I got it up, people! Okay, warning, this chapter is all pain, but please don't hate me until you finish it. Also, this is the last of the story I have written so far since I didn't get a chance to work on it this weekend, so I probably won't have any more updates until next weekend. Thanks again to everyone with their continued support reading and reviewing. Your kind words mean so much to me! :) It makes it so much nicer to write when you know people are waiting for it.

Chapter Ten

"No! Bilbo, NO!" Thorin screamed as he watched in horror as Azog threw the limp hobbit onto the ground, cast him away as if he were naught but a rag. The dwarf forced himself to his feet, but hardly took two steps toward his friend before the orcs swarmed him again and grabbed his arms, yanking him back. He fought them, screaming all the time for Bilbo who had not moved a muscle. He was so limp, so lifeless, and there was blood—Mahal, there was so much blood, pooling around him. Thorin choked on a sob of rage as he snarled and fought the orcs, but he was too weak and they forced him to the ground and tied him hand and foot. He still continued to scream and curse at them, struggling with everything he had left until Azog kicked him in his wounded side and he gasped in pain, finally dropping to the ground in a panting heap, choking on the dust, and sobbing in anger and grief. All he could think of was how he had failed Frerin and how he had now failed Bilbo too. After everything, the outcome had been the same, and Azog had won. He had broken Thorin, and he had killed this new small hope in his life that things could be better. And after he was dead, Azog would go after the company and kill Fili and Kili as well, and take everything away from him. Thinking of his nephews put into a similar position as himself gave him a little strength to go on. Maybe he could at least keep Azog from hurting them. He could not stand to think of them going through this too.

Azog grabbed him by the back of his tunic that had practically been ripped to shreds, and dragged him back to the post he and Bilbo had been tied to. He hauled Thorin onto his feet and the other orcs tied ropes around his chest, keeping him there, unable to move more than an inch. Azog bent to look Thorin in the eye and the dwarf spat in his face.

"I will kill you for this, you scum," Thorin snarled. "Do not think that I will make it swift!"

Azog smiled and gently caressed Thorin's cheek, making the dwarf shudder involuntarily. "Your turn will come in the morning. My scouts have reported that your company is in the area and they should be here by then. I want to make sure your kin sees what I do to you. What do you think your nephews will think, Oakenshield, seeing you like this? Not fit to be a king after all. Their deaths will not be fast either. I will gut them slowly and hang them by their own entrails."

Thorin spat something vile in Khuzdul and Azog smiled. "But there's nothing you can do about it. Now I will see if there's any life left in your unfortunate halfling. And if there is, I'll have to do my best to remedy that."
Thorin jerked at his bindings, his wrists bleeding as he yanked at the ropes that bound them, but they were too tight and he could barely move. He watched in horror as Azog strode over to Bilbo's still form, trying to form some desperate plan, but then there was a sudden shout and an arrow whizzed out of the dark woods and hit Azog in the shoulder.

The orc shouted in pain, and ripped the shaft from him angrily, and in that second of distraction, Thorin's company poured out of the trees, with Fili and Kili and Dwalin at their head, screaming bloody murder as they hacked into the orcs who hardly got a chance to draw their weapons. Thorin wanted to weep in relief. Help had finally arrived! He closed his eyes and gave a prayer of thanks.

Azog was shouting to his orc—those that were left standing, anyway—and they gathered their wargs and made a hasty retreat. The Pale Orc gave one last glance to Thorin, his eyes narrowing as a sneer found it's way to his lips. Thorin glared defiantly back at him, knowing this was a promise that they would meet again, and then the orc was gone.

"Uncle!"

He looked up in time for Fili and Kili to run up to him, slicing his ropes before they threw their arms around him, their embrace being the only thing keeping him upright. He could do nothing but wrap his arms around them in turn and didn't have the heart to mention how much they were hurting him with the embrace, especially not after he felt Kili's tears on his neck.

"We were so worried," the younger sobbed, his hands clutched in his tunic.

"We were sure we'd never see you or Bilbo again," Fili added, his own voice tight and wavering. Thorin wished he could comfort them, but he tensed at the mention of his hobbit, and he extricated himself from his nephews' embrace as gently as possible.

"Boys, let go, we need to get somewhere safe first," he said, and staggered away from them.

"Uncle, you're hurt, let us take care of you!" Kili insisted, wiping his eyes quickly.

Thorin ignored them and forced himself over to where Bilbo still lay, now with Bofur and Balin crouched over him. Thorin shoved through them and collapsed by the hobbit's side, startling the two dwarves.

