Discalimer: I do not own the Hobbit.

This was a bitch to write, but I have pushed forward through writers block and have arrived at the heartbreaking point. Also still taking votes for my next Middle Earth fanfic (see ch 52 for options if you want to cast a vote) and don't fret. For those of you reading my other fanfic 'The Fourth Musketeer' that will be done before I start this new one. I am on it but we are so close to the end of Marie's journey.

Bare with me and let's hold hands as we dive into the feels.

It was a trap. Nothing could be clearer, yet Thorin still ran head long into it with pure rage fuelling him. He chased the shadows on every stair, around every corner and deeper into the ruin, his sword thirsting for orc blood.

He had to find Kili and get him out.

He shouldn't have sent them in. He should have gone in himself. If only he thought his plan through more thoroughly.

Now was not the time to dwell on regret.

It did not take long before he found Azog, or more accurately, Azog found him. He burst out from above like a charging boar, catching Thorin off guard and putting him of the defensive. With both a blade and a mace to fight with Azog was indeed a force to be reckoned with but for all his size and strength he was slower than the dwarf. Thorin moved quickly to easily parry the orc's onslaught and get in a few blows of his own. His sword cut into the crude pieces of armour Azog had fashioned to his body but twice Thorin landed a hit to his flesh, making the giant snarl in pain.

Good. But Thorin wanted to make him scream in pain, to feel it just as he felt the pain of losing Fili.

He scaled the side of a crumbling wall and brought his sword down hard but Azog blocked at the last minute and used this chance to hurl Thorin towards the platform's edge. The strange shape of the blade sown into Azog's arm caught on Thorin's and in the momentum of it all snapped half the sword off. Thorin landed hard on his side pain as Azog barked out a command and five orcs appeared, whilst he himself slithered back into the shadows.

Thorin grunted and rolled to his good side, but he was greeted to a horrifying sight for any uncle.

Kili's arrow riddled body sprawled out unceremoniously on the cold stone, his blank face turned towards Thorin. He reached out feebly but could not bring himself to touch him, not when those once warm brown eyes that had looked up to Thorin his whole life with hope were now forever cold.

Grief swelled inside him until it had churned into anger and Thorin punched the ground viciously, standing himself up again with his side throbbing.

"You bloody coward. FACE ME AZOG!" He screamed to the high heavens. But instead Azog's all too willing battle fodda gladly fought the dwarf, and with each death another orc appeared to take its place. Thorin left his now useless sword in the chest of an orc and took his weapon as his prize, deciding that a full blade was better than a half. He was pushed out of the ruin and back onto the frozen over river where he dug his feet into the ice and the iron cuffs of his boots helped with his grip. The bastard Azog was waiting until Thorin had wasted most of his energy on his minions before daring to show his face again. Too bad for Azog and his pathetic hordes Thorin's rage had no limits and he would pursue the pale Orc to the ends of Middle Earth in the name of vengeance for his family. For his grandfather, for his father. Frerin. Fili. Kili.

'I will avenge you.'

All around there was great crashes and walls being torn down. The new army he had been warned about was surely upon them, if not in full force but in small amounts. Thorin knew the sound of trolls well enough. The edge of the waterfall was starting to be too close for Thorin's liking, with the right strike he could easily go over, and the orc blade had been force to use was brittle and breaking off with each kill. But the three berserkers facing him were the last of them, and once dead there would be nothing standing between Thorin and Azog. The first two went down easily but succeeded in limiting his space. His final opponent, a black eyed monstrosity, wielded a large metal club larger than its body and used it to great effect to knock Thorin onto his back and in the process dropped his weapon. He swore at the orc in Khuzdul and the orc responded in his own foul tongue before lifting up the club with smug look. If Thorin had his sword he could have gutted him in an instant.

Before the orc has finished lifting the club something flew past Thorin's head and hit the orc square in the ribs, inciting a strangled grunt from the creature. Thorin looked with surprise at the object sticking out of the orc, a very familiar hilt of maple wood and silver. The orc began to fall and Thorin spared no thoughts on where, who and how but dared not lose it again and swiftly clasped the hilt as the creature toppled over the waterfall.

