo!" Kili's face lit with joy.

Fili's expression of surprise had melted into more restrained welcome, a small smile lightening the grim lines of his face.

He had made it in time. Bilbo bent over, hands on knees dragging in deep breaths. He had made it.

He glanced up to see Thorin approaching, a look of shock on his face. "Bilbo."

"There's-" Bilbo sucked in another breath, pulse pounding hard in his throat. "Another army. Bolg from-" he straightened, "-the north."

Thorin glanced around them, eyes suddenly sharp. Fili had a grip on Kili's shoulder and drew him close. Dwalin’s axes were in his hands as he faced outwards, searching for any sign of threat.

Bilbo couldn't help the small smile at the sight. He had made it. They wouldn't be caught in Azog's trap.

From the look on Thorin's face, he had come to the same conclusion. "This is a trap to draw us in." His hand fell on Bilbo's shoulder and Thorin drew him closer to the others. "We’ll retreat back to the mountain.” His hand tightened. “Live to fight another-"

A horn sounded out.

There was a shout, a rough guttural call.

Thorin had frozen, hand still on his shoulder, and Bilbo looked up.

Armed orcs stood among the ruins around them. Flowing out of Ravenhill's towers and stationed on jutting stone to block off retreat.

At their head stood a white orc that Bilbo had gotten too close to before.

"No," Bilbo shook his head. This wasn't how it was meant to turn out. Bolg's army shouldn't have arrived yet. There should have been time-

Thorin pulled him back. "Stay close, Bilbo!" His sword was in hand.

Kili had an arrow nocked. Fili was at his side with both swords drawn.

Dwalin, both axes in hand, let out a challenging roar. "Come and get it, you bastards! Ikhf’ id-ursu khazâd!"

Heart sinking, Bilbo drew Sting.

Bolg shouted out a command. And then the army of orcs attacked.

They descended in a wave that broke apart as they met the small knot of dwarves, connecting with a brutal clash of blades. Dwalin's axes lopped limbs, cutting the taller orcs into lifeless corpses. Kili had discarded his bow for a sword and was fighting at Fili's side, the brothers protecting each other's flanks. Thorin met the orcs with powerful, vicious blows, striking furiously and with all the resolution he had shown during the quest.

Bilbo stayed near Thorin, darting forward to land blows when an opportunity presented itself. He scooped up rocks and heavy stones, taking down advancing orcs and thinning out the attacking force.

They were outnumbered but they held their ground.

For one bright sparking moment, Bilbo thought they might make it. Break free and escape with their lives.

And then Bolg joined the battle.

The white orc waded into the fight with arrogant strength, shouldering aside orcs as he drew closer. Heading for Kili.

Fili saw. With a vicious slash and thrust, he dispatched the orc he was facing and took out another that was battling Kili. Joining his brother in time to meet the new threat.

Kili and Fili had learnt to fight together and it showed as they launched their attack on Bolg. The white orc's advance slowed to a halt.

Bilbo did what he could, joining Dwalin and Thorin taking down orcs. Puncturing the lung of an orc about to land a blow on Kili's flank. Slashing the leg of another facing Thorin, allowing him to lop off its head.

Bolg let out a snarling curse in black speech; Bilbo caught sight of the blood streaking his side, even as Fili pressed forward, blade slipping between the armour ridging the orc's ribs.

Bats flew overhead, a suddenly twisting tide that had Bilbo scooping up another stone and hitting one from the sky.

It was only a moment's distraction. But it was enough for an orc's blade to slip under Fili's guard and grate through his armour to pierce his side.

With an enraged cry, Kili turned on the orc, blade a vicious arc as he cut clear through the orc's arm. He followed it with a furious blow that cleaved the orc's head from its body.

The bats started diving, talons extended even as another wave of orcs joined the fray. Bolg had fallen and Fili was no longer in sight. But Bilbo could hear Kili, yelling threats and fighting with reckless rage.

