An Unexpected Feeling (Bagginshield)

Fighting for love - part 1

"Bilbo! The Dale, quickly, we must go!" Gandalf shouted.

They were practically in the middle of the battle. Bilbo was lucky he didn't get hit.

Gandalf grabbed Bilbo's wrist and they ran to the Dale. But the Dale was filled with orcs.

"Gandalf, what will we do now?"

"We must fight," Gandalf said.

Bilbo pulled out his sword, Sting. It was glowing blue. Bilbo started fighting the orcs, but couldn't stop thinking about Thorin.

'I hope he's okay... I hope he'll be himself again...'

Thorin wandered alone in the Hall of Kings in Erebor. He hadn't let the other dwarves go to battle. He didn't mean to go. But now, he began to think. Think about all the things he had said and promised, and what others had said to him.

'That sickness drove your grandfather mad.'

That's what Balin had said. Sickness? Was Thorin really sick?

'I am not my grandfather.'

That is what Thorin had answered. But did he actually act like his grandfather?

'Dain is surrounded. They are dying out there...'

That was Dwalin's voice. Dain, Thorin's cousin... Thorin had left them alone...

'You've changed, Thorin.'

It was Bilbo. Bilbo, his love. His love who had betrayed him.

'Is this treasure truly greater that your honour?'

But Thorin had betrayed Bilbo, too. They had all been right.

'I am not my grandfather.'

Thorin grabbed the crown from his head and threw it on the golden floor. It was a feeling he had not felt for a long time. Freedom.

Thorin took his mighty fur coat off and changed back to his old clothes. He grabbed his sword and looked for the other dwarves.

Kili started yelling at him right away.

"I will not hide behind a wall of stone while others fight our battles for us! It is not in my blood, Thorin." Kili said.

"No. It is not," Thorin answered.

"I have no right, to ask this of any of you. But will you follow me, one last time?" Thorin begged.

And they did.

Bombur blew into a war horn. Everyone in the battle heard it. Even Bilbo.

'Thorin.' he whispered.

"Du bekâr!"

It was Khuzdul, the secret language of Dwarves. It meant "to arms". And it was Thorin's voice shouting it.

Bilbo looked at the entry of the Mountain. The dwarves had come. Thorin was leading them, and Fili and Kili were behind him.

They fought for a long time. The Orcs fell one by one. But their leader, Azog, was still alive... If he would die, the Orcs would be even weaker.

And Thorin had realized this. He took Fili, Kili and Dwalin and went to Ravenhill, from where Azog was leading the Orcs. Bilbo and Gandalf noticed them.

"He's taking his best warriors." Gandalf said with some hope in his voice.

"To do what?"

"To cut the head of the snake."

Azog.

Bilbo was glad that Thorin had come back to his senses. Everything would be fine, soon. At least so he thought, until Legolas, son of the Elven king Thranduil, came to them and told them something.

"There is another Orc army coming from the north. Bolg is their leader," he said.

"This was their plan all along..." Gandalf whispered.

Bilbo was desperate.

"The north? Where is the north, exactly?"

"Ravenhill."

'Ravenhill,' Bilbo repeated in his mind.

"Thorin's up there."