Hello, all! So, I've been doing some maintenance on the first six chapters. Now, that they're all up to my standards, I'm reposting the chapters and cannot stress enough to reread the chapters because there's a bit of new stuff. Thank you all for being patient. Happy reading!

The world was filled with many treasures, many beautiful lands. There were lands filled with mystery, with wonder, with magic. If one were to sail into the frozen Icebay of Forochel, they would themselves in perhaps the most magical of all the lands. Though there would be a long walk in the blistering cold with insufferable winds blowing in their faces, going southwest towards Ered Luin would joyously welcome them with a swirl of warmth in the winds. And along with that, they would witness the flowing commerce that still dwelled in the mountains of Men and Dwarves.

The land, even the earth itself held magic. It flowed in and beyond the Blue Mountains, over the rolling green hills of the Shire. It wove its way into the wind and through the forests, golden grasslands and rocks. Powerful magic, pure and filled with all the goodness flowed like a gentle river in the city of Rivendell, the home of the Elves.

Despite the good in the world, there was a darkness, an evil. It lurked in the old Witch-realm of Angmar, in the caves of Mount Gundabad. Monsters and creatures of war devoured the weak in Moria. Creatures that prey on Men, the monsters beneath a child's bed, Goblins and Orcs if one were to be precise, hid in the caverns and nooks within the Misty Mountains.

Yet, the darkness that had taken a home in those parts of the lands had slowly diminished. An evil that had lived past the Greenwood, a fire drake, had also been long gone, driven from its mountain and sunken deep into cold water. With the evil that had once thrived in the mountain vanquished, the ones who once lived there returned. Life was able to return to the land once the darkness had passed in the realm, as it did in the Lonely Mountain.

Life and happiness returned to that very mountain, and deep inside its heart, something grand was happening.

The halls within the palace under the mountain were filled with sumptuous sounds and sights. The grand dwarven kingdom of Erebor flourished with the opulent music of harps, flutes, and drums, as well as the excited, elated chatter amongst the people surrounding the large, elongated table. The stone walls were lit by blazing candelabras, illuminating the ancient carvings made by dwarf hands; gems and gold set into the walls were flashing with beauty. Along the walls were hand crafted vases, baked in dwarf fires and hand painted carefully with the stories of battles old and legends true. Each vase contained bright, colorful flowers that were growing alongside the mountain, flowers that had finally broke through the ground and into the fresh air sixteen years ago.

Apart from the sounds and sights was the enticing smell from the table. Food, spread as far the eye could see, decorated the oak table. Buttered rolls, boiled potatoes, a crown of ribs, aged cheeses, cakes and pies, a roasted pig, beef and carrot stews, ripe fruit, smoked fish, pitchers of ale and wine all grasped in hungry hands. The sight of the food could make any person in the room -dwarf, human, or elf- succumb to the heavenly sight of the grand feast; no one could resist a nibble.

Not even the three mischievous dwarf princes, who were crawling under the table, could resist.

The eldest of the three, the one named after his father's brother, waved a hand over to beckon his brothers closer to a part of the table where powdered biscuits lay above. They crawled on their forearms and knees, careful of the feet in front of them. The brother with ebony hair, named after his great-uncle, accidentally butted his head against the leg of a she-elf, his head momentarily disappearing under the satin of her skirts. He pulled away with a bright red face from embarrassment and the sight he had encountered; his two brothers playfully snickered in front of him.

The elder brother came to a stop and pointed to the middle brother, this one named after their mother's father, and then pointed to the feet belonging to a dwarf lord and up to the table. The middle brother nodded, watching as his older brother jammed his elbow into the dwarf's foot. Above, the dwarf lord yelped in pain, and with a startled and angry look, turned to the human beside him.

"What was that for, ye' bugger?" The dwarf bellowed.

The man's eyebrow twitched and looked down at his neighbor. "I beg your pardon?"

"Ye' stepped on m'foot!"

