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Talia raced into his arms, wrapping her own around him when he caught her. She let out a soft sob as he lifted her off the ground, clutching her as close as possible. When he buried his face into her neck, she allowed the tears to fall. Although she was reborn, he was broken—and they both knew it.

"Forgive me."

She sniffled in response, her emotion stirring in her chest. Reluctantly, she loosened her grip on his shoulders to stroke his hair. She knew he needed to be comforted. And after all this time apart, she would give him her soul if it would help ease his conscience.

"Forgive me for everything, Talia." He mumbled softly into her neck. Although she tried to shush him, he would not back down. He had been a coward for far too long. "My words at the gate, in the vaults. What I said about your parents, your mother..."

"Thorin, you were sick." Talia turned to kiss his temple, still running her fingers through his thick dark hair. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. I swore I would fight this, and I failed."

"You forget that I broke my oath, too. This is not your fault."

Thorin pulled away, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "Yes, it is. We both know it."

"Thorin—"

"If you daresay that you are to blame, then my grandfather and father will relieve you of your oath from the dead. This is my burden, and I will carry the consequences of it for the rest of my life if I must."

Talia tilted her head at the tears in his eyes, whimpering softly.

"I let everyone down, Talia. I am the King."

She pulled him in for another embrace, holding him firmly against her chest. He allowed himself to fall into her, to have a moment of weakness in her arms. Her skin grew hot as a single tear slid down his face and onto her, which neither of them acknowledged. Although they were enjoying this respite, they would have to return to the battlefield. Soon, they would have to be strong again, at least until the war was over.

"Then let's make it right."

Talia brought her lips to his, looping her arms around his neck. Thorin's arms wound around her waist, not having realized how much he had missed her touch. Before, he had been lost in the gold. But with Talia, it was different; it was as though he was found again.

"Come." She whispered as soon as they broke apart. Taking his hand, she led him out of the Gallery of the Kings as he shed his heavy robes.

"We must break down the gate." He said, switching gears almost immediately. Talia had always admired that about him; he was able to selflessly put his feelings aside for the betterment of his people, as a true King would. "Dwalin said Dain is surrounded, and Azog surely has more up his sleeve."

"As much faith as I have in our Company, fourteen dwarves will not make a dent in the war."

"So we go to battle instead." Thorin responded, turning the corner to the gate. "We are the sons of Durin. No matter what, we will fight."

Finally, they arrived before the Company. They had been waiting restlessly by the gate, desperate to join their kin on the battlefield and contribute to the fight over the mountain. Thorin unsheathed his own blade as Talia cleaned hers, but the dwarves were too enraged to see the change in Thorin. Kili was the first to stand, shaking with anger as he approached his uncle.

"I will not hide behind a wall of stone while others fight our battles for us!" He bellowed, pointing his blade to the barred gate. Then, his anger left him as quickly as it had came. "It is not in my blood, Thorin." He whispered, tears welling in his eyes.

Thorin shook his head, placing a hand at the base of Kili's neck. "No, it is not. We are sons of Durin, and Durin's folk do not flee from a fight."

Now, Kili understood. They smiled softly at each other as Thorin brought their foreheads together, showing a symbol of undying and forever loyal love. Talia and Fili held each other as they watched the King and prince reunite, grinning along.

Breaking away from his nephew, Thorin turned to address the Company. The dwarves all smiled back, overjoyed at the change in their leader. He saw the tears well in Balin and Dwalin's eyes, grinning slightly back.

"I have no right to ask this of any of you." He began humbly, almost looking sheepish. "But will you follow me, one last time?"

...

The battlefield was quite a different scene. Dain was sick of the Orcish brutes that had surrounded Dwarves, Elves, and Men alike. He knew his forces were overpowered, for too much blood had been spent. Reluctantly, and only after muttering his curses under his breath, Dain barked out the order. "Fall back! Back to the Mountain! Fall back!"

However, another surveyed their retreat gleefully. His perch on Ravenhill had granted him a front-row seat to the demise of the dwarves, something the monster had waited far too long for. All he had to do now was wait for the royal filth to show their hand.

