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So, this was him… Azog.
The orc who had taken so much from Thorin. And there he stood before their feet, on his white Warg, a vile grimace twisting his face. From their place up in the trees, they looked down at the orc, and after a short while he began to speak. Though Bilbo had absolutely no idea what he was saying. He already struggled with dwarvish, and he heard that almost daily lately. But Thorin seemed to understand the orc’s words, and suddenly he breathed in disbelief: “That cannot be… you should be dead.”
Azog pointed at them, and moments later countless Wargs charged toward them, leaping at the trees. Bilbo trembled — how had it come to this? Would they manage to escape again this time? All of this raced through the hobbit’s mind as he looked at Thorin, whose gaze was fixed on Azog.
And then it happened: the Wargs jumped at the trees more and more, until the trunks began to tilt, their roots tearing out of the earth. Quickly they all climbed onto the last tree, the one standing directly before the cliff — but even that one was already leaning. One could say perfectly that they were hanging with one foot over the abyss, because that was exactly the case. They were as good as lost, delivered either to the Wargs, the orcs, and Azog — or to the all promising deep chasm below.
But then Gandalf had an idea. With the help of his staff, he lit a kind of pinecone and threw it at the enemies, causing them to retreat hastily. Ah, so they didn’t like fire, Bilbo concluded, and shortly after he called to Gandalf: “More, let’s throw more of them! They seem not to like the fire.” The wizard nodded, and soon he threw more down to Bilbo and the others, who hurled them at the orcs and Wargs. Soon a blazing sea of flames roared below, which their enemies stared at with displeasure and tried to escape.
The dwarves cheered, and Azog roared in fury. But then it happened — the tree they crouched upon sank even further, more of the roots holding it tore free. Their tree now lay in an almost horizontal position, and some of the front branches already fell into the abyss. The dwarves nearly slipped down as well but managed to hold onto one another. Yet the tree kept loosening and something had to happen, or they would all face death.
Bilbo swallowed, looked at the dwarves who had just been saved once more by Gandalf’s staff and now hung from it, and swallowed again. He didn’t want to die yet — not now, when he still had so much ahead of him. There were things he still needed to do…
Bilbo’s gaze fell on Thorin, and his eyes widened. Suddenly the dwarf stood, took his blade in hand, and with heavy steps and a face full of battle lust walked toward Azog. Fire flickered around him, licking at the dwarven prince who seemed to have eyes only for the orc. All the calls of his companions, the hobbit’s cries — he ignored them completely.
Only revenge mattered to Thorin now, and so he ran toward the orc, who leapt at him with his white Warg and threw him to the ground. His recklessness, his overconfidence — all of that had led to this. Bilbo watched the scene in horror, thinking of Thorin, who got back to his feet, hoping he would survive this fight. But again, Thorin was thrown down, and this time he made no attempt to rise.
With a swift movement Bilbo stood. He could not allow Thorin to die. He simply could not allow the one who meant the most to him to be taken away. Because yes — Thorin was what he had never believed possible. He loved this dwarf. And he would not let him die, not if he could prevent it.
The hobbit swallowed, a tear forming in his eyes as he saw the great white Warg take Thorin into its jaws and chew on him. The dwarves screamed in horror, and Bilbo grabbed his sword, now glowing blue, and ran across the tree trunk — only to stop abruptly. Thorin struck his sword into the Warg’s side, causing it to release him, but it flung him onto hard stone. Thorin gasped in pain and lay still. Azog roared triumphantly, then commanded one of his orcs something — Bilbo didn’t know what, but he understood immediately when the orc dismounted, drew his sword, and approached Thorin.
Before the orc could harm Thorin, Bilbo leapt at him and threw him to the ground. Then, without fully realizing it, he stabbed the enemy several times until the orc went limp and life left him. All of this — he did only for Thorin, he reminded himself. He stood abruptly and positioned himself protectively before Thorin, sword drawn.
