Out of the three of them, Dori knew what it was like to live alone the best.
His mother had been a beautiful Dwarf. With her flaming red hair, evergreen eyes, and challenging smile, she had charmed everyone she had met. She loved easily, forgave everyone, and never allowed her lowly status as the descended of a royal bastard get to her. She was fierce and wild like the wind; never bowing to anyone and never really settling in one place completely. Dori knew that he could live a thousand years and he would still miss his beautiful mother as much as he did the day she died.
But as mesmerizing as his mother had been, he could not say that she was a good parent. From the day he was born he had been shuffled off to the side and forgotten about until his mother needed something. He had learned to walk and talk without her. He had learned how to feed himself, clothe himself, and protect himself without her. And he learned to comfort himself when he was scared or lonely without her.
Sometimes Dori wished he could hate her for being such a shitty mother, but he really couldn't. His heart still yearned for her love and attention too much to resent her. And, in the long run, he knew that he was better off for it. Without his mother around, he had learned to be strong and how to take care of himself. These skills came in handy when Nori and Ori were born later on.
The day his mother placed Nori in his arms, she had told him to watch him and take care of him before leaving. He took one look at his baby brother and fell in love. At long last he was no longer alone. He had someone to love and comfort and keep him company. For once in his life, Dori finally knew what it was like to love and be loved in return.
He tried his best to raise his brother, but it was hard trying to be an adult when you were still only a child. And as Nori grew up, it became obvious that he had inherited more than their mother's eyes and lips and fingers. He had also gotten her wild and fierce drive and ability to charm anyone he met. Those traits had brought him more trouble than Dori cared to think about. In the beginning, he could combat it, but as Nori grew, he became more restless and independent. He wanted to be free of his older brother's overprotective ways and chaffed at his constant nagging. Dori reluctantly pulled away and gave his brother his chance at life even though it left him alone again.
But he was strong and so he took it in stride. Even after Erebor fell and they were forced to flee to the cities of Men, his mother and brother still wandered away from him. He dealt with it and focused on saving coin and keeping track of them when they disappeared for days on end. It was not a happy life, but it was not horrible either, and Dori counted his blessings and moved on.
Then one day Ori was born.
In many ways, Ori felt more like his child than his brother. As with Nori, their mother had left Ori with him to be raised before leaving again. With the large age gap between them and their absent mother, Dori became both mother and father and brother to Ori. He was the one who fed him and changed him and sang him to sleep. He taught him how to walk and talk and read and sing and sew and so many other little details of life. Ori became everything and for once in a long time Dori found that he was not alone.
When their mother finally passed away—and how strange it was to him to be an orphan at his age—Nori finally came back to stay. He still wandered occasionally, of course, but he didn't stay away as long as before, and he always came back. With his two brothers there with him, Dori felt like he had a family again. That he wasn't alone anymore and would never be again.
Being alone for so long meant he was quite good at spotting it in others. He could see it in Bifur's eyes and Thorin's shoulders and in Bilbo's smiles. Sometimes he even caught a glimpse of it in Gandalf, but it was fleeting and rare. He could not say why any of them would feel isolated when surrounded by so many who loved them, and it was really not his place to ask. But what Dori did know was that solitude was a crippling experience that could eat you up inside. He had spent so many years alone that he could not stand the idea of seeing any of his friends—his family—go through it too. So he silently swore to himself that he would stay with the Company and his brothers for as long as they needed him.
Because without any of them, Dori knew he would be lonely too.
~*~
Bilbo had forgotten how noisy war could be.
It was a silly and insignificant detail for him to recall in the middle of a battlefield. But—riding through the dead terrain on Beorn's back while Tauriel cut down Orc and Goblin alike with her sword—the noise was all he could focus on. He could hear the clash of iron on iron as weapons met and armor was struck. He could hear the battle cries of every race—the guttural Orcs; the screeching Goblins; the chanting Elves; the booming Dwarves; and even the roaring Men—as they created a symphony of war together. He could even hear the screams of pain and death as both his allies and enemies fell to a blade or arrow or axe. The last cries made him squeeze his eyes shut and bury his fingers tighter in Beorn's fur.
He didn't want to listen to the songs of the dead again.
