A/N: Hi all. So, this little thing got stuck in my head. I'm not a writer, nor will I ever profess to be one, but this just WOULD NOT GO AWAY. Hopefully, this bunny will leave me alone if i get it out of my system.
About the title. Yeah, unoriginal, I know. But RA singing misty mountains got stuck in my head when I was plotting this, so there you go.
Small Discl: I wish I owned it. Alas, JRR has that honor.
Prologue.
In a little chamber deep beneath the earth, surrounded by soothing rock and pulsing Magic, there laid a tiny Spark. The Heart of a Mother Mountain. Despite being a strong, sturdy, and nurturing mountain, Her heart was still that of a child's. Playful, and always preening under the attention Her inhabitants gave to Her stone walls.
For this was not just any peak, but the stronghold of the seventh great dwarven Kingdom.
Erebor.
Many ruled within Her walls as She watched and guarded them, loved and cared for them, guided them as any servant of Mahal would. But Her Heart was sore. For a Darkness creped across the land, and took hold in the heart of one of her little Durin boys.
Not many knew of how orc's came to be, and She was not one to forget. The once Majestic elves fell, and became nothing but savage killers. Thror, would be a wise King when he took the throne, but She felt dread when She saw what was to come in his future. A dwarven version of orc's would be born, much more brutal because of the natural stubbornness carried in the dwarves.
She could not let this come to pass.
A distraction was needed to stop Thror from falling into a pit of Darkness. Her plan would mean that his mind would be taken over, but She would rather it be by petty jewels and riches, than the festering madness that could change a great race into mindless monsters.
When Her Heart was discovered, She wept.
Her tears and sobs, felt by Mahal himself, moved the Stone strong Valar deeply. For one of His servants to give the most vulnerable part of themselves, for the betterment of His people, was unheard of. And He vowed to Eru that he would see Her halls flourishing once again. The Lonely Mountain would have Her Heart restored.
"If only I did not have to ask a God from another World for help." He grumbled to himself.
Chapter One.
If Thorin were a lesser being, he would have grumbled.
Kings do not grumble, he repeated to himself, but try as he might, his irritation towards the halfling would not be held back, and it needed an outlet.
"He has been lost since he left his home." he growled out, "He should not have come." The hurt on the haflings face registered in his subconscious, but he was too weary to pay it any mind. "He has no place among us."
xxx
Thorin Oakensheild knew himself to be many things, brooding and moody his nephews would say, but he was never cruel. His behaviour towards the halfing was unacceptable, and he knew this. He could not blame him for falling any more than he could blame any other company member if they did the same. But every time his thoughts turned to Erebor, to his home, he could not stop the melancholy feeling that entered him.
Too long have we all been away from our rightful home.
The company had found a cave and settled in for the night, but his mood persisted. It would not do to have the leader of a company at odds with one of its members, and so he dropped into his bedroll, and contemplated his actions and decisions from the moment this quest began.
He'll be the first to admit that he was not impressed with Gandalf's choice of a burglar. The Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, was not meant for the wild. He was a slight thing, with little to no strength, but what he lacked in physicality, he made up for with his mind. Yes, smarts and wits were not a must for this quest, but it did help them in a tough situation, so he could not discount that.
If Thorin was truly honest with himself, he would admit that he was jealous of this seemingly simple hobbit. He did not have people or followers to care for, nor did he know true hardship that the rest of his company had. The hobbit had his home. Something that Thorin found himself longing for. Bilbo Baggins little smial, full of laughing dwarves and flying plates, was enough to make him homesick. Looking in through the windows, at his nephews and fellow companions sharing a laugh and song, he wanted nothing more for a scene like that to take place in Erebor, and he was short with the hobbit in their first meeting, for all of this good cheer should not be happening in that hobbit hole.
Yes, Thorin thought to himself, I have been petty indeed.
But the conversation between Bofur and the hafling only hardened his heart. Anyone willing to leave them all behind, harsh words or no, did not deserve his sympathy. And he would have stood up and voiced this too, if only it wasn't for that damn trap door giving in.
xxx
Thorin twists and turns in every direction he could while sliding down the tunnel. It earned him a few more bumps and bruises than he would have had, but he needs to make sure the company is all together.
"Mahal's balls!"
He knows he should reprimand Kili, but the look on his youngest nephews face is enough to quell the urge. He can hear various other oaths and curses from his company members, but nothing of the halfing.
"Aaaahhhh!"
There he is. Though he is clearly not the only one to think the halfing's high pitched cry is feminine, as most of the company turns to look at Bilbo, as one. Only, Bilbo is not making a sound, and the shrieking is coming from further above in the tunnels.
Thorin is about to voice that maybe the goblins are attacking from above, but a small figure comes around the corner, barreling passed Bombur and Dwalin, nearly taking out the halfling, and setting Fili off course, only to crash right into him as they exit the tunnel and fall into a pile in a basket.
He narrowly avoids Balin falling on him, sparing only a moment to scan the cage of bones they have landed in, and then maneuvers himself so the that figure is pinned down by is arm, knife at the ready to end the threat.
Shock takes hold of the would-be-King, as he catalogs that the tiny body beneath him is that of a daughter of Men. Smaller than himself, or Dwalin, but leaner than any dwarrowdam, he looks into green eyes that look as if Smaug himself was chasing her , before she emits a noise that makes him hope he will not need Oin's ear trumpet when she is done.
Yes, it is a GFIME story, sorry, but I need a BOFA-Fix-It in my life, not more angst. Hopefully this won't be too cliche.
Reviews: I won't beg :) If you decide to leave one, I'm cool with it. Oh, and I'm fine with flamers too, because I am one of the WORSE flamers ever.
PS. I know if that was me, landing on Thorin or not, I would scream my head off ^_^