He himself could die — but Thorin must live. And so, he swung his sword a few times and faced the orcs. Azog looked at him with his vile face, then commanded his orcs again, and they slowly approached. Three orcs, on their large, snarling Wargs — and Bilbo swallowed hard.
He was afraid. Terribly afraid. He would likely die now. He had absolutely no chance of defeating these orcs — he was only a hobbit, sword fighting was not his strength, and likely never would be. The hobbit closed his eyes and prayed that at least Thorin would somehow be saved. When suddenly he heard the clash of swords. His eyes flew open, widening in astonishment as he saw Fili, Kili, and Dwalin striking at the enemies.
Bilbo smiled, and before he knew it, he found himself in the midst of battle. He dealt quick blows, parried — and then he was shoved back, landing on hard stone. He looked up and froze.
Right in front of him was Azog’s face. The white Warg, who moments before had Thorin in its jaws, approached him in slow, unsettling steps. Bilbo tightened his grip on his sword and stood. Then he heard loud shouting from the dwarves, and he turned quickly toward the trees. Just in time to see giant eagles lifting the fallen dwarves onto their backs.
Loud screeching filled the air, and more eagles appeared, throwing several Wargs down into the abyss. That was quite the help, the hobbit thought, briefly thanking their wizard — for he knew only Gandalf could summon such aid. Then he looked to Thorin, who was lifted by one of the eagles, his oak shield falling away. Bilbo watched the bird, wanting to reach Thorin, to make sure he still lived — Thorin had shown no reaction, not even when the eagle’s talons closed around him…
Bilbo’s eyes, fixed on Thorin, grew dim. He had to hope — that was his only option. His head lowered, then he gasped as he himself was lifted, dropped, and finally found himself on the back of an eagle.
Azog roared in anger, and Bilbo quickly understood why. All members of the company were now on the backs of the great birds. They were safe. But as long as he didn’t know whether Thorin lived, he felt no relief. His gaze remained fixed on Thorin’s limp form in the eagle’s talons, throughout the entire flight. His fear of losing Thorin drove him nearly mad — and if Thorin no longer lived, Bilbo felt he would not want to live either…
After what felt like an unbearably long time, the eagles landed and set them down on a rocky peak. Immediately they all went to Thorin, who still lay motionless on the stone. “Thorin…” Gandalf breathed, and Bilbo quickly realized it did not look good. “He is still alive, isn’t he? Gandalf, please tell me”, he whispered in anguish. The wizard lowered his head and said only: “I do not know… but his wounds are severe.”
The dwarves looked at Thorin, grief in their eyes. Even Kili and Fili said nothing. They simply stared silently at their uncle. Bilbo swallowed, tears gathering, and slowly nodded as he watched Gandalf bend over Thorin, speaking strange words while holding his hand over the dwarf’s face. And then suddenly Thorin’s eyes opened.
“You live,” Gandalf exclaimed joyfully, smiling — as did the dwarves and Bilbo. But Thorin ignored the joy around him and asked softly: “The halfling… where is he?” “Do not worry, Bilbo is here. He is unharmed,” Gandalf said with a smile. Bilbo, who finally regained his senses upon seeing Thorin alive, sighed in relief.
He lived. And that made Bilbo indescribably happy. But then he froze, for Thorin stood with the help of the others and looked at him darkly. “You. What have you done? That could have cost you your life,” the dwarf scolded, stepping toward Bilbo. “Did I not tell you that you were a burden? That you would not survive in the wild? That you would never belong with us?”
Bilbo looked down. He had hoped he had risen in the eyes of the man, the dwarf, he loved. But apparently not… perhaps never. He looked up again and what he saw surprised him. Thorin smiled gently, and before Bilbo could react, Thorin embraced him and said with warm, remorseful voice: “Never have I been so wrong… not in my entire life.”
