Long time no see and Happy Easter Week! Today is Good Friday, and I'm feeling all emotional while thinking of Jesus. And because of Jesus, I figured I should continue this because this chapter also represents sacrifice. I feels like almost a month already since I updated this, and I bet you're dying to know what happens next. The climax of the story, so prepare your handkerchiefs and bowls of ice cream. Oh, and your prayers.

P.S. I'm writing a new fanfic for Shadows of Mordor. If any of you are fans, it's on my profile, because for some reason, it's not showing up in the LOTR archive. I'll spread the word in my other stories, too.

Thorin knew he should walk away, let the frozen river do its work. Azog meant nothing to him. Nothing more than a spreading infestation that has wiped out most of his family and so many others, now being washed away into oblivion...yet Thorin wanted to watch it happen. He wanted to see the light leave the monster's eyes. He wanted his own cold, empty face to be the last thing that piece of filth ever saw alive, so that he would know that had failed to end the line of Durin.

Thorin walked slowly above Azog, their eyes meeting from the barrier of the ice. You killed my kin. Here I stand, above your corpse, Azog the Defiler. You may have taken my heart...but you will never have me. He hoped the barren life in his eyes read every thought his mind to the orc.

Then the orc closed his eyes. But still, Thorin kept watching. Instinct told him to. Something felt wrong.

Suddenly Azog's eyes popped open. A burst of fire erupted through Thorin's foot from the tip of a blade, nailing him to the ice. The Dwarf King let out a cry of shock and agony, unable to move from where he stood.

Then the giant Gundabad orc exploded from the ice, knocking Thorin on his back. Stunned by his own foolishness, fear finally entered Thorin's system with full force as Azog now stood over him, alive and still breathing. As Azog swung his spike at him forcefully, Thorin managed to block the blows. Then he managed to block the spike, the tip stopping an inch from his chest.

Struggle as he might from the pale orc's strength, his breathing quickening with brief panic as he meant the fetish snarl of his lifelong enemy, Thorin knew he was trapped.

Thorin felt his arms burning as he struggled, Azog towered above him like a snowy mountain above the fall over and crush him with all of its worldly weight. Oricrist was tilted sideways, pressed above him as he blocked the armed claw of Azog the Defiler, it's tip hovering inches from the center of his chest with a shaking force. His heart pounding frantically, Thorin gritted his teeth and let out a breathless groan as his arms started to tremble. He knew he was failing, that he was weakening, but he would hold on.

The small part of him that still wanted to live had resurfaced with full force the moment Azog had unexpectedly burst out the ice like a jack in the box. It was not that Thorin feared death...if anything, death seemed like a soothing notion for all the pain he felt in his long years of living and fighting...for all the battles he had seen and all the losses he had suffered...but when he saw the expression on the monster's face above him, it was that will alone that made Thorin want to wipe off that cheshire grin growing on the orc's wolfish face.

Though it had always been his wish to perish in battle, it had never occurred to Thorin until now that he may be killed by the pale orc, an enemy he had long thought dead until a few months ago. The thought was outraging. His grandfather, his nephew...and now him! He would be damned that he would be slain by his family's killer without gaining the chance to avenge them, while saving those who still lived. With this thought, Thorin growled from back of his throat, though his strength alone was not enough the budge the spike, only to slow it down. How long would it be until Thorin would finally give in and accept the fate that he soul craved for a long time?

Azog, pale eyes lighting a sadistic gleam, smirked with triumph. The fool! Did the mighty Oakeshield really think that the waters under the ice would be enough to kill the King of the Orcs? Azog seemed so sure now that he had the Dwarf King. He would finally be able to wipe out the line of Durin.

Then, somewhere in a faraway distance, a voice echoed in the chilly wind, "Thorin! Uncle!"

Thorin gasped, ice trickling his veins. Kili, he thought. His Kili. His sister-son. He was still alive. Or was his maddened mind playing tricks on him?

But no. Azog's eyes flickered up briefly from hearing the young heir of Thorin Oakenshield's voice, the last remaining descendant of Durin. The black-haired brother of the golden one he had slain. His smile grew wider as he looked back down on Thorin, who's fear now shown more openly in his eyes for not his own life, but for the life of the young dwarf who called him "uncle."

