Do not own, yadda yadda yadda. No beta, welcome constructive criticism. Trying to get back into writing and posting. My follow up with more if inspiration strikes.

On Pain of Death

His throat was so sore and dry, even as he attempted to get more saliva in his mouth; Bilbo knew it was a lost cause. He didn't think anything would matter soon anyways. The searing pain in his legs and back was a mere ache now, he could feel the faint throb in his sprained wrist, but the rope that bit into it no longer bothered him that much.

Blinking, his eyes slowly adjusted and he could see that it was night as he could make out the brilliant white stars the shone down on him. With pity? He hoped not. Bilbo did what he had to do and only hoped the dwarves were safely away by now. No rescue would be forth coming as they all thought he had abandoned them and gone back to Rivendell.

A swift kick to his side made him rethink his assessment of himself as fresh raw pain coursed through him and he couldn't stop his scream. Seemed as if he could still feel very well after all. Harsh, guttural laughter seemed to be a normal occurrence with his screams. He was glad they found such entertainment in his misery, which was an eye roll at this point. Why they had kept him alive so long he did not know.

He was talking again, the guttural tongue that rolled easily from his throat; the black speech. Nothing good came from when He spoke. The pale orc, Azog.

A hand fisted in his hair and yanked him into a sitting position, a flask shoved at his mouth as he was forced to drink a foul liquid. It burned like fire and made him cough as heat surged through his veins. By the Valar, Bilbo hated the stuff. The pain that was faded came back full force making him gasp and shiver in the night air.

His clothes had long been taken from him and searched through, Bilbo was glad enough for them to let him keep his pants, as tattered and filthy as they were. The orc grabbed his arm and shoved him forward and Bilbo immediately sunk to his knees, his head bowed, hands tied in front of him. He swore he could feel every lash mark they had placed upon his back each one a brand of fire; from his neck to his feet. It was something he concentrated on so he didn't have to face them, to cower in front of them.

Azog was speaking again his hand settled on Bilbo's head. He braced for the pain of his hair being pulled and yanked back and was confused when that didn't happen. Fingers were coursing through his filthy, bloody curls and that hand slowly slid down the side of his face to under his chin. Azog gently tipped his head back and Bilbo's heart began to pound with fear. Azog did not do gentle or kindness, and yet here he was doing just that and it sent cold fear through his heart.

And still Azog spoke. Bilbo's heart was pounding so fast and hard that it was making him dizzy, his breathing was coming in fast and sharp. All Bilbo could see were those scars and marks that crisscrossed Azog's face and body and those bone chilling pale blue eyes that seemed to glow in the moonlight. He must have whimpered or made some noise and he was shaking. Why didn't they just kill him and get it over with already? Why was he doing this?

It took him a moment to realize that he was crying and Azog's finger was feeling the wet marks it left. The orc made some sort of soothing noise and picked Bilbo up and headed down towards a creek they had camped near.

Instead of dropping him to the ground like they usually did, Azog set him down and began to wash him, taking a odd shaped bowl, dipping it into the water and pouring it over his head. The coldness had him gasping and shivering and he felt extremely violated as that scared hand rubbed the dirt off him. Bilbo felt detached, flinching with every moment, expected a knife or sword or even the make-shift hand Azog had to filet him or make some new sport out of him.

A leather collar was placed around his neck with matching leash as his bonds on his hands were cut and his injured wrist was seen to and wrapped up. Horribly done, but most likely the best the orcs had or did. Then he was lead back towards camp, being lead about like a pet on a leash, and that's exactly what he was with dawning horror. Azog was treating him like a-a-a beloved pet. Bilbo wanted to throw up, but since there was nothing in his stomach, he had to settle for the dry heaves.

A bed had been prepared for him, well, if you can call a folded up warg pelt a bed. His leash was secured and he was forced to lay down on his stomach and Bilbo wanted to sigh in relief. The fur felt so good against his abused body after the hard ground, and it was warm. Guilt assaulted him. He shouldn't be thankful for this. Not of his enemies. There was a hand on his back, soothing as it rubbed something into his wounds. Bilbo tensed but was too afraid to move. It stung at first but it quickly went numb. His back went blissfully numb and his muscles slowly relaxed bit by bit and soon even his eyes started drooping and for the first time in days, Bilbo fell asleep among his enemies.

