Chapter One

The Coming of the Elves

The mountain was abuzz with preparations. Every dwarf walked at double the speed while the amount of guards that normally guarded the halls tripled. The elves from Mirkwood were arriving the day after next for a meeting between King Thranduil and King Thror. It would be generous to say the mood of Erebor's population was a bit dampened.

Thorin rubbed his face in frustration as he exited Thrain's study. His father had been reteaching him and his siblings the proper techniques for diplomacy with the elves. Techniques he was well aware of, he could negotiate with an elf in his sleep. He had suspected the impromptu "lesson" had been for Dis; the one who couldn't keep her mouth closed to a snide comment.

"I still see not what the issue is; I made a comment to one of Thranduil's guards. Those leaf lovers should not be so thin skinned," Dis complained, with a roll of her eyes.

Thorin stayed silent. He didn't feel like explaining to Dis — again— why she couldn't behave as the other dwarves did towards the elves. It would only fall on deaf ears. Not that he was for defending the "leaf lovers" as Dis phrased it. He was no more fond of elves than any other dwarf; he just knew how to compose himself as a royal should.

"You threatened their king!" Frerin laughed, giving her a shove.

She bumped into Thorin as he did so. He let out a long exhale. He was in no mood for banter — not even with Dis and Frerin. He had too much on his mind and too much pressure on his shoulders, as Thrain's heir, to engage in silly games.

"I did not!" she all but shouted, "I just told them that if we caught any of them pocketing gold, I'd skin their hairless hides. He was looking too longingly at a pile of gold. I was not talking to the king—"

"But the king was in the group and it was taken as a threat. That is all that matters," Thorin interrupted, "You should have kept your mouth shut."

Dis scoffed and gave him another eye roll. He detested when she did that. Deaf ears. Every time. He attempted to pick up his stride to break free of them in order to avoid an argument.

"Now come sister, you know Thorin's right. Besides what dwarf is going to want a dwarrowdam who holds such a hostile tongue such as yourself," Frerin tisked.

Thorin resisted to roll his own eyes. Frerin was trying to rile her up, and it was not appreciated—at least not at the present time. He heard Dis give a sound that reminded him eerily close to a raven shrieking.

"I, Frerin son of Thrain, do not need a husband. Maybe I am hostile and if a dwarf cannot accept that then he can throw himself from the ramparts." Frerin snickered beside her.

He sped up again, Frerin was matching his stride. Thorin figured he was doing so to spite him.

"Frerin," he warned his brother. The last thing he needed was to be sighted by a councilman fighting with his siblings as they walked through the halls. Then they would be led right back to his father's study to have a lesson on proper public etiquette. Thorin had had too many of those conversations too. The vast amount of times he had found himself on the receiving end of a lecture — usually at the fault of his siblings —astounded him. Yet Frerin seemed to do no wrong. Dis on the other hand was scolded often by their mother for not being ladylike enough — which again always fell on deaf ears.

His brother met his gaze and Thorin gave him a sharp look. Frerin stopped antagonizing their sister, but he held Thorin's gaze with defiance. Frerin had told Thorin on more than one occasion that his stoic attitude was only going to cause more grief for him than not.

"You'll catch more flies with honey than vinegar," he had jested. Thorin did not find it amusing.

They arrived in the treasure hall where they saw their grandfather discussing matters with three guards. He seemed quite intense. Thorin decided he should find out what was being discussed; Frerin and Dis followed.

"I want at least three guards stationed at every entrance to the treasure hall and I want twenty guards in the room at all times," Thror demanded, his voice booming against the walls.

One of the guards shook his head hesitantly, "My king, we cannot expend that many dwarves to the treasure hall. We need them watching living corridors."

Thorin furrowed his brow. He didn't understand why there needed to be so many men dedicated to the treasure hall. Elves weren't to be trusted, but they weren't going to attempt to loot the entire hall either. Twenty men, three shifts — eight hours a piece— meant that sixty guards would be devoted to the treasure hall alone. That hardly seemed the wise course of action.

"I don't want excuses; I want my orders followed! I am the king!" Thror shouted, and then tilted his head down, his gaze burning into the captain, "You will do as I say."

"Yes sire," he nodded quickly and turned on his heel all but scampering away.

Thror looked back towards the three siblings where they stood at the entrance. Thorin noticed that his eyes were wild like a warg's; hungry and violent. His face fell and he quickly walked in the opposite direction of them, disappearing in the sea of gold.

"That was queer," Dis whispered, the playful tone in her voice gone.

Frerin nodded and looked to Thorin, but Thorin had no answers. His eyes watched the last of his grandfather's coat disappear behind a mound.

"What happened Thorin? Did the elves make threat?" Frerin asked, stepping closer to him.

"I-I," he started, "I don't know. Never before have I seen him act like so." A deep fear rooted itself in Thorin's stomach. He didn't want to see that gleam in his grandfather's eye ever again.

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