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Orcrist, the goblin cleaver, Biter. All names for the sword which was crafted by the Elves of Gondolin, aptly named, for it had killed hundreds of orcs long ago. After being taken by Thranduil, the Elven King, during his captivity, Thorin had yet to clasp it once more. Finally, here it was, back in his clutches, thrown by Legolas, Son of Thranduil, piercing straight through an orc and saving Thorin’s life. Thorin managed to take hold of Orcrist before the sword fell over the cliff of ice, leaving the orc it was lodged into to fall over. He stands and examines the sword, relief spreading through him that he has a weapon to defend himself. A figure appears in the mist, breaking Thorin’s train of thought. Thorin knew it was none other than Azog the Defiler, coming to destroy the Line of Durin. He bore a large flail as a weapon, Thorin observed. With Orcrist in his hands, Thorin struts towards The Pale Orc, hearing the faint sound of the war-horn being blown in the distance. This was it, the moment he would honor his grandfather’s death.
Azog roared fiercely before running towards the King Under The Mountain, thrashing his flail in the direction of Thorin, who effortlessly dodges the attacks. He dodges the flail several more times before striking the orc, hitting the metal of Azog’s armor. Azog throws his flail onto Thorin who avoids it, and the flail lands onto the ice with an audible crack. An idea comes to Thorin’s mind which he quickly puts it into effect.
He ducks as Azog’s flail comes crashing yet again to the ice beneath them, the dwarf almost falling but quickly regaining his balance. Azog drags the flail on the ice as Thorin circles him. The Pale Orc thrusts the flail onto Thorin and fails when Thorin steps to the side, and it hits the ice with so much force that the ice begins to tilt. That doesn’t stop Azog from his attacks though. He relentlessly thrashes the flail again and again, and Thorin continuously dodges it, until Thorin makes the mistake of slipping onto the ice.
He is about to stand when Azog’s flail slides beneath his feet, throwing him off balance. The dwarf king falls on his back, and Azog yet again thrusts the flail, but Thorin still manages to avoid it as he rolls over to the side. He gets up quickly and aims for Azog’s thighs, scratching them immensely, but the King of the Orcs of Moria does not fall, and throws the flail once more, this time with greater force than before. The flail, instead of impaling Thorin, lodges itself into the ice. Azog yanks the chain of the flail, trying to dislodge it, but does not succeed. He tries to stab Thorin with his arm blade, but Thorin is too fast for the orc. They both stand tall, facing each other, with looks of despise on their faces.
Azog’s face suddenly turns to one of fear, and it is clear to Thorin that he is looking pass Thorin, to the skies, but Thorin does not dare turn, afraid it is but a ruse. He finally sees what has frightened the orc as it flies above his head and through the mountains. The eagles have arrived. They flew into battle, releasing Beorn, the skin-changer, as he transforms from man to bear in the blink of an eye. Azog is momentarily distracted, and Thorin takes this as the chance to end it all.
He drops Orcrist, and it clings as it falls onto the ice, bringing Azog’s attention back to the dwarf king. He acts fast, picking the flail up and throwing it to Azog, who stumbles upon catching it. He looks to Thorin with a puzzled look on his face. Thorin simply moves back, stepping on the ice behind him, and watches as the weight of the flail in the orc’s arms is too much for the ice. It tilts downwards, and the flail falls from Azog’s hands and into the freezing water, pulling Azog along with it. He struggles to find a grip, anything to latch onto, but does not find anything and is engulfed by the water. Silence fills the air, and Thorin sighs in relief, realizing that all this very well may be all over.
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Bilbo awoke to a searing pain in his head. ‘What… What happened?’ Bilbo thought as he blinked a few times, readjusting his eyes to the light surrounding him. When he regained his sight, he could see shadows of figures circling in the sky. “The eagles are coming…” he mutters to himself as memories come back to him. The blunt side of a weapon had hit him right on the head, successfully knocking him out cold.
He stood up slowly, regaining his composure, before looking around. He was all alone. The only thing in sight was Sting, his beloved elvish sword, one the ground, near a clump of rocks. He take Sting in hand and walks over to the ledge. The hobbit sees a figure on the ice, bending down to pick up an elvish sword and immediately recognizes that it is Thorin. The dwarf king is alone, however, and the first question that comes to Bilbo’s mind is ‘Where is Azog?’. He is about to call to Thorin and asks exactly that when he notices that the dwarf is looking downwards, into the ice.
