There were once two thieves. Two skilled, gifted thieves.
But they were very different, these two rogues.
One was called the Wraith, with dark features and a black hood. When that name was whispered around shadowy alleyways or story circles, the room quieted, and mothers pulled their children close. The Wraith stole anything that wasn't nailed down, and, even then, could steal the nails too.
The other wasn't nearly as feared, but very well should have been. No knowledge was safe from the Sage, for that was what this all-knowing swindler was called. The Sage knew everything about everyone, and then some. Although not physically apt, the Sage more than made up for it with an uncanny ability to retain information, and a knack for digging up secrets.
These two thieves knew of each other, of course, but never found the other one a threat, a sort of unspoken treaty between them stopping them from interfering with the other's work.
That was, at least, until they had their eyes on the same prize.
Everyone knew the legend of the Lonely Mountain, and how Smaug the Terrible had conquered the once-magnificent kingdom of the dwarves. But no one had ever paid this story much mind, for it was only ever just that-a story.
Stories, however, are often much more than just light tales made up on the spot by frustrated parents to scare children into eating their vegetables. Yes, they are often so much more.
Word had spread that the dragon, Smaug, had not been seen for nearly fifty years. Was the beast even still alive?
And of course, what would ever happen to all of that gold?
For as many knew, a great hoard of gold and gems and riches lay beneath the stoney halls of Erebor, a wealth that would allow for a meager farmer to live a life more grand than that of ten kings combined. The great treasure of the dwarves, yes, that was what excited people the most.
Such an elusive and dangerous task appealed greatly to the two infamous rogues. If they were to succeed, if they were to reclaim Erebor, they would be enormously rich.
But it wasn't even just the riches that tempted the two thieves.
As a half-dwarf, the Sage wanted to rebuild the ancient kingdom. A life spent collecting the petty secrets of regular townspeople had grown boring, and a new distraction was very much needed. The Sage may have been a thief, but that did not mean that in that great, evil mind there did not linger a trace of goodwill. There were hundreds of dwarves wandering aimlessly in the wilderness, and their suffering troubled the Sage. However, she did not wish to simply help the dwarves. No, this power-hungry thief wanted to be Queen-ruling alongside no one else. She was willing to kill the heir to the throne, and would stop at nothing to see that she was Queen.
The Wraith had a different reason for wanting to venture to Erebor. Being elves, the Wraith's family had been captured and killed shortly after the incident with the dragon. The Wraith wanted to prevent the dwarves from ever rising to power again. In the Wraith's mind, the world would be done a service if this cursed race were never to ascend to the throne once more. She planned to assassinate the royal Dwarven line, which, judging by her skills, would be simple.
One quest would change everything.