"Now comes their end. Prepare for the final assault."

The flag raised from Ravenhill's peak, alerting the Orcs that their force would soon be backed by another. They roared louder and more maliciously than ever, awaiting their brothers' arrival gleefully.

Yet the opposing side was still unaware of the second attack. Gandalf, Bilbo, Bard, and Thranduil were currently preoccupied in Dale, focused on defending the helpless Lakemen. Their fight, like that of the dwarves on the plains, was almost spent. But soon, an Elvish prince and a female warrior would ride into the ruined town, returned from their journey and enlightened on the attack to come.

"Gandalf!"

"Legolas. Legolas Greenleaf!" The wizard cried, smiling next to the shell-shocked hobbit.

"There is a second army." Legolas wasted no time, dismounting his horse alongside Tauriel. "Bolg leads a force of Gundabad Orcs. They are almost upon us."

"Gundabad?" Gandalf's shock soon wore off as he looked to the Head of the Woodland Guard, knowing she understood Azog's attack as well as he. "This was their plan all along. Azog engages our forces, then Bolg sweeps in from the North."

"What? The North?" Bilbo asked, shuffling around in fear. There could not possibly be a second army; if there was, then there was no way the dwarves stood a chance, let alone the Company within Erebor. "Where is the North, exactly?"

"Ravenhill." The wizard replied, realizing the full extent of the new danger.

And just as Legolas had said, the opposing force had arrived. Azog grinned maliciously, sinisterly pleased at the quick arrival of his second army. But then, he held up an arm, refusing to state the order.

"Not yet! Wait... wait. Attack..."

So many thoughts ran through the Defiler's mind, but all of them were selfish. He wanted to give the royals the chance to fight, to run into battle and towards their deaths without the second army. But when nothing in the mountain moved, Azog knew he would have to take matters in his own hands. If Thorin and Talia would not face him themselves, then he would have to provoke them.

"Now!"

The Orc army moved forward, marching into the battlefield to attack. All attention shifted to the Gundabad Orcs, the most malicious and gruesome of their kind. The Elves and Men in Dale paused at the sound of their horn, while Dain and his kin looked on at the army in fear.

But another tone would soon drown out the noise. Bombur stood on the ramparts of the mountain, tall and proud. He held an enormous battle instrument up high, announcing the entrance of the sons of Durin.

"Thorin." Bilbo gasped, looking to Erebor.

Suddenly, the wall broke apart as a golden bell smashed into the stone. It was nearly as large as the entrance itself, and was heavy enough to send rock and boulder flying into the moat below. Then, when the bell swung back into the mountain, the Company emerged and leapt into the fray. None other than Thorin led them onward, joined by Talia, Dwalin, and his nephews at his side.

Dain grinned as his army cheered around him, roaring for their leader. "To the King! To the King!"

Immediately, Thorin and the others were thrown into battle, killing Orc after Orc in their wake. They would not back away from a fight; they had never been that kind of sort. Upon seeing their kin, Dain's forces ceased their retreat to the mountain and turned back to the Orcs, reinvigorated by their King and Queen's strength.

Back in Dale, Bilbo looked on in shock at the change of direction. "The Dwarves—they're rallying!"

"They're rallying to their King." Gandalf agreed, a smile on his face.

Meanwhile, the dwarves were fighting their way to the Lord of the Iron Hills. Talia let out a battle cry as she swung her beloved sword, decapitating an Orc in one swift motion. Whirling around, she saved Dwalin from another, using it's own axe against it by kicking the weapon into it's chest. Thorin stabbed his own blade through two Orcs, grunting as he pulled back and gutted another.

"Dain!"

"Thorin, hold on! I'm coming!"

But Talia was faster. She snapped an Orc's neck and flipped over it's shoulders, soaring through the air. The memory of her doing the same to Thorin all of those years ago, much to Tyzrin's chagrin, came to mind, nearly making her laugh. As soon as she landed, she roared and slayed the Orc before Dain. He looked up in shock; she had moved quicker than lightning.

