MMMG: Hey everyone! Here's the real chapter 7! To those of you who responded to the SOPA warning, you know who you are, thank you. And 25 reviews?! Even though 5 of them were SOPA responses, that's still the most ever! Thanks guys!

Malo919: Rainbow Gandalf was your idea, thank you for it by the way.

Azile Signer: Pure awesome Bilbo... yep! That's gonna be easy!

Nataly S. Potter: Don't worry, I'm not going to stop writing this fic.

Guest: You have to wait until the 16th for the Desolation of Smaug? Ouch. At least it's only two/one more day. How do time zone differences work again? Never mind, it's not to much longer.

ThisUsernameIsIndecisive: Let's go with Gandalf torture. ;)

Beloved Daughter: At first Gandalf was indulging the fauntlings, but then he got overwhelmed.

Alaiana Potter: Not sure what I'd do if someone found Bilbo's journals. I'd never considered it. And thanks for the idea with Galadriel, I'll consider it.

Killer-Fangirl: The paint will eventually come off, not sure how long it will take. I was planning book Beorn visit since it's longer and I love Beorn a lot. And don't worry about not reading and getting sucked into another universe because that's what's happening to me right now!

Reader-anonymous-writer: Long review! Yes! But then again, you're reviewing all the chapters at once, so okay. Glad the chapter length is good and that you plan on reading the other time travel fix it fics I recommended. Read any yet? ROTFL! Gandalf in a frilly pink dress with a bell? You just made my day! And I figured you're right with the humor, so I've added it to the genre list.

Izfish: Thanks for the tip. I'm just going with Peter Jackson's idea of Dori, Nori, and Ori all having different fathers.

MMMG: Thanks for the reviews and enjoy chapter 7! I don't own the Hobbit and I never will!

Chapter 7

The day passed by uneventfully, unless you count the strange looks Bilbo got from his fellow hobbits as they rode through the Shire's countryside. Bilbo spent most of the day riding next to Fíli and Kíli, and occasionally Ori. All three of them had taken a liking to their new burglar and wanted to get to know him better, ignoring the nervous looks of 'you shouldn't get to know him until we know he isn't going to stab us in the backs' that just came naturally from some of the older dwarves who had trusted to soon when they were younger.

Instincts could be a pain sometimes.

About an hour or so before they would stop to make camp, Gandalf had pulled back next to Bilbo, who still had a hard time not laughing every time he looked at the wizard. Bilbo knew that Gandalf wanted to know how last night went and why he was here if he wasn't there to convince him to. And also why he had travel clothes and his mother's weapons if he was supposed to be a gentlehobbit.

"Bilbo." Gandalf greeted.

"Gandalf." Bilbo nodded in reply. "I assume you have some questions for me?"

"Well yes." Gandalf confirmed. "I was wondering how you could have traveling clothes and weapons if you were a gentlehobbit like all of Hobbiton claimed."

"That was mostly due to my mother's influence." Bilbo replied as memories of Belladonna teaching him how to sew and shoot her bow came to his mind. "I know I said I didn't want any adventures, especially after the Fell Winter, but I was always prepared. Just in case."

"I am sorry about your parents passing." Gandalf said gently.

"I know." Bilbo sighed as he shut out the memory of Azog standing over his parent's bodies, and him.

"I take it your mother's influence is also what made you here Master Oakenshield out?" Gandalf asked.

"Yes." Bilbo chuckled. "After you left, I could hear mother scolding me for not hearing you out. So I resolved to listen to whoever it was you would bring with you before I made my decision."

Gandalf nodded and seemed appeased by his answers before he headed back up to the head of the procession. Thorin turned in his saddle as Gandalf rode up passed him, and did a head count to make sure Fíli and Kíli hadn't wandered off. Bilbo ducked his head, pretending to grab his handkerchief so he could blow his nose so Thorin wouldn't see his blush.

Ever since Bilbo realized that he had a crush on Thorin, he did everything in his power to avoid looking at the royal dwarf and his strong muscles, dark hair, strong and yet dreamy blue eyes, fine arse… Argh! Bad Bilbo! Bad! Stop thinking like that before you get a nose bleed!

Two weeks went by, and Bilbo could definitely say that he, Fíli, and Kíli were definitely friends, and Ori was extremely close to that point to. The scribe was just a little shy about it and Bilbo wasn't going to push the matter, finding the best way to talk to the younger dwarf was to engage in a conversation about how to write a story or knitting.

