I'm excited about this story... please give it a chance! There is an OC character, whose name is Fithoras. He is Thorin's friend. I was inspired by the Hobbit, and I am creating this story in anticipation of the next movie in the trilogy.

BTW, FalZharDum'Din in Dwemeris means: "Kingdom of the Blackest Reaches."

Sound familiar?

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Give it a rest. Of course I am sure. Legend tells of a hidden passageway to the fabled kingdom. I can't give up now."

"Thorin, your father would not approve of this escapade. I am positive that he is already looking for us."

"Dwalin, kindly keep your mouth shut. The caves of FalZharDum'Din are said to be filled with chests of gold, and an endless supply of gems. Do you mean to tell me that these riches do not pique your curiosity?"

"No, but-"

"Nothing. Do not be a coward, Fithoras."

Fithoras straightened. "Why, the disgrace... I am no coward! I am one of the mightiest warriors in Erebor!"

"Then pray, do not speak unless your message is of our search."

Thorin looked at the map again. "This map seems to have been made to allow traders from FalZharDum'Din to find Erebor, and the other way around. Then... it seems laborers carved out a rocky pass between the two cities. But the pass is hidden, so that no enemy of the dwarves can find it. But now... the pass is long forgotten. And it should be... right here, according to this map."

Thorin tapped the wall in front of them. Fithoras gave the wall a swift kick. "Wait... there is a seal." Fithoras put his hand on the seal. It comprised an intricate pattern of grooves and curves in the bronze. As soon as Fithoras put his hand on the seal, it started to glow brightly. A section in the wall slid to the side, revealing a passageway. "Well, Fithoras... FalZharDum'Din awaits." The two companions entered the corridor of stone

Thorin drew his finely crafted sword from its hilt. It glowed bronze, and provided light. "Fithoras, do not doubt our strong kinship and valor. We will return to Erebor, victorious," Thorin said. Fithoras brandished his battle axe. "I do not doubt any of those, Thorin. However, I would not like to spot your grandfather's face should he discover our disappearance."

Thorin shook his head. "Nay, cousin. We will return with sacks of gold, silver, and jewels! We will help him officially establish his rank and wealth. The elves of Rivendell will be green with envy." Fithoras said nothing.

The two dwarves continued through the dark, cold tunnel. Thorin sniffed the musty air. "I smell fish. Fresh fish." Fithoras rubbed his belly in anticipation. "Good. I am ravenous. My hunger is but a step away from being insatiable." Thorin gave a hearty laugh. "Well, old friend, you need not wait much longer. The scent wafts through the air swiftly."

Then the two dwarves found themselves in a small chamber. "What is this place?" Fithoras asked. "It seems to be a storeroom, or something of the sort." A storeroom it was. Heaps of preserved meat and mead lay in bunches across the room. Sacks of fish and barrels of wine were everywhere. Boxes full of grain were scattered throughout the cave.

"Indeed, Fithoras. Look! Oil, meat, and grain! Mead, and ale! All perfectly preserved!"

"How, Thorin?"

"The ancient dwarves were innovative. They made potions and condiments to preserve food and drink."

The two dwarves then dove at the garrisons of meat and ale.