There was a great comfort in the weight of Orcrist again in his hand, the unique shape of the blade catching in the rare sunlight and making it appear that the ancient carvings along its edge were glowing. He moved it with revered purpose as a new energy filled his body. With it he would carve his bloody path to vengeance.

"Now …. come out Azog. No more hiding." He muttered. The fog up ahead cleared and there he was. Thorin advanced towards him with slow steps, moving his sword arm up across his body. Azog remained still, as if waiting for Thorin to come close before beginning their second round. He felt the wind changed and the fog parted over the watch tower to reveal Azog completely.

At his feet there were two objects that Thorin could not immediately make out. It gave him reason to halt. Azog was too calm, tilting his scarred face to the side as the two foes stared each other down. Thorin broke focus when he saw behind them Azog's new army coming over the hill, making its arrival known with a horn blast. The orc smirked when he heard it and reached down with his one good hand. Thorin tensed up, assuming it was a weapon he was reaching for.

What it was something far, far worse.

It was the curls that gave it away, even limp and filthy there was no mistaking them.

Marie.

Thorin's chest tightened and his breath quickened. Marie was held by the scruff of her collar and Azog brought her close to his face to examine her. She dangled like a piece of cloth in Azog's grip as she stood to his full height.

"Soft flesh. And small … so easy to bleed." With just the tip of his blade Azog tilted her chin up.

The rage in Thorin's gut coiled and was joined with a sense of fear at the gesture. "Azog!" He screamed. But the orc only slowly lowered his sword from Marie's face but letting it hover over her heart, a wicked grin formed on his monstrous face and Thorin knew he was exactly where Azog wanted him. Marie began to stir, her head and arms giving off slight twitches.

"Don't …"

"I told you Oakenshield." Azog moved the hobbit out to arm's length, angling her towards Thorin. "You would die last."

Thorin jolted forward, wishing he had the speed of lightning. Marie's head lifted and revealed her drowsy confusion to the situation that soon enough gave way to horror.

"DON'T!"

Azog just snarled and stabbed Marie in the stomach.

The sharp breath she took, a sound that should have been no louder than a pin drop was like a hammer on stone in his ears, stopped Thorin in his tracks. Her bright eyes were wide and her face contorted in what was no doubt agony. Azog then threw her away to the face side of the river.

Threw her away like she was nothing.

Azog had taken her from him.

Thorin's jaw ground together and he was snarling like some animal and this time he charged at Azog, who took great joy in watching him come completely undone. The orc retrieved the second object from his feet, a thick chain with a heavily weighted chunk of stone at one end. A rather crude choice for a second weapon, not that Thorin cared. He was still going to kill him. The power of their swords meeting made the air vibrate, lingering heavily until the next strike. Azog swung his arm back and the stone flew over his shoulder, hitting the ice where Thorin once stood with a crack. Grunting and snarling, Azog pulled the chain and swiped his across himself to try and take off Thorin's head, the weight of the stone forcing him to keep moving in circles. This was a savage dance with little thought or planning, merely the simple raging need to kill the other. The ice beneath their feet was cracking but neither opponent seemed to care. All Thorin saw was blood. Every drop of his loved ones that had been spilt by Azog, every drop of his own her had shed chasing after the beast. He was drowning in red, and soon it would be black.

If he had taken a moment though to note Azog's sword, he would have been surprised to see that blade was clean.

xxxx

It hurt … everywhere. It has started in her gut and bloomed outward to the rest of her. Then in her shoulder, a quick yet sharp jolt of pain, then again in her hip. Marie dared not to move in case a single shift would double the pain. Though all the pain clearly meant one answer, she was still alive.

She had a vague memory of what had happened.

She had been caught …. after she hit her head ….

There were voices … loud like scrapping metal …. And when she opened her eyes she saw …. Thorin standing too far out of reach …

Marie snapped up from the ice. That's right, azog had tried to kill her in front of him. 'Thorin!'She looked around to find him and to see what had happened. Her sight was still off and the colours were muted, but she could still hear shouting. Marie rubbed the heel of her palm into her eyes to hopefully fix them so that she could see. White spots dotted across her vision and left clear patches in her sight until she had regained it completely.