Fíli and Kíli, well those two he had a different relationship with. They would pull small pranks on each other, and would have mild wrestling matches with him so he could build up some of his strength until they could get him a proper sword. He had tried wielding one of their dwarven swords, but he wasn't strong enough to use one properly yet. That had earned some scowls from Dwalin and a mild look of disapproval from Thorin until Bilbo pointed out that he was faster than the rest of them and used his speed more than strength to win his fights. Something Fíli and Kíli could easily vouch for as they recalled all the times Bilbo had slipped out of their grasps during their 'wrestling' matches.

Many of the dwarves had made an effort to at least talk with him while they rode, but it was hard for some like Dwalin, Thorin, and Bifur. Dwalin was just following his instincts of not trusting Bilbo completely until he proved himself, (was he going to have to stop an orc from killing Thorin again?), and Bifur had a language issue but was content to ride next to Bilbo in a serene silence.

Thorin on the other hand, was just being the king he had been forced to be at such a young age. He was a leader, more used to giving orders than making small talk with halflings. He never said anything unless there was a strong reason for him to say it.

These thoughts, and Bilbo trying to convince himself that wooing Thorin on a quest was a bad idea, often kept him awake as he tried to fall asleep at night. That and Bombur's snores could wake the dead. As Bombur grunted again, Bilbo groaned and stood up with a sigh and stretch. He had taken off his belt and outer tunic, using the two items as a pillow and an oilskin cloak as a blanket. Thorin and Balin were keeping first watch while Fíli and Kíli stayed up until they could fall asleep since they rotated first watch every other night with their uncle and teacher, and they all glanced at him with their own versions of sympathy.

Bilbo nodded his head to them and went over to where the ponies were tethered. He went to Myrtle, who whickered when she saw him, and nudged his pocket. Bilbo chuckled lightly and pulled out the apple he kept there. Despite the travels, Bilbo made sure he kept an apple in his pocket for his faithful friend which he fed to her at some point every evening.

"Hello girl." Bilbo whispered as she crunched on the fruit. "There's our little secret Myrtle. Shh-shh-shh! Don't tell anyone."

A hair raising screech in the distance made Bilbo glance up as old memories slammed to the front of his mind and he inhaled sharply. Shaking himself, Bilbo hugged Myrtle and pushed the memories of his parent's deaths, Goblin Town, the cliff-face after, and the Battle of Five Armies out of his mind. Oh how he hated the memory of Thorin getting pushed down and trampled by the orc and goblins.

"Orcs." Bilbo mumbled/growled quietly.

"The lone-lands are crawling with them." Fíli added while he puffed his pipe.

"Are you okay Bilbo?" Kíli asked, seeing the look of apprehension and loathing on the hobbit's face.

"Yeah." Bilbo sighed as he glanced towards the princes. "Bad memoires."

"Uncle says that they strike in the wee hours when everyone is asleep." Kíli said, a bit hesitant. "Quick and quiet. No screams."

"Well, your uncle is mostly right." Bilbo chuckled briefly before his face sobered again. "Orcs are quiet when they sneak up on you, but in the actual attack, there are plenty of screams. The attacks are never quiet."

"A night raid by orcs is no joke." Thorin added seriously as he walked towards the ponies by the cliff.

Bilbo sighed, knowing that Thorin was probably thinking about the Battle of Azanulbizar, and all that he had lost in that battle. His grandfather, Thror, and his younger brother, Frerin, who had been only 48 years old, had both been killed, and his father lost his mind with grief before vanishing. Thráin had ultimately killed by Sauron in Dol Guldur, with the Dark Lord claiming the last of the seven dwarf rings as his own again, but only Gandalf and Bilbo knew that.

"Don't mind him laddie." Balin said as he came over to by the princes. "Thorin has more cause then most to hate orcs."

Bilbo settled back down to sit, knowing the story that was coming as Fíli and Kíli glanced at Balin before looking back to their uncle. Both were wondering what the story was, if it was one they hadn't heard before or heard many times.

"After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Khazad-dum, or as it is more commonly known, Moria." Balin recounted the story, sighing as the memories of the battle came up. "But our enemy had gotten there first."

Several thousand dwarves fought on the slopes of Moria against at least ten thousand orcs. Many of each had already fallen, and many more would fall. King Thror, Prince Thráin, Prince Thorin, Prince Frerin, and Prince Víli, Dis's husband and Fíli and Kíli's father, were leading the charge to drive the orcs back, but all were near exhausted.

