Sirius led the dwarves into the heart of Erebor, the vast treasure room that had once belonged to their ancestors. The air was thick with the scent of gold, silver, and the faint traces of ancient dust. It was eerily quiet, save for the soft echo of their footsteps as they made their way deeper into the chamber.
The dwarves, still on edge and bracing themselves for the inevitable confrontation with Smaug, crept cautiously through the hall. But as they ventured further into the treasure room and saw no sign of the dragon—no great, looming beast, no flicker of fiery eyes in the shadows—they began to relax.
Balin was the first to speak, his voice filled with disbelief. "By Durin's beard... There's no dragon. There's nothing here but gold." He approached a pile of treasure cautiously, as though expecting the dragon to leap out at any moment. But when nothing happened, a low chuckle escaped him. "It seems we've been chasing shadows."
Thorin, standing at the edge of the treasure room, had a mixture of emotions swirling inside him—relief, confusion, and disbelief. He turned to Sirius, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Where is Smaug, Jimmy? He should have been here. You're certain there's no dragon?"
Sirius couldn't suppress a smile as he glanced around the cavernous room. "I've no idea, Thorin. There's no dragon. Smaug might be left or dead."
The dwarves, at first frozen in surprise, began to realize that the worst of their fears had not materialized. Slowly, but surely, they started to cheer. The relief spread through the group like wildfire. The gold, which had once been a symbol of dread and fear, now glittered like a treasure trove of dreams.
Dwarves who had once spoken of their future battles with the dragon, the legendary Smaug, now looked at one another with wide grins. With a cheer of joy, they rushed to the piles of gold and treasure, diving in without hesitation. Fili and Kili were the first to leap, their laughter echoing through the cavern as they tumbled into a massive pile of gold coins. Soon, other dwarves followed, and the treasure room became a scene of jubilation, as if the burden of years of exile had suddenly been lifted from their shoulders.
"This is it!" Fili shouted, tossing gold coins into the air like confetti. "We've done it! We've reclaimed Erebor!"
Kili, grinning from ear to ear, jumped on top of a massive pile of jewels, his arms raised in victory. "To Erebor!" he yelled. "To our ancestors, to our home!"
Sirius watched them, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. This was a moment of true joy for the dwarves, one they had earned with years of hardship, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of satisfaction in their celebration.
But his mind remained focused. He had come here for one thing: the Arkenstone. The legendary jewel, the heart of the mountain. He moved through the sea of treasure, his eyes scanning the glittering heaps of gold and gems. The dwarves were too caught up in their victory to notice his search. Sirius had no intention of interrupting their revelry—this moment belonged to them. But he knew that the Arkenstone was the key to Thorin's destiny, and it was a treasure that must be found before anything else could truly fall into place.
He moved silently through the mounds of treasure, his hands brushing against gems and gold. The glint of the Arkenstone caught his eye—a soft, otherworldly glow beneath a pile of golden relics. Sirius crouched, reaching into the pile, and with a swift motion, he retrieved the shining jewel. It was even more magnificent than he had remembered, its light pulsating with a strange energy, almost as if it had a life of its own.
Sirius held the Arkenstone in his hands for a moment, its beauty and power undeniable. He knew what it meant to the dwarves, to Thorin, but he also understood the weight it carried. The jewel had been the source of much strife and ambition over the years, and now, it was in his hands.
As he stood, a shout from the other dwarves interrupted his thoughts. "Look, the Arkenstone! It's the Arkenstone!"
Thorin's eyes locked onto the jewel, and a mixture of awe and longing filled his gaze. He moved toward it, his expression softening as he took in the sight of the legendary gem. "At last… it's ours again."
Sirius stepped forward, handing the Arkenstone to Thorin. "It's yours, Thorin. You've earned it. But remember, the treasure is only part of what you've reclaimed. It's your home, your people, that matter most."
Thorin took the Arkenstone with reverence, his fingers tracing its surface as if it were a living thing. He nodded silently, the weight of the moment settling in his heart.
The dwarves continued to celebrate, oblivious to the deeper meaning behind Sirius's words. For them, the gold and jewels were a symbol of victory, but the true test of their journey was only just beginning. And for Sirius, the true story of Erebor—of Thorin and his people—was far from over.
Sirius stood back, observing the dwarves as they reveled in their reclaimed treasure, the immense hoards of gold and jewels glittering around them like a sea of riches. He felt a sense of satisfaction, knowing that the dwarves, in their exuberance, had no idea just how much wealth they had before. He had already made his own quiet collection over the years, taking what he deemed necessary for his own purposes. Now, with their victory secured, it was time to collect the payment due to him for his role in their journey.
He waited for the right moment, watching as the dwarves settled into their newly-claimed home. Thorin, Fili, and Kili were busy inspecting the treasure, testing the weight of gold in their hands, while the others began to organize their findings, discussing how they would divide up their share. The joy of reclaiming Erebor was still fresh in their hearts, but Sirius knew the time had come to call in his due.
He approached Thorin, who was standing at the heart of the treasure hoard, the Arkenstone still clutched in his hands. The gleam of triumph was evident in his eyes, but Sirius saw a flicker of something else—an understanding of the negotiation that had brought him here.
"Thorin," Sirius said, his voice calm but firm. "We had an agreement, remember? One-fourteenth of the treasure for my services. I've upheld my end of the bargain. It's time for you to fulfill yours."