Delighting in this agony on the warrior's face, Azog leaned over, pressing more of his weight on the spike hooking the elvish blade, causing a desperate groan to escape his soon-to-be prize. He bared his fangs like the predator he was. "Do you hear that voice, Oakenshield?" he hissed in Black Speech. He could not help but feel the desire to taunt his prey before their deaths. "Can you sense the fear in that pathetic whelp of Durin calling to you? The fear will have no comparison for I have in store for him. You will die first, but when I have him in my grasp, the last of the line of Durin..." He leaned in closer. "...I will not be quick as I had done with his brother. Oh, no...I will savor this last victory. I will finish him off nice and slow."

NO! Breath escaped him, his eyes widening with pure horror. Though Thorin never understood the language, he knew. He knew what Azog had just told him, knew what he was planning to do. He read it in the orc's pale blue eyes, the malice, the hunger for blood, for pain...an evil that has given Thorin night terrors for most of his life. The night terrors had grown when Fili and Kili were born.

This was real. The pale orc was alive. He had already killed Fili, and once Azog succeeded in finishing Thorin, he would go after Kili...but from the gleam in the monster's eye, his youngest's death will not be swift like his brother's. Azog would make him suffer. Whatever this albino will do to Kili will ravage his young nephew beyond recognition. He read it in the orc's eyes and grin. Thorin felt his blood boil like magma as he growled, shoving against the weight will all of his might...but Azog only pressed down further, the tip of the claw grazing his chest.

Kili. He could still hear his sister-son calling for him. He could even hear Fili's voice calling out for him like an echo in the wind, begging him to hold on, to fight. Fili. Oh, how he wished to see him again. Both of them, together...at least one more time. It made the tip of the spike seem too sweet.

Azog would kill them all. His family's death would not be avenged, Kili and Dis would be left for the hunt, and the dwarves of Erebor will be forsaken, all while Azog is alive, the leader of the Orc Army. He would not let that happen! Not even if it costed his life!

His life...There was only one way he would be able to strike the pale orc, so far and yet so close, only feet above him. As he stared up at his enemy, only inches from taking his life, Thorin felt the tension in his face drain and become more relaxed. It was strange. Death was staring at him in the face, bearing the image of his worst nightmares, and yet he was not afraid. Not anymore. In the dragon sickness, he remembered having time to reflect on what he had become, on what he had nearly destroyed for the sake of a cold, hard object that twisted his mind and heart into that of...of a monster. The burden of his sins weighed him down on the ice, the memory of his kin and Fili's death even more. It was more than he could bear any longer.

He wished he could see Kili one more time, at least. His precious joy. His heart. His life.

My son.

He could see a little dwarfling with tousled dark hair and shining brown eyes that melted even the hardest of hearts. Eyes that had always looked at him in adoration, if when Thorin felt he didn't deserve it. He was so small, smaller than most dwarflings his age, but he was happy. His babylike face always glowing with all its beautiful innocence. There was no pain or sorrow or betrayal marked on the child. His smile was joyful and humorous, his laughter high and unworldly, and his eyes full of a child's unconditional love for the only father he ever knew. He could feel the child's tiny hands touch his face when he held the dwarfing close, palms soft and unblemished, always comforting for the ones he loved. The little dwarfling's beautiful face appeared his mind.

Unca Thowin.

It was the only way, and Thorin accepted it without fear. In order to defeat Azog, and in order to save Kili...his Kili...he would give the pale orc the one thing he had always desired: to kill him. Azog may take his life...he may have already taken Fili's, but he will never have Kili. Whatever it took, no matter the consequences, his beloved nephew will live.

Unca Thowin.

Thorin's eyes shined, the child's imagined face blinding him from the orc's. A child he raised from the moment the little one was born, an honor that he felt was greater than all his actions as King. He had not regretted one second of watching the babe grow into a fine, spirited, rambunctious warrior, for this little dwarfing, precious and pure, had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. He could see Kili's smile, bringing more peace in his still-beating heart and warmth in his cold bones, even now, in the face of death. He vowed over and over that he would never let anything happened to this young dwarf who was as good as his son, even at the cost of his own life. He would have that child of starlight live on, bringing strength and happiness all around. It was a treasure worth dying for.

He made his decision. If this is how it should end, then so be it.

I love you, Kili.

After that moment, with fluid motion, he then slide Orcrist out of the hook of the spike, releasing the hold...and then felt the claw swiftly impale right through the center of his chest like an explosion of hot pain.

