Poor lodgings in exile. That's what they are, Thorin's internal monologue deadpanned as his gaze wandered over the dwarven settlements in he Blue Mountains. Tents were being pitched, fires were lit, and ponies were left to rest in makeshift stables. Only half of their number survived the relentless exodus from Erebor. The trek of the dwarves brought them through the plains of Rohan, the cities of Gondor, wastelands, badlands, and of course, mountains. But never once will his people be found within 100 miles of any filthy Elven halls. Whether it was Lothlorien, Rivendell or Greenwood, they were all the same. Deceitful creatures that smiled warmly, giving you the mere illusion of unbridled hospitality. But once the days turn sour, when the shadow of evil ensnares you, they were nowhere to be found. Not an ounce of help came from any elf that day in Erebor, and since that day, he yearned for none.
That was it. Only half of the population of a once mighty people brought low remained. They were under threat of orcs, wargs and other fell beasts of the wild. Some faded from grief, others fell from starvation and exhaustion as they trudged on, refugees seeking for a place to call home. Orcs and Wargs from Gundabad and the lowlands took their opportunities with the weakened dwarves, Khazad-dum was long taken by orcish filth, and Azog the Defiler swore to vanquish the line of Durin, and to desecrate its halls. And you thought a dragon was enough. The War between the Dwarves and the Orcs was long over, however. King Thror was slain in 2790, and King Thrain II was taken prisoner not long after in the battle of Azanulbizar. The dwarves emerged victorious, but were subjugated by their own victory. Their dead were not buried according to dwarvish customs, for dwarves never bury their dead in the soil. They were entombed in stone, laid to rest into their very lifeblood. Many funeral pyres were built and lit that day, and the dead were honoured as the burned dwarves of Azalnubizar.
After the Battle, Thorin II gained his epithet Oakenshield, and he became the sole heir to the line of Durin. However, he was an heir without a hope and a future. He was a King without a realm to rule over. Even so, he took to the anvil and led his people out of poverty. He trafficked and traded. And now, here they were, in the Southern Blue Mountains, with their own store of goods and a good hall to house the wandering Durin's Folk.
Their haven in the Blue Mountains was a welcome change of scenery from days out in the wild, running from orcs and worrying about things to eat. Ered Luin was a chance to rebuild their lives and their wealth in the safety of the mountains. But Thorin's frustrations simmered on low as he surveyed the blooming colony. Soon, it will be a city with almost all the comforts of home. But it will only be a fraction of Erebor's magnificence. That's what their lives were reduced to. Fractions. But the days grew long and weary, and Thorin II Oakenshield yearned for more work to do for his people. Raised as a warrior and traveller after the sacking of Erebor, he was unaccustomed to the paperwork and bureaucracy of ruling a growing Dwarf community. This job, he would gladly give it to his sister Dis. In a week he would be looking for work in the villages and towns of men, while bringing along his two sister-sons as he taught them how to use a forge, and how to wield the swords they could produce.
Fili and Kili never saw the greatness of Erebor, and so were greatly entertained with tales of the great mines that were streaked with seams of mithril and gold. With rubies, diamonds, emeralds and sapphire nestled and embedded into the rock. The forges of Erebor was the masterpiece of dwarven industry and productivity, with rows of anvils, hammers and mechanized tools to fashion objects of use and beauty.
Thorin II and his sister-sons will journey east to find work, like many of his kin. Line of Durin or not, he plans to journey from the Blue Mountains, to cross the River Lhun. After steering clear of the Grey Havens, filled with elvish scum. Thorin shall travel deep within Eriador, his final destination being the prosperous town of Bree. Thorin walked as his sister-sons saddled on the pony. The landscape morphed from snowy mountains and flowing rapids to manicured green rolling hills and streams flowing with water, pure and sweet. The azure sky above them was streaked with silken cirrus clouds. They came across a race known to them only in tales: Hobbits.
The dwarves rarely had to look down to speak to someone. Mostly, they had to look up. To Thorin the act of looking up was rather humiliating, to say the least, and none can cajole him from his constant state of self-deprecation since the day he tore his beard when Thor had been slain. He felt that looking down at other, smaller races was a welcome change. But the hobbits, as they were called, troubled him. They were the picture of contentment and peace itself. It seems that they have led lives with no shortage of food, and the worst fight they could get was when a wolf threatened their pigs. They had no gold, nor precious metal. They however, led simple lives that were happy. And happiness, was something that Thorin felt that he could not give to his people however hard he tried.
To add insult to injury, these hobbits were out in the open, with no protection from invading powers and dragons except the thin ceiling of their hole-dwellings and the occasional armed Ranger that popped by. Besides being well-fed, jovial and foolishly ignorant of the evils f the world, they were also vulnerable in Thorin's prideful gaze. He couldn't help but complain inwardly that a dragon didn't attack and sack their overly-peaceful existence off Middle-Earth. With hunger gnawing at his belly and two sister-sons to care for, Thorin realized that he has to settle down for the night. He led his pony into a place known as Hobbiton, hoping for a place to spend the night in. He resolved to leave for Bree tomorrow, and would never return to such an accursed place that brought such raw and unwelcome emotions to him. He was never so wrong in his life.
AN: Hello there, this is my first time writing fanfiction, I'm not really sure of where to lead this story, and whether I should include any romantic/sexual undertones before or after Erebor. And even then, I would need guidance. I would like to thank everyone for viewing this story, please review so that I can have insight on where to bring this. I would like to thank BlueHeartBear for her guidance and support in the first chapter. Go check out her work as BlueHeartBear on deviantart.
Thank you all so much.
