The company was awaiting Thorin’s order, which he would not give. Rather he would watch his kin be slaughtered by the orcs. No longer would you wait, you must speak with him. Kili wanted to do the same, though you persuaded him to give you a moment alone with Thorin.
“How can you sit there, and call yourself a King, while your kinsmen are being slaughtered. I will not stand by and watch as you-” You cared for Thorin, truly, but this was not the Thorin that you had once known.
“You dare speak to me that way? After I have pardoned your disobedience of coming after my company? You should not be here at all, yet you dare to speak against me. I am your King, and you will obey me.” He stood a good bit taller than you, and under normal circumstances you would never disrespect him. But the circumstances where not normal, he was sick with power. You could see it in his eyes, the same eyes that used to make you blush whenever they would fall upon you. The same eyes that once held compassion and honor, now only held greed and lust for power.
"You are not my King. The Thorin I once knew, he was a righteous king, and I would bow before him any day. You, you are a Selfish Bastard!” Before you even processed how cruel your words had been, he struck you. He struck you hard across the face and you fell, one hand on your face, the other helping to break your fall. When you looked back up at him, he looked almost as shocked as you felt.
“….Y/N….” For a dwarfish man to strike a dwarfish woman, it was unheard of, and entirely too much for one’s heart to bear, the ultimate disgrace. “….Y/N please, wait, I-”he started as you stood, one hand still on your face.
“I hate you, Thorin Oakenshield, and I will hate you until the day that you die.” You whispered, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as you turned and ran off in the other direction, back towards the company. You steeled yourself, not wanting the company of dwarves to know what had happened.
You walked briskly through the halls of Erebor, back to where the company of men was waiting for news of your encounter. Your head held low, your eyes stinging with tears unshed, you entered. Immediately, all eyes were turned toward you, Kili was the first to speak.
“Well? What did he say?” you couldn’t answer, you just shook your head, though your whole body shook slightly. It was Fili who spoke next, placing a finger under your chin, lifting it so you were forced to look at him.
“Y/n, did he strike you?” he speaks very softly, so that only you can hear it. “Please, I won’t say anything, just tell me the truth.” You nod, tears threatening to spill over again. “Oh, fair y/n.” he wraps his arms around you, and you feel safe, until you hear the heavy footfall behind you.
“Uncle! I will not sit here while are kin our murdered, fighting our battles for us. It is not in my blood.” Kili jumps up, and Fili steps in front of you, as if to shield you from Thorin.
“No, it is not.” He turns to the rest of the company. “I have no right to ask this of any of you, but will you stand by me, and fight, one last time.” There is a collective cheer as you all follow the handsome dwarf into battle. You fight by Thorin’s side, as you always do, silently forgiving him for his earlier actions. Your whole body aches from the weight of the heavy armor, but when Thorin calls you to fight against the head of the orcs, you gladly accept. Though you never though war could hurt so much.
“Thorin! Thorin!” You scream from behind Dwalin. You wanted to go and help him, but Dwalin held your arm.
“No lassie, he must fight this battle on his own.” Dwalin is right, but it doesn’t mean you agree. You watch from higher along the stone ruins, and oh how you regret it.
“No!” you shriek as the Orc filth drove his blade into Thorin’s stomach. Dwalin, as shocked as you are, releases your arm. You scramble down the side of the ruins, calling after your king as he staggers away from the slain orc. You see him fall, and your heart shatters into a million pieces. “Thorin, Thorin please, please don’t leave me.” You hear the light footfalls of the company’s burglar behind you, and he stands just behind you murmuring something about eagles.
Thorin brings his hand to your cheek and you grasp it in your own as the tears start to fall. “Y/n, please forgive me for only saying this now, but I think I love you.”
“Thorin,” you whisper “You are forgiven, for everything, I love you so much.” His entire body seems for relaxed, as if he is perfectly happy, and you suppose he may be. You lean down and kiss him, willing your essence to pour into him, as if it were possible to save him. He kisses you back for just a moment, and closes his eyes, never to open them again. You cry, the hard sobs wracking through your body as you press your forehead to his chest. You don’t know how long you stay like that, but at some point, the company in there, minus the sons of Durin. Balin touches your shoulder, and you look around at the company, each of them showing the strain of war on their faces.
Three crudely dug graves hold the men that will soon be legends, told to young boys and girls, legendary warriors, leaders, and protectors. Each will watch down upon all dwarfs from their places in the stars. Thorin, you hope selfishly, would be watching you more than any other. Your hand glides back to your cheek, where Thorin’s had been before, and your chest aches, a broken heart more painful than any war injury you had every known.
At the feast that night, you eat very little, electing to spend most of your time staring at the chair at the head of the table. Who would take his place? Dwalin? Balin? Glóin? Alas, no one would ever replace his spot in your heart.