(These events follow the movie, although some of the script has been altered to match up a little more with the actual book.)

His Uncle had been a lucky man to get to see such sights as the Lonely Mountain, to touch luxuries such as the Arkenstone. He felt blessed to have Bilbo Baggins as an Uncle, but even more so as a friend from whom he could gather such awe-inspiring tales from. Of course, what young Frodo Baggins didn't know about was the loss that Bilbo had experienced at the end of his journey, the pain and heartache his Uncle ended up suffering. All he knew was that when it came to Bilbo mentioning the Dwarven company, he avoided using specific names for three of the dwarves. He told him what they had looked like.

"One," Frodo remembered Bilbo saying, "had long locks of golden-brown hair that swooped back behind his head, with bangs that fell down by his cheekbones. He had a beard that was far shorter than others, and big, brown eyes full of hope and pride.

He had a twin brother, as well. The younger had brown hair, as dark and rich as the soil we plant our crops in, with chestnut eyes. He didn't really have a beard. Rather, it was a shadow that had grown upon his face. It was stubble, if you will, my dear, Frodo!

And the leader of Dwarven company, the King under the Lonely Mountain, was the grandest of them all! He had the longest hair, darker than his nephew's. Mind you, his nephew's was darker than our soil. He had dark eyes, the darkest pools of brown that you'd ever seen, and in them, you could see all the pain and suffering he'd experienced in his lifetime. Yet, despite that, he trekked on. He was a prideful dwarf, but which ones aren't, my boy? Though he went above and beyond putting me down in the beginning, he grew to become my best friend."

And that was all Frodo really knew of those three dwarves, until he stumbled upon the book that Bilbo had been writing. There And Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins.

His fingers grazed over the cover of the book and he flipped it open and began reading. His Uncle had gone out to the market to gather his weekly income of fresh foods, so Frodo knew he had plenty of time to himself. Of course, he didn't bother reading what all his Uncle had already told him about. He wanted to read about the battle, about the end that his Uncle always left out.

Page by page went by. Frodo took it all in, even the words he didn't bother to read and study. Illustrations filled much of the book. Some pages depicted the horrors his Uncle had encountered: the Cave Trolls and the Spiders, while others showed only grandeur and beauty: the Elven King's forest palace in Mirkwood and the Lonely Mountain that had been the reason for the whole adventure. Frodo was truly captivated.

His amazement only grew when he finally found where his Uncle always left off. The end of the Five Armies War, where Middle Earth's fate was to be decided, was staring him right in the face. "Ah, there you are!" he whispered, turning the page.

He began reading.

And in doing so, he discovered the names of the dwarves, but only by their deaths.

First was Fili, the dwarf with golden hair whose eyes gleamed with hope and pride.

And then Kili, the dwarf with hair as dark and rich as the soil the Hobbits of the Shire planted their crops in.

Finally came Thorin, the most magnificent of the Dwarven company.

Each one met a terrible fate, all because they were fighting to reclaim their homeland and avenge the lives their loved ones had lost.

"I see you finally discovered the truth, my boy," Bilbo said from the doorway, causing Frodo to tumble out of the seat he'd taken in front of the book. "It's quite alright, lad. It's quite alright. You would have found out eventually. I didn't tell you because I haven't gotten over their deaths quite yet. My heart has not healed. I don't suspect it will, even with time."

Frodo watched as his Uncle shuffled across the floor, easing the baskets of food onto the table. Then, he began approaching his nephew. "Who was Thorin?" Frodo asked quietly, almost afraid to even utter the question. It wasn't out of fear, but rather, out of concern.

Bilbo gazed out the window. He became tense and silent. "Who was Thorin?" he murmured to himself, before he gave a sigh. "Who was Thorin Oakenshield?"

Memories played themselves over and over in the elderly Hobbit's mind. The night that Thorin arrived at his house with the other twelve dwarves; the day he left the Shire to join the quest to retake the Lonely Mountain. All the times he and Thorin and the other dwarves had shared together flashed before Bilbo's eyes and stole his breath away. "Uncle?"

A tear. "He was my best friend, lad... Thorin Oakenshield was my best friend..."

"Will you tell me...?" Frodo pressed nervously, gently taking his Uncle's hand into his own as reassurance. "Will you tell me how the battle ended?"

Bilbo squeezed Frodo's hand, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes to recount the tale. "Azog the Defiler had created a distraction in the midst of the battle, one Gandalf and I didn't realize until it was far too late. Fili, Kili, and Thorin had gone to wipe out a group of Orcs who had made themselves a nuisance up on a hill overlooking the battle field. Thorin sent Fili and Kili inside to root the evil out. Fili was captured by Bolg, one of Azog's minions. He held him up after Kili had managed to escape their clutches, and when Bolg had made certain that Thorin and Kili could see what was going on, he drove his sword through Fili's back and pushed it through his abdomen, and dropped him down in front of his brother.