Bilbo found himself fighting for his life, the orcs having broken past Kili and now pushing him further away from Thorin-

Bilbo desperately tried to fight his way back, ducking and slashing-

Dwalin was roaring curses but there were too many of them.

A blow to his side spun Bilbo around. He barely brought Sting up to deflect the orc's next blow.

He stepped backward, only to trip and fall. There was a sharp pain and then nothing.

~x~X~x~

Bilbo woke to cold. He dragged himself upright, the memory of a snarling orc standing over him a terrifying jolt.

An orc lay nearby. Dark blood staining the snow.

He was still on Ravenhill. And it was disturbingly quiet.

Stiffly, pain shooting down his side and through his chest, Bilbo levered himself to his feet. For a moment he wavered on his feet but then he caught a glimpse of colour among the dark corpses of the orcs.

Bilbo staggered over, heart in his mouth. Dwarven boots protruded from under a fallen orc, a large hand clutching a familiar sword.

With a sobbing breath that seized his ribs with pain, Bilbo caught the orc's shoulder and heaved him off the fallen dwarf.

Fili's clouded eyes stared up at him, his moustache braids stiff with cold.

Bilbo sank to his knees with a sob, hand reaching for his chest. It was still, blood frozen sharp on one side where he had received his terrible wound.

Bilbo reached out and carefully pulled Fili's arms over his chest, laying them overlapped, swords tucked to his chest. He smoothed Fili's rumpled tunic and shakily rose to his feet.

There were dead orcs all around them, curving away in a deadly trail. But they were not alone.

Bilbo walked forward on leaden feet, picking his way through fallen orcs.

Kili lay fallen over a headless orc. His head flung back at an unnatural angle and his arm half severed from his body.

Bilbo recoiled, stumbling back and unable to look at the wound that cut across his stomach.

He stumbled on, following the dead orcs, hoping against hope that Thorin and Dwalin had survived.

He was half frozen when he found Dwalin. Blood drenched the large dwarf, wounds littering his body. The trails of blood and great gouges in the snow testified how hard it had been for the piles of orcs that lay dead around him to bring Dwalin down.

Bilbo stumbled, nearly falling over the corpse of an orc. He turned away, forcing himself to see beyond all the bodies, the dark blood on the snow and the rent flesh-

Bilbo stopped breathing. He only realised that he had stopped walking when his legs gave out, dropping him to his knees.

Thorin. It was Thorin before him.

Slumped over. His blood-darkened hair fluttering in the cold wind across his still face. The blades thrust through his sides and front holding him up from the ground in a parody of kneeling.

Gone.

Sting fell from Bilbo's useless hand.

~x~X~x~

Awareness came with shattering memory. Fili. Kili. Dwalin. Thorin.

Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut tighter, hands fisting in his blankets. His next breath was a half sob and he brought the back of his hand to his mouth to muffle the wretched sound.

The image of Fili's staring eyes. Body broken and the sword still in his hand.

The sight of Kili crumpled in Gloin's arms as they lifted him from the snow.

Dwalin hardly recognizable.

Of Thorin still. His blue eyes no longer filled with warmth and fondness. Still and sightless.

Bilbo's shoulders shook as he recalled the dark halls of the crypt lit with torchlight. The deep solemn voices of the Company and the drums of the Iron Hills echoing out in mourning.

They had fallen silent when Fili and Kili had been placed within their tombs. When Thorin had been laid to rest, Arkenstone resting on his chest and Orcrist in his dead grasp.

Bilbo deepened his breaths, mouth held tight as he attempted to steady himself. Finally, when the tears had receded, he forced himself to face the morning.

There was much to do, after all.

~x~X~x~

Black Speech:
Hon, Torin undag Train-ob. Hon mata. -‘Watch, Thorin son of Thrain. Watch him die.‘
Hon mata, khozdayil! – ‘Watch him die, dwarf-filth!’

Khuzdul:
Melhekhul – ‘My King!’
Ikhf’ id-ursu khazâd –‘Feel the fire of the dwarves!’

~x~X~x~

On to Chapter Three

~x~X~x~