"I think I see some of your comrades!" Tauriel commented after a time had passed. He opened his eyes and looked to where the Elf pointed, and spotted what looked like Nori, Balin, and Glóin. They fought back-to-back in a circle against the enemy and were sporting a few injuries. Balin in particular had a slash across his face that had smeared blood over his cheeks like war paint.
"Shall we go to them?" the Elf behind him asked and he nodded as he pulled out his whistle.
"Without question," Bilbo declared before blowing his whistle as hard as possible.
The Dwarves all turned as one at the sound. Unfortunately, the orcs and wargs and goblins also turned to face the descending trio too. His Dwarves were able to stop a few but most of them began to charge them; their bloody weapons ready to open more throats.
"Beorn, don't attack them!" Bilbo ordered as he pulled out his pouch from his coat and quickly opened it to retrieve a handful of smaller packs. Along with it he pulled out a match and quickly lit it up.
"What are you doing?" Tauriel asked as she took out some of the Wargs with her bow.
"Watch," he replied before lighting the small bundles and throwing them as hard as he could towards the incoming fiends.
The results were instant. The small packs blew up; some in midflight and others the moment they touched the Orcs and Goblins. Bits of flesh and armor went flying through the air as the victims shrieked and fell to the ground. Some twisted about on fire while others simply bled out from their newly inflected wounds.
"What did you do?" Tauriel gasped in his ear as her grip around his waist tightened.
He rolled his eyes. "I blew them up, obviously."
"Yes, I got that part, but how?" the Elf retorted as Beorn began to gallop towards the Dwarves.
"With sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter," he listed easily. "It's the ingredients to Gandalf's fireworks."
"When did you make those?" the warrior wondered.
"Yesterday," he explained, wincing as Beorn stomped on an incoming Goblin without pausing. "What do you think I was doing all day? Crying my eyes out and writing sad poems?"
Tauriel laughed her wind chime laugh and pulled her bow out again as they finally arrived to where the Dwarves stood. Beorn had not even stopped before Bilbo was pushing Tauriel away and sliding off of the bear's back. He sprinted towards his friends and tried his best not to trip or slip on the bloody corpses around him.
"Bilbo!" Glóin cried out in greeting; catching him in a hug with one arm and swinging the Hobbit around so he could bash his axe into the unprotected abdomen of an incoming Orc. "What are you doing here?! Gandalf said you would be with that damn leaf-eater in the camp!"
"Gandalf should have checked with me first before he decided what I would do," he retorted sharply, driving Sting into a nearby Goblin that was attempting to cut Glóin's leg off.
"Those blasts you threw at the maggots—you're sharing that with me later!" Nori declared, swinging his long mace with both hands into the chest of an incoming Orc.
"Deal!" Bilbo replied, ducking a bloody hammer as it tried to bash his skull in. "Where are the others?!"
"We got separated from them, but Thorin should still be close to the gates! The others are probably trying get back to him like us!" Balin explained, wielding both his axe and sword at the same time in a synchronized dance.
Bilbo nodded and allowed Glóin to yank him to the left in order to avoid a charging Warg. The beast didn't last long as Balin drove his sword into its neck and Nori shattered its ribcage. "We need to get to them before Azog does! This whole battle exists because he wants to kill Thorin and Fíli and Kíli!"
"Easier said than done!" pointed out Nori as he dropped his shoulder to avoid a mace and then spun around and knocked a Goblin off its feet. "This horde won't let us through!"
"Don't worry; I have a plan!" he reassured as he pulled out more of his fireworks and matches, "and we're not alone! Tauriel! Beorn!"
Beorn roared in acknowledgement as he finished mauling a Warg. Nearby, Tauriel did an impressive black flip to avoid a sword and fired an arrow upside down at her attacker. Her arrow easily killed the Orc by the time she was able to neatly land on her feet.
"I'm here!" she yelled, flipping her braid over her shoulder with one hand and running her dagger into the face of a Goblin with the other.
Balin actually stopped and took a moment to stare at the roaring animal tearing through the enemy as if they were made out of paper. "Beorn?! The shapeshifter from before?!"
