Dwalin looked back only to see whether Bilbo was well armored. Satisfied, he ran to join the Dwarves. Orcs and goblins scaled over the hills racing for them.

The enemy raced toward them, ramming into their lines. Dwalin swung his ax high, landing it into the back of an Orc. He pulled it out to behead a Goblin, screaming a battle cry as he did. Foe after foe charged and fell.

Dwalin felt someone ram into his back and turned. He steadied his ax and Thorin his sword. "Is all well?"

"No," Dwalin snapped. "We'll discuss it later."

"Agreed. Duck!" Dwalin did so, swinging his ax into the legs of an Orc which was also pierced in the chest by Thorin's sword.

They turned back to back, fighting together as they did best side by side. Orc after Goblin fell around them.

"Azog!" Thorin shouted. Dwalin turned around to see the Pale Orc, riding his Warg. Thorin brandished his sword, snarling. The rest of the company joined behind them. Azog smirked at them, as he rode closer.

Another Orc joined him. He spoke to the Orc, who grinned and leaned down atop his Warg. With a roar, he raced at them.

"Hold the line!" Thorin shouted. The Warg was hit by an invisible in the neck, falling to the ground. The Orc jumped off his fallen steed, roaring, searching for his invisible attacker. His head was pulled back and his throat slit.

Bilbo.

The company charged Azog, fighting as one force. Azog seized Thorin, pulling him away from the battle. Dwalin raced after them. The White Warg yelped, blood spilling out its back as it fell. Azog roared, dropping Thorin as he fell. Thorin groaned, coughing. Dwalin pulled him up.

"What just—what—"

Azog stood, eyes searching. He relaxed, sniffing. He smirked and spoke. What he said could not be heard. He raised his mace and slammed it into air—which screamed.

Dwalin roared, jumping in front of Azog, ax in his hand. He felt too much fury to do much else but gnash his teeth and growl.

Kili knelt where Bilbo fell, searching for his hands. He pulled the Ring off. Bilbo's hair was matted with thick, wet blood. Kili looked up at Dwalin for instruction.

"Kili, get him to the healers," Thorin ordered. "Fili! Ori! Go with him." Kili wrapped Bilbo in his cloak and lifted him.

Fili cut down any who approached while Ori slammed Dwalin's hammer into their skulls if any dared approach. Azog stared them down. "Dwalin, I know your claim on his life, but this is my foe," Thorin growled.

"I'm just in line in the event you do not succeed," he agreed. "Thorin, you better succeed."

Thorin stepped forward, brandishing his sword. Dwalin joined the group in keeping back any who would aid 's gaze was blinded by red and black blood which stung his nose. His hearing was deafened by the screams of the dying. His sole thought was to live this fight and be reunited with his husband. He heard a scream he did not want to hear. Dwalin spun around. Thorin crawled away, clutching his arm. Blood seeped from it and he spotted a splinter sticking out of the flesh.

Dwalin raced to aid him. Balin joined him, sword held high. Thorin pushed himself back up. "Stand aside," he growled. "He is not yours yet. You do not yet know if your kinsman is dead. Mine are!"

"Save the long-winded speeches for when we've won!" Dwalin shouted. "For once, let us fight together truly!"

Azog snarled. He swung his mace. Dwalin and Thorin stepped to the side, letting the weapon land on the earth. Balin thrust his sword into Azog's side. Azog screamed as the sword was pulled out. He turned on Balin, who backed away. Dwalin swung his ax into Azog's leg, crippling him. Azog looked around at the trio, trying to process what was going on. Since when did Dwarves work together like this?

Thorin stuck his sword in Azog's neck. The wide broad blade passed through the thick neck.

"For the lives lost in Azanulbizar," Thorin hissed in Khuzdul. "For the lives you stole. For the horrors you caused." He drew his sword out and the head rolled off, hung by a string of flesh.

And thus was the end of Azog the Defiler.

#

The day was clear and beautiful, albeit the littered bodies over the field before the gates of Erebor. Dwalin hobbled into camp after making sure the rest of the company had survived. The younger ones were shaken, and rightfully so. War was never something to take lightly.

Dwalin made his way to a tent with Fili and Ori guiding him. An Elven healer stepped out and stopped them.