Bilbo’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion as he continues to observe Thorin, walking forward with his eyes stuck to the ice, as if there is something underneath it. Bilbo could not see anything, but it was obvious there was something or else Thorin wouldn’t be looking so intently. Suddenly, Thorin moaned in pain, eliciting a gasp from Bilbo. What Bilbo did not know was that Azog had been under the ice, floating in the water, feigning death. Thorin had followed what he thought to be the orc’s corpse, wanting to make sure he had truly slayed the beast when a blade pierced through his foot.
Bilbo was still clueless as to what had injured the rightful king of Erebor, but his eyes widened in fear as he saw Azog the Defiler burst from the ice and start to strike Thorin, making Thorin fall backwards to the ice . He managed to scratch the dwarf’s hand, and was about to stab Thorin, but Thorin managed to stall the attack by holding Orcrist in between the orc’s arm blade. It was a fighting battle between orc and dwarf power, and it seemed that Thorin was losing his strength. Bilbo did the first thing that came to mind in his state of panic.
He made his way down the ruins of stairs quickly but silently, hoping that the orc would not be aware of his presence. He was only about twenty feet away from Azog when he started to run, forcefully slamming into the orc and throwing him off of Thorin. The weight of the orc crashing into the ice caused the ice to crack and injure part of Azog’s arm, but that did nothing to stop Azog from swatting the hobbit off him like a fly. Thorin by that time had gotten up, wielding Orcrist, made a stab towards Azog. The orc however rolled to the side avoiding it, mimicking exactly what Thorin had done earlier. The King of the orcs of Moria tackled Thorin, and they found themselves back in the position they were in before Bilbo had arrived. This time however, before Azog could stab the dwarf, Thorin felt a weight suddenly on top of him, followed by the pressure of the stab.
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Bilbo didn't know what to do. Sting had been thrown too far away for him to reach at that moment, and he was running out of time. He could have slammed into Azog again, but that would just prolong the battle and waste energy. No, he needed to end this once and for all. He panicked as he saw Azog hovering above Thorin, who was lying on the ground, helpless, knowing what was to come. He tried to think of anything that could save Thorin. After a few seconds of rummaging his brain, he found the solution. He knew it would be crazy to do it, but it would save the both of them, and he didn’t really have a choice, so Bilbo did.
He ran to Thorin, throwing himself onto him right before Azog stabbed him. Bilbo thought heard Thorin shout "NO!" but all he could hear now was the loud thumping of his heartbeat. He could feel the impact of the blade trying to pierce the armor and failing. It paralyzed Bilbo in pain for a moment, and that was when Thorin acted. He could see the shock on Azog's face. This was the perfect time to end the war. Thorin pushed Bilbo off him as gently as possible and quickly grabbed Orcrist and finally stabbed Azog. Azog howled in pain, but Thorin knew it was not that easy to kill the leader of the orcs of Moria. He turned and pushed the orc to the ice, pushing Orcrist into Azog even further until it penetrated Azog whole body, appearing beneath the ice and in the water. Azog went limp. Thorin held the sword there until he heard Azog’s last sigh.
As soon as Thorin was sure Azog was dead, he rushed to Bilbo, checking on his dear friend. "Bilbo!!" he cried, checking on the injuries Bilbo was sure to have. That's when he saw it. The mithril armor that Thorin had gifted him. The mightiest mineral in middle-earth. No blade could pierce it, and Bilbo was wearing it. Now it all made sense, why Bilbo was so confident in throwing himself onto Thorin. The worst Azog could've done to Bilbo was a bruise. Thorin let out a sigh of relief. Bilbo opened his eyes and hissed, feeling the pain in his lower abdomen.
"Are you well?" Thorin asked.
Bilbo nodded. “I’ll live.” He croaked.
“You never cease to amaze me, Master Baggins.” Thorin states. “You saved my life yet again, though I am undeserving. Please forgive me for all that I have done to you.” Thorin pleads.
“Thorin, you were sick. The person who did all those things wasn't even you. I know you, and I knew you would snap out of the sickness. Of course I forgive you.” Bilbo said with a smile. Thorin couldn’t help but give a small smile in return.
“Are you able to stand?” Thorin asks. Bilbo nods.
“The question is, are you?” Bilbo gestures towards Thorin’s bleeding foot that was forgotten just a few seconds ago.