"What are you doing with them?!" Glóin demanded as he buried his axe into the head of an Orc, splattering its blood and flesh across his face without flinching. "A giant dog and some dainty lasses are hardly adequate protection! Where's that king of the weeds and acorns?! He was supposed to protect you!"
"Who are you calling dainty, weasel?!" Tauriel retorted; kicking a rusted blade out of a Goblin's hand as it attempted to stab her in the thigh. She then kicked the Goblin into the air and away from her.
Glóin snarled and ran his axe into the shoulder of a Warg with more force than needed. "Weasel?! I'll show you weasel you dirt-eating little—"
"Glóin, shut up! This isn't the time!" Nori yelled as he flung one of his daggers at a charging Orc. "Bilbo, what's your plan?!"
"We use these fireworks and Beorn to cut a path through the army and to the gates!" the Hobbit replied, wincing as a Goblin's sword nicked him in the arm before he could run Sting through it.
"Sounds good to me!" Balin said before snarling as an Orc's axe caught him in the collar bone. It didn't penetrate through his thick armor, but Bilbo had a feeling that the Dwarf was still going to have a nasty bruise by noon. The Orc in question didn't last long as Balin neatly beheaded it in one swing.
"Let's move then!" Tauriel ordered before grabbing Bilbo by the back of his coat and flinging him onto Beorn's back. The Hobbit yelped at the move but still instinctively wrapped his free hand in the bear's fur and locked his knees in order not to fall off.
"Warn me before you do that!" he scolded.
"No promises!" the Elf retorted as she head butted an Orc that had grabbed her. "Are you going to light those poppers within the next century, Master Baggins?"
"Are you going to call me by my name within this century?" he returned even as he lit up some of his fireworks and then threw them as hard as possible into the crowd of Orcs and Goblins.
"Beorn, move once you get a chance," he said as the fireworks went off.
Beorn growled in what sounded like acknowledgement before he sprung forward through the smoke and screaming orcs and goblins. Behind them he could hear Tauriel yelling for the others to follow, and he quickly pulled out more of his fireworks.
Okay, Bilbo. Let's see how many of these bastards you can blow up, he thought before he lit up the area once more in a flash of fire and smoke.
~*~
Bilbo could not say how long the battle lasted. He could not say if it took hours or minutes for them to fight through the hordes of fiends to get to Erebor. All he knew was the frantic motion of lighting up his fireworks and tossing them at the enemy while hoping he didn't hurt any of their allies while he was at it. Once and awhile, he would look behind to check on his comrades and found them getting bloodier and wearier with every step. It made his heart ache and his fingers itch to join in the fighting, but every time he tried to slide off of Beorn, the bear would force him to stay. Eventually he gave up fighting the shapeshifter as it was clear he would not be getting off anytime soon.
When they finally did make it to the gates of Erebor, Bilbo felt the blood in his veins turn to ice.
Azog was nowhere in sight but that didn't matter as there were more than enough Orcs and Goblins to make up for his absence. All of them were focused on the gates of the city where a few familiar Dwarves still stood among the corpses of allies and enemy alike. The Hobbit spotted Dwalin first for he fought with a mechanical intensity in front of the wounded but still living Fíli and Kíli. Nearby stood Dáin; fierce and unwavering as he systematically went through one foe after the other without pause. Finally, further away from them, fought the King Under the Mountain.
At first Bilbo was not sure what was wrong with the sight before him. Thorin was injured and bloody but did not seem as tired or weak as the others. He fought with the same fluid grace as always and easily cut through Goblin and Warg alike. It was not until he watched for a moment that Bilbo was finally able to pinpoint what was so wrong with the king.
Thorin was fighting recklessly.
All of the openings and weaknesses that he usually so carefully guarded were now wide open and vulnerable. As he watched, an Orc was able to get into the Dwarf's defenses much too easily and nearly cut his head off. Thorin was only barely able to avoid it and was left with a slice across his ear instead. Watching the king fight so foolishly, Bilbo felt his fear and shock melt under the flames of fury.
No. This is NOT going to continue.
