This is chapter one of my new fic. I got the idea, and the title, from the Breaking Benjamin song "I Will Not Bow." There is more to come, and this focuses mainly on Thorin, Balin, and Dis/Fili/Kili.

They had been cast out of their home. They had fled while the elves stood and watched, refusing to help. They had battled for a new home and lost far too many. They had so little left. And no one knew this better than the last of the line of Durin.

Thorin, son of Thrain, had lost in one battle his grandfather, father, brother, and brother-in-law. He had nothing. He did still have, he remembered, his sister and his sister-sons, but they would be better off without him. After all, the orcs had been hunting the line of Durin, and Thorin couldn't risk Dis and Fili and Kili being targeted by the successors of Azog. He had to leave.

He couldn't just run off. He had to leave something for Dis, so he went to Balin and asked for a piece of parchment and a pen. He then dashed off a quick note to Dis—

Sister—

I'm sorry, but I can't put you and the boys at risk.

Thorin.

He folded the paper neatly, scrawled Dis' name on the outside, and handed it to Balin. "Give this to Dis, please."

Balin looked at him worriedly. "Thorin, you, and her, have lost so many this day. Thror, Thrain, Frerin. You can't leave now. Think of what it will do to Dis."

"Azog specifically targeted the line of Durin," Thorin growled. "That puts Dis and Fili and Kili in danger. If I go away, that leaves only the most tenuous link between them and me. Them and the line of Durin. And we can lie, tell people that they are of a different lineage. They have to stay safe."

Thorin's face was stony, and Balin could only stare at the dwarf prince. In that instant he looked like a terrifying warrior king. One who would not take no for an answer, so Balin nodded seriously. "I will give it to Dis. Where will you go?"

"To make my fortune elsewhere," Thorin replied.

Balin sighed. "Then I wish you luck, laddie."

Thorin nodded once in acknowledgement, then turned sharply on his heel and left.

Balin watched the receding form of Thorin, now the ruler of the dwarves of Erebor. Then he looked at the note in his hand, sighed, and went to find Dis.

Dis, much like the rest of her family, was a fighter, but her two young sons had forced her to stay away from the battle. Fili and Kili were far too young to be left alone, and Kili was only a few months old and so could not be without his mother. He was still suckling, and Dis needed to stay, if only for that.

Balin knocked on one of the tent poles and Dis burst out, dark hair flying and unsheathed sword in her hand. When she saw Balin she relaxed. "Oh, it's just you. Come in."

Balin followed Dis into the tent, smiling softly when he saw tiny Fili clutching an even tinier swaddled Kili. He had seen so much death that day that a reminder of life and hope was more than welcome, and life and hope was what the two tiny dwarflings represented.

"What is it?" Dis asked nervously, running a hand through her long hair. Usually dwarf women wore their hair elaborately plaited and pulled up, but free-spirited Dis chose to wear her hair loose like her brothers.

"The battle is over," Balin told her carefully, trying to let as little emotion as possible show on his face.

Dis bit her lip, waiting for the news. Fili watched his mother with big blue eyes, recognizing worry on her face.

Balin took a deep breath. "Azog swore to wipe out the line of Durin. He beheaded Thrain. Thror is missing, and Frerin fell as well."

Dis sat down hard, looking as if she was in shock. "My husband?"

Balin merely shook his head, and Dis crumpled. "Do you have any good news?" she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper, and shaking nearly as much as her body was.

"Thorin survived, alone of the line of Durin who went to battle this morning." Dis perked up minutely and looked around, as if Thorin had snuck into the tent while she hadn't been looking. Balin steeled himself to break her heart even further. "He left. He left to protect you and the lads. Azog was hunting the line of Durin, and Thorin thinks that will continue after his death. He believes that if he leaves it will be easier to claim that the three of you are not of the line. He doesn't want any more harm to come to you or your sons. He gave me this to give to you." Balin handed Dis Thorin's note. She read it quickly and quietly, then pulled her knees up to her chest, sobbing silently.

Thorin stood on top of the ledge, looking down at what was left of his home, his people, his family. He knew he really shouldn't leave, but it was necessary. Balin and Dwalin would do honorably by the remaining dwarves of Erebor. He was not needed.

He couldn't stay much longer. Every additional minute he stood there increased the chance of being searched for, increased the risk of being found, and he could not be dragged back. He needed to leave. It was in everyone's best interest. He had left specifically to protect Dis and Fili and Kili, but now that he thought about it, he was keeping all the dwarves below him safe. If Azog had survived he would come after Thorin, stopping at nothing to kill him, and if he hadn't survived his kin would likely carry out that mission in his memory.

The first step was the hardest, then he merely focused on moving his feet, step after step after step, away from the family and people he loved. As he walked he sang softly, the song a reminder of what he had lost.

"Far over the Misty Mountains cold…"

Thoughts?