"I suppose I owe you an apology."

"Damn straight." Talia grunted, sending her sword through an Orc's chest before turning back to him.

"Any woman that can fight like that earns my praise." Dain nodded to her. "I should've learned that all of those years ago."

They held each other's gaze for a moment, their stares intense. Thorin and Dwalin sliced through their own foes, exchanging a weary look once they arrived at the scene.

"Took you long enough."

Then, Talia and Dain burst into laughter, embracing as if they had loved each other all their lives. The King and the warrior looked on in shock. Such fond behavior between the two was beyond rare; rather, it was hardly even fathomable. Perhaps the world was coming to an end after all.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Hey, cousin! What took you so long?" Dain boomed, pulling Thorin into his own hug. He laughed along, appreciating the warm welcome from his loyal brother. "There's too many of these buggers, Thorin. I hope you've got a plan."

"We do." Talia said as the pair separated.

"Aye," Thorin explained, "We're going to take out their leader."

"Azog?"

Fili and Kili rushed into the scene, accompanied by five rams per Talia's request. "Today is the day when we exact our revenge." Talia grinned back, mounting her own ram. The boys and Dwalin followed suit, looking to Talia for her final words. "We're going to cut the head off the snake."

"Yes." Thorin got on his own creature, prepared to ride. When he spared one more glance at his cousin, Dain could see the determination in his eyes. "We're going to kill that piece of filth."

Dwalin roared in response, causing Fili and Kili to snort alongside their aunt. "Lead on!"

So Thorin headed North to the Defiler, accompanied by Talia, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili on their rams. He had taken his best warriors, for if he was to kill his enemy, he would do it right. They crushed any Orcs that threatened them on the plains, whether it was at the whim of their rams or their swords. Soon, the five dwarves were riding up the steep rock towards Ravenhill, gripping onto their blades with a newfound strength.

The rams made their journey quick and far from strenuous; they set the creatures loose as soon as they arrived at the summit. Still, they were not alone. A few dozen Orcs stood guard on the top of what seemed to be a frozen waterfall, screeching as soon as they saw the dwarves. The descendants of Durin killed them without a single hitch, ending the fight minutes after it had begun.

Now, the group surveyed the empty expanse. "Where is he?" Fili asked, seeing no sign of a threat. "It looks empty. I think Azog has fled."

But Thorin knew better. "I don't think so."

Talia shared a similar consensus with her husband. Although Ravenhill appeared uninhabited, she understood Azog to be far too cunning for that. "He's trying to draw us in. He wants us to bring the fight to him."

Thorin nodded in agreement. "Fili, take your brother. Scout out the towers. Keep low and out of sight. If you see something, report back. Do not engage. Do you understand?"

"I'll go with them."

"No." Dwalin rebuked, pointing out a new threat to his Queen. "We have company. Goblin mercenaries; no more than a hundred."

"We'll take care of them." Thorin said, seeing the discomfort of his nephews. "Go! Go!"

Thorin, Talia, and Dwalin leapt into battle, fending off the goblins with ease. Compared to their previous battles, whether on the borders of Erebor or above the mines of Moria, this was nothing. Within minutes, their attackers were dead and defeated, leaving the three of them to wait impatiently for the boys to return.

"Where is that Orc filth?" Dwalin grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

Just then, Bilbo appeared as if conjured from the dwarves' will. Talia and Dwalin gasped in fright as Thorin whipped around to face the hobbit. It was as if he had materialized from thin air.

"Thorin!"

"Bilbo." He exhaled, taking a step closer.

"You have to leave here, now! Azog has another army, attacking from the North. This watchtower will be completely surrounded, there'll be no way out."

Talia was the first to piece it together. She looked from Thorin to Bilbo in disbelief. "This was his plan. He didn't want to find him, if merely for a fight out of impulse. This was calculated long before our arrival."

"We are so close!" Dwalin scowled in anger, refusing to give up now. "That Orc scum is in there. I say we push on."

