I hear the grunts before I see their source. Azog the Defiler is no new sight to me, though what I behold makes my heart drop into my stomach.

With a hand grasping his shirt and a great deal of agony in his eyes is Fili. Simple, sturdy and strong Fili- the one who has never turned against me, who has never doubted me, even in my deepest, darkest moments.

I will admit now that, looking back, it was Fili's rejection that had hurt me the most. I had never expected him to disobey me, even if the order was a drastic as tossing Bilbo over the gate.

The orc holds Fili up by his collar, a twisted grin marring the beast's scarred face. He says something, something that I do not hear, or more likely, do not want to.

I want to look away. It's all I can think about doing. Though I was strategizing on how to save my nephews, I can no longer. My mind is in a fog. I can only think of the same statement that had been running through it since I first realized there was a trap.

Not this.

There should be no parent who has to experience the death of their child, and though I am not Fili's father, in these moments I might as well be. Fili is looking me dead in the eye.

"Go."

It isn't a command, a request or even a statement. It is a simple understanding that passes between the two of us, even from the distance we stood apart.

Keep moving. I can almost hear him say. You don't have to see this.

But the fact is; I do. I cannot submit myself to look away, to take the easy way out. I shake my head.

And as the sword plunges through my nephew's chest, I feel whatever faith I have left in me fade away.

Because I was there when he was born, and I was there when he first learned how to use a sword. I was there when Fili came home, having carried a sleeping Kili back the entire way. I was there when his beard grew in, and when he first asked about our past.

It was I who taught him the history of our people, who told him of the greatness of Erebor and my wish to take it back. He was ten when he promised me he would help. I had jokingly accepted it.

Azog's hand slips from Fili's collar.

I had led him here; it was me who did this.

Fili begins to fall.

This is because of me.

I can hear Bilbo let out a quiet sob beside me.

The body continues to fall, and I take feel my head shake again.

Not this has now become: Not him.

My nephew hits the ground. I gasp to see Kili standing where he fell. Fear, rage and despair soon overtaking his features. I know he will fight, and I want to scream at him not to. I cannot find my voice though. It became lost the moment my nephew was first held over the ravine.

Kili is running now, I can see it out of the corner of my eye. I do not move.

All of the glory, the treasure, the happiness that I thought this quest would give me has now turned to something I would describe as pain.

If only this were as sweet as pain.

The sound of the eagles was blocked out by the sound of feet against stone stairs. I cough, trying to find the strength turn my head, but Bilbo is soon at my side, his hands pressing at the wound in my stomach.

I cannot tell why he is doing this. We both know that I am gone.

I grip his sleeve. A conversation commences; one that I am hardly aware I am participating in.

I apologize feverishly, not wanting any tension between us, even if it that be in our last moments together. My eyes leave his and go to the sky as I prepare to take my final breath.

But before I do, he takes my hand, holding it tight.

"I'm glad to have shared in your perils- Thorin," he says quickly, and I can sense that he knows I am about to fade. "each and every one of them." I meet his eyes, and I feel a different kind of pain, the one in the chest that feels physical, though you know it isn't. I know that he is trying to give me peace, though all I feel is guilt.

"That is far more than any Baggins deserves."

I smile wryly at him. "Farwell Master Burglar."

He is squeezing my hand tightly now, silently pleading. I continue.

"Go back to your books,"

He blinks quickly, looking away from me.

"And your armchair,"

The corner of his lip tugs upward at this.

"Plant your trees,"

His eyes finally meet mine, and I can see a sternness in them. I can tell that he is enduring these words so that he can say something, what that is I am not sure I want to know.

"Watch them grow."

He nods stiffly.

"If more people valued home above gold- the world would be a merrier place…"

The last word is gone from me, for I can no longer feel my lips moving.

I stare at him, pleading silently. I do not know what I am pleading for. I have nothing left to want. I had lost my sanity, my purpose and my nephew.

Though, as his strained voice lets out a "No," and then a few more echo from it, I begin to realize it.

There is a reason to stay.

"Don't you dare." He says, and I wish that I could help it, that I could hold on in that moment.

Because of all the people I could not leave behind, I have only just realized that Bilbo is one of them.

"Thorin."

I find the stare of the winter sky easier to meet than his own.

Hey guys! I hope that this is similar to what you expected. It's currently finals week so I'm not at liberty to write too much. I can still post a few more if you guys want, some of you suggested Bilbo telling Merry and Pippin about Fili and Kili, or Dis's reaction to her sons' deaths. I'll have time to write once this week is out, but as for now, here's kind of a short fic dedicated to Thorin!

Not to toot my own horn, but if you really are interested in seeing more sad BOTFA moments, I've written other fics, namely, "To Whom it May Concern," "You Were Always My King," "You of All People Would Know," and "The Seven Deadly Sins of the Dwarves," which each have some their fair share of feels.

Also, regarding the last bit, I'm not a shipper of Thorin/Bilbo, just because I've only ever seen it as an epic bromance. If you do ship it, cool beans. You're free to interpret this fic however you wish.

Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!

-Infinityscripts