His mouth opened into a soundless cry, as the blade sunk deeper, tearing through his flesh and lungs to the point when he couldn't breathe. Blood roared in his ears, filling his lungs. Everything within him wanted to collapse, here and there. But he had to hold on...oh, Mahal, the pain was excruciating!

The deeper the blade went, however, the closer Azog leaned over him with absolute triumph with his jeering face, hungrily watching Thorin writhe in agony.

The Dwarf King's soundless cries turned into a snarl. Though drowning in his pain, Thorin's eyes blazed as he stretched out his right arm and plunged Orcrist deep into the monster's left side, through metal, flesh, and bone. Azog froze, his own snarl frozen on his face as a wheeze escaped him. He had not seen it coming!

Summoning all his strength, Thorin gritted his teeth and shoved the sword deep into the orc's chest, causing them both to roll over in the ice and have their positions reversed. Blood lapping in his lungs, the agony stealing his breath between menacing growls, Thorin managed to straddle his enemy beneath him, holding desperately on the hilt of Orcrist to keep himself upright. He knew death was threatening to pull him down, but he kept all of his focus on the pale orc, who lay on his back in the ice, apparently still fighting the mortal wound like the beast he was.

No! Azog will not escape this. Not this time! Pulling Orcrist back, shifting it more to his right, he plunged his sword downward with a grunt, putting of his strength, all of his hatred, but most importantly, all of his love for those who had died and for those who still live into his thrust. For Thror, for Thrain, for Frerin, for Fili...for Dis, for Kili. He gave it everything he had! The blade tore right through the heart of Azog, impaling right the hard layers of ice beneath with a crumbling sear, pinning the orc down.

Eyes wide, Azog let out a strangled sound of surprise. His arms and legs went limp, but the Dwarf King didn't release him. Thorin kept a firm hold on the hilt, blood staining his teeth as he snarled like an animal, his blue eyes blazing with a fire that would burn right through the ice. Through the windows of the soul revealed all his mad rage, his agony, and his sorrows as the mortal blow through his elvish blade.

Watching the pale orc wheeze in fear and confusion at his mercy, Thorin leaned over to look into his enemy's eyes to make sure the albino was looking right at him. Him, the supposed prey, part of the line of Durin, defeating Azog the Defiler...and Azog would know it.

And Kili was safe. His sister-son was safe.

"The line of Durin will prevail," Thorin rasped into the orc's shocked face. With another heaving pant, he leaned closer and breathed venomously, "You will never have him."

Another strangled sound left Azog as he stared incredulously up Thorin Oakenshield, the prey that he should have killed, but never had imagined to have met this end. With the horrified confusion still frozen on his face, his head fell back and noise died, staring sightless upward into the sky.

Azog the Defiler, at long last, was slain.

Thorin stared intently into the glassy eyes of the Defiler, until he was sure his enemy was dead. For good, and this time, he had seen it with his own eyes. His breath came out dry and raspy, the pain flaring through the entirety of his chest like a bursting flame. The two-pincered spike was still stuck there, limp and useless.

Shifting sideways, he wrapped a gloved hand around the spike, his other gripped the hilt for support, and let out a small, whimpering groan as he gently but swiftly pulled it out, the movement making a small squelching sound to his ear that made the blood in his lungs start to well with sick. He grunted as he finally rolled to the side and crouched over the ice, keeping sharp, hazy eyes on the corpse, finally processing that the Defiler was gone. Orcrist remained impaled into the heart of the orc, and would stay that way, for Thorin no longer had to strength to use it again.

Blood dripped from the wound from his chest through his back, puddling around the ice as he knelt there for a moment, trying to find his breath. From the pain, the shortage of breath, and the weakening in his limbs, he knew he was dying.

But while staring at the dead filth lying next to him, a final spark of pride fuel his blood and anger gave feeling back into his muscles. While he still had some strength left in him, and though his body threatened to give away completely, Thorin was determined to not die beside this creature. With strength he didn't know he had left, Thorin pushed himself upright and managed to stand up, panting as he felt the wound seep through his clothing and drip around his feet. His foot still burned from the spike's entrance, but he was determined to walk away while he still could.

He would keep his head high. He would move, step by step, try to ignore the pain, and focus on the clear horizon that opened with the golden beams of the sunset. He had lived as the King of the Dwarves...now he was determined to die like one. With dignity, if not with honor.

