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As Thorin huffed and strained against Azog’s sword, he realized there was only one way this could end; he could either die alone, or he could take the Orc scum with him.
Thorin’s arms shook with the effort of holding back the weight of a beast twice his size, balanced precariously on the edge of his blade.
He tore his eyes away from Azog’s snarling visage to take one last look at the sky, and to mourn all he would lose along with his life; he would never see Kili grow into his beard, never see Fili take the throne. He would never spar with Dwalin again, and have no more late night conversations with Balin. He would never be able to apologize to his sister for leading her sons into such peril.
He would never get to apologize to Bilbo, to beg his burglar for forgiveness. He would never be able to tell Bilbo how much he truly meant to Thorin.
Thorin took one last shuddering breath and resigned himself to his fate.
As his blade slipped out from underneath Azog’s, Thorin heard a sound so raw it was as if it was ripped from someone’s throat, saw a flash of dirtied honey tresses, and felt a solid weight land atop him.
The world slowed down, and as Azog’s blade made contact with Bilbo’s back, all Thorin could see were those dark blue eyes, boring into his.
Bilbo made a pained noise and gasped for air, and Thorin could no longer see the mercurial depths of Bilbo’s eyes; all he saw was red.
An all consuming rage flooded through Thorin; keeping one arm around the hobbit’s back, he brought Orcrist up in a smooth, powerful arc. With a feral roar, he cut Azog’s sneering head clean off his neck.
The world was silent as Thorin tried to grapple with the fact that the bane of his line was vanquished.
But with a small gasp, time seemed to speed back up again, and the choked breaths his halfling was trying to take filled him with icy dread.
Thorin cradled Bilbo close to his chest and tried to hold back his tears.
“Oh Mahal, Bilbo, why would you do that? Why would you sacrifice yourself for me, after all of the pain I have caused you? You never should have been in this battle; you should be back in your Shire, with your books and your armchair. You should be able to watch your trees grow."
As a tear escaped Thorin’s eye to drop onto the dirtied face of his burglar, a newfound sense of determination filled him; it would not end like this.
Bilbo could not die, not like this.
"B- Bilbo,” Thorin hitched, “you cannot die for me. Please, do not die for me. Stay alive, so that I may cherish you until the end of my days. Stay alive, so that I may love you until this world ends, and beyond. If you would just stay alive, I would take your hand in front of all of Arda, proclaim to Eru himself how no treasure could ever measure up to your worth. Stay alive, so that I may have you. Stay alive, so that I may keep you."
Thorin could no longer hold back the flood of his tears, and as Bilbo’s great heaves for air slowed down, Thorin let out an anguished keen and tucked his tear-stained face into his hobbit’s matted curls.
But then, he felt a small hand upon his cheek.
Thorin pulled back in disbelief to look into Bilbo’s eyes.
"I’ll-” Bilbo puffed, “I’ll hold you to that."
And with a cheeky grin he pulled back the collar of his coat to reveal the shimmer of mithril.