Prologue

It all began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings.

Elves like Imad Tauriel?

Yes. Seven were given to the Dwarf Lords. Great craftsmen and miners of the mountain halls.

One of them was Durin, right?

Yes, darling. And nine were given to the race of Men, who above all else desire power. Within these rings, was bound the strength and will to govern each race.

But they were tricked, weren't they?

Indeed. They were deceived, for another ring was made. In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged a Master Ring, and he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life.

One ring to rule them all.

You've been studying, haven't you?

Amad, finish the story!

Alright, alright. One by one the free lands of Middle-Earth fell to the power of the Ring. But there were some who resisted. A last alliance of Men and Elves marched on Mordor, and on the slopes of Mount Doom they fought for their freedom.

Victory was near.

But Sauron wouldn't give up.

No, and the Power of the Ring, could not be undone. It was in this moment, that Isildur, son of King Elendil, took up his father's sword…

And sliced Sauron's fingers clean off!

Hush, darling! You don't want to wake your sister, now do you?

Sorry Amad. What happened next?

Sauron, the enemy of the free peoples of Middle-Earth was defeated. The Ring passed to Isildur, who had this one chance to destroy evil forever.

But he didn't.

No, because the hearts of Men are easily corrupted, and the Ring has a will of its own. It betrayed Isildur, to his death. And so, the Ring was lost, supposedly swept out to sea by the Anduin.

I don't think your heart would ever be corrupted, Amad.

Thank you, darling.

Why did the Dwarves not get involved in the Final Battle?

Because they were too busy digging around in a dark hole to care.

I resent that.

Frerin looked to his father as he leaned against the door frame. His dark hair, streaked with the occasional silver, hung loose around his head. Two braids hung before his shoulders, identical to Frerin's own. At the end of each braid was a silver bead. His beard (longer than it used to be, according to his Amad, but still quite short) is braided as well, with two silver beads to hold the braid in place. He wore his dark blue tunic, black trousers and heavy leather boots. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his ice blue eyes glowered at them.

"You know perfectly well that the Dwarves had been cast out of Khazad-dûm by a Balrog, and that they were trying to settle here in Erebor."

His mother's bell-like laughter made him turn his head back to her. No matter what the other dwarflings said, he firmly believed his Amad was the prettiest. Her dark brown hair hung down to her waist, void of any braids or beads, except for the marriage and courting braids that she wore proudly. She had no beard, like the other dams in the mountain, but Frerin didn't mind. He preferred the smoothness of her cheek when he cuddled with her. Her blue dress, laced with golden thread, fit her long slender body, so unlike the short, stoutness of a dam. Her sapphire eyes twinkled with mirth as she smirked at her husband.

"As I recall from the history books, that Balrog was there many years before the Last Alliance was even formed. All that nonsense that you just made up is what they want us to believe."

His mother winked at him. Frerin giggled as his father growled.

"Oh really?"

Within seconds, his father had his mother pinned to the bed, fingers dancing along her sides. His mother shrieked and clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her giggles. Frerin jumped up and tackled his father, wrapping his arms as far as they could go around his father's broad shoulders as his booming laugh filled the room.

"Leave my Amad alone!" Frerin cried as he pulled at his father. The older dwarf gave a dramatic gasp and put his hands to his heart.

"No! My own son turns against me! Oh, woe is me!"

Frerin laughed as his father wailed, collapsing onto his side, taking great care not to squash his son. His father reached for him, trapping him under his arm and rubbing his head fiercely.

"Thorin, really, I just got him settled."

His mother tried to look upset, but Frerin could hear the laughter in her voice. His father heard it too.

"I'm sorry, Azyungal. Forgive me?" he said softly.

Frerin sat back, content to watch the scene play out. It was moment like these that he saw how much his Amad and Adad loved each other.

His mother raised her eyebrows and turned away, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't think I should forgive you." she said gravely. His father got up and stood in front of her. She made to turn her head away but he gently turned it back to him. His eyes twinkled.

"Gajut mên, Ghivashel." he whispered, pressing a kiss to her nose. She rolls her eyes as a hint of a smile begins to appear.

The performance is interrupted by a wail from the next room. A smirk appears on his mother's face.

"Your noise woke her. You can take care of her." she said smugly. Frerin sniggered as his father sighed.

"Very well," he agreed, before smirking and leaning his forehead against hers, "But I will be forgiven?" She smiled.

"Maybe." Frerin pulled a face as they kissed.

"Ew!" His mother pulled away, laughing at him.

"Back under the covers with you, young man." she ordered gently as his father left the room to attend to his sister. Frerin made himself comfortable again, as a thought hit him.

"Amad, what would've happened if Isildur had destroyed the Ring? Instead of keeping it?" His mother paused in tucking him in again.

"I don't know, darling."

Frerin frowned. Something in his mother's voice bothered him. His ten-year-old mind registered the way her voice changed slightly when he asked her questions about the Ring. Also, even though she tried to hide it, he could see the worry in her eyes whenever the Ring was mentioned.

"Do you think…someone will find the Ring one day?" Again, his mother paused. Frerin watched her carefully. She stayed silent and still for a long while, and Frerin grew nervous.

"Do you think I'll ever go on an adventure like you and Adad did?" he asked, smiling as brightly as he could. His mother shook herself and smiled back.

"Maybe someday." She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"Goodnight, mizim." Frerin yawned as she blew out the candles.

"Men lananubukhs menu, Amad." He whispered as she reached the door. She turned and smiled at him as his father joined her at the door.

"Men lananubukhs menu, Inudoy." She whispered back. His father wrapped an arm around her as he closed the door.

"Sleep well, Frerin." His father whispered, and the door slid shut.

Frerin snuggled the stuffed dragon his mother had made him for his fifth birthday, yawned once more and closed his eyes.

He almost missed the whisper as he sunk deeper into oblivion.

"Yes, your adventure will be a great and terrible one, Frerin, son of Thorin and Ember."

Translations:

Imad - Aunt

Amad- Mother

Azyungal - My heart

Gajut mên - Forgive me

Ghivashel - My treasure

Mizim - Jewel

Men lananubuhks menu - I love you

Inudoy - Son

Please Review!