Summary: Text insert: Azog knew the moment Bilbo stood before him, his gaze drifted to Bilbo's stomach before his lips showed his pointed smile; he looked at Bilbo's wide eyes.

"So ends the Line of Durin." Inspired by this sentence, because come on Azog has to have a sixth sense about the Line of Durin.

This is the Slash version, so Mpreg and slash. Don't like then go read the het version.

Had Bilbo known he might not have rushed onto the Battlefield, searching desperately for any sign of Thorin or even Fili and Kili. If he had known he might have used it to break through Thorin's Sickness. If he had known Bilbo might have waited among the healers, hoping for good news.

But Bilbo didn't know.

Bilbo ducked under Orc and Dwarrow blade alike as he searched for Thorin or some member of the Company, stopping only long enough to protect himself from Goblins and Orc.

It was the Orc that Bilbo caught sight of first and then he saw Thorin struggling to stand in front of the Orc.

"THORIN!" Bilbo shouted, unable to stop himself as he rushed forward.

"Bilbo." Thorin breathed as Bilbo stood before him, between him and Azog.

Azog looked at the small thing before him, between him and his prize. He breathed in deep and felt a dark grin appear on his face as he looked at the being's stomach then back up, recognizing the creature that had already come between him and his prize once before.

Azog shifted his grip in his mace as he grinned down at the shaking creature.

"So ends the Line of Durin." He growled.

Bilbo's eyes went wide and then terrified as the mace swung down at him.

Then he was flying forward through the Orc's parted legs. He heard the crunch of bone against metal and turned in time to see Thorin hit the ground with a grunt of pain.

"Thorin!" Bilbo cried as he stood up.

The pale Orc began to turn around and Bilbo gripped Sting and hacked at the Orc as he ran passed him to Thorin.

"Thorin!" Bilbo whispered as he lifted the Dwarf's head into his lap and brushed hair from the other's face, "Thorin, please, wake up!"

"The child you carry will not be born." The pale Orc snarled as he lifted his weapon up.

Bilbo curled himself over Thorin and hoped the pain would be brief.

Bilbo was in a daze and had been since Beorn had killed Azog and carried Thorin from the Battlefield.

The Battle of the Five Armies was over and Bilbo was still waiting for someone to tell him that Thorin lived.

Many Dwarrows sneered at him when he asked and he was sure that the Khuzdul word they called him meant 'traitor.'

It was one of the Elves that forced him to sit and Bilbo sat staring blankly at the Fire, hand pressed tight to his stomach. Now that he had time to think on it, his stomach still carried a curve that he should have lost with the few meals they had had and if he concentrated he could feel the tiny little spark that curled in him, waiting to be born.

All Hobbits could feel life, some better than others, had Bilbo not been so worried about Thorin and the Dragon and everything else he would have noticed the instant the spark took root inside him.

"You will be born, and I will love you no matter what." Bilbo whispered to his belly.

"He asks for you." Balin said when he finally found Bilbo. "The Sickness has left him."

Bilbo nodded and followed Balin to Thorin's tent.

"I'll wait outside."

Bilbo entered the tent silently and gazed at Thorin for a long moment.

"Bilbo?" Thorin asked quietly.

"Yes," Bilbo said as he moved forward, sitting on the chair by Thorin's cot and lifting Thorin's hand into his, "I am here."

"I am sorry." Thorin began, "I have not treated you as you deserve, as a friend or as more…"

"You are forgiven, Thorin, but I must insist that you cease talking as though you are dying." Bilbo demanded.

Thorin pulled his hand out of Bilbo's to brush hair from the other's eyes.

"I am sorry, Bilbo, I am dying." Thorin whispered gently.

"No, Thorin, no." Bilbo cried.

"I am sorry, Bilbo, I wanted to show you Erebor." Thorin murmured.

"You will, you have to." Bilbo begged. "You have to tell the baby about Dwarrows because I certainly can't."

"A child?" Thorin questioned, "How?"

"Yes, and you most certainly know how, you were there." Bilbo said, "So, you must live, for us."

Thorin looked at Bilbo who had tears streaming down his face. Thorin dragged his thumb over one of Bilbo's cheeks, drying the tears.

"I will try my best, My One." Thorin whispered.

"Good." Bilbo murmured back, pressing his forehead to Thorin's.

Birin was born late spring, the first child born in the Mountain in many long years, his twin sister Tris was born three minutes after him.

Thorin held his children for the entire first night, telling them stories of many things, refusing to leave them to sleep in the wooden crib that Bifur and Bofur had carved for them.

Bilbo watched his husband from the bed he shared with the other until the exhaustion of giving birth finally took him over.

He wondered what Thorin would say if he told him that Azog had been the first to know.