Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit or anything affiliated with it. I am writing this for my pleasure and anyone who wishes to read it. I only own the characters I created for this story. Enjoy!

Two hooded figures walked into the room and silently closed the door. The room was dimly lit, with there being only few candles to light the small room. The first figure, who was taller than the other, began to walk slowly around gazing at the surroundings. There were tables placed along the walls covered with flowers of all kinds; lilies, daffodils, sunflowers, roses and more. Along with the flowers were several different gifts such as various wines in ornate glasses, scented waxes that perfumed the air with a sweet fragrance and little trinkets that appeared to be made with the most care and time.

A sharp cough disrupted the silence and both figures turned to the sound. In the middle of the room on the floor lay a pallet, filled with cotton and cloths. It lay on top of thick slabs of wood and was surrounded by many pillows of dark reds and brown fabric. On the pallet was a man weakened by age covered with bear-skinned blankets. His once dark hair now grayed and shortened. The second figure who had remained by the door picked up a candle and slowly approached the pallet. The other followed and they both knelt onto the pillows opposite each other. The smaller figure placed the candle at an arms length away and lowered the hood on its head. The other figure followed and then there was a man and a woman. The woman slowly reached out and touched the old man's hand.

He inhaled deeply and looked toward the woman. She smiled, small tendrils of her curly brown hair framing her face, the rest in an untidy bun at the back of her head. He relaxed and then looked at the man. He smiled, "My children. You have grown so well." He started coughing again and his son reached into his cloak and pulled out a small flask filled with water from the spring. He lifted his father's head and pressed it to his lips and said, "Drink Dad, slow sips. That's it." The old man sipped slowly and then his head was lowered back onto his pillow.

"I remember when it was me who had held a cup to your lips to drink. Do you remember Caro?" he rasped. He looked to the woman and said, "And you my dear Cara, you were such a feisty little thing." He breathed deeply and she squeezed his hand. He continued, "You insisted on doing it by yourself, so eager to please. Has that changed? Have my children changed where they are no longer who they were?" He looked around at the both of them.

The woman lifted his frail hand to her cheek and smiled, "Of course not Daddy, we are still the same. Just older…" She trailed off and looked to her brother who rolled his eyes. They both looked back down to their father with sad smiles. But he would have none of it.

"Do not look at me like that", he started coughing again and Caro went for his flask again, but the old man shook his head. "No, I am fine. Look at me as if this were the happiest time of your life. Caro, when you made your first kill on that hunt. You brought it all the way home and you lit up the room, you were so happy." He looked to his daughter, "Cara, when you were married and you danced with your beloved, you just glowed. Can I have those looks from the both of you one last time?"

"Dad I wish you wouldn't speak like that. How can we be happy when you are so ready to let go? You must fight!" Cara desperately pleaded with her father. He looked on sadly at her.

"I have lived my life and I am not giving up. When it is your time you will understand and you will know what I speak of. You both will live your life to the fullest, see all that there is to see, do what you wish to do. I have had my fill.", he said.

Caro grabbed his father's other hand and breathed out slowly through his nose. "Alright Dad," he started. Cara sharply looked at him as if to say, don't encourage him. He ignored her and continued, "We cannot say we understand but we love you and we would like you to smile for us also. What can we do?" he asked. The old man's eyes watered and he looked to his daughter who looked as if she were fighting off her own tears.

"Cara do you remember when you decided to read to the family before bedtime?" he asked. She furrowed her brow and nodded. He gave a raspy laugh which lead to another dry cough. He accepted the water from the flask this time and continued speaking, "It gave me great joy when you told us a story. Could you share another on?" he looked longingly at her and she gaped at him. She looked to her brother for help but he had gotten comfortable on the pillows and stared at her waiting. She sighed but one look at her father's hopeful face had her sitting cross-legged on the pillows. She rubbed her hands on her thighs and exhaled through her mouth.

"This is a story of a girl who met a company of dwarves and a wizard, who took her along on an adventure. Now with all good stories the beginning is most important. It began in a land far away to the east. There was the city of Dale. Its markets known far and wide, full of bounties of vine and vale. Peaceful, and prosperous. For this city lay before the doors of the greatest kingdom in Middle-Earth, Erebor. Stronghold of Thorin, King under the Mountain, mightiest and bravest of the dwarf lords. After he reclaimed the mountain and fought off the dragon-sickness, he was sure to not make the mistakes of his father and grandfather, and his line was secure in the lives of his nephews, Prince Fili and Prince Kili.

"Erebor was built deep within the mountain itself, the beauty of the fortress city was legend. Its wealth lay in the earth, in precious gems hewed from rock, and in great seams of gold, running like rivers through stone. The skill of the dwarves was unequalled, fashioning objects of great beauty out of diamond, emerald, ruby and sapphire. Ever they delved deeper, down into the dark. And that is where they found it. The heart of the mountain. The Arkenstone. It now lay on top of King Thorin's throne, held fast by a golden frame. But all was not well, for the company of Thorin Oakenshield and Gandalf the Grey would go on another adventure."