The Sons of Durin [Ongoing] Of Every Race Saga Book III

Prologue

There was the city of Dale. Its markets were known far and wide, full of the bounties of vine and vale. Peaceful and prosperous. For this city lay before the doors of the greatest kingdom in Middle Earth: Erebor. Stronghold of Thror, King under the Mountain, mightiest of the dwarf lords. Thror ruled with utter surety, never doubting his house would endure, for his line lay secure in the lives of his son and grandson.

Erebor; built deep within the mountain itself, the beauty of the fortress city was legend. Its wealth lay in the earth, in precious gems hewed from rock, and in great seams of gold, running like rivers through stone. The skill of the dwarves was unequaled, fashioning objects of great beauty out of diamond, emerald, ruby, and sapphire. Ever they delved deeper, down into the dark. And that is where they found it. The heart of the mountain; the Arkenstone. Thror named it the King's Jewel. He took it as a sign, a sign that his right to rule was divine. All would pay homage to him, even the great Elvenking, Thranduil.                                                                                                                                                                                                       

But the years of peace and plenty were not to last. Slowly, the days turned sour and the watchful nights closed in. Thror's love of gold had grown too fierce. A sickness had begun to grow within him; it was a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow...

The first they heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in a hot, dry wind. Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror was guarding the gate. He heard the noise and felt the wind and called, "Balin, sound the alarm. Call out the guard. Do it now!"

Balin, puzzeled at the urgency in Thorin's voice asked, "What is it?"

Thorin looked worried, and called out into the mountain, "Dragon. Dragon!!!!" a roar sounded, and torrents of  fire rained all over Erebor. Thorin pulled Balin behind a pillar just in time to save him from being burned.

It was a fire drake from the north. Smaug had come. Smaug flew over the city of Dale, breathing fire into its midst and hurling the tall buildings down into the street below. Such wanton death was dealt that day, for this city of men was nothing to Smaug; his eyes were set on another prize. For dragons covet gold, with a fierce and dark desire.

Thorin tried his best, with a dozen dwarves, to hold back Smaug at the gate, but failed. Thror tried to rescue the Arkenstone but failed. He barely escaped with his life.

The dwarves fled Erebor, fleeing from the wrath of the dragon. And Erebor was lost, for a dragon will guard his plunder as long as he lives, 'which is practically forever, unless he is killed.'

Thorin called for help from the Elves. But no help came from the Elves that day, for Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the dragon. No help came that day, nor any day since.

Robbed of their homeland, the dwarves of Erebor wandered in the wilderness, a once mighty people brought low. The dwarf prince took work where he could find it, laboring in the villages of men, but always he remembered the mountain smoke beneath the moon, the trees like torches burning bright, for he had seen dragon fire in the sky, and his city turned to ash, and he never forgave, and he never forgot...

And so many of the dwarf survivors from Erebor came and settled in the Blue Mountains inside a enormous mountain hollowed out by time and dwarves. That is where Thorin and several of the dwarves from Erebor lived.

And thus begins: "The Sons of Durin."

Quotes taken from the Hobbit Trilogy Films.