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Power, Pleasure, and Pain

By shishiwastaken

Other / Adventure

Chapter 1: A chance at history

DISCLAIMER: Let’s get this out of the way. I do not own or have any hope of ever owning the characters or happenings of middle earth. They belong to Tolkien and as far as I’m concerned he can keep them. For now. I do however, own my OC, Kidhuzel! So don’t steal her. Please, feel free to leave any comments and/or questions that you may have. Follow the story in which ever way you would like, but make your thoughts known but be polite while you do it. Thank you!

Chapter 1: A chance at history

In the First age lived Ancalagon the black: The largest and greatest winged dragon. Bred by Morgoth, he was easily the most deadly dragon to exist. His flames burned hotter than any forge and his teeth sharper than any blade. The last thing one would hear before his mountainous mass would descend upon them was his deafening roar. His claws snatched up his prey effortlessly, swallowing them whole to sate his never ending hunger. Thus is how the dwarfdam Alda, came to reside in his belly. Even as the acidic waste of his stomach ate away at her skin, the stubborn she-dwarf used her weapon to dig her way through the endless tunnels of his bowels and muscle. Even with her fierce fight, Alda died within Ancalagon however she would not be digested with the other morsels. Her struggle had led her body to rot deep within the drake’s loins. And rot she did. From her body, his seed, and the dark magic of his being, a new life was formed within a tiny egg. The small golden sphere, no larger than a chicken egg, would rest in her sire’s body until he was thrown upon the Thangorodrim by Earendil. The mountain had cut Ancalagon deeply, tearing into him and freeing the egg to land in the Iron mountain range. Upon their later destruction, the mithril hard dragon egg tumbled into the Blue Mountains and rested in an icy lake deep under the mountains. For over 1000 years, the egg rested in the icy lake, halting it’s growth but not ending the life within it. Instead, the ice slowly crept through the hard shell to mix with half formed creature, adding to its uniqueness. In a suspended state between fire and ice, the being resided quietly. That is, until the dwarves arrived. They dug into the mountain in search of a home and precious stones but found the blue mountains severely lacking. Within the mines, the dwarves could scrape together only just enough to survive each day. Their kings lived like paupers and their paupers didn’t live very long. It was one sorrow filled night that led Thrain, son of Thror, son of Dain, to stumble upon the ice covered lake. He would have immediately departed from the cavern if not for the glittering stone at the bottom of the icy pool. Dwarves are not known for swimming but he found himself unable to depart the cave without the twinkling item and strove to acquire it.

“How did a beauty such as this arrive here?” Turning the curious gem over in his palm, he rubs his thumb over the smooth surface “Such a flawless jewel, fit for a king. Would you settle on a prince?”

Unbeknownst to him, the heat of his life brought the egg from its dormant state though not quickly with the meager amount of warmth. Even so, it was enough to give the being inside a conscience, an ear to hear with, and the desire to grow. Upon the eve of the battle that would grant the lost dwarves of Erebor the lost kingdom of Moria, Thrain gifted the stone to his eldest son, Thorin. Whether it gave the young prince favor in battle or not, Thorin survived and hence always carried the last gift he ever received from his father. The young prince carried what he thought to be a gem with him so often, he eventually attached it to a thick chain around his neck and secretly named it Kidhuzel: the prince’s jewel, for it truly was the gold of gold. He treasured and hated the nugget. He gained an illusionary power from it, making him feel as though he was what he was always meant to be. This pleasure would always be quickly followed however with the pain of the lie. The gold gem was a constant reminder that he would forever be a prince, never obtaining the king’s jewel and uniting his people. This state of limbo is where he remained, much like the golden egg itself, for many is, until the rainy night he met Gandalf in the prancing pony.

“There you are.” The egg comes to be aware as its surroundings heat up. The rain made it cold; making it weak and forcing it into a short slumber. There is chatter around but it focuses on the only voice that matters: Thorin

“Ah.” The bearer shifts forward and his burden slides across his chest, hidden beneath his clothes. It is always warm there and thanks to that, the sphere will soon be able to repay the prince for his deeds. Said monarch glances at his food hungrily before nodding to the barmaid “Thank you.”

Tearing into the meal, Thorin is quickly made aware of the stares he is receiving. It is not out of the ordinary for him to receive such attention, as it is out of the ordinary to see dwarves free of the mountains. People always stare but unlike them, the two individuals in the dark corners of the inn, are not merely curious. Whether their aim is to rob or kill him, the dwarf prince will defend himself. Dropping his food in annoyance, he reaches for his sword, deathless. In a fluid motion, the hilt of the sword is within his grasp, causing the jewel around his neck to jingle lightly. Just as the potential threats rise from their seats to flank him, a bearded figured takes the stool opposite of the dwarf. The surety of the action surprises all three males into inactivity.

“Mind if I join you?” The impolite guest catches a barmaid by the arm to give her his order, without waiting for an answer “I’ll have the same.”


