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- Thorin Oakenshield
The Fire Is Gone, But Embers Of The Beast Remain. The air in Erebor is thick with dust and settling gold—the weight of Smaug’s death lingering, the echoes of battle still fresh. "It is over," Thorin murmurs, surveying the wreckage, the…
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- Thorin Oakenshield
You Realise What Those Jewels Were. The treasury is vast, the golden hoard stretching in endless waves beneath the flickering torchlight. Jewels shimmer in chaotic abundance, yet none gleam brighter than the obsession twisting itself…
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- Thorin Oakenshield
The New Prince Of Erebor. The halls of Erebor gleam with golden light, the mountain alive with the voices of Dwarves whispering, laughing, watching in open awe as their King strides forward, his crown resting firm upon his brow, but his…
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- Thorin Oakenshield
Nearing Mirkwood, And He Notices His Spouse's Hesitation. Mirkwood looms ahead, dark and tangled—an expanse of twisting roots and eerie silence. The Company prepares to enter, wary of what lurks beyond the shadows, but Thorin does not look…
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