Before Beorn could stop him, the Hobbit threw himself off the bear and sprinted towards the Dwarven king. He ducked and jumped and spun through the enemy ranks and was able to escape most of their weapons and hands. One Orc was able to grab hold of his coat, but he quickly solved that dilemma by cutting the sleeve free with Sting. He lost most of his left sleeve, but he didn't care as he continued to rush to Thorin's side.
"Thorin!" he yelled as he grew closer and closer. "Thorin, you imbecile, watch your lower left!"
The Dwarf did as told and parried the incoming blow from a Goblin. As he skewered the beast with Orcrist, he looked up and met Bilbo's eyes with his own wild pair.
"Bilbo! What are you doing here?!" he yelled as his face turned white under all the blood and grime caked on it.
Bilbo scoffed and ducked a Warg as it tried to bite his face off. "You banished me from Erebor, remember?! You said nothing about the land outside of it!"
"That's not what I meant!" Thorin retorted, grabbing the wrist of an Orc to stop it as it tried to bring a hammer down on his head. "What are you doing out here in the battle?! You're supposed to be at the camp with Thranduil where it's safe!"
"And leave you all alone to fight Azog?!" he jeered back. "Not in a million years!"
"Damnit, halfling, I cannot fight with you here!" Thorin snarled as he twisted the Orc's wrist and brought it to its knees and then lopped its head off. "Get back to the camp!"
"Halfling now, is it? Did I lose your respect along with your trust when you sent me away?!" he questioned, trying to ignore the sting that came with the word. Behind him he could hear Beorn's roar and Nori's curses as the others finally caught up to them.
Thorin sneered and pointed at Bilbo with one hand while the other knocked an incoming arrow to the side. "Do not look at me with those eyes! You have no right to claim offense when it was you who stole from me!"
Bilbo sneered back as he twirled out of reach of an Orc's mace. "You left me no choice! What was I to do with you so blinded by your own fears?! Sit around and wait for you to get yourself killed?! I would rather steal a thousand jewels and challenge Smaug once more before I allowed that to happen!"
"It is not your place to decide my fate!" the king rebuked as the Hobbit finally made it to his side. As Bilbo stopped before him, he swung Orcrist over the burglar's head to catch the incoming sword of an Orc that would have pierced through him. With a grunt, the Dwarf pushed the sword away and yanked Bilbo back with his free hand.
"You are nothing but trouble out here," growled Thorin as he parried another blow from the Orc and then hacked its arm off. As the Orc screeched, the king drove his sword into its chest and ended its suffering before whirling back to the Hobbit behind him.
"Get into the city before you get killed," he growled, pointing to Erebor with Orcrist.
Bilbo shook his head and raised his chin high. "No! I'm staying here with you and the others!"
"Damnit, Bilbo, this is not the time to be stubborn!"
"I'm not leaving you alone! You're fighting too—"
"FÍLI!"
The arguing duo turned as one to the terrified scream that cut across the battlefield. They found Kíli sprawled on the ground; his bow knocked a few feet away and his mouth bleeding greatly. His dark eyes were wide and his face pale as he stared at the Dwarf standing over him. Fíli stood tall and unwavering with his sword buried into the stomach of the large Orc before him. The Orc's own sword was buried deep into the prince's left shoulder. Fíli did not seem to notice the wound as he twisted his sword in deeper and then rammed his second blade into the Orc's chest. The Orc jerked and then fell back, leaving its blade behind and collapsing to the ground in a twitching mess of black blood.
The prince stood still and watched it until the creature finally stopped twitching before finally collapsing to his knees. As they watched, Fíli grasped his shoulder where the blade was still buried and nearly fell over if his brother had not caught him. Kíli held him steady and nearly pulled him into his lap as his hands hovered over the wound; uncertain about what to do.
"Fíli," Thorin gasped, stumbling towards his nephews and nearly dropping his sword. "Oh, Mahâl no. Not them, not them. Not my boys...!"
Bilbo ignored the king and turned to where his friends fought. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled as loud as he possibly could to them, "BEORN! TAURIEL! GET THE PRINCES INTO THE CITY!"
The bear and Elf turned as one to where the two brothers were before sprinting towards them. As they cut through the invading army, Dwalin and Dáin moved to protect the two younger Dwarves as orcs and wargs and goblins alike descended on them. Reassured that the princes would be safe for the moment, the Hobbit turned his attention back to the still dazed king.
