Don't know if this is any good, wrote it at 2:00am, but never the less Enjoy :)

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The high-pitched screaming of children, the rocks cascading from the mountain face, the towers of Dale collapsing that crushed innocent civilians – all caused by strong claws and teeth like steel; and all of this destruction was wrapped up by that terrorising roar.

The fierce amber light glistened against the gold and jewels that were laced throughout the mountain; it looked both beautiful and dangerous. The deadly fire that had consumed his home, his livelihood, and his people. All Thorin could do was watch. Though he tried, with all his might, to defend both Erebor and Dale, he barely escaped as his armies were melted by the dragon's fire. Not even Girion was able to take down the foul beast with a black arrow before the Lord's demise, and the store where short so no other could take a shot.

He was at a loss, none where prepared for the firedrake's arrival and near all perished, what race could prepare for the mass destruction of a dragon? The screaming of both Men and Dwarf, young and old, was now a constant shrill that rang in his ears. The stench of the charred remains, burnt skin, remained trapped in his nostrils; and the sight of those he once knew, whom he grew up with, were not burnt into a blackened crisp. It was sickening, it was a living horror. No help came from the Elves that day – they had left them vulnerable, they had let down both Dwarves and Men that day; all to satisfy that monster's yearning for gold and all things shiny. He shall forever resent them for their betrayal, and have a burning ambition to destroy Smaug.

As he stood by the crumbling entrance to Erebor, he watched over so ensure all who had survived and escaped the dying cities where able to make it to the hills; as he headed from the mountain when he stopped, and he heard it. "Thorin" a small voice calling to him, looking around he could see no man, woman or child remaining. "Thorin" the voice called once more, turning back to the mountain his worst fear brewing inside of him, that once of his people were still trapped inside. "Thorin, please, Thorin!" the voice called frantically. There was nothing, logically, that he could do. However, the desperateness that came from that voice has struck him dearly. As he sprinted towards the opening of Erebor, dodging and weaving around the frightening flames and falling debris, he eventually made it into the mountain. The fires roar with anger, bringing his arm to his face in hope of shielding himself, he looked over with narrowed eyes to find the owner of the voice. "Thorin!" his eyes darted until the stopped. "Thorin" he locked on to the silhouette that was coming from the glowing flames. It was a small, slender looking creature that bared no resemblance to either Dwarf or Man, but it was calling to him, and he needed to rescue it.

He burst through the flames near him, avoiding the collision of the collapsing mountain, eager to reach this unknown being. His name was being called over and over. He was so close.

"Thorin!" his eyes snapped open and locked with hazel ones, "Thorin" Bilbo sighed with relief as the King finally opened his eyes. "Thorin, it's alright" he spoke to him with such tender and care, it bewildered him. The Dwarf sat up immediately, Bilbo scooted back in order to give him some space. He watched as Thorin looked over every member of the Company, checking that they were all asleep – double checking in Gandalf's chase, knowing how easily deceptive he could be. "Thorin?" Bilbo called to him in hesitation and watched as the Dwarf turned to him quickly; Bilbo was surprised there wasn't a crack at such speed his neck twisted. "It's alright, you're safe"

"It's you" Thorin muttered, it was barely a whispered but Bilbo managed to hear it.

"What's me?" he tilted his head, concerned for Thorin.

It wasn't the first time Bilbo had caught the King in such distress, many nights he had been woken by the heavy panting and slight moan of terror. Bilbo was surprised at first that the stone cold Dwarf who had turned up at his doorstep could look so helpless in his sleep. He often tried to wake Thorin, he was shocked by how often Thorin covered in sweat, had a high temperature, and was to not surprise, considerable strong as he thrashed in his dreams; not mattered how hard he tried the King didn't seem to wake, that or he didn't want to. Being the concerning creature he is, Bilbo often stayed close to Thorin when he was having his night terrors. He would run his hand down his hair, stroke against his cheek and rough beard, and sometimes he would even sing to him; a small Hobbit lullaby that was sang to him by his mother. It regularly calmed the King down, Bilbo didn't know why but he would happily do it to stop seeing such fear in Thorin's face. Yet, tonight was a different story as the said Dwarf was now sitting next to him in such bewilderment.

"You're the voice from my dream" Thorin looked at him with his bright eyes, as a small blush grew on Bilbo's face.

"Well, I'm sure you're mistaken" Bilbo tried to deflect the conversation. Why would a Dwarf who was quite clear of his dislike for him, happen to have dreams of him – well his voice?

"You're the voice, the voice who called to me, who needed me help." Thorin reached over gingerly, and placed his hand on Bilbo's as if checking that he was there and this wasn't part of his dreams.

"Thorin" Bilbo sighed "Are you sure you're alright?" The King kept staring at him with his haunting eyes and grasped his hand tighter.

"I am now" he whispered, causing the blush on Bilbo's cheeks to grow redder.

"Well" Bilbo cleared his throat and carefully pulled his hand from Thorin's, "You're ok now. I'll let you get back to sleep, you look as if you need rest" Bilbo gave a gingerly smile before standing to take his leave. As he past Thorin, he felt a tight grip suddenly latch onto his wrist.

"Wait!" Bilbo turned back to Thorin, and was quite taken back by the desperate look upon his face, "Stay...please?" he sounded so helpless, almost childlike.

Something in Bilbo told him it was a bad idea yet looking at Thorin now; he could help but settle down next the Dwarf. He tried not to yelp in surprise when the King wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed close to him. As soon as he heard the heavy breathing from behind he was sure Thorin managed to drift back to sleep. He wasn't sire what possessed Thorin to - let's be honest, he was cuddling Bilbo – and he knows they will be and awkward conversation in the morning. However, right now he was content to helping the Dwarf sleep.