The Mountain of Light

Summary: Centuries after Thingol's fall, the most precious 'lost' jewel of his kin resurfaces and Erebor wants to have it all to itself. For the sake of his growing obsession, Thrór is willing to do anything to obtain it. Thranduil is willing to do anything to house it himself. AU-ish. Eventual Thorinduil.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Hobbit', the mentioned characters or even the titular jewel.

AN: I just had this in my mind and I *had* to go with it. Still unsure of the entire plot. Still unsure what turn it will take but...you know when plot bunnies bite, right? ;) I had to tweak The Silmarillion to fit this plot. Let's hope it doesn't seem abrupt! *fingers crossed*

The jewel mentioned here is The Mountain of Light which is a literal translation of the name of the infamous diamond Koh-i-Noor. Sincere thanks to Achromos for the awesome Sindarin translations.


Chapter 1

For centuries and more, Thingol was supposed to be the greatest of all the elven rulers there ever lived. His conquests were well known as were the many good deeds which glorified the great king. They all considered Thingol to be the king of kings. All aspired to be like him. To achieve like him.

What started out as facts began to be woven into stories. Great tales of epic conquests. Lores of extraordinary battles; spoken by mouth of men, women and children—all pertaining to the grandeur of his kingdom and the exemplariness of his wise judgements

Lores that depicted the golden age that thrived under the great ruler. Lores that depicted great wealth that was flaunted by all under the great ruler.

With time, facts became history, history became stories, stories became lores and lores became legends.

As more time passed by, the legends themselves would become tweaked and blurred; they'd be further woven by following generations—each one a little bit different than the other. However, what all of them had in common was the king's exquisite collection of all things precious. And most importantly, they all spoke of the greatest treasure of them all.

The Ered en Calad(1).

Said to be the biggest and brightest of all, this mystical jewel was a symbol of great pride and prestige; of enormously incomparable beauty and he who was said to possess it was considered the wealthiest being of all. And it was housed by Thingol.

With Thingol's bereavement, the jewel passed hands into the next lines. However, as it is with greed, the jewel attracted all kinds of trouble. Many wars had been waged over it. Some were won, some were lost and each time the winning side would claim it as the rightful loot of war.

Thingol's life went by defending his homeland and preventing his most prized possession from falling into foreign hands.

Thingol passed. His immediate successors were not much apt enough to protect. War ensued. The elves lost. Mesmerised by its beauty, they could all but repent at the loss of their home and the loss of their object of desire.

The kingdom was broken and the diamond was forever lost.


Kíli stepped gingerly into the most lavish of all the royal chambers. He was summoned by none other than the ruler of Erebor. His Great grandfather.

Thrór.

He waited outside the door and took deep breaths, unsure of what the old ruler wanted with him. He was notorious for making trouble all over the palace and so far, the complaints were dealt by Thorin. His uncle.

So he had to wonder.

He knocked softly and steadied himself. Everyone knew Thrór's reputation of being a wise and strong ruler. And having to be under the same roof as him, Kíli well understood just how strong his Great grandfather could be. In physical as well as mental terms.

However, all his nerves left him as the booming voice from the other side of the door granted him permission.

"You wanted to see me, Your Highness?" He asked, bowing courteously.

Thrór was seated in one of the twin throne styled chairs as he looked down at his young progeny. He nodded and gestured Kíli to be at ease as his voice thundered in his great room.

"Come closer Young one." Motioning for Kíli to do the same, Thrór began speaking in a tone which commanded away every bit of distractions those could've still lingered.

The young dwarf nodded attentively, straightening himself as his Great grandfather continued, "You are probably aware of a jewel and the great tales those depict its astounding beauty."

Kíli narrowed his eyes hesitantly, silently searching in his mind for any such reference. However, no matter how much he tried, the only thing his mind came up with was none other than the Arkenstone.

That's not it. He has that!

He stayed quiet and he was about to ask his doubt with much probability of being discredited when Thrór himself decided to relieve him off that pressure.

"The Ered en Calad."

Not much was elaborated and not much was needed to. The words which were spoken themselves bore an air of gravitas all around them.

Kíli felt his eyes widen at the very name. He thought he must've heard it otherwise, for in no way could anyone— anyone sane— be taking its name so abruptly in the early break of morning!

However, Thrór wasn't joking and every inch of his face shelved grains of seriousness ss he looked sternly at the other.

"Yes, mother told us stories. She said it was a sight to behold." He replied finally when he was able to find the voice he thought he had lost.

Thrór seemed to be somewhat pleased about Kíli's lack of ignorance and kept on staring at him. For a while, an uncomfortable silence stretched between the two and Kíli felt his breath hitching in his chest each time his eyes met those of the other's while he scrutinized him.

What does he want?

He thought, barely resisting the urge to voice his contemplation all the while anxiety overtook him.

Never before had Kíli felt such an onslaught of nerves. He greatly respected and admired the king and ever since he was a dwarfling, all he ever wanted was to be coming into the sight of his mighty Great grandfather. Suddenly, he felt that urge of him earning Thrór's admiration and pride growing within him steadily as the king set his intense gaze at him.

Thror's eyes gleamed. The old king smiled at the younger prodigy and said, "And she is absolutely right. It is a great thing of beauty and is very unique in every sense of the word. Those who are in possession of it are not only rightful but also worthy."

"But I thought it was lost!" He said abruptly, unable to hold his tongue in cheek anymore.

The king paused and rose up from his chair, approaching the other. His eyes shone brightly and as he placed a strong arm over the younger one's shoulder, Kíli could see the light his Great grandfather held just moments before was now dancing to an unknown rhythm.

"It was lost or thought to have been. " Thrór replied, a certain resolution being echoed from his voice. "But I know where it is. And I'll show you too if you swear on utter secrecy."

Kíli resisted his urge to shift as his eyes bore straight into a murkier pair. He swallowed as nerves got hold of him yet again.

Still, he breathed in deeply and unwilling to disappoint the king he asked, "What would you have me do, Your Highness?"

At that, the glint in Thror's eyes became even sharper. "See that map? Bring it here."

Kíli did as he was told. The king sprawled it over a desk and nodded for the other to observe it closely as he traced a certain area with his fingers.

"See this? I'm well informed that the jewel lies somewhere around here." He said in a tone that swam down to octaves below. As each word escaped his mouth, the resolution vibrated more intensely.

"There?" As for the other, he couldn't hold back his surprise any longer. His eyes hovered over the region as pointed out by the king and as if on cue, his eyes grew wider and wider, threatening to pop off from his sockets as his throat felt immaculately dry.

Thrór nodded. "Yes, Young one. The jewel is there and I'm certain of it. I want you to do something which my old bones are too weary of doing. Go. Restore the honour and prestige of Erebor."

A slow smile appeared under the thick fur of beard as the glint in his orbs shone with sharp and contrasting lustre.

"Bring it to me."


AN: (1) 'The Mountain of Light'.

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