"Thorin, snap out of it! Now is not the time to fall apart!" he yelled, grabbing the Dwarf's arm.
Thorin ignored him; his eyes still glued to his nephews. "No, how can I... I have to..."
Bilbo felt his fraying patience growing even thinner. Yanking the king back, he moved until he stood in front of the taller male and poked him in the chest with his free hand. "ENOUGH! If you want to save your sister's sons, then focus on staying alive! You are no good to them dead!"
Thorin blinked twice; his eyes shifting between ebony black and murky blue. Before his eyes could settle on a color, they grew wide, and his brows met his hairline. Bilbo had only a second to wonder why when the king jerked him into a hug and spun them around. The motion left him dizzy and disoriented and it was not until he felt Thorin groan against his hair that he realized something was wrong.
"Thorin? What...?" he began to ask before he noticed the arrow sticking out of the king's back. "Thorin! What did you do?!"
"Protecting you," the Dwarf growled, pulling back and reaching behind to break off the shaft of the arrow. "Because you can't seem to do it yourself!"
"Says the Dwarf with an arrow in his back!" Bilbo retorted as his eyes sought out their friends. "Hang on and let me get help! Then we can get you into the city—"
"Down!" Thorin ordered in reply, pushing him down and out of the way of a flying axe. "I can still fight now get behind me!"
"So you can get hurt again? I think not!"
"Why are you even here?!" the king growled, jerking away from a Goblin's spear. "Why have you come back to torment me?! Is it not enough that you betrayed my trust and stole my family's greatest treasure?!"
Bilbo groaned and rammed his elbow back into the face of an Orc. "Are you serious?! Do you really want to have this conversation now?!"
"Answer the question!" the Dwarf snapped as he broke the Goblin's spear in half with his sword.
"You stupid Dwarf! How can you not see that I did it all to save you for you are my treasure?!" he snarled back, ducking the Orc's punch and plunging Sting into the Orc's gut. As he pulled back and turned to Thorin, he found the king frozen in motion with his mouth open and his eyes a wide and muggy blue.
"What...?" the Dwarf mumbled before cursing as the Goblin he was fighting drove a sword into his thigh.
Bilbo felt the world turn beneath his feet.
—Thorin takes one final breath and then almost sighs as he dies. His blue eyes grow lifeless and empty and look more like the jewels his kind favor so much. The limp hand in his own pair falls through his bloody fingers and he begins to cry harder because everything he has done to this point has been for nothing. Thorin is dead and gone forevermore—
"THORIN!"
The king growled and beheaded the Goblin in one strike before falling to his knees. He braced Orcrist into the ground to lean against while his free hand went to his wound; trying to stop the gushing blood as it spilled through his fingers and down his leg.
Bilbo was moving before the Goblin was dead, leaping over a dead Warg and sliding on the bloody battlefield before dropping to his knees next to the kneeling Dwarf. He could feel the mud and blood soaking into his pants and greaves, getting his skin dirty and itchy. Once next to the king, he pushed his own hand up against Thorin's where his wound was. He could hear Óin's directions in his mind telling him that he needed to stop the bleeding before all else.
"Damn," Thorin cursed, clenching his jaw and the hilt of his sword. "B-Bilbo get out of here. I can't p-protect you like this!"
"Stop talking," he ordered as he pulled his coat off and pushed Thorin's hand away to tie it around his thigh as tight as possible. The king hissed at the pain but didn't fight him. But before Bilbo could finish tying it a second time, Thorin cursed again and pushed him down and rammed Orcrist into an incoming Orc with both hands.
"You need to leave before they overrun us both," the Dwarf growled as he twisted his blade once before yanking it out.
"Good thing we're here to help then," drawled Nori as he kicked the dead Orc away and then slammed his mace into a nearby Goblin.
"Just can't leave you two alone for long, can we?" Glóin commented, easily batting away an arrow from Thorin.
"Bilbo, stay with him until Óin finds us. We'll keep the roaches away," Balin ordered as he took up position in front of his cousin.