Growls and yelps jerked him awake the next day and he scrambled into a sitting position, eyes wide. Something must have happened. Azog was barking orders and orc's were gathering supplies and mounting their wargs. One of the Orc's came over to him.

"Drink halfling." He said in the common tongue as he shoved the drinking skin towards him. Bilbo just looked at him in terror trying to back up as far as possible until his leash was taught. The Orc growled and grabbed the leash, yanking him forward. Bilbo yelped with surprise and pain as his knees hit the rocky ground. Then his leash went slack and Biblo watched in wide eyed horror as Azog smashed his mace into the Orc's skull. He growled something at the others and they quickly did as told. Then those eyes turned to him and Bilbo shrank back even further. Azog approached him, softly petted his head, gather the leash and pulled him towards his white warg. Bilbo quickly followed as he knew Azog would only drag him along if not.

Bilbo only had a moment before his suddenly lifted and placed directly in front of Azog and his warg speed off through the night. He quickly grabbed tuffs of the white fur; with Azog's body pressing into him from behind, Bilbo was fairly certain he wasn't going to be falling off anytime soon. It was obvious they were still looking for the Thorin and the others. Bilbo had hoped he had thrown them off their path and into a different direction entirely, but warg scouts must have picked them back up again. Bilbo closed his eyes, trying not to cry. How could he cry so many tears? It felt like he had an endless supply of them these days.

The night passed quickly and they set up camp as dawn approached. Azog led him towards a spot, handed him his warg fur. Bilbo stared at it a moment before putting it on the ground and curling up on it. He was almost asleep when someone nudged him awake. It was a lesser Orc.

The orc set down a water skin and a bowl full of some grey paste that Bilbo couldn't make out. It looked horrible and really didn't smell all that good, but Bilbo's stomach growled in protest, cramping his stomach up something fierce. It had been several days since he last ate. He reached over and picked up the bowel and gave it a good whiff. His nose and stomach were having a war; his nose said don't eat it, it smells terrible, and his stomach was saying it didn't care how bad it smelled it wanted food.

His stomach won out. The paste was bland and lumpy and Bilbo studiously kept his mind off of what it actually was. In the end, he had literally scarfed it down. Reaching over he picked up the water skin and drank the entire contents. His belly hadn't been full since, since...Rivendell. Now that was a depressing thought. Turning his back to the Orc's, Bilbo curled up on his side and tried to sleep.

The next several days seemed to pass in the same manor. The Orc's hunted the dwarves and Bilbo was looked after like the masters pet; at least he wasn't bet up as often. The only times were when Azog was terribly angry and took it out on his Halfing pet. Even through the pain, Bilbo was glad; it meant that Azog had not found the dwarves.

That night when food was set before him, Bilbo turned away. His face and jaw hurt from where Azog and hit him in a fit of rage the night beffore, and he might have a bruised rib or two. It wasn't much later when Azog again approached him and Bilbo scampered back from him, terrified of what he would do now. He didn't think he could take another beating so soon.

When that hand reached for him Bilbo flinched, but Azog was speaking softly again. It was the same tone he heard him use on his beloved warg. Bilbo wasn't sure which was more terrifying, Azog or his mount. His leash was tugged on and Bilbo had no choice but to go to him; less painful that way.

The pale Orc had scooped some of his food out of his bowl and was holding it out towards him. Bilbo blanched at the thought of eating off of the Orc's fingers. But Azog kept talking to him and forcing him closer with his leash until the thick gruel was pressed against his lips. Bilbo felt humiliation and tears sting the back of his closed eyes. Azog pressed them closer practically touching his lips and with a silent sob Bilbo opened his mouth and let the orc fed him. He kept his head lowered and tear streamed quietly down his checks as the Orc seemed to croon at him.

When he was finished, Azog patted him on the head and turned his attention to his warg. Bilbo swallowed several times to keep the food from coming back up. He curled up on his side and stared out into the forest. Sleep eluded him for a long time.

It was to a considerable amount of noise when Bilbo woke. The whole camp seemed to be in a hurry and even he could sense their excitement. A heavy feeling settled in the bottom of his stomach. There was only one thing he could think of that they would be so eager.