“It is but a small price to pay for the death of Azog. I will be alright.” Thorin answers and stands up to prove his words, flinching a little but standing steadily. He offers his hand to Bilbo, who obediently takes it. They walk side-by-side, standing tall; knowing that they have won the battle and reclaimed what is rightfully theirs.
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It has been two days since that gruesome day, and also two days since Bilbo had seen Thorin. Thorin was a busy dwarf now, being the rightful king of Erebor and all. Rumors had started going around that Thorin ‘Oakenshield’ was not the best title for the king anymore. It was a joke at first, Kili, being Kili, had dubbed him Thorin ‘Bagginshield’ when he had heard the tale. It somehow reached the ears of the common folk, and started spreading until everyone had heard it. Bilbo, of course, had heard it, but thought nothing of it. He thought it a silly epithet and ignored what he could of it. He was wrapped up in other thoughts.
Bilbo missed Bag End. He missed his books, his armchair, his garden. He missed the peacefulness of the Shire. He wished to go back. He planned to, actually. He knew he didn’t belong in a dwarf kingdom, no matter how many times he heard it from the company. They all begged him not to leave, but it was no use. Bilbo had set his mind on going back. He had told Gandalf so, and Gandalf agreed to accompany him until the borders of the Shire. So there he was, standing in front of Erebor’s gate, bidding his friends goodbye.
“Well, this is it, I suppose.” He says as he turns back to the company. All the dwarves, minus Thorin, who was nowhere to be found, had gathered to wish their burglar farewell. Saying that Bilbo was disappointed was an understatement. He had saved Thorin’s life after all, and now Thorin was all but ignoring him. Bilbo frowned but quickly pushed the thought away and smiled, for he had twelve other dwarves waiting for his departure. He didn’t need Thorin, or so he told himself.
“I must be off, or I won’t leave at all. Not with you lot giving me the sad puppy eyes. Yes, I’m talking about you, Kili.” Bilbo said as he pointed at Kili, who now was pouting. The company laughed at their young prince. “If any of you are ever passing Bag End, tea is at four, there’s plenty of it. You are welcome anytime.” Bilbo continues. The dwarves bow as a goodbye, and Bilbo smiles. “Don’t bother knocking.” He jokes, and the dwarves chuckle lightly at that. He is about to turn around when he hears a voice shout “Wait!!!” He would know that voice anywhere. He turned around and true enough, Thorin was making his way through the company. Bilbo’s heart skips a beat when Thorin stops right in front of him. They are silent for a few seconds, both gazing into each other’s eyes, before Bilbo speaks.
“I thought you wouldn’t come.” Bilbo says softly.
“I do not blame you. I have been so cold to you in the past. I am not worthy of your kindness.” Thorin says as he looks away guiltily, but Bilbo is having none of it.
“Thorin, Thorin look at me.” Thorin looks back to Bilbo and Bilbo sees unshed tears in his eyes. “We have been over this. We both know that wasn’t you, and you have been forgiven, remember?” Bilbo gives a small smile, hoping it would cheer up his friend. It seemed to work. Thorin’s mouth twitched upwards, returning the smile. “Well, I should be going.” Bilbo says, but he makes no sign to move, still looking into Thorin’s eyes. ‘They’re so blue.’ He thinks.
“You do not have to.” Thorin says softly, and Bilbo is taken aback. Sure, he has heard this a million times coming from the company, but never Thorin himself. “You may stay. Everyone would be overjoyed. I would.” He says, and Bilbo feels like he has to pinch himself. He is not sure if this is a dream or reality. Scratch that, he would never even dream of Thorin saying those words, but yet it is happening. Bilbo blushes, lowering his head, turning his gaze to the ground. He cannot look into those eyes right now. ‘Those beautiful blue eyes.’
“I do not belong here.” He says as he shuffles his feet awkwardly still not daring to look at the dwarf king. Suddenly, he feels a warm calloused hand cup his chin, pushing it upwards softly. Bilbo raises his eyes to Thorin’s and swallows heavily.
“But you do, Bilbo. You have protected me from many dangers throughout our journey, saved me countless of times. You are my shield, and you belong next to me.” Bilbo is tongue-tied. He does not know what to say because how do you respond to that? Luckily he is saved from answering when he feels soft lips capturing his. It is a soft kiss, very chaste, and Bilbo melts into it. Thorin breaks it and rests his forehead onto the hobbit’s.
“Stay.” He whispers. And Bilbo does.