(A/N) This'll be a collection of drabbles and my takes on missing scenes from The Battle of the Five Armies. I just needed to write about it! Awesome, awesome movie that it was, expect most of the future chapters to revolve around Bilbo's friendship with Thorin and Legolas' relationship with his father. I don't do slash, but I will take recommendations.

Disclaimer: I don't own, but if I did, I think I'd have watched the extended edition about twenty times by now.

WARNING: Serious spoilers if you haven't seen the movie, and dialogue is only as good as my memory. Oh. And feels.

When Faced with Death

Bilbo cannot say goodbye. He has never been good at them. When he was younger he would fool himself into thinking goodbyes were meaningless pleasantries, that they were equivalent to 'good night' s or 'see you tomorrow' s. This is why he prefers to sneak out in the dead of night. Pack up silently and leave. Do not confront it, it can only hurt.

Now, Thorin lies with his eyes dimming. His breath comes out in short gasps and blood pools on the ice. Still, the king doggedly meets his eyes, never surrendering to the cold and Bilbo's pleas to remain silent and just hold on. He will never be able to forget this moment, nor could he bear to try. No, he cannot avoid it this time.

And it hurts already.

But the dwarf is always stubborn, and that spark is back in his eyes—the spark Bilbo had begged for, but was so quickly consumed by dragon lust. Tears prick at his eyes even though the hobbit tries desperately not to let them fall. He doesn't want this time ruined. Wasted. The time is precious beyond measure—worth all the gold in Erebor ten times over.

But Thorin is too busy spending his breath on apologies and laments as Bilbo's hands go to stifle the crimson pooling over his leather tunic. The wound is gaping-ghastly-mortal and Bilbo is hanging onto the dwarf's words like he is the one dying instead. Thorin smiles so fondly at him that he chokes on the words he has planned, and the voice that never had failed him even when facing trolls and dragonfire chooses now to abandon him.

"I would take back my words and my deeds at the Gate. I am sorry to have dragged you into such peril." His eyes glitter with regret and a hand rests weakly on Bilbo's knee. The dwarf's skin is frighteningly pale, contrasting with the darkness in his beard and his hair that splays across the ice.

"Forgive me."

He is forgiven already, and Bilbo wishes he can tell him so. He was forgiven the moment he charged out of the mountain, sword raised high and twelve dwarves at his back. He musters up a smile of assurance, and can see the desperation flee from the King's face, the joy there enough to bring his words back to him.

"I am glad to have shared in your perils." He finds his tongue at last, "Every last one of them. It has been far more than any Baggins deserves."

And he sees that parting on good terms is all that matters now, that leaving this friendship in kindness is all he can hope for, and he is lucky to have these moments at all. Thorin's voice continues on, gaining power while that same strength is leaving him. But as Bilbo fails to keep the tears at bay, the words are slowing, and the body is stilling. The blue eyes are glassy and blink only once more.

The King Under the Mountain dies with a half-smile on his face.

Bilbo isn't ready yet. He doesn't think he ever will be. The dead, unmoving eyes are set on something far behind him, and so he tricks himself into thinking the life is not gone from them. He continues to talk to Thorin until sobs wrack his body and words no longer come. His hands are red with the dwarf-king's blood, but he doesn't see that. Thorin has just come back to them. And now he is gone. And Bilbo hasn't even said goodbye.

"Farewell, my friend." He manages after a while, and the words seem too little, too late, and all too final.

The parting words are flimsy, and the title is not enough and Thorin has not even heard it.

He hates goodbyes, but he says it again and again, until the blood has crusted on his hands, and the light is fading from the sky. His tears have run dry and he simply sits, guarding the corpse that was once King with stubbornness worthy of Thorin himself. His words have given up on him and it is no longer important to talk, and he cannot foresee a future at the moment when the words will ever be important again.

So when Dwalin approaches with a cry full of grief, he does not move, does not speak. He stands guard until Gandalf comes and tugs him away, and it is all he can do to follow. All his fire and rebellion no longer matter so they cannot be found, just like his words and his tears. He allows himself to be led by the hand, body stone cold from the ice and something more.

His body is whole. His hands do not shake. He has survived the fire storm and the battle, the fear and the grief, the ambush and the end.

But his smile will not come, and he doesn't think it will—not for a long time. Because it no longer matters.

When faced with death, what can anyone do? They heal and trudge on, but a little bit less than they once were.

(A/N) Please drop me a review, and suggestions, or just to gush about the movie XD. Thanks for reading! Artistic license was used for interpretation, and the following chapters will be written in the same tense and style, because I'm trying it out.