Thorin looked at him, his face briefly faltering, the reality of the demand sinking in. The dwarves had spent so long in pursuit of this treasure, and now, when they had finally reclaimed it, they were being asked to part with part of it. The weight of gold and riches was tempting, but Thorin knew better than to argue with Jimmy Potter. The hobbit was not one to be taken lightly, and Thorin could feel the pressure of their agreement hanging over him.
"I know," Thorin said, his voice steady, though there was reluctance in his eyes. "But you know how much this treasure means to us. It's everything we've worked for. You can't expect us to part with so much so easily."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, his expression unchanging. "I don't expect anything to be easy. But I didn't do this for free, Thorin. I kept my word, and now you will keep yours."
The dwarves who had gathered around to watch the conversation could see the tension in the air. They didn't need to be reminded of who Jimmy was. The hobbit had come to them with a reputation—Jimmy Potter is a warrior, a name that struck fear into the hearts of many. Not even a dragon would dare test his wrath, and the dwarves knew that crossing him would be more dangerous than facing any beast.
Balin stepped forward, his voice gruff but pragmatic. "Thorin's right to be cautious, but we know better than to go back on a deal with someone like Jimmy. He helped us get here, and now it's time to honor our part."
With a sigh, Thorin nodded, a deep breath escaping him. "You're right, Balin. We gave our word."
Thorin gestured to the treasure pile, and slowly, the dwarves began to sort through the heaps of gold and jewels. They muttered among themselves, calculating what one-fourteenth of the vast hoard would amount to. After a few moments of tense deliberation, they began to gather the agreed-upon share. Gold coins, sparkling jewels, fine weaponry, and ancient artifacts were added to a pile, placed neatly in front of Sirius.
Sirius watched them carefully, an unreadable expression on his face as the dwarves worked to gather his share. He knew the gold would never truly hold any value for him—it was the arrangement, the agreement, and the respect that mattered. Once the dwarves had collected the treasure and placed it before him, Sirius opened his magical trunk. With a single motion, the chest opened wide, its interior stretching infinitely into the void, the items effortlessly vanishing inside.
"Thank you," Sirius said, his voice smooth. "I'll take this now, and you can rest easy knowing that you've kept your word. I'm a hobbit of my word as well."
Thorin gave a brief nod, though there was still a flicker of wariness in his eyes. He didn't fully understand what Jimmy would do with such wealth—he didn't need to. What mattered was that Jimmy had kept his end of the bargain, and so had they.
As the last of the treasure vanished into the trunk, Sirius turned away, satisfied with the outcome. "Now," he said, looking back over his shoulder at the dwarves, "you've got your home back. The rest is up to you."
As Sirius stood atop the steps leading into the great hall of Erebor, he noticed the first signs of trouble. From his vantage point, he saw two distinct armies moving toward the gates of Erebor. One army was unmistakable—elves, marching in tight formation, their armor gleaming in the dim light of the mountain. Leading them was none other than King Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood. The other army, smaller but equally determined, was a collection of soldiers from Dale. Their armor was simple but sturdy, and their banners fluttered in the wind, marked with the symbol of their city.
Sirius's keen eyes narrowed as he surveyed the situation. The armies were approaching quickly, and he could tell from their movements that a confrontation was imminent. The dwarves, though victorious in reclaiming Erebor, were not prepared for another battle so soon. They had only just begun to settle in, celebrating their victory and adjusting to their new home. They were still disorganized, caught off guard by the arrival of these two forces.
The Elvenking's army was the larger of the two, their numbers swarming like a sea of warriors in the distance. Thranduil's face was set with determination, his eyes cold and calculating as they approached. He had not forgotten the dwarves' escape from his prison, and now, Sirius knew, he had come to reclaim what he believed was his—control over Erebor, and perhaps even the treasure hidden within its halls.
The smaller army from Dale, while not as numerous, was no less determined. These soldiers were the remnants of the city's militia, who came to prevent the dwarves from unleashing the dragon. But their numbers were not enough to match the might of Thranduil's army, and the dwarves—though skilled in combat—would need more than just a good defense if they were to hold their ground.
Sirius felt the weight of the situation settle on his shoulders. It was clear that a clash was inevitable unless something was done. The dwarves, busy fortifying the entrance of Erebor, were preparing for a siege, but they would not be able to withstand such an overwhelming force for long.
Sirius glanced over at the dwarves, seeing Thorin organizing his company to block the entrances. The dwarves had set up defenses, barricading the great stone doors with what they could, but the Elven army would have little trouble breaching them with their superior numbers and precision.
Sirius needed to act, and quickly.
He turned away from the entrance, his mind already working through options. He knew the terrain around Erebor well enough—there were hidden passages, old tunnels, and secret paths beneath the mountain that even the elves may not know about. He had used them before, and they could provide an advantage.
His first thought was to use his magic. It was powerful enough to turn the tide of battle, but it would draw attention, and he needed to keep his involvement discreet for now. The dwarves were still unsure about his methods, and even though he had helped them secure Erebor, he didn't want to risk making them more wary of his powers.
Instead, Sirius decided to act as a mediator of sorts. He had an idea that, if executed properly, might stop the armies before a bloody conflict could break out. He knew that King Thranduil had his pride, but he also understood the elf king's desire to protect Mirkwood from the dangers that might come from Erebor's treasure being reclaimed.
Author's Note:
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