Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.
To See War
Bolg was just as large as his father, Azog the Defiler, and hefted twin flails. Thorin stood shoulder to shoulder with his nephews, not daring to hope for survival. The King Under the Mountain let out a terrible roar and readied himself to attack, wishing only for Fili and Kili to remain unharmed. But before the trio of dwarves could rush their foe, Bilbo Baggins appeared as if out of nowhere and swiped his elvish blade upwards between the orc's legs.
The massive orc crumpled to his knees, dark blood cascading to the ground and his shriek of pain was terrible. Bilbo flinched back and didn't see the spiked flail whirling towards his head. The blow was glancing, but little fireflies danced before the hobbit's eyes. Staggered, he turned towards the king and his heirs, all three stunned by his actions. Fili and Kili each took a hesitant step towards the woozy halfling but Thorin's countenance turned stony and he turned away. The two young dwarves reluctantly followed their uncle back into the fray.
It seemed like days later that the orcs and goblins were routed and the significantly diminished armies began to tend their wounded. Bilbo knew he would not be welcome among the dwarves in the mountain and did not feel comfortable among the Mirkwood elves or the men of Dale. So he wandered aimlessly among the dead, fingering the tender patch at the side of his head. Blessedly, he did not find any familiar faces as dark began to descend. Eventually, Gandalf found the little hobbit sitting alone on a low hill, turning his ring in his small hands and gazing dazedly at the bloody field.
The wizard watched the Shireling's eyes as he slowly looked up. Instead of moving smoothly from the field to the tall man, his large eyes twitched upwards, focusing slowly. Gandalf leaned heavily on his staff as he saw how blown open the halfling's pupils were. He approached carefully and reached out one long fingered hand to his curly hair. When he brushed over the lump, Bilbo gasped in pain and tried to pull away. Suspicions confirmed, the old man pressed the back of his hand against the halfling's brow. A fever burned under the pale skin.
Bilbo Baggins vaguely realized that he was being lead across the bloody ground by the gray clad wizard towards the great mountain gates. Even in his muddled state, he knew he wasn't welcome there and tried to resist Gandalf's hand on his shoulder. The old man ignored the silent objection, keeping a firm hold on his Mithril shirt.
"You must come Bilbo, you have to be cared for."
Disjointedly, the halfling objected again. "Thorin said he would kill me if I came back."
Gandalf could see the tears that welled in the hobbit's eyes. Of course he had not been ignorant of the respect and care the Shireling had for the king before the incident with the Arkenstone. "I am afraid, my friend, that you may die if you do not go back."
The wizard couldn't have heard the thought that echoed around Bilbo's empty mind. "I should die alone, not in Thorin's mountain."
When they arrived at the gates, Ori stood keeping watch in case any elves or men had pressing business. "Gandalf! You're alive."
"We must have entry." The wizard stepped aside to reveal Bilbo leaning tiredly against his staff. "He is gravely hurt."
"Thorin would have my beard if I did, Gandalf. What about the elves?"
"They can do nothing for him." As if to make clear the seriousness of his injury, Bilbo closed his eyes and collapsed.