Chapter Text
This is a story from a long time ago. Back then, languages and letters were much more similar to runes and mysteries, very different from those of today. A long time ago, in a land far to the East, one that you would not find in the world today, there lay a beautiful city known as Dale, right before the gates of the largest kingdom in all of Middle-earth: Erebor, a beautiful city carved inside the mountain, the domain of Thrór, the dwarf king beneath the mountain, the most powerful at that time. The wealth of this city lay in its gems and vast veins of gold, deep within the mountain... and that’s where they found it; the heart of the mountain, the Arkenstone, a great white stone from which a beautiful glow emanated. It was part of the greatest treasure of the Kings of Erebor, which drove Thrór mad with a horrible disease caused by the gold.
Death is inevitable, something Thorin, Thrór’s grandson, knew very well. On the other hand, the current king of that time saw it as something impossible with the heart of the mountain in his possession, as it was believed that with it, the Valar were on his side, and Aulë could make death something reversible and transformable. Of course, not many shared the king’s opinion, as the Lonely Mountain sank into a terrible sorrow under its monarch, and the disease that haunted the line of Durin became something inevitable.
Rumors began to spread quickly through all the realms of Middle-earth, reaching... wrong ears? Smaug, a dragon from the desolate wasteland in the North, ambitious, strong, and evil, determined to invade Erebor, headed towards the Lonely Mountain, wreaking havoc not only on the dwarven city but also on the city of Dane. The stay of the Dwarrow people (dwarves) was impossible, and deprived of their homeland, the dwarves of Erebor decided to seek help from the Elvenking Thranduil. His refusal made the young prince feel resentment toward the elven race, never forgetting or forgiving. Thorin began to accept any jobs he could to support his people, and so the years passed, but he could never forget the fire and smoke coming from the dragon in the mountain.
More years passed, and with them, Thorin's longing for his home grew larger. In search of his father, hoping to find him alive, he encountered a wizard, and the wizard offered help to reclaim his land, but only on the condition that Thorin choose the fourteenth member of the company.
But this story doesn’t mainly focus on the dwarves’ return to Erebor, nor on Thorin’s resentment toward the elves. No, no. This story starts and ends in the Shire... more specifically, in a hole in the ground, where a hobbit lived.
This wasn’t a dirty, damp, disgusting hole, with worm remnants and the smell of mud, with nothing to sit on or eat: it was a hobbit hole, and that means comfort. It had a round door, perfectly painted green, with a golden brass knob right in the middle. The best rooms were all to the left of the main door, as they were the only ones with windows—round windows, deeply dug, looking out at the garden and the meadows beyond, the path to the river. In that hole lived a beautiful and talented hobbit named Bilbo Baggins, but how does he influence the story? Well, he’s the main character! Of course, it’s going to be interesting, especially with the appearance of Oakenshield in his life.