Azog and Thorin were engaged in a fierce battle on the cracked surface of the river and both seemed completely indifferent to the shattered ice they were fighting on, or that they were rocking back and forth on certain pieces. Marie was watching how Thorin tried to goad Azog into making a mistake at the expense of his safety. It was unlike him to fight this. It was too brash, unrefined and angry. It was madness what he was doing and he would fall into the water below and freeze to death before he would see that. With small breaths to avoid anymore pain Marie picked herself up and settled back on her knees, patting herself down frantically.

'Please be there. Please be there. Yes!'

The orc that had caught her was either overly confident in her helplessness or just downright stupid, since she still had Sting hanging off her hip. Before she unsheathed it she stopped and formed a plan.

She couldn't very well charge out and join the fray with the ice cracked the way it was or she would just fall though, and she was in condition to take on the giant. She could try distracting Azog, stamp her feet and scream so that he turn his back ... and potentially go for her before Thorin could strike. Marie bit her frozen lip.

What to do?

Azog pivoted away from Thorin's swipe and Marie was drawn to his legs, completely bare. She drew Sting and took a very careful aim. If this didn't work she would lose her only means of defense but if it did ...

'Just throw the damn sword Marie."

And she did.

She raised her arm back over her head and with all the force she could muster tossed Sting towards Azog and in the process flung herself down into the ice again, breaking her fall with her forearm. The sword spun through the air and landed right where Marie wanted it. The blade cut right through the muscles of Azog's calf and stayed lodged there as the orc howled and staggered.

While the orc wallowed in his pain Thorin stopped fighting and looked towards where he saw the blade come from.

His face showed three flashes of emotion, one passing as quickly as the other. Astonishment, elation and fear, all in a matter of seconds of catching sight of Marie.

Unfortunately Azog too saw that she was indeed alive and only bothered with one emotion. Pure unadulterated rage.

What followed was a tense moment of waiting for who would move first, a moment that was disrupted by large shadows passing over head and blocking out the sunlight. Marie's eyes shot up in time to see a giant eagle swooping low over Ravenhill, its massive wings almost reaching both sides of the river and carried with it a power blast of wind. It was enough to knock Azog off his weak footing and to his knee and almost blew Thorin over completely.

The eagles had come.

There were many, more so than the convocation that had flown them to Carrock, and were heading straight towards the approaching army with talons aiming low and their screeches loud like a warcry. The orc army was quickly thrown into disarray with most of their forces being picked off or blown away with a beat of a wing.

Marie could only summarize that somehow, someway, this was Gandalf's doing or by some means a meddling wizard.

She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees and looked back at the fight. The strange turn of events must have made Thorin refocus and he used the eagle's distraction to his advantage. With Azog's back turned he dropped his sword and made for Azog's stone stuck in the ice between them. The chain tugged Azog back onto the large piece they had been sliding around on and Thorin tossed him the stone. Stupidly the orc caught it just as Thorin stepped back. Marie watched as the sudden change in weight started to flip the ice and Azog slide back into the deadly cold water, clawing at any solid surface to stop but it was too late.

There was a horrible mixture of his screams and gurgling as the ice had completed its cycle and trapped Azog beneath it.

Marie used the rocks help her get onto her feet, keeping an arm wrapped around her middle to hold in the discomfort as they watched ... waited. Only the ice was moving ever so slightly from the disturbance. Finally the breath they both held was released and Marie dared to look at the dwarf.

He stared back her, watching every tentative step she took around the cracks in utter disbelief. Even as he picked up his sword he never broke eye contact. Something had to said, anything to prove she wasn't some specter.

"Crying shame really." She blurted out and looked away from Thorin. "That was a bloody good sword." Thorin said nothing to her poor humor and Marie still moved closer. "I see you got you sword back. Brilliant. Put it to good ..."

"How?" Thorin suddenly rushed her but stopped short of actually touching her. "I saw the blade ..." His hand hovered over her arm guarding the supposedly fatal wound, waiting for her permission. Marie slipped it away and looked down. There was indeed a cut in her shirt, but when she pulled her coat to the side there was no blood. Thorin's large fingers brushed the torn fabric, his dark brows knitting together as he felt the bumps underneath the fabric. He then reached up and pulled her collar down, which in any other circumstance would have earned him a solid slap, but Marie couldn't be bothered. The collar peeled back to reveal silver embroidery decorating her skin.

"Mithril" Thorin's hand released the fabric of her shirt and sat awkwardly on her shoulder. "I did not think you would have kept it."