“I should introduce myself. My name is Gandalf. Gandalf the grey.”

“…” the half drake can all but feel the wariness rolling off of its partner, and it swiftly attaches the feeling to the new name “I know who you are.”

“Well now, this is a fine chance.” the elderly wizard, for that is what he is, exclaims in a chipper voice “What brings Thorin Oakenshield to Bree?”

“… I had received word that my father had been seen wandering the wide near Dunlands.” No question is asked on how the sorcerer has come to know Thorin’s name and title as while never having met before, they seem to know a great deal about each other. There is a hitch in Thorin’s voice as he explains how he came to Bree that can only be described as desperation: A son searching endlessly for the father who has no doubt long since met his end. Whether it is determination or denial is unknown to either party “I went looking, found no sign of him.”

“Thorin.” Gandalf dips his head slightly, gently acknowledging the hope for what it is “It’s been a long time since any but rumor has been heard of Thrain.”

“He still lives. I am sure of it.” Banging the table with one hand, Thorin clutches at the last momentum of his father through his many layers with the other. The wizard watches the action just as the barmaid arrives with his plate of cheese, bread and meat. Her sudden appearance causes the prince to release the pendent quickly but he instantly relaxes upon registering her person. When the young woman has gone, he continues “My father came to see you before he went missing.”

“Indeed he did.” peering closer at the item that has fallen free of the dwarf’s clothing, the grey pilgrim gestures to it vaguely “A curious item you carry. Wherever did you get it?”

“It was given to me when we… settled… in the Blue Mountains.” the dwarf spits out the word as though it has poisoned him “It is nothing of importance.”

“Who gave it to you?”

“My father.” he growls in annoyance, shoving the pendent back beneath his tunic. Despite its contact with the chilly night air, it remains warm against his chest. Shifting in his chair for better leverage, the dwarf leans forward to lean on the time worn table. The all but rotten floor boards creak under his weight but hold steady for the time being “What did you say to him?”

“I urged him to march upon Erebor.” Sitting back comfortably into his chair with his ale in hand, the wizard states exactly what was said to Thrain, son of Thror. Thorin watches him cautiously, unsure of how to react to this declaration “To rally the seven armies of the dwarves. To destroy the dragon and take back the lonely mountain. And I would say the same to you. Take back your home land.”

Staring at the man before him, it is Thorin’s turn to sit back in his chair “This is no chance meeting, Gandalf.”

“No. It is not. The lonely mountain troubles me, Thorin. That dragon has sat there long enough.” The egg resting on the dwarf’s chest sparks into life at the name the same way it did long ago the first time it heard the word ‘dwarf’. A dragon. The connection is immediate, despite the youngling not knowing what either are, having never seen anything besides it’s shell “Sooner or later darker minds will turn towards Erebor. I ran into some unsavory characters whilst traveling along the great road. They mistook me for… a vagabond.”

“I imagine they regretted that.” he returns with a slight smirk, for any foolish enough to attack a wizard would only be so lucky to regret it

“One of them was carrying a message.” watching his uninvited companion pushing forward a wooden board with scratches in it, the dwarrow reaches a hand forward to examine the item better “It is black speech. A promise of payment.”

“For what?”

“Your head. It would seem that someone wants you dead.” Sitting back once more, this time in shock, Thorin lets the knowledge wash over him. Has he not lost enough? What would anyone gain from stealing his very life? Shock is washed away by angry heat that flutters through his chest “Thorin, you can wait no longer. You are the heir to the throne of Durin; unite the armies of the dwarves. Together you have the might and power to retake Erebor. Summon a meeting of the seven dwarf families. Demand they stand by their oaths.”

“The seven armies swore their oaths to the one who wields the king’s jewel. The Arkenstone.” For all his fancy talk, the wizard offers no feasible way for him to achieve said goals. Thumping his chest where his Kidhuzel lays, he is once more reminded of what he lacks. With the Arkenstone, he could truly rule but he is left with this useless rock as his inheritance “It is the only thing that will unite them and in case you have forgotten, that jewel has been stolen by Smaug.”

“What If I were to help you reclaim it?”

“How?” the skepticism in his voice is enough for even the creature within the protective shell to hear and it shivers at the new feeling “The Arkenstone lies half a world away, buried beneath the feet of a fire breathing dragon.”

“Yes it does. That is why we are going to need a burglar.”

Hello There! To present myself to some and introduce myself to others, I’m Shishi! No, that’s not my real name nor is it my pen name but it’s what you can call me. This will be my third and a half full length story. Why half? I’m currently working on a sequel to my first baby but it’s having trouble getting out my head and onto my computer. So yeah, theres that. Hence, I will be working on this one. This will eventually switch over to a more mature theme but for now it’s T for Toasty. It’ll get hot though and I’m not sure if all of you will be able to stand the heat. Either way, if you got this fair, congrats. Leave me a comment/question or drop me a line with a PM. ~Shishi

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