An orc approached him and quickly took Bilbo's fur and unhooked his leash from where it had been tethered to. If he had had the strength to get it free he would have done so and escaped in the night. Azog seemed to always make sure Bilbo was never able to free himself. He was pulled over to the Pale Orc where he was busy barking orders; wargs with and without riders were already running off into the dark. A hand reached down and absently petted Bilbo's head before hoisting him up onto the white wargs back. Bilbo immediately clutched at the fur as Azog settled in behind him and off they ran.

It wasn't long before they reached an overlook the peered into a valley below. Down in the distance there could be spotted the faintest light from a camp fire. The dwarves had no idea that Azog still lived and was hunting them.

No. Please don't let it be them, please. He would gladly stay a captive so long as Thorin and the others would remain safe.

Azog was shouting more orders to his Orc's, some of the wargs heading off quickly through the darkness, silent. Bilbo began to shake with fear, his stomach clenching. He flinched when Azog stroked his hair, speaking that horrible language at him.

Various Orc's came and reported to him and left again. Soon they were joining them and Bilbo's heart froze when he heard the shouting and screaming, Orc, warg, dwarf. Azog slowed down and let his subordinates do his dirty work as he watched.

The dwarves had made it into the trees, wargs leaping and jumping at them from below. A fire had been started, most likely to keep the Orc's at bay.

"Bilbo?"

Bilbo jerked his head towards his name. It was Ori. Leave it up to the scribe to spot him first. Then the others spotted him and who he was with. There were cries of dismay and alarm. He felt Azog laugh from behind him, his hand stroking through Bilbo's hair. He tried to pull away, but there was really no where for him to go as Azog only pulled him back against him. He must look a sight to them. Azog spoke to his minions and they all grunted and laughed.

He finally let his gaze lift upwards as he scanned the trees. Yes, they were all still there and accounted for. An extreme weariness fell over him and he slumped forward. So tired, he was tired of this adventure and just wanted to go home. A sudden commotion caught his attention and he looked up to see Thorin standing there, eyes intent on him, blue eyes dark with anger making his posture stiff, his grip on Orcrist tight.

"Let him go." Bilbo had never heard Thorin sound so furious before, his voice low and threatening. He had heard him angry before, whenever Thorin had belittled him, kept telling him he didn't belong and that he should never have left the Shire. But this was different. This sent shivers down his back. This was a furious king who stood before them.

"Thorin no!"

"What are you doing lad?"

Azog spoke some more while petting his head. He must be taunting the dwarf, making him angrier, have him make a mistake.

"Stop touching him you piece of filth." Someone shouted, it sounded like Kili.

Others joined Thorin, the fire casting strange shadows across their faces and the landscape. Bilbo felt like he was hallucinating as if animal forms were taking shape within the flames. When they began to leap out did he realize that they were real and he glanced up at Gandolf who seemed to be coaxing more shapes from the flames.

It seemed utter chaos after that. Wargs, Orc's Dwarves and fire demons battled. Bilbo could only hang on as Azog turned and twisted his mount with just the touch of his knees. His mace swinging in hand as they leapt into the fray; there was no fear from Azog to lose his pet. His leash was secured to the mount and would make for some uncomfortable dangling, which was why Bilbo clung on for dear life, making himself as small as possible.

There was a clang of metal against metal and even some wood, and Bilbo cried out at how close the sound was. Would they kill him too? There was a huge blazing bird in front of them, so close Bilbo felt the heat against his bare skin and the smell of burnt hair filled his nose. Red and gold wings spread wide, white hot beak striking towards them. The white warg reared back sending rider and passenger tumbling to the ground. More pain as the warg landed on top of him and for a moment Bilbo's world went back as he struggled to take in air.

"Bilbo!"

Bilbo blinked as he coughed drawing in the needed air. Fili was there, running towards him but was quickly stopped and he had to focus his attention on the attacking Orc. Sitting up, Bilbo realized that his leash must have some loose and there was a river of fire between him and Azog, who was battling Thorin and Dwalin. Nori was suddenly there helping him to his feet along with Bifur who kept stragglers off of them. Too many, there were still too many Orc's and wargs. They had taken several steps when Bilbo was suddenly yanked backwards. He cried out as he landed on his back and was pulled backwards, the ground scrapping across his already abused back.

His hands flew up to the collar around his neck as it tightened with every pull. Nori dove for him causing a tug-a-war between in and an Orc. He kicked his legs out, trying to get purchase on something, anything. Black spots were forming in front of his eyes as his airway continued to be cut off.