Bilbo nodded and moved to help Thorin as the king stumbled to his knees again. To his alarm, the Dwarf was beginning to grow paler, and his hands were beginning to shake around the hilt of his sword. "Thorin! Thorin, look at me! We need to—"
"The boys... are they...?" the king gasped, leaning into the Hobbit's side as Bilbo wrapped an arm around his shoulders to hold him steady.
He nodded frantically even though the truth was he could not see the two princes. "T-they're fine, fine! Dwalin and Dáin are with them and so are Beorn and Tauriel!"
Thorin chuckled and leaned his head against Bilbo's shoulder. "L-liar. Y-you always l-lie to protect m-me."
"I know. I do a lot of stupid things for you," he whispered back, pushing aside the Dwarf's braids so he could see his face clearly. "Like taking on a dragon and joining this battle. You owe me for all of this, so you better stay alive, Thorin Oakenshield."
"B-bossy. That's w-why so many people keep t-trying to k-kill you," the king muttered as he began to sweat heavily. His blue eyes were misty as he looked up to meet the Hobbit's gaze. "B-Bilbo, y-you called me y-your t-treasure. W-why...?"
"Why do you think?" he retorted, glancing at Thorin's wound only to find it bleeding through the make-shift bandage. "Shit! Thorin, I need you to lay down so I can re-bandage your wound. Quickly now!"
Thorin groaned but still shifted until he laid flat on his back with his leg in Bilbo's lap. The Hobbit quickly untied the bloody coat and then rewrapped it around the bleeding wound. Once set, he tied his sash around it even tighter to stop the bleeding.
"B-Bilbo, s-stop," the king ordered, reaching out one hand to snag the Hobbit's wrist. "I n-need to t-tell you I-I'm s-sorry."
"Tell me later after we've won the battle," he suggested, easing the Dwarf's leg out of his lap and patting Thorin's hand with his free one. "After all of this is over, you can apologize and make a fool of yourself in front of all our friends. Deal?"
"M-might not get t-that c-chance," the Dwarf pointed out as he began to breathe through his mouth. His skin had shifted into a grayish white and Bilbo could see the buildup of sweat on his brow. Even the hand wrapped around his wrist was beginning to shake as the king began to lose consciences.
"Thorin, Thorin stay with me," he ordered, scooting closer to the king and cupping his clammy and cold cheeks with both hands. "Please, please stay with me. Óin will help you as soon as he finds us."
"I-I'm sorry I h-hurt you. D-didn't m-mean to," Thorin muttered as he closed his eyes. "J-just wanted y-you t-to stay..."
"I know you didn't. You just weren't thinking straight," Bilbo agreed as something like panic began to tighten around his heart. He could feel it growing tighter and tighter with every labored breath the king took as he realized he was losing Thorin to death again.
No. Please, no, not again. It's not supposed to end this way—!
Leaning down, he pressed his forehead against Thorin's until their noses aligned and their lips just barely brushed. "Please don't go. Please, please... do not leave me to live this life alone again..."
"Bilbo! I think I see Óin!" Balin suddenly yelled, gesturing with his sword towards a group of Dwarves running towards them. When Bilbo looked hard enough, he realized the warrior was correct. Óin was coming along with the others.
"Over here! Óin, we're over here!" he shouted, sitting up and waving one arm rapidly.
The group easily charged through the orcs and goblins and wargs and to their aid. Óin sprinted to the fallen king and fell to his knees at his cousin's side; his bloody face shifting into an ugly scowl.
"Damnit, Thorin, you stubborn ass," the healer cursed as he checked the king's pulse. "We need to get him into the city. Dori! Bifur! Help me with this fool!"
"The boys—Fíli was stabbed! He needs help!" Bilbo said as he stood and stepped back so the two Dwarves could pick up the king.
Óin waved a hand towards where the two princes lingered. "Dwalin is bringing him along with his brother. Gently now, you two, don't move his neck about!"
Bilbo nodded as he watched his friends carry their king to the gates. Along the way they were joined with Dwalin and Kíli who held an unconscious Fíli between them. As he watched, the gates were opened by the Dwarven archers inside and the Company quickly slipped into the city with their fallen royalty. As the gates slammed shut behind them, he wondered if it was the last time, he would ever see Thorin and Fíli alive again.