"The Hobbit is alive," he assured them, "And is responding to our medicine."

"Can I not see him?" Dwalin asked.

"When he is awake," the healer promised, "but you and your companions should have your own injuries tended to. You're husband would not like to see you injured, I believe."

Dwalin furrowed his brow. How did the Elf know Bilbo was his husband?

"I told them you might come and who you are," Fili explained. "Come on. You look like Orc puke." He let Fili drag him to a tent. Thorin screamed, swearing as his bones were reset and splintered.

"By Mahal! That hurts!"

"You've only to blame yourself," the healer, a Dwarrowdam snapped. "Given all your stubbornness and tomfoolery, Thorin Oakenshield, you are blessed you have friends who care for you deeply. I've a mind to slit your throat for the dangers you put Fili and Kili in!"

"Yes, Sister," Thorin mumbled, properly cowed.

Dwalin did not blame him. If anyone could bring Thorin to humbleness, it was Dis. She turned on Dwalin. "Shed your armor, wash up and wait for a bed." Dwalin had not the heart to disobey. Not that it'd be wise.

"How is he?" Thorin asked. Dwalin looked up. "Is Bilbo going to…"

"He'll be okay. Still unconscious when I went to him. The healer sent me away. When I am done here I will go to him. Or when he wakes."

"You will go when you are done here whether he wakes or not," Dis snapped, pinching his ear. Dwalin winced.

"Yes, Ma'am."

She released his ear and picked up a jar, spreading salve on to his wounds and bruises. "My boys told me most of what happened," she said. "Your husband seems a strong sort. I am glad for you, Dwalin." She set the jar down to wrap his torso. "When he wakes and is well enough for visitors outside you and Balin, let me know. I would like to meet and thank him on behalf of my idiot brother."

Dwalin nodded. It was doable. Still, he wanted—needed—to have settled the wrongs that the company had done to Bilbo after reclaiming the mountain.

#

He returned the next morning to Bilbo's tent and entered.

"Is it well that I may enter?"

"It is," the healer said. He stepped aside and bowed, leaving.

Dwalin approached the cot. Bilbo's head is wrapped in linen. His breathing was light and easy. Dwalin knelt, taking Bilbo's hand again in his. Bilbo groaned, opening an eye. "Dwalin?"

"Awake now."

"I wish I wasn't. My head is on fire!"

"You were hit on the head," Dwalin said. "Fili, Kili, and Ori brought you here before too much time passed."

"So I see," Bilbo said, tightening his grasp on Dwalin's hand. He swallowed. "I was too hard on you before. I'm sorry."

"Too hard? For not stopping Thorin?"

"Funny how a battle shifts your priorities. I don't know why I find fighting so…therapeutic."

Dwalin smiled. "It can be. I know well it can be. I'll keep that in mind next time."

"As will I," Bilbo smiled. He kissed Dwalin's fingers. He closed his eyes. "I don't want to fight anymore, Dwalin. I want to go home."

"And where do you call home?"

"With you, but also the Shire."

"So you're not screaming anymore?"

"Not screaming anymore for now," Bilbo corrected. "I feel different. A good different. Not…relaxed or soothed, but calm all the same, despite the aches and pains." Dwalin stood. Bilbo grasped his sleeve. "Don't go."

"You need to rest."

"I am resting. I'll have the rest of my life to rest if I wish it. Please stay."

"I'm not going anywhere," Dwalin promised, sitting down again. Bilbo pressed his forehead to Dwalin's hand. "Bilbo?"

"I was afraid. I dreamt. You were gone. I was in darkness and I couldn't see. I couldn't speak. All I could hear were screams."

"It was just a dream. And a common one. Often dark dreams haunt war survivors. One grows accustomed to them over time?"

Bilbo looked up. "Do you dream them?"

"Not like you have, but yes. I have." Bilbo kissed his hand. "We will stay only long enough to heal. Then we go home."

Bilbo nodded. "I like that plan," he said. Bilbo released his hand and groaned, sitting up. He gasped, clutching his head. Dwalin steadied him. "Oh…I feel woozy."

"Lie back down."

"I'll be fine. Just give me a moment."

Dwalin nodded. "All right. Just a moment then."