The dwarves cheered, grinning at one another, and Bilbo’s heart beat wildly. He sighed happily and pressed closer to Thorin. Who did not mind, even welcomed it, pulling the hobbit closer. Thorin’s scent and the feeling of being in his arms were like a drug, and before Bilbo knew it, he said: “Thorin… I—I am so happy, because you know… there is something I have wanted to tell you for a long time…”
He stopped — he couldn’t do it.
These feelings he had swallowed for so long refused to come out. Thorin stroked his back gently and whispered: “What is it you want to tell me? Could it perhaps be similar to what I want to tell you, halfling?”, he asked. “I don’t think we mean the same thing…” Bilbo replied sadly. Thorin laughed softly, sending a hot shiver through Bilbo. “Ah, Bilbo… you can only know that once you tell me what you mean.”
Bilbo sighed. Thorin was right.
“Thorin…” he began, stopping again to search for the right words. “Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning. At first, I thought you were an absolute, not very nice idiot. But then I learned your story. About Erebor, about Azog… about your family. And I began to change my opinion. Maybe you weren’t so bad, I thought, and so I began to watch you from time to time. And truly, with the dwarves you were completely different than with me. With Fili and Kili, you were like a caring father, though you aren’t even one, and with Balin, Dwalin, and the others you were like a loyal friend. I was jealous and I wondered why you treated me differently than the others. I held onto that thought for a long time, but slowly I noticed how often my gaze fell on you, how often I watched you. I wanted to deny it, but I knew… I had fallen in love with you.”
The hobbit closed his eyes — he had said it. Finally told Thorin. But what would happen now? What would the dwarf do? He wondered — and then he felt Thorin pull away.
A pained smile formed on Bilbo’s lips because he had expected this. And just as he opened his eyes and prepared to step back as well, he felt two hungry, very gentle lips on his own, moving softly and making him gasp in surprise.
He opened his eyes quickly and looked straight into Thorin’s intense blue ones. Heat rose in him, his cheeks reddened. But he didn’t care. He began to return the kiss. He had dreamed of this for far too long.
A sigh escaped him as the kiss grew more passionate, more urgent. Thorin’s eyes sparkled, and he was just about to pull Bilbo closer when a loud clearing of a throat sounded, and they broke apart instantly. “Thorin, I’m not sure this is such a good idea in your condition…” Gandalf chuckled, and the dwarves burst into laughter.
“Well, one only knows after trying…” Thorin grumbled, giving Bilbo a suggestive look that made the hobbit blush dark red. “At least that’s finally settled,” Dwalin muttered, and Fili added with a grin: “Yes, I thought they’d never talk. I mean, anyone could see from miles away that those two liked each other more than just a little. Especially you, Uncle…” “Oh yes, just those looks he kept giving Bilbo, like he wanted to eat him… if you know what I mean. And then always this ‘No, I don’t like the halfling’—”
“Fili! Kili!” Thorin barked, and they fell silent. Though still grinning at each other.
Thorin gave the others a short look, and they understood immediately, leaving the two alone and walking to the cliff’s edge to look at the Lonely Mountain.
“Forgive my doubts about you, my mistrust, and all the grief I caused you,” Thorin said suddenly, full of remorse. Bilbo only smiled and answered: “It’s okay. I would have doubted myself too. You know, I’m no hero, no adventurer, no warrior… not even a master burglar. I’m just a simple little hobbit from Bag End — and that’s enough for me.”
Thorin gave him a gentle smile and replied: “But to me you are so much more. I simply never saw it. Not until the moment I thought I had lost you…” “So that means… you truly feel the same for me. An insignificant hobbit. Even though you, as a king, could have anyone?” Bilbo asked.
Thorin nodded and pulled him close again. And just before their lips met, Thorin whispered: “Yes. Absurd, I know. But it is so. And believe me, I will never let you go again. Halfling… I love you.”
Then he sealed their lips with a kiss, and Bilbo smiled into it, full of happiness.