All Kili had wanted was to take Bolg's life. But in the end, his was taken as well. He, too, lost his life because he tried to avenge his brother's.

I had been close to those two, deathly so. It's those kinds of bonds that can and will devour you in battle, but the bond I shared with my dear friend, Thorin, is the type that is the most horrific. It's the type, Frodo, that will devour you whole and then spit you back up to be tormented. It allows you to live, but only because it can watch you die.

Thorin's death affected me greatly, my boy, because I was forced to watch the life fade from his eyes. That kind of torment shouldn't be imposed upon anyone."

Frodo stared up at his Uncle, piercing blue eyes full of concern. He was going to apologize for asking dear, old Bilbo to share this with him before he was ready, but Bilbo continued nonetheless. He had started. He might as well finish. "Thorin Oakenshield had fought Azog the Defiler several times before, as you already know from stories prior to this one. This time, he knew what he had to do." Bilbo nodded his head at his words, more sure that his friend died knowing his end was coming, then he did not knowing it at all. "He gave his life to reclaim his home. When all thought that the great war had ended with Thorin being the only casualty, with Thorin's life being the only one lost, he took his blade up-" Bilbo replayed the action, pumping his arm upward, "and plunged it deep into Azog's chest. And there, the Orc died like the pathetic coward he had been. My dear friend, Thorin, as I found him when I arrived, lay on the ground bleeding heavily. His clothes were soaked in blood.

I got down beside him and moved his garments to see his wounds, only to find that the impact had gone far too deep for him to be saved. I knew he was dying. At the time, I didn't want to admit it. Even to this day, I still don't want to believe my dear friend is gone. Ah, but I know he is." Tears leaked down Bilbo's cheeks. His eyes were rimmed red. He, however, did not stop speaking. "I took Thorin's hand in my own, Frodo. I took his dirty hand, which was coated in crusted blood and fresh blood and I held it tightly in mine.

I can remember him drawing breath into his lungs, and I can still see the pain in his eyes as he did so. His last words to me, Frodo, were this.

'Farewell, Master Burglar... I wish to part this life with you in friendship, and to take my words at the gate back... Return to your books... and your armchair... Plant your trees; watch them grow... If more of us valued home above hoarded gold, this world would be a much merrier place.'

'Thorin!'

'You are no coward, Bilbo Baggins...'

'Thorin, save your breath. This conversation holds no importance. You must conserve your energy!'

'I told you that it was you who did not understand war... I apologize, for now I have come to realize it was truly I who did not, not until now...'

'Thorin, no!'

'But sad or merry, my dearest friend, I must leave it now...'

Oh, Frodo... If you could have seen the look in his eyes as he took his final breath... I didn't even realize he'd gone, my boy...

I tried to get him to stay with me. I kept telling him, 'Thorin... Hold on! Hold on! Look! The Eagles, Thorin. The Eagles! Thorin... the Eagles...'

But he had long since crossed the shore of life to greet his fallen comrades on the other side, and I had not noticed."

Tears streamed silently down Bilbo's face as he placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder, and he turned to go put his things away. "As I said before, Frodo, this world is cruel. When you form bonds with someone, expect to have your heart torn in many ways, unexpected and unkind ways."

Frodo looked down, kicking his legs on the stool he sat on. He turned towards the book behind him, and began to close it slowly, only to find a small letter, unopened, but clearly aged, flutter to the floor. He hopped down and picked it up, and placed it on his Uncle's desk, before he headed off to help the older Hobbit.

Once the chores of the day had been finished and Frodo had headed home for the night, Bilbo made his way over towards the book he was coming close to finishing...

...when his eyes caught sight of the letter.

"How strange it is to see a letter with the emblem of the Dwarves on it," he whispered, taking it up into his shaking fingers.

He opened it, and pulled out the contents inside.

Hello, my friend.

I wish to apologize for all the things I have said to you, for all the things that I have done wrong in the time that you have joined this Company. And though I know no mere letter can convey the true emotions I feel, I wish for you to know that I hold you dear to me. Thank you, Master Hobbit, for all that you have done. When this is all over, I wish to get to know you properly, and I wish to make up for the mistakes that I have made, and for the pain that I have put you through.

I only hope that you will still think of me as a friend.

Signed,

Thorin Oakenshield.

Bilbo placed a hand over his mouth as an onslaught of tears fell. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, choked sobs slipping passed his lips. "Thorin," he whispered shakily. "There was a never a moment in time where you failed to be my best friend."