"Thorin!" Balin exclaimed upon seeing his condition, but he ignored the older dwarf and reached out a hand to Bilbo, afraid even to touch him. Oh, the blood! There was too much, he knew there was far too much.

"Bandages, now!" he snapped, already tearing off his shredded and bloody tunic and pressing it against the wound in Bilbo's shoulder and neck. He tore the hobbit's shirt off and ripped it into strips to bind his tunic to Bilbo's shoulder. His heart was in his throat, but it leapt a bit as he saw the hobbit stir and groan at his ministrations. He pulled Bilbo into his lap and cradled him gently in his arms, not liking the way the hobbit's head lolled against his forearm.

"Bilbo, open your eyes," he commanded. "Damn you, open your eyes, halfling! You idiot! I'm not going to let you leave me!"

As if hearing the command, Bilbo's eyes fluttered open and tried to focus on Thorin's face, but seemed unable to. "Thorin," he whispered, unable to say more.

"Bilbo, stay with me," Thorin commanded as Bilbo's eyes rolled up in his head again and he gulped back a cry of pain. Thorin shook him, his fear doubling again, panic setting in his chest and making his throat tight. "Bilbo stay with me, brother, my brother, oh Mahal, please don't!" He gasped out a sob. "Don't leave me!" he screamed and Bilbo tried to touch his arm, but his hand wouldn't move, and so he smiled instead.

"I forgive you," he whispered. "I'm sorry. Don't blame yourself. Brother." And then he went completely limp with a sigh in Thorin's arms and the dwarf shook him, unbelieving, not willing to admit it. No, it wasn't happening. Not again. Not again.

"No, I told you not to leave me!" he shouted. "Damn you, halfling! Damn you! You know you can't do this to me!" And then he wasn't able to shout anymore. He doubled over with a wracking sob, clutching the small body to his chest. He didn't notice the rest of the company. Fili and Kili standing behind him, pale with shock, wanting to comfort him, but unable to move, horrified at seeing their uncle in such a vulnerable situation. It was finally Dwalin who came to Thorin, unable to see him like this, and clamped a hand onto his shoulder, trying to pry Bilbo from him.

"Thorin, let go, there's nothing you can do now," he said. "He's—"

"Get away from me!" Thorin screamed, lashing out and hitting Dwalin on the side of the face. The big dwarf stumbled back in shock, but Balin clamped a hand on his shoulder and drew him away.

"Leave him, Dwalin, let him grieve. Everyone, go! Kili, let's go."

Thorin didn't notice them leaving; he didn't care either way. All he knew was the limp form in his arms. He was so angry at Bilbo. He knew what Thorin had told him, he knew how it would hurt him if anything happened to him, and then he had gone off and been stupid and gotten himself killed. This time there was no Gandalf, there were no eagles, and he hadn't been able to repay the favor Bilbo had given him and saved his life. He had failed again. Just like with Frerin. It seemed there were no second chances.

"I'm not going to let you die that easy," Thorin told him from between clenched teeth. "You'll suffer for this too. It's not going to be that easy. You can't just leave me like that." He straightened up and laid the hobbit down on his back, clasping his hands into a fist and slamming them into the center of Bilbo's chest. The hobbit's body jerked. Thorin did it again and again, cursing at the hobbit all the way. If anything would bring him back it was that. He insulted him, anything to get a reply, some sign of life, and he pounded on Bilbo's chest, forcing his heart to beat—if the hobbit refused to keep is heart beating, then Thorin would do it for him.

"Thorin, stop!" he heard Balin shout from behind him.

"You'll kill him, laddie!" Oin cried.

But Thorin kept at it, a grim snarl on his face as he pounded hard on Bilbo's chest. He felt a rib crack under his fist, but didn't stop. He heard Kili screaming at him, scared and horrified and finally felt strong arms he knew to be Dwalin's grab him and yank him back. He fought, he bit and Dwalin cursed, but held tight until Thorin brought up a boot between his legs and the large dwarf cursed even more foully and finally let Thorin go. Thorin continued to slam his fists into Bilbo's chest before he was taken hold of by more hands and this time he couldn't fight them all. He gave u, and let them take him, collapsing back into Gloin and Balin, sobs once again choking him. His eyes still on the still body of Bilbo. His hands, shook. What had he done? He was going insane. And then, just when he was about to give into the fact that he would never see his burglar again in this world, Bilbo's eyes flew open and he gasped.

Wow, yeah, this chapter just hurt. I hope it didn't leave too much lasting damage.