The connection was suddenly lost and Bilbo coughed and tried to breath at the same time. It wasn't a pleasant feeling and his head was pounding something fierce. He could feel hands helping him, but he no longer could tell if they were friend or foe as he stumbled several times.

A deep loud cry of rage made his heart quicken and his pace pick up and his breathing practically stop. He would never forget that voice or sound as long as he lived. Azog was livid and those eyes of ice were trained on him. Shouting in the black speech, Azog pointed in his direction and turned back on Thorin and Dwalin with such ferocity Bilbo was terrified. He was suddenly the interest of every Orc closest to him.

Bilbo scrambled backwards, Nori still at his side along with Bifur as they fought to keep the Orc's from Bilbo. A growl made the hairs stand on top of his head and he spun around. One of the wargs with rider had gotten behind them. A whimper escaped him and Bifur pulled at him, but they were blocked at every turn.

It was a high piercing screech in the sky that drew their attention. Dark figures swooped over them, some grabbing Orc's and dropping them from unforgivable heights. Others slowed and used the strength of their wings to fan the flames into more wargs and Orc's. Were these real? Not the ones made of fire, but real Eagles? Suddenly Nori was gone, having been grabbed by great talons and pulled away.

A dragon? No, that didn't seem right either.

It was so hard to concentrate, Bilbo felt like the edge of his vision was going dark and he sank to his knees. He could hear the others voices, but they sounded faint as if they had gotten very far away. Everything felt like slow motion, surreal. Tilting his head to the side Bilbo saw Azog try to approach him, but something was closing around him and he was lifted and flying through the air. Perhaps he had died and his soul was soaring to where ever it was Hobbits went to. He closed his eyes and dreamed of fire.

Why was it so warm? Was he still in the fire? All those wargs and Orc's made of fire chased him, even the dragon made of flames gave him no rest. A small groan escaped him.

"Bilbo? Can you hear me lad?"

It was a struggle, but Bilbo managed to open his eyes a crack. "Gandolf?" Was that his voice? It was deep, rough and sore.

"Gave us all a fright, but I am so glad to see you pull through that nasty business."

"Hurts, throat. Thirsty."

A hand was under his head, gently helping him sit up as a small cup of cool water was at his lips. It trickled in and Bilbo let it sit in his mouth before swallowing which caused him to wince.

"Why am I...so hot?" He had to pause to take a needed deep breath.

"You've been very ill I'm afraid. Terrible fever. I was afraid we had lost you."

Bilbo closed his eyes. "No going ...anywhere. The others?"

"They are safe. Rest now, you may see them soon."

When Bilbo woke again, he no long was chased by fire, but dark shadows and cruel laughs. Fingers were softly carting through his hair. He must have made some movement that alerted his sitter as they pulled back from what they were doing. It took a minute for Bilbo's eyes to adjust in the dim brightness.

Long dark hair fell over broad shoulders, a hand was clasped to his. Thorin's eyes were drawn down into a frown and Bilbo first thought was that the King was angry with him.

"Thorin, ... sorry. I tried to lead them away but..."

Thorin looked stricken. "Bilbo no, you have nothing to be sorry for. It is I that has failed you. I practically pushed you away, put you right into harm's way. Can you ever forgive me?"

Bilbo was dead. That was his only reasoning behind Thorin's apology. "Am I dead?"

"What?"

"Am I dead? I figure I must be since none of this could be happening. Azog must have hit me hard enough and I am no longer among the living."

"Do not say that, for the love of Mahal, please do not say that." Thorin had reached forward and clasped Bilbo's hands in his.

"But I..."

"Let me speak. Please." The Dwarf king closed his eyes and Bilbo could see the bags that were under his eyes, watched his jaw muscle clench. "I have done you terribly wrong Master Baggins. I had only wanted for your safety and instead chased you into the arms of my enemy."

"Thorin..." His hand was squeezed tighter by Thorin's as the dwarf opened his eyes and Bilbo was silenced by the unshed sheen of tears he saw there, it made the breath his throat catch.

"I was, unprepared." He visibly swallowed and Bilbo could only stare at him. "I am not sure how it is with the Halflings, but with dwarves they know when they have found their One. When I stepped into your home and you spoke my soul knew. You and I were destined Master Baggins and I was afraid. For the first time in my life I was more terrified then you can imagine."