Slowly, Thorin turned and started moving away from Azog, not looking back, walking slowly towards the edge of the cliff, sloping with a frozen waterfall that shined like crystals in the light. His whole body felt as though they carried a mountain that boiled with searing flames, scorching through his chest where each drop of blood escaped, causing each breath he took start to grow heavier.

The Lonely Mountain loomed in view with all of its magnificence, already looking brighter and more welcoming rather than dark and desolate. This was the kingdom he had ventured to reclaim for so long, and when he finally did, Thorin regretted that the time he had in his home had been dark. It was only the moment he had overcome his dragon-sickness, the moment he shared with his sister-sons, and the moment he had asked his fellow dwarves to follow him one last time that had finally gave him the pride of returning home. It was undeserved, but Thorin had been determined to redeem himself. He did not expect to live through the battle, but he would start by regaining his honor by defending his homeland and his people. There was so much left to regain, so much left unsaid...but it didn't matter anymore.

Standing at the edge of the frozen waterfall, the battlefield appearing in his view, he saw the event that had unfolded, a heavy gasp preserved as he struggled to stay standing. The orcs were fleeing, the eagles were flying around and above, and the allies were driving what was left of the enemy off. Azog the Defiler, the Orc Leader, was defeated. The battle was won. Erebor was safe.

The sound of Fili's triumphant laughter echoed in the winds, lifting the weight from Thorin's mind. His eldest nephew would be at peace. And soon, Thorin would be seeing him again.

Despite all that he had suffered, he felt relief. Immense relief. Thorin was happy to die here. His home. After so long, he would finally rest. He regretted not living to see the rebuilding and restoration of his kingdom, not making up for his previous wrongs, and most of all, to watch Kili grow and start a family of his own. To become King Under the Mountain, but knowing it would all happen was enough.

Thorin felt his strength failing rapidly, when he heard a familiar voice cry, "Thorin! Uncle!"

Kili. My boy...He did not hear the fear in his sister-son calling out for him; only that it was a sound he thought he would never hear again. He could hear footsteps quickening, though they seemed so far away. Though his body felt heavy and wounds kept flaring, he felt this wash of immense relief wrap his soul. The mountain of Erebor seemed to tilt, his vision swimming with dizziness that distorted all else.

Finally, his strength leaving completely, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, gave up the struggle. With another heaving breath, his legs gave away and he began to fall...only for arms to catch him before he hit the icy ground.

Thorin felt those familiar arms cradling him as he leaned heavily against the catcher's chest. Those familiar arms slowly lowered him onto the ground, the owner's anxiously gasping quickly between sobs of fear and grief, a gloved hand brushing sticky hair strands out of his bloodstained face as Thorin let out strangled cough, blood dotting his lips as he struggled to breath in the catcher's arms.

His head pillowed at the cradle of the newcomer's arm, he could hear the voice calling out him in whispers.

When Thorin opened his eyes, the skylight blurred all else. He managed to focus his vision on the face that leaned over him. When he began to see more clearly, he already knew who it was before he opened his eyes. The outline of his young face was unmistakable, his brown hair raining around his face in its usual wildness and the dark pools of his eyes brimming with emotion. The golden sunlight framed the shape of this dwarf's frame, revealing the purity of his spirit that never ceased to amaze. It did not seem real…..but he did not care.

Seeing his beloved sister-son leaning over him, alive and unharmed, warmth spread within him.

Thorin whispered softly, "Kili."

Amazing how such a short scene has so many thoughts going through a character's head, right? In mere seconds, especially in the face of death, I can imagine that time slows when anyone has any final thoughts. These were Thorin's, and most of them regarded Kili.

I meant to make this chapter as the next to last, but that's actually going to be the next chapter, since this one extended longer than I anticipated.

The next will be Kili, Thorin, and Bilbo's POV. The last chapter will be expected for Fili, Kili, and Bilbo.

Sorry for the wait, but Good Friday seemed like the perfect timing for this update! This chapter is full of love and sacrifice, just like today is supposed to be in Jesus' name. I'm Christian, soooo...yeah. For those of you who aren't, I hope you don't mind. In any case, this scene was hard to write, and I bet the next two will be just as hard.

Thank you for all the follows/favorites/reviews! Don't forget to check out my Shadow of Mordor fanfic, if you're a fan of the game or would like to know the story. Keep looking out for updates! Please review!