The Hobbit - The Desolation of Smaug Edition (ON HOLD)

: : Introduction : :

The book that I've been writing is only an edited version of the book/movie where I've put yet another character in by name Arïa Vanima Hõlone, who is the Elven princess of Mirkwood, daughter of Thranduil and older sister of Legolas. She is romantically involved with Thorin Oakenshield, future king of Erebor, and they share together a deep and dark past which they are forced to dig up when they are going on a quest together to retrieve the Dwarves' homeland that has been stolen by the dragon Smaug (all of this is explained further in the first book).

A playlist for this story can be found in my bio :)

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The dwarves of Erebor were great miners, and unearthed deep into the mountain walls within the depth of their kingdom. They possessed a great selection of gold, jewels and gems that shimmered between the colors of a rainbow. Although, in the midst of all their wealth was the greatest ornament of them all - the Arkenstone; also known as the Heart of the Mountain. This jewel of the highest importance was placed above the throne of King Thror, and thereof also earned the name the King's Jewel, and was also the very soul and heart of the King, and to this, the kin should be united. Hence this was a sign; the sign that his right to rule was absolute.

This King had little worry, since the chance of disloyalty was scant, and his line would always prevail, as it laid secure as long as his son should live. To surge the chances of Thror's power to endure, his grandson opened his eyes to the world, and little he feared since this day.

Thorin, son of Thrain; son of Thror - that was his name. He was brave, loyal and bold, though stooped his charisma and character with troublesome stubbornness, and recklessness at times that mattered the most. He served under the stern leadership of his King, and his father beneath him, with little grievance, with little discontent. He was the heir of Durin - heir to the throne succeeding his father, and guardian of the dwarf kingdom of Erebor; much willing to, for the sake of his kin, give his breath away. A gift - a loyal sacrifice.

To the dwarven King, all would pay homage. Even King Thranduil the great, ruler of the Silvan Elves of the Woodland Realm through the Second Age. His line was secure also, as a father of a prince of great magnificence, Legolas Greenleaf. As a father to an elven princess of the highest, spectacular kind of beauty. Her name was Arïa Hõlone, older sibling to her brother, however not an option to her father's throne. Arïa was kind, she was wise (differing from the Sindar and the Silvan elves), she was understanding, she was fair, loving and pure-hearted. Her temper were seldom deranged, her air rarely fell into grief, rage nor pity. Her silhouette were graceful, her skin tough and dark, and she, skilled in battle. Her importance was incandescent.

You see, Thorin of Erebor, and Arïa of the Woodland Realm could not pass each other's presence without kindling flames from exploding stars, suddenly blowing dust mined from their hearts forged in crystal. Too small of a word would be that they fell in love. Indeed, it was love, although the difficulty was to uncover what kind. An exceptional kind of love? A dreadful kind of love? A love that would force them to their knees in despair, begging for mercy? Or a love that would rain the world with star dust? Hardly such normal attractions, ending in heartbreak and agony - only ever just a mean to an end. Although, perhaps it was - unanticipated... I do not think we will ever know.

Thorin's love for Arïa was fierce, it was pure, and it was true. Arïa's love for Thorin would thaw a frozen heart, would unite any broken alliances, would kindle flames within the darkest of spaces.This dwarf would utter his own blood for the sake of this elf. Any possible thing, he would perform for the princess with the auburn hair and the glasz eyes, hence his conscious would never rest without knowing of her happiness, and her safety. Thorin was her very own. Arïa was the light of his life. His stubbornness and recklessness she payed no attention to, for he would come back to her in atonement.

Arïa would grab him and raise him from perdition. She would be his warrior, his savior and his heart. When all else were lost, she would be his light. With her, he would regain his sanity. She would be the prevention of his insanity. She would remove the evil, the bitterness, and the hate. She would paint a world beyond theirs, where pitiful gold and jewels were nothing compared to flesh and bone. When he would look into her eyes he would forget his pain. When he would look into her eyes he would see love. When he would look into her eyes he would see something worth fighting for. If she would fall, he would drag her up. If she were to die, he would die with her. If the world came crashing down, may it be so, because he would stand side by side with her, clutch her hand tightly, and look at her; and he would rather look at her than all the treasures of the world.

The days of unexplainable happiness was numbered however, and short lived. King Thranduil ripped his daughter from the dwarf's secure embrace and forbade her aid for the dwarves as the day of terror struck the dwarven kingdom - the fire breather Smaug appearing out of the sky of pine and flame for the treasure beneath the Mountain.

Arïa gave up her family and her pride for his - now brought to their knees, and left behind her, her father and her brother with strong words and violent temper. Banished, hated and afraid. This act of recklessness was not thought of as any heroic act by the elves of Mirkwood, but an act of selfishness, foolishness, betrayal and blinded love that could never be. Her father loathed her to her bones. Her choice to wander in everlasting solitude was absolute as she heard of Thorin's hatred of herself and her kin. He had not heard of her actions against her father, with her thoughts resting over him, like a cowl of love and despair, and was now a traitor - a part of the filthy elvish kin. And so she shielded herself from his knowledge of her return to his people. Thorin would never forgive, for he never forgot.

Thus, Arïa was welcomed into the arms of Dís, daughter of Thrain - Thorin's sister, who sheltered her and treasured her as if she were her own. Fíli and Kíli were the names of her sons - the heirs of Durin, succeeding Thorin. Young warriors of stoical hearts and prized souls. The two were raised under the stern guardianship of their uncle, and the gentle touch of Arïa and Dís; they never travelled far from home. This Lion and this Wolf travelled in pack, and their love ran thick alike their line.

The thought of Thorin's beloved struck him each passing day, and the love and hate of her grew and corresponded in equal measure of similar burning fire. For many, many years their clay hearts and dusty minds grew yet sadder and empty for each day that passed them. Darkness slowly seeped into their conscious, their mined hearts to dust grew poisoned and rotten, and their desperation of finding the other was cureless when the other was just bathing in solitude and shadows; the other in black blood and sanguinary.

The hope of the future ran thin as one is immortal and the other grows with the seasons. But their love was no less beautiful for being doomed.

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I have just watched the new movie and I will start writing the story as soon as it's rentable or able to be downloaded.