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Bilbo wasn't sure what made him do it. One moment he was staring across the ice as Thorin battled with the huge pale Orc and the next thing he knew, he was running across that very ice as fast as his hobbit legs could carry him. He watched in agony as Thorin was tossed aside roughly and Azog drive his sword-sheathed arm towards the Dwarven Kings chest as he landed hard on the ice, a blow which was halted by Thorin's own blade. But Bilbo could see the Dwarven King's arms were shaking, his face was coated in sweat and the closer Bilbo came to the King he could see Thorin wasn't going to win this.
Bilbo didn't hesitate as he threw himself against Azog, his own sword Sting impaling into the Orc's hip as Bilbo landed against him hard causing Azog to stumble away from Thorin with a grunt. Landing solidly on the ice Bilbo was left vulnerable as the Gundabad Orc turned to face his new foe, face twisted with anger at the Hobbit's interference and the stab to his hip merely a slight inconvenience.
"You again!" Azog bellowed, recognising the Hobbit as the same one that had stopped him killing the Dwarven scum just outside of Goblin town on the Misty Mountains.
"No!" Thorin cried as Azog lifted his bladed arm and began to swing it down towards the defenceless burglar.
Gathering his strength the weary Dwarven King swung Orcrist, the elven blade slicing through Azog's calfs driving the huge Orc to its knees with a cry of pain. Using the opportunity Thorin rose to his feet, thrust his blade into Azog's neck and with a gurgle, the pale Orc's body dropped onto the ice with a dull thud, finally felled. Turning to face his burglar Thorin found him crawling across the ice for his own fallen sword, for what little help that would have done him.
"Are you out of your mind?" Thorin snapped. "He would have killed you!"
"Right, yes, well he would have killed you, too, had I not stepped in." Bilbo reminded him as he straightened up and returned Sting to its sheaf before walking towards Thorin.
Thorin eyed Bilbo's bloodied face and frowned.
"What happened to you?" He asked quietly, his hand rising to brush a clump of sweaty curls from the Hobbits face so he could inspect it closer. "Where are you hurt?"
Pushing his hand away Bilbo looked away, the last time he's seen Thorin springing to mind. He couldn't bare to look at him.
"I'm fine." He waved away Thorin.
"We need to take you to a healer." Thorin insisted, just as he himself limped as his foot pained. He'd almost forgot Azog had stabbed him through it in his concern for Bilbo.
"I think you're the one who needs to see a healer!" Bilbo worried, his eyes on the Dwarven King's torn boot which was stained with blood.
"You care for me, Bilbo?" Thorin asked quietly.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Bilbo snapped. "Of course I care for you!"
The two made eye contact, each looking at the other intently for a sign... Though of what neither could say for sure. Somebody clearing their throat broke the contact and the two turned to see Dwalin watching them, his usually still face stretched into a smile.
"We've done it!" He exclaimed excitedly. "We have driven off the Orc filth!"
"Kili? Fili?" Thorin inquired. "Are they...?"
"Thrandruil and his army showed up a moment ago. He has rushed Fili away to an Elven healer and he believes your nephew will make it. Kili... He has survived his battle with Bolg. He's currently standing by Fili's side; he refuses to leave."
"The others? Do you know of their fate?" Thorin asked, thinking of the others in his company.
"All alive and well. It seems Dain's already started the celebrations." Dwalin sighed.
Thorin's lips twitched at the mention of his boisterous cousin and wondered if truly this was a time to celebrate. He began to walk forwards when his foot flared with pain once again, causing him to stumble forward on the uneven ice. Dwalin rushed to aid him, but it was the young Hobbit who reached him first.
"I don't need help!" Thorin tried to tell them irritably.
"Everyone needs help once in a while." Bilbo told him softly as he wrapped the taller Dwarf's arm around his shoulder. "There's no shame in it."
Dwalin looked on fondly and decided to make his retreat ahead of them, leaving the two to reconcile.
"You know, Thorin, I need to thank you." Bilbo spoke after a brief silence as the two carefully walked a cross the ice.
"For what?" Thorin asked, taken aback.
"For allowing me to accompany you on this adventure... It's more than any baggins - any Hobbit, deserves. I'm honoured to have shared this journey with you."
"No, Bilbo. It is I who should thank you." Thorin sighed, stopping in his tracks so he could face him. "You've sacrificed so much for us - for me - and yet I acted so despicably to you." Holding up a hand to stop Bilbo from talking, he carried on. "What I said and did to you in Erebor was unforgivable but I assure you; it shall not happen again." Bilbo felt his eyes stinging slightly at the heartfelt emotion behind Thorin's words. "I would very much like to make it up my wrong doings to you." He finished.
"There's really no need." Bilbo assured him quickly. "I know you wasn't in your right mind and I'm only glad you are well again."
"I have never felt better, Bilbo." He smiled, his whole face lighting up. "Thank you."
Bilbo returned his smile as he was pulled into a hug, one that made his chest tight and his heart pound. Pulling away slightly Thorin rested his forehead against Bilbo's so their noses touched, a gesture that made Bilbo's cheeks flush red at the intimacy. Looking into each other's eyes, the young Hobbit found himself questioning his feelings for the Dwarven King and in return, Thorin knew that Bilbo was more than a member of his company. Perhaps he had known for some time.
"Come, let us return home." Thorin told him proudly as he pulled away.
Bilbo shook his head quickly. "But Erebor is your home, I couldn't possibly-"
Thorin slid his hand through Bilbo's and interlaced their fingers, his eyes taking in Bilbo's startled ones. "For as long as I reside in it, shall it be your home, too." He assured him gently.
Squeezing Thorin's fingers, Bilbo realised something: it didn't matter whether it was in the Shire or the stone halls of Erebor; wherever Thorin Oaskenshild, Son of Thrain and King Under a the Mountain was - then that, was home.
"Let's go home." Bilbo agreed with a shy smile.