An Unexpected Treasure

Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or anything related to it.

                                                                                           Prologue

Year 2790 of the Third Age

Battle to reclaim the lost kingdom of Moria

Frerin, the youngest grandson of King Thor, was cut off from the Dwarrow army. He cannot see any of his kin or the warriors that fought beside him since the battle had begun. He has lost count of those that had fallen, both at his side as well as across the blood and body strewn rocks surrounding Moria. The cries of war, pain and death filled the air. The scent of blood, sweat and death clogged his nose.

He was surrounded in total by the enemy. He could not fight his way through them. He was out of arrows, his armor was bent horribly to the point a few well placed blows would render it moot, his sword was nicked in several places and his entire body ached with fatigue.

The orcs closed in, their harsh faces and misshapen weapons too near for comfort.

With a last glance where he had last seen his kin, he killed the nearest orcs and fled into the forest, hoping the trees would force them to thin out so he could pick them off. The strategy was working and after picking off a dozen orcs in this manner, the young prince allowed himself to hope he would survive the day after all.

The banks of the River Hoarwell were unexpected, he hadn't given much thought to where he was fleeing as far as a particular destination. Here, he turned to face the remaining orcs, numbering well over a dozen, and made his last stand. One of the orcs struck him hard in the head, sending the Dwarrow prince backward into the river, his body floating away from enemy and kin, toward the Great East Road. The Dwarrow warriors were victorious and at the end of the battle noticed the prince missing, but not among the dead and gave pursuit, hoping to find him alive. Crown Prince Thorin led them in the search. On the bank of the River Hoarwell, the Crown Prince did not come across foes or kin. Instead, he spotted an empty quiver and a damaged sword, both belonging to the young prince Frerin. It was assumed he drowned in the river when searches further along the shore did not produce his body. The survivors arranged the return of their fallen warriors to their families in the Blue Mountains. Thorin and his kin grieved the loss of King Thror and the youngest prince.

Meanwhile, in a different part of the land, Hobbits from the Took clan were scouting for goblins or orcs. Thain Ferumbras Took and his brother Brandobras "Bullroarer" Took were leading a group of their unconventional, road hungry kin for an adventure. They had called a stop beside the river to rest for afternoon tea, one of their seven daily meals.

Ferumbras caught a flash of something unusual in the water, a peculiar shine that was sharper and brighter than the sunshine on the water. Intrigued, he drew closer for a better look. There, a body in the water! It had been stopped from continuing downstream by a fallen tree. The shine he had first spotted was the bent and misshapen armor the warrior wore.

He called his younger kin to help him lift the body out of the river, while they were pulling the poor soul to land they saw that it was a dwarf warrior. Once on the shore Ferumbras looked the dwarf over and was shocked to realize that the dwarf was still alive. The only visible wound was the head wound. The younger Tooks hastily constructed something that looked like the filled in middle of a bed frame, secured the unconscious dwarf to the makeshift medical transport contraption and tied the top portion to a reliable pony. They quickly journeyed home to the Great Smials, got their new guest settled and taken care of.

Frerin remained in a healing sleep for three weeks. The Took family happily looked after him during his rest. When he woke, he had no memory of his life before waking. With the blessing of his hosts, he began a quiet life among the Hobbits