Bilbo felt his heart beat pick up speed and he brought his other hand over to Thorin's still afraid to talk as if this would all vanish and he would wake once more with the Orc's tied down and beaten senseless. He felt his own eyes begin to water.

"I tried to deny it, told myself it was impossible. And yet as we travelled it only grew stronger. After the trolls I couldn't bear it, the thought of you hurt and tried to think of a reason to send you home. But you had signed the contract and I just could dismiss it, it would raise questions and would violate the contract itself. So I...I..."

"Tried to scare me off." Bilbo whispered. Thorin flinched as if struck eyes closed in pain and nodded.

"I will understand if you do not want me here. All I ask is that you give me a chance. A chance to make a wrong right. I know I do not deserve more than that and will not ask for more." Thorin 's eyes caught the faint light, reminding Bilbo of a summer sky. They were pleading with him, and filled with such pain that Bilbo wanted to sooth it away.

Bilbo looked down at their hands clasped together and shifted their hands so that their fingers intertwined. He let his fingers brush over the thicker ones that were scarred and calloused. He liked the feel of them, the dark hair that dusted the knuckles. Bilbo let his mind absorb all the information he was given, his heart was thumping quite madly. Bilbo looked back up at Thorin who looked like a man (or dwarf) that was waiting for his death sentence.

"If I give you this chance, what would it entail?" Bilbo's voice was still raw and sounded harsh in the quiet room. There were other sounds, most likely they were always there but he only now became aware of them. Birds and the buzzing of bee's from the covered window. Hushed whispers from outside the closed door.

Those blue eyes blinked a few times, as if he was unsure of what Bilbo had said. Then they widened a bit and Bilbo gave him a small smile.

"I will protect you with my life. I will ensure that as long as it is in my power, you will not come under any harm. You are my One Bilbo Baggins and as I have no right to claim it, or to hope you to accept it, I will treat you as such."

Bilbo gave a small whimper and reached a hand up and placed it on Thorin's cheek. The dwarf closed his eyes and leaned into his touch, turned his head and placed a kiss in the center of his palm. Bilbo couldn't stop the sparks and shudder that run down his arm from that gesture. He twisted his hand in the braid that hung on the side of Thorin's head and twisting it around in a fist he pulled the dwarf king down towards him until their foreheads met. Bilbo closed his eyes, reveling in the feel, the warmth, the smell of Thorin Oakensheild. Their breaths mingled, both of them unsteady and Bilbo had to suppress a nervous giggle.

Before he could think twice about it, Bilbo quickly tilted his head towards Thorin's and gave him a quick kiss. Those eyes snapped open and searched his. "I think you have more than a chance." Something dark and bright sparked to life in Thorin's eyes. Thorin leaned closer, his lips just above Bilbo's so that every breath he exhaled wafted gently across him giving Bilbo goose bumps.

"May I?" Thorin asked. Bilbo could only nod.

Thorin's softly pressed his lips against Bilbo's, moving against his. His beard soft and rough at the same time against his face. Bilbo was more than eager to respond. And when a tongue brushed against the crease of his lips, he gladly opened and let Thorin's tongue sweep inside. Bilbo moaned as Thorin's tongue gently explored his mouth. The feel, the taste, everything that was so, so...so Thorin. It felt like it was over all too soon, but they were both panting even though it had been the gentlest of kisses. Thorin pressed his forehead against Bilbo's a moment as they absorbed the others essence.

"The, the others," Thorin whispered. "Will want to see you." Bilbo nodded. "May I come sit with you later?"

"Please do." Bilbo told him. "I would very much like that."

Thorin gently ran his hand through Bilbo's hair and down to his check where he leaned down and took another quick chase kiss. Thorin left the room and for the first time since he had been captured by the Orc's, even before then, Bilbo realized, even before Gandolf had appeared on his door step in fact; that there had been a part of him missing, and now suddenly he felt complete. It both thrilled and terrified him. When had he lost his heart to Thorin Oakensheild? Or had it always been his? These were questions for later. For now...for now he was content with the warmth and safety he felt with the dwarf. For now he would pull that warmth in and let if sooth his heart. For now he thought with a smile, he was looking forward to later.