The fighting style from the dwarves was now a just swing with your sword, block with your shield, and pray to Mahal that somehow you survive this battle, this bloodbath. The orcs had numbers on their side, but their fighting methods were a sloppy, hence why the dwarves had a small bit of hope they would survive.

Not long after, Frerin and Víli fell protecting Thorin from an attack to his unguarded back, never to stand again. The prince had blamed himself for their deaths every day since.

"Moria had been taken by legions of orcs, led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler."

Azog was a very large, bone-white pale orc, as tall as a man, if not taller, and far more bulky. Azog also had piercing blue eyes and smoother skin, with deep, tattoo-like incisions covering his face and torso. He arguably looked less barbaric than other orcs, but by no means was he actually less barbaric than his weaker 'kinfolk'.

In fact, he was even worse.

Azog was iron-fisted, pitiless, cynical, bitter, malicious, arrogant, merciless, cunning, ferocious, very, very ruthless, extremely sadistic, vengeful, a megalomaniacal psychopath, extremely hot-tempered, elitist, highly intelligent, vindictive, highly idealistic, callous, a tenacious leader of the Warg cavalry of his battalion, and unfailingly loyal to Sauron. He was also an incredibly proficiently skilled warrior with a brutal fighting style that included keeping his distance from his opponent and using psychological warfare to anger his enemy.

Azog grunted as he and Thror made eye contact on the battle field. The two fought, the king's sword and shield verses the orc's mace. Only one would stand the victor.

"The giant Gundabad orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began… by beheading the king."

Azog roared in triumph as he held up the head of Thror. Thorin turned with wide eyes at the sound of the roar, fearing the worst. And it was the worst. Azog sneered as he tossed Thror's head towards the dwarf prince, not caring about any reaction he would get except the one that would engage the royal line of Durin's into battle.

Thorin watched as the head bounced towards him. Realization set in. His grandfather was dead.

"NO!" Thorin screamed.

"Thráin, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing about 40 years after settling in the Blue Mountains, three years after the battle. Whether taken prisoner or killed, we do not know. We were leaderless. Defeat… and death, were upon us."

Many of the dwarves had turned at Thorin's anguished cry, and saw the decapitated head of their king. They lost hope. Frerin and Víli had been killed, and no one knew where Thráin was. They had no one to lead them. More orcs streamed out of Moria, and pushed the dwarves off cliff edges or stabbing them with their swords.

The end was close for Durin's folk.

"And that is when I saw him. A young dwarf prince, facing down the pale orc."

Thorin snapped out of his shock when he realized that Azog was coming for him, swinging that mace. With a growl, Thorin vowed that he would not lose his head, or his life, in this next fight. He had to win, for the sake of those he had already lost, and could possibly loose.

There was too much at stake.

"He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armor rent… "

Azog swung his mace in a wide circle, knocking off Thorin's shield. As Thorin recovered from the loss, the next swing knocked his sword out of his grip, and him off the rock he was standing on. Tumbling down, Thorin moved to right himself so he could protect himself against Azog.

The orc leapt at him, and Thorin made a desperate grab at a large nearby branch of wood that was larger than his forearm, praying that it would be strong enough to protect him from the mace.

"…wielding nothing but a petrified oaken branch as a shield."

Thorin gasped as blow after blow rained down on him. He was already weak from the never ending fight, and Azog's blows drained him of even more of his strength. One blow sent him to his back, leaving him weak and dazed.

A grunt got his attention, and Thorin grabbed the hilt of a fallen sword. Standing back up with a cry, Thorin swung the sword and cut off the left forearm of Azog the Defiler.

Azog screamed in pain as he clutched the stump that was once his lower arm. Thorin stumbled back, a bit elated that he had survived and wounded the Gundabad orc. Perhaps they would survive after all.

"Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken."

Several orcs pulled the injured Azog away from Thorin and back into Moria. Anger filled Thorin. The Defiler had killed his grandfather and didn't even have the guts to stay and fight, but allowed himself to be pulled away so he could die a more slow and painful death by bleeding out of his new stump.

"Baruk Khazâd! (Axes of the Dwarves!) Du bekàr! (To arms!)" Thorin called to his kinfolk.

And the dwarves answered his call. With a loud roar, the dwarves charged the orc ranks. With Dwalin and Balin by his side, Thorin slayed one foul creature after another, still using the oaken branch as his shield while making sure his cousins, no matter how distantly related, were safe as well.

"Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast… nor song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief."

Thorin looked at the carnage around him. They had slain nearly all the orc, but most of their numbers had been killed as well. Balin and Dwalin had survived, but Thror, Víli, and Frerin had all been lost. Their bodies would be taken back to Dunland to be buried, but the rest of their unfortunate kin would have no tomb.

They had not the time nor the resources to bury the fallen before the vultures and wolves came. Moria was an option, but they lacked the strength to reclaim their ancient dwarven home and any tombs they made in there would be disgraced by the orcs. There was also the threat of Durin's Bane still dwelling in the mines, so Thorin would not risk it. With a heavy heart Thorin gave the order to pile their kin's bodies, and burn them.

"We few had survived…"

Balin and Dwalin found each other and gently tapped foreheads. Their father had not been so lucky, and Fundin had passed on with so many other of their kinfolk. Tears flowed down Balin's face in abundance at the loss, so many would mourn for a father, grandfather, brother, cousin, or an uncle.

Yet amidst the sadness and strife, one figure stood strong. At 53 years old, he was still considered a tween, but he had earned the respect of all who had survived the battle. Thorin, though covered in orc guts and blood and still holding to his petrified oaken branch and sword, was every bit of the prince he was and the ruler that he would one day be.

"Amongst the death and ruin, Thorin stood strong as he surveyed the damage and got the survivors to safety. And I thought to myself then, 'There is one I could follow. There is one… I could call king'." Balin finished his story.

During Balin's tale, all of the dwarves had awoken from their slumber, even Bombur, and were now looking at Thorin with a look akin to awe, or an even higher respect then they had before. All knew that Thorin had played a role in the Battle of Azanulbizar, but it had been somewhat downplayed because of Thorin's youth and had remained that way even after he became of age 17 years later. To hear the true tale of what had happened was… astounding.

Thorin turned from where he had been looking out at the sky to the company, and took in their expression with a nod before walking back to where he had been sitting. Bilbo followed the dwarf with his eyes, and resisted the urge to duck his head when Thorin glanced at him before looking back and Fíli and Kíli. Oh Eru, why did he have to look so sexy with that swag of his?

"And the pale orc?" Fíli asked, making Bilbo turn to look back at him. "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole from whence he came." Thorin replied with a growl, obviously upset at what the orc had done and not his nephew. "That filth died of its wounds long ago."

Bilbo ducked his head down. It's wasn't like he could just blurt out that Azog was still alive, he had never even heard the orcs name until this story, and only knew he was a Gundabad orc with pale skin. Nothing about all tall he was or his battle scars.

"What did he look like?" Bilbo asked quietly.

Thorin looked at him with an unreadable expression, but Bilbo guessed Thorin was wondering if Bilbo had pale orc troubles in the Fell Winter. Thorin exhaled, his eyes trailing to the ground before looking back up to Bilbo.

"Taller than a man and more bulky, smoother skin then most orcs and was a bone-white pale color, with deep, tattoo-like incisions covering his face and torso, and ice cold blue eyes." Thorin gave the description of his nemesis.

"And a left arm severed at the elbow." Bilbo whispered and shuddered. "I hate to tell you this, but he lives. He was the one who killed my parents nine years ago."

"What?" Thorin gasped, and he wasn't the only one who did, as he walked over to Bilbo and sat down next to him.

"The Fell Winter was hard on the Shire, most not expecting the early and long lasting cold and snow." Bilbo sighed as he recounted the tale. "But it got worse, especially after the Brandywine River froze completely solid."

"Completely?" Balin asked.

"Completely." Bilbo nodded his head. "The horns of Buckland sounded two months after the start of the winter, warning the rest of the Shire of an invasion. White Wolves from the frozen lands to the north. With the wolves came Wargs, and with the Wargs, their riders.

"My mother had traveled when she was younger and knew the signs of the early winter, so had my father and I prepare by gathering lots of firewood and cutting back our normal seven meals down to four, and then down to two as the winter progressed."

"Hobbits eat seven meals a day?" Kíli asked in awe.

"Later." Thorin scolded, obviously wanting to hear the story.

"Just three weeks before the Rethe (March) thaw, my family ran entirely out of food and wood." Bilbo continued. "There hadn't been any attacks recently, so we decided to go to my Grandfather's to see if he had any food remaining. We were less than half a mile away when Azog attacked."