"I did no such thing-" The man was cut off as the dwarf retorted, "Well, ye' did!"

Through the angry exchange, the middle brother slipped between the two's legs and let his arms stealthily slip onto the table and grasp the plate of biscuits. He pulled it off the table just as he kicked his body off the ground and bolted out, his brothers quickly following suit. They could still hear the bickering between the man and dwarf as they carried the pastries to the balcony opposite the table. They settled behind a thick red velvet curtain, cheering and slapping each other's back at their achievement.

"Dig in, boys!" The eldest grinned as he rubbed his hands together.

The second eldest picked up a biscuit, eagerness overtaking him as he brought it up to his lips. However, a throaty, deep voice cleared his throat from behind, jolting the boy into the air and he dropped the pastry.

"I think you'll spoil your dinner," the old man said, gray robes flowing behind him as he pushed aside the balcony curtain. "That, or upset your mother. She has been looking for you."

The youngest groaned. "How did you find us?"

The man only chuckled and tapped the side of his nose. "A wizard never reveals his secrets."

"Can't we have just one biscuit?" The eldest pleaded, stomach rumbling.

The wizard simply shook his head, sighing. He waved off the plea and sat down on the stone bench, putting his staff aside. The sun was setting, casting brilliant hues of pink, orange, and purple across the sky. There wasn't a cloud staining the atmosphere, and only a few stares had decided to peek out.

"Do you suppose you could light a few fireworks for us?" The second eldest asked. The wizard pulled out the pipe from his pocket and lit the tobacco with a snap of his fingers. "Dear me, no. And ruin the whole show I have planned later tonight?" He spoke around his pipe. "You will all just have to wait."

The boys all groaned, all simultaneously flopping onto their backs with great sighs. The old man merely rolled his eyes. For princes, they acted more like lazy, impatient humans. But, after all, they were only children he reminded himself.

"Will a story help pass the time?" The wizard suggested.

They seemed to perk up quickly at the sound of that, and soon enough they were scooting themselves closer at the wizard's feet. He blew smoke from his mouth into perfect o's, looking down at the young dwarves with mild amusement.

"Can you tell us the rebirth of Erebor again?" The youngest asked, his blue eyes widening. "That's my favorite one!"

His brothers hummed in agreement, looking to the wizard with hope as he stroked his beard in contemplation. After blowing out another lungful of smoke through his nose, he was struck with an idea.

"Perhaps I tell you the story of your mother and father?"

The eldest grimaced. "You don't mean a love story, do you?"

The wizard simply smiled. "What makes you believe that a story involving your parents is that of love?" The boys gave him a pointed look. "Well, it is in a way, but do not trouble yourselves for a silly little thing; for there is still the spirit of adventure and bravery. And don't you wish to know how they came to be?"

The youngest shrugged. "Father says that they eloped after the Great Battle."

"That they did," the old man nodded then paused for a moment in thought. "Perhaps I haven't told you the full story of the dwarves taking back the kingdom."

The boys gaped and widened their eyes. "The full story? I thought you told us everything!"

"Well, are you aware that your mother played an important part in the company of Thorin Oakenshield?"

"What?" "How important was she?" "What do you mean?"

He chuckled. "Though she proved herself till the end, she had aided the company in her own, simple ways. This is how your father came to love her."

"Well, are ya' goin' to tell us or leave us impatient?" The middle boy sighed with exasperation.

"Now, now," The wizard waved his hand. "Like all good stories, we must start from the very beginning."

He shifted his gaze over each of the three princes, waiting for the young brothers to get comfortable on the balcony floor and to give the wizard their undivided attention.

"Now," He puffed his pipe in thought, exhaling the smoke through his nostrils. "Long ago, about two hundred years before, I believe, the kingdom of Erebor was a grand place, ruled by your bloodline of Durin. The king under the mountain, at the time, was Thrain. The dwarves were-and still are- a proud people, made up miners and great warriors who-"

"We already know this," the eldest groaned.

