Thorin Oakenshield—the last prince of the Durin-line from the Lonely Mountain—was, perhaps, the most tragic figure among all the Dwarves in history.
In his youth, he watched helplessly as all he held dear was taken from him.
His kingdom was destroyed by a dragon.
His grandfather fell in battle before his very eyes.
His father vanished without a trace.
As the final heir of Erebor, Thorin was forced to shoulder the burdens of leadership while still young.
He led the exiled Dwarves of Durin's Folk who had fled to the Blue Mountains, and under his guidance, they knew peace and prosperity once more.
Through a century of patience and toil, he restored the strength and numbers of their people. Thɪs chapter is updated by novel fire.net
He became the beacon of hope for every Durin Dwarf who longed to return home.
For centuries, they waited for a sign—a chance to reclaim their homeland.
Then came a prophecy:
"When the thrush knocks, and the birds of the air return to Erebor, the reign of the beast shall be broken."
After a hundred years of waiting, the restless desire within Thorin could no longer be contained.
He was no longer the young Dwarf who had fled with fire at his back—he had become a warrior, a leader.
He gathered twelve of his most valiant kin, and with the aid of a certain Grey-robed Wizard, began a journey that would be etched into the annals of Middle-earth.
Their goal was clear: to reclaim the treasure of their ancestors, and the kingdom that once was.
That this would be a tragic expedition.
A tale that Thorin would write with his life.
A song of glory... and sorrow.
They would defeat the Dragon.
They would triumph in the Battle of the Five Armies.
But Thorin would fall.
So too would his sister's sons—Fíli and Kíli—cut down upon the field.
Thus ended the royal bloodline of Durin's Folk in the Lonely Mountain.
In the end, it fell to Thorin's cousin—Dáin Ironfoot, Lord of the Iron Hills—to ascend the throne and rule not one, but two Dwarven kingdoms.
To be fair, Thorin was not without flaws.
He was proud. Stubborn. And tormented by the Dragon-sickness—a curse that haunted his lineage.
It was said that every king under the Mountain, once crowned, would eventually succumb to madness, corrupted by the treasure hoarded in Erebor's deep vaults.
Yet Kaen believed such an end was unworthy of the prince who had toiled for a hundred years to see his people home.
This last King under the Mountain—Thorin Oakenshield—deserved more than a grave and a broken dream.
And so, Kaen resolved to change Thorin's fate.
Perhaps that, too, was why he had come to this world.
But first—Thorin would need to pass his test.
"If I said... I wanted the Arkenstone," Kaen asked quietly, "what would you choose?"
The question silenced not only Thorin, but even Gandalf, who stood nearby.
Thorin's face darkened at once.
He stared at Kaen, his jaw tight, and spoke in a voice heavy with hurt.
"I thought you were not like the others."
"Not like the others? Perhaps," Kaen replied with a slight smile, unconcerned. "But tell me, Thorin, do you know how many warriors I would lose if I sent my army to aid you?"
Thorin shot back, "I've already pledged to reward you with a great treasure—one fifteenth of Erebor's vast hoard! That was the wealthiest kingdom in Middle-earth!"
"But life cannot be weighed against gold, Thorin. Just as you believe that glowing stone of yours is beyond all price."
"That's different! The Arkenstone is no ordinary treasure—it is the key to my kingship!"
"No, Thorin," Kaen said, his tone suddenly quiet and deep.
"A true king needs no gem to prove himself. If your right to rule depends on a stone, then you shall never truly be king."
"But I need the Arkenstone! With it, I can rally an army, and destroy the dragon—Smaug!"
"And I tell you this—I can help you slay the dragon. I will help you reclaim your throne. I will lead the Durin-folk of the Blue Mountains back to Erebor with you. But tell me—if I do all this, will you still desire that stone?"
He stood there, deep in thought, no answer escaping his lips.
"The moment you wavered, I knew. That stone is not what you value most. There are things in your heart that outweigh even the Arkenstone."
Thorin drew in a long breath and sighed.
"Perhaps... but I do not know what those things are."
It was Gandalf who spoke then, breaking his long silence.
"As the last prince of Erebor, you bear the duty of leading your people home—those who followed you into exile and have waited generations to return."
Kaen chuckled softly. "Why not this, then—we make a wager."
Thorin glanced at him, puzzled. "A wager?"
"Let us wager what your payment to me will be—one fifteenth of your gold hoard... or the Arkenstone. Either way, I shall accept."
Thorin's voice grew firm. "If the choice is between the two, I will keep the Arkenstone."
"On this journey, you will come to understand much. You will learn what it means to be a king. And in time, you'll see—some things are more precious than treasure."
Thorin did not understand the meaning of those words.
But he did not know that, in that very moment, he had already passed the first test.
In the tales of old, Smaug the Terrible once said that the Arkenstone was nothing but a bauble that ensnared the mind.
The ring worn by Thorin's grandfather had been one of the Seven Rings of Power given to the Dwarves.
Of the nineteen Rings forged by Sauron to dominate Middle-earth, nine went to Men—who fell into darkness and became the Nazgûl.
Seven went to the Dwarves—whose iron will resisted Sauron's dominion, but whose hearts were inflamed with unquenchable greed.
Thorin's grandfather had been one of the Seven's bearers.
He passed the ring to Thorin's father—who vanished, taking it with him.
Even so, having grown up by their sides, Thorin was inevitably touched by the ring's subtle corruption.
Treasures that whispered promises... heirlooms mistaken for destiny...
Perhaps that was the true origin of the Dragon-sickness that plagued his line.
Kaen's question had not been idle—it was a trial.
Would Thorin place the Arkenstone above all else?
His hesitation had proven that he would not.
That he still valued home, kin, and legacy above gold.
Perhaps that was why, in the original tale, Thorin had been able to shake off the sickness in the end—to reject the dragon within his heart, and die with honor.
And so, Kaen agreed to aid Thorin.
They drew up a pact, written in Dwarvish and Elvish script alike.
Kaen Eowenríel, in the name of kingship, shall aid Thorin Oakenshield in the reclaiming of Erebor. In return, payment shall be made: either the Arkenstone, or one fifteenth of the Kingdom of Erebor's treasure.
Gandalf, who stood witness to this accord, smiled.
"A king," he murmured, "teaching a prince what it means to wear a crown. This tale shall be remembered through the ages. And perhaps, through it, the bonds between Dwarves and Men shall grow stronger still..."