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Dwalin was fighting off a particularly stubborn wave of goblins as they grew bolder and bolder in their attempts to kill him. The dwarf had no time to stop for a second if he wanted to live long enough to see another sunrise. He was the Captain of the Guard in the Blue Mountains and his father before him was Erebor's. So yes, Dwalin was quite skilled in fighting, plus he actually enjoyed it. But today, if you watched closer, you would have seen his slightly sloppy stance and the little lack of power behind his blows. There was a reason behind this. And a damn good one.
Dwalin was worried and terrified. Not frightened that he would die or something, he accepted long ago that his fall would surely be on a battlefield. Nor it was the small worry that churned your stomach. No, it was more the fright that gnawed your entire body and mind until it drove you crazy. He was worried for Thorin, his king, his best friend, the only one he would follow. He was frightened for the princes, the lads he helped to raise, the boys he thought more of as nephews than cousins. And yet, that, that was nothing.
Nothing but a small ounce of worry compared to the fear that crept in his body everytime he thought of their burglar, the little Hobbit, his Bilbo. He was almost petrified by the only thought that he was in the bloody battle.
Dwalin knew that the Halfling was his Soulmate, his One, as soon as he met him, in front of the comfy smial, but he did nothing to make it known to their host and behaved as badly as he could. It earned him a few disapproving and surprised looked from Balin - Oh Mahal, was Balin alright in this whole mess?! - and small pinches in his chest everytime Bilbo looked deflated. But the gruff warrior had already decided he wanted nothing to do with the too soft looking creature.
After a few months ignoring him as he could, which meant very good, Dwalin had to admit that he wouldn't be able to live without his One at the end of this quest. Stress was nothing new to the dwarf but hell! How could a small thing like him encounter so much troubles?! That's why he kept a closer eye on the burglar and with every minute, he found himself falling even deeper and harder for Bilbo. He had promised to himself that he would begin courtship as soon as they reclaimed Erebor but...
Of course, the gold sickness chose that moment to show its ugly face, and Dwalin had been too worried for Thorin to even think about courting. Then his king tried to kill the sweet but fierce little Hobbit and the bald warrior was frozen on the spot. He couldn't move a single limb. He watched with desperate, wide-eyed as his best friend attempted to kill his Soulmate. He balled his fists in self anger and sorrow when he found Balin crying his eyes out in his bedroom, saying it was his fault that Bilbo gave the Arkenstone away.
And somehow, all that led to now. Now meaning Dwalin tearing Orcs and goblins alike apart with his axes. He was letting his desperation slip into his battle stance as the memories hit him like punches and sliced, cut, stabbed and killed everything he could touch. And he was so caught up in his mass murder that he didn't even notice the nasty goblin sneaking behind to stab him in the back, but Bilbo did. All the guard heard was a small un-orc like whimper of pain behind him and he whirled around. His eyes widened and his brain took a few seconds to register the image in front of him.
Bilbo Baggins was standing there, a sword sticking out of his chest, coughing up blood before falling on the ground. Red was all Dwalin saw as he sliced mercilessly the scum that injured (because he was injured, nothing more!) his Hobbit. He fell on his knees and brought his Soulmate close, not even noticing the elves that just came and fought with the Orcs around him.
"Dwalin..." Bilbo began but he just shush him. "Shh Amrâlimê. Don't speak. Everything's gonna be alright. Just wait until Oin comes and heals you. OIN! ANYBODY! I NEED A HEALER!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. "Dwalin. I'm g-going to d-die. I-Its too late now." The hobbit said, a soft smile gracing his bloodied lips. "Why are you smiling?! This is no smiling business!" The warrior snapped, his eyes suspiciously wet. "I-I'm happy..." Harsh cough, more blood. "... I s-saved the o-one I l-love."
Dwalin shook his head, his face desperate. "No, don't say that Ghivashel! You don't have the right to die! I forbid you of leaving me! This is not how it was supposed to go... We were supposed to be courting by now, then we would have married and we would be living in Erebor or in the Shire as you wished." Bilbo patted Dwalin's cheek. "It would have been lovely m-my dwarf. I-I'm sorry I h-have to leave you s-so e-early. B-but you're safe, a-and that's a-all that m-matters. I-I love you D-Dwalin. Never f-forget that p-please. Don't forget m-me." The burglar breathed out before growing cold and limp in his love's arms. Dwalin yelled in anguish. It was such a heartbreaking roar that even the Orcs nearby felt something stir in their stony hearts.
At the end of the battle, Balin was searching for his brother. He was the only unaccounted for in the company with Bilbo and it was terrifying the white haired son of Fundin. Everyone in the company was alright, some worse to wear than others but all alive. When he did find his brother, Balin felt something snap in his heart. Dwalin, the usually intimidating dwarf, was openly weeping, kneeling in front of the bloodied from of their 14th member.
He had known that the hobbit was Dwalin's One for quite a time and was extremely guilty for he thought what happened at the battlement was entirely his fault. But now? As he watched the rough warrior who saw a lot of friends fall in battles, cry his heart out over the dead body of his Soulmate, deep down, Balin knew. He knew that his brother would never recover, he would never be the same. No one in the company would ever be the same.
The old dwarf felt as if he grew a hundred years older in the minute it took for the information that Bilbo Baggins was dead to sink in. The innocent, soft and naive little hobbit they took from his safe home died on a quest that wasn't his to begin with. And it was because of them. He felt like a monster. Erebor was reclaimed indeed, but the cost was far too high. With a heavy sigh and a last glance to the too still corpse of their friend, Balin walked away, leaving his baby brother to mourn and grieve in peace, steeling himself to bring the bad news to the awaiting company.
The End
Amrâlimê: my love Ghivashel: treasure of all treasures