I saw Disneys Beauty and the Beast today (who said that Disney movies are only for kids? LOL) and the end was the idea for this story. I do not own The Hobbit nor Disneys Beauty and the Beast.

Thorin lay in his tent in the middle of the battlefield. Although his clothes were soaked in blood from various wounds he felt no deeper pain than the pain in his heart. He had done everything wrong. He had given in into the goldsickness and had hurt his love, the hobbit Brunhilda. The hobbit who had fought by his side and went through every peril with him to reclaim his kingdom. His brave hobbit who had saved his life. The beautiful hobbit who had stolen his heart. The hobbit who had risked so much for the sake of his quest. Thorin could not forget the terrified look in Brunhildas eyes as he had grabbed her neck and had hung her over the razor sharp rocks below Erebors lookout. He could not forget her sweet voice pleading to him and her sobs when she left the Lonely Mountain after he had banished her.

As the armies of his cousin Dain, the men and elves had fought side by side against the orcs, Thorin had charged out of Erebor with his dwarves, clad in the finest armor and wielding Orcrist. He had killed Azog the Defiler in battle, but he had paid with his life. His nephews, who had rushed to his aid, lay dead at his side in the royal tent. Thorin wanted to die. There was nothing worth living anymore.

Suddenly, Thorin felt a soft breeze from the entrance of the tent and felt a small and cold hand cup his cheek and stroke his beard. He opened his eyes and looked right into the green loving eyes of his hobbit.

'Brunhilda.' he could hardly breath and he was not sure if the hobbit sitting at his side was real. But her hand stroke gently over his face, over his beard, his eyebrows and his cheek and Thorin soon realised that she really was there. 'You came back.'

'Of course I came back. I could not leave you...I was so proud as I saw you charge at the orcs with all of the mightiness and bravery of the house of Durin. My heart followed you onto the battlefield, Thorin. This is all my fault. I should not have given the Arkenstone to Bard. I should not have stolen from you. If only I had gotten to you sooner.' Brunhilda cried and threw her arms around Thorins shoulders. Sobbing she lay down onto her love and pressed her check against his chest.

'Maybe...' Thorin needed all his strength to talk. 'Maybe, its better this way.'

'Don't talk like that!' Brunhilda exclaimed and looked down at him lovingly. 'You'll be alright. We are together now. Everything is going to be fine.'

'At least I got to see you - one last time.' Thorin whispered hoarsely and cupped his hobbits face in his callous hand. His eyes turned into his skull and he fought to stay conscious.

Brunhilda pressed her face into his warm hands and supported his hand with both her smaller hands. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that she and Thorin were in the Shire. In the peaceful and green Shire, not on the blood soaked battlefield in front of Erebors gates. But soon the vision blurred and Thorins hand grew heavy and cold. Brunhilda felt Thorins hand slip from her grasp. With a last loving gaze Thorin, king under the mountain, died in the arms of his love.

Brunhilda pressed her hand over her mouth to choke her sobs, but she she could not prevent herself from crying out desperately.

'No! No! Wait! Please don't leave me!' her tears fell over his chest and soaked his bloddied armor. 'I love you' she whispered in tears.

Her words were heard by none in the cold tent, but her teary whispers reached the Valar. They had pity on the hobbit clutching to the dwarf king and the pureness of their love warmed their hearts. They decided to give the king of Erebor one last chance. And not only him, but also the line of Durin.

The dwarves outside of the tent of Durin could hear the sobbing of the hobbit and closed their eyes in defeat. Their king was dead. But their eyes drifted up into the sky as small flares started dropping onto the earth. More and more colorful flares landed on the ground and the tent of the house of Durin glowed in various colorful gleams. Inside, Brunhilda sobbed on Thorins chest as she felt his body move. The king of the dwarves started floating upwards, towards the ceiling of the tent, as did the bodies of his nephews. Brunhilda could do nothing but stare at the bodies unbelievingly and felt a strong breeze suck the air around her into the vicinity of the three Durins. Brunhilda had to keep her long curly brown hair from covering her view. Thorins face was covered by his mane and Brunhilda could see his body getting wrapped into his cloak. Same happened with Fili and Kili. Blending light flashed out of their fingers, their wounds and their closed eyes.

Soon the flashes and lights faded away and the bodies of the three dwarves floated back down onto the beds. Thorin now lay on his stomach and Brunhilda rushed to his side and reached out for him. But before she could touch him he moved and she pulled her hand back. Slowly, Thorin rose onto his feet with his back towards her. Brunhilda took a few steps back, she could not believe what she saw.

Then, Thorin turned around. His amazing blue eyes stared into the hobbits very soul and Brunhilda gasped at the intensity of his gaze. She covered her mouth with her hands as she saw Fili and Kili stand up slowly and they looked at their uncle and Brunhilda with eyes as big as her own must have been.

'Brunhilda.' Thorin whispered. Brunhilda walked towards him and reached out for him. Her hands touched a strong chest, broad shoulder and a rough beard. She moved her hand over the face, the proud and loving face of her love, and caressed his skin. Thorin closed his eyes at her touch. Slowly he lifted his hand to gently stroke her hair and the side of her face.

Time stood still as their lips met in a loving and sweet kiss.