The wizard cocked a brow. "I don't recall you telling the story."

"Sorry..."

"I suppose I should start from the decades after the fearsome dragon Smaug had claimed the Lonely Mountain, in order for you three to stop interrupting me," he mused with a great sigh.

With another slow draw from his pipe, the old man resumed his story-telling.

"Two hundred years later, after Dale had been burned from dragon fire, the dwarves flushed from their homeland, and the battles that had come after with the orcs, peace had finally settled over Middle Earth. The elves of Mirkwood and Rivendell kept to themselves, as did the dwarves of the Iron Hills and Blue Mountains while they found work and a new life to replace the one that they had sadly lost. Thorin, son of Thror, son of Thrain, saw to it that his subjects lived a comfortable life. Yet, he harbored a deep animosity for the fire drake, and the Elves that abandoned him and his kin. He held a dark anger in his heart from the day they lost the mountain, and was kindled for many, many years."

"The legends that had been passed around Middle Earth about the Line of Durin and the Lonely Mountain had died away, a prophecy that had spoken of the King under the Mountain returning to reclaim his homeland, along with the treasure inside. Many had forgotten nor wanted to hear of it, believing that it had already caused great heartache and disappointment. However, Thorin's father, Thror, passed on a piece of the legend for me to keep until the time would come for me to meet the dwarf prince. And as time had passed, I had eventually sought out Thorin Oakenshield, telling him that it was time to reclaim his throne and to restore the order and prosperity Erebor had once possessed. He called upon the dwarves, his cousins and dearest friends and all the dwarves that still remained loyal to the heirs of Durin, for aid to reclaim their homeland, yet only thirteen had agreed to aid their king while most had thought the journey to be mad or reckless."

The youngest prince couldn't help but interrupt, though the wizard didn't mind the silly question, understanding that the young boy was only curious and amazed. "And father was one of the thirteen?"

The wizard, again, nodded. "One of the thirteen, yes. He was a fine lad; brave and true, selfless. Especially towards those he truly cared for. However, in order to infiltrate the mountain, the company required a person of stealth and who moved much like a mouse without being noticed. Which is why I had thought of a hobbit from the line of Took."

"Bilbo Baggins!" One of the brothers said.

"Yes, Bilbo Baggins. And so, Master Baggins had joined the company. The poor hobbit nearly died from a heart attack when the dwarves had raided his pantry and tossed his mother's china about the dining room and kitchen. Although, many of us were sure that Bilbo had lost some years upon reading the contract for the journey. Poor lad fainted at the thought of incineration and a fire-breathing dragon. Yet, he joined the company despite his hesitation. Master Baggins looked up to your father as he him..."

He trailed off in his thoughts, blowing smoke up into the air as it trailed through the balcony and into the last light of the day. It was carried along the light wind, over the tops of the evergreens in the direction of the west. The wizard let his eyes wander over to the tops of the Misty Mountains, where he knew that off in the distance were the rolling green hills of the Shire that he liked so very much. The memory of Bilbo Baggins running up past the border of Hobbiton to meet Thorin's company made his lips turn up fondly, but it was not so much the memory of the hobbit joining the quest, as much as it was the young dwarf prince who had an eager heart set on reclaiming the mountain of his kin.

As he recalled, the young dwarf had a twinkle in his dark eyes, a strong smirk as well as ambition, and was as naive as most dwarflings were despite his age of seventy-seven. However, the same could be said for his older brother, although slightly less naive and with a better sense of responsibility. But nothing could squander the spirit that the young dwarf had; it only seemed to brighten when the final member had joined the thirteen dwarves and their burglar.

This last member still had a light in her, as well as the gentle touch whoever she'd set her hand on someone's cheek. Her heart held a softness, despite the hardships, the fire she had seen and encountered. A beauty to many, a kindness to be admired and learned from. it seemed rare, the wizard mused, to encounter someone with a vast mind and golden heart. Not to mention someone with her abilities.

No, there were very few in the world that were quite like her.