"No! That's what he wants. He wants to draw us in." Thorin's eyes widened, the realization hitting him. "This is a trap." He looked to Talia and Dwalin, fear rushing through his veins. "Find Fili and Kili, call them back."

"Thorin, are you sure about this?"

"Do it. We live to fight another day."

But it was too late. They heard a noise from the towers above, causing both the dwarves and hobbit to turn and look up. It was no horn, nor any Orcish cry. The scream they had heard was from a dwarf.

"No." Bilbo gasped, being the first to see the newfound horror.

Azog and his band of Orcs had appeared in the ruins above, grinning down at the royal bloodline. The nasty, gruesome Pale Orc held Fili by his coat, hanging the prince over the edge of the terrifyingly tall tower. The drums beat around them as the light of the Orcs' torches cast a sinister glow, causing those below to hold their breath.

"This one dies first. Then, the brother."

"I will gut you myself!" Talia responded, her voice thick with emotion. The sentiment was understood by the dwarves, even through the foreign tongue.

"As much as I wish I could keep you as a pet for another century, I cannot. I have become sick of your games, Talia Rue." Azog growled, narrowing his icy blue eyes at her. "You will die, too. Just like him."

But she was only focused on Fili, who struggled against the Pale Orc's grip. That was the moment when she made up her mind, solidifying the thoughts that had long swayed her judgement. If she was to be captured by Azog, so be it. If she was to be killed by him, so be it. She would do whatever was necessary if it meant saving her kin, no matter the cost.

She screamed as she let her dagger fly, whipping it through the air with an indisputable force. But the Defiler was so far away that the wind had warped her aim. The blade merely scraped against his skin, clattering on the stone in defeat. Azog touched his cheekbone with his stump of an arm, gazing at the dark blood on the blade. The Butcher of Beasts had missed.

She had failed.

"What a pity. Still, you tried. For that, I will kill you myself." Azog growled at her, angered by his wound. Although the words were directed at her, she surmised that Fili would be the one to pay for it. He raised his arm, brandishing his sword against Fili's back. "Then you, Oakenshield. You will die last."

Thorin and Talia could only look on at their nephew, their brows furrowed and eyes wide. They felt their hearts breaking in their chests, knowing what was to come and feeling utterly powerless to stop it.

"Go." Fili whispered, shaking his head and swallowing his fear. If he was to die, he would die like a Durin—with honor and pride. "Run!"

Azog did not waste another moment. His blade impaled Fili, causing the dwarf to gasp and choke in pain. Thorin and Talia watched in horror as the light left his eyes, filling their own with great sadness.

"Here ends your filthy bloodline!"

He tossed his body over the edge, causing it t fall with a dull THUD onto the stone below. Dwalin and the hobbit recoiled at the sight, pain and disbelief filling their hearts. Thorin and Talia's breath had caught in their throats, but once they saw their nephew's brother beside him, they exhaled gently. He was still alive and, at the moment, safe.

But Kili stared at his brother's body, being unable to comprehend it. Then, a pure and unwavering rage filled Kili's vision, causing him to look up at his kin in anger.

"No!" Talia screamed, but she was too late. "Leave him!"

But Azog's actions had already sent the prince flying over Fili's body, causing him to race up the stairs and after the beast. "Kili!" Thorin cried, rushing after him. Talia was not far behind, skidding along the blood-slicked stone as she climbed up the tower.

"Talia! Thorin!" Dwalin yelled, frozen in time and space. "Thorin, no."

Then, Dwalin followed his King, watching from below as he closed the gap between himself and his nephew. Kili was decapitating every Orc in his path, nearing Azog with each swing of his sword. But when the prince turned up another stairwell, one the Pale Orc was not following, Thorin continued to ascend the same steps with Talia at his side. Dwalin struggled to fend off the Orcs, fighting to reach them. He had seen what they had not, and he knew that if he did not get to them, they were in grave danger. Yet still, he was too late.

For Azog had found them first.