A pale warg leapt out of the snow and tackled Bungo Baggins to the ground. With a howl the creature buried its teeth into the hobbit's neck while the claws tore at his clothes and skin. The beast's rider only laughed at the cries of agony.

Belladonna yelled in anguish as she fired several of her arrows. One killed the warg that had torn her husband while several others ended orcs that could have killed Bilbo. As Belladonna turned back to check on Bungo, she was met with a pale orc.

"My father fell first to the warg Azog rode, my mother killing the beast with her bow and arrows." Bilbo sighed as he stroked his weapons. "But Azog killed her with the wretched metal claw he had instead of a left hand."

Azog growled and thrusted his left 'hand' forward, impaling Belladonna with the metal claw that replaced his severed left forearm. Bilbo screamed at the sight, his mother's stomach impaled by the crude metal claw before being flung into a snow bank. And then the tall, pale Gundabad orc turned to him with a blood chilling smirk.

"He went after me next." Bilbo shuddered. "He said something in that awful tongue, before swinging the claw at me. I had just enough sense left in me to jump back, but it wasn't far enough."

The crude claw had swung forward, but the young Bilbo had enough sense left in him to move back and away from the metal claw that had just killed his mother. But it was not far enough.

Azog's 'left hand' had caught Bilbo across the chest, slashing thought the clothes and cutting deep into his skin. The pain had sent Bilbo to the snow covered ground where he lay still.

"His claw caught me across my chest." Bilbo rubbed the scars threw his shirt. "I fell the ground in pain and shock. Things blurred after that, but I remember his laugh before he said something else and the remaining orc and wargs departed. Gandalf and the rangers showed up not long after. It was too late to save my parents, but they were able to save me."

And he had three long horizontal scars across his chest to prove it.

The entire company was silent. None of them, save Thorin, had even guessed that he had such a sad back-story. They had assumed that his parents had left him his home and moved somewhere else to be closer to other relatives.

"I said this once when we first met, and I will say it again on behalf of the entire company, I am sorry for you loss." Thorin said, breaking the silence.

Everyone else offered their condolences, which Bilbo accepted with a nod, but his main attention was on Thorin. Bilbo wondered if he had done the right thing by telling Thorin Azog was still alive, but in his mind, now was the best timing. He originally planned to tell Thorin in Rivendell, but the dwarf would be in a foul mood, and Bilbo's news would put him in an even worse one, so next he resolved not to say anything and let the whole cliff battle play out, but with his bow and arrows, Azog was more likely to figure out who he was this time, so he went with the third option of telling Thorin after Balin's tale of the Battle of Azanulbizar.

Looking closer at Thorin's face, Bilbo realized that the dwarf was feeling guilty. Most likely for not slaying Azog at Moria, thus leading to the orc's 'prosthetic' and the death of Bilbo's parents. Oh Eru save him from the stubbornness of dwarves.

"It's not your fault." Bilbo said quietly, making Thorin look at him. "You can't control Azog's actions or his choices. You didn't attack and kill my parents, Azog did. By his own choosing. If not by the claw, we would have fallen to his mace, and I probably wouldn't be here."

Bilbo could see some of the guilt leave Thorin's eyes and his shoulders relax a touch. The dwarf was too stubborn to let go of his guilt completely, but at least he had let a portion of it go.

"Would you feel better if I punched you in the nose?" Bilbo offered with an amused look.

"No, probably not, but thank you." Thorin replied with a half-smile. "At least, not right now."

Bilbo stared. Thorin had just offered to let Bilbo punch him in the face. That had definitely not happened last time, but it showed that trust was being built a whole lot sooner this time if Thorin was making such an offer. Maybe this would help the rest of the company relax around him better as well.

"Get some sleep." Thorin ordered everyone. "We have a long way to travel tomorrow."

As Bilbo curled back under with oilskin cloak-blanket and drifted off, he felt someone lie down next to him. The scent of Southlinch pipe-weed mixed with metallic aroma and a deep musk. Bilbo knew that scent anywhere. Thorin was sleeping next to him.

Oh, Eru help him.

MMMG: And there is the end of chapter 7. I left you with another semi-cliff hanger... oh dear me. Well, next chapter will be the trolls, so get ready for that. I hope none of you are in the mood for mutton.

Please review!

04-15-2014: My computer is out of commision for the next two weeks, so don't expect any updates. If one does come, it's a miracle.