"It was a gift." Marie rubbed the spot where Azog's blade had got her. It may not have cut her open but it still hurt. "One that I … I am grateful for." Marie swallowed back what she wanted to say. 'One I didn't deserve after betraying you.'

"Is he dead?"

Thorin grimaced and glanced at the shattered ice. "None would survive this long in that water. His lungs would have frozen."

"Are you alright?" She asked. He certainly didn't look alright but Maire. He looked like a wild animal caught in a trap, and just as bloodied. Thorin's hand slowly tightened over her shoulder but not in a threatening manner, more of a means to reassure himself she was standing before him. Out of instinct to offer comfort, Marie places her hand over his sword hand, curling her aching fingers around the grip he had on Orcrist.

Somehow this was all that she needed to do. Thorin said nothing but tension around his eyes drew back and his demeanor softened. The hand that had gripped her shoulder moved to hold the back of her neck gently, his thumb brushing off a layer of dirt along her jaw. He bent his head down, Marie closed her eyes and lent into his touch. The heat of Thorin's forehead drove the cold out of her skin as he pressed their heads together. He started to mutter a long string of dwarven words. The air surrounding them felt so calm, Marie breathed it in heavily. Under her fingers Thorin's sword hand suddenly flexed and pulled out from her touch, indicating something was not right. Marie opened her eyes to see what was wrong, to see if she had done something she shouldn't have. Thorin's attention had been pulled from her and slowly his whole body turned away. He was watching the growing disarray of the second army. "Come, we must find Dwalin." He said and adjusted his hold on her. "I need to get you somewhere safe."

Marie nodded. Instinctively she reached up and grabbed the hand he had on her shoulder and latched onto his gauntlet as they begun to move. They weren't quite holding hands but Thorin still let his arm fall behind him for her, taking the lead back to the other side of the river while keeping an eye out ahead. Marie watched their backs.

Neither of them thought to look below until it was too late.

It was like an explosion had gone off and they were both thrown back. Marie lost her grip on Thorin's arm and slipped on the snow onto her backside. Once the word stopped spinning she called out to Thorin but he didn't respond. By the time she had sat up the dwarf was already fending off the cause of the sudden attack, a very much alive Azog.

He was beating Thorin into the ground till he was on his back with no chance to gain an upper hand, not with Azog lashing out widely. Marie shot up to her feet and ran around the fight, acting in the moment rather than planning like she did before. There was no time. Sting was still lodged in the thick skin of his leg and that's what Marie aimed for, thinking that Azog was too distracted to notice. But she was just inches from the sword's hilt when Azog turned his focus on her and struck out. His large hand cuffed her shoulder and knocked her off balance, her arms waving about to regain herself but Azog snatched her up by her wrist. This did not stop her from fighting back as he lifted her up off her feet.

Azog had them both caught. Thorin on his back and Marie in the air, trapped with no way out. The orc was pushing down hard on the lock Thorin had gotten their swords in while slowly tightening his grip on Maire. She gritted her teeth to hold back any yelps of pain out of spite. She would not give the orc the satisfaction of her tears. He would however have her screams. All it took was a sharp twist and pain exploded under her skin, her voice pitching high like a birds. This made Maire doubled her efforts and scratched and kicked at Azog's pale flesh, overwhelmed by the 'fight of flight' instincts coursing through her. The hobbit glanced down at Thorin, fresh beads of sweat building on his forehead as he fought against Azog's strength.

His eyes met her's.

Every encounter that had passed between them flashed across Marie's memories. Their strange introduction at her front door, the first cold night in Beorn's garden, Laketown, the confrontation at the gates of Erebor. Encounters both harsh and sweet.

Thorin's jaw locked and there was a decisive shift in his gaze. He was about to do something. He turned his eyes to Azog with all the determination of three men in one and Marie knew with a sickening realization what he was planning.

'Don't you dare Thorin. Don't!'

Everything moved in slow motion, the blades sparking off one another as Thorin slid Orcrist out and away. Azog released Marie by accident as his full weight fell forward and Marie fell shoulder first onto the ice. The thud echoed about her like a blizzard in her ears along with a loud strained gasp, but not her own.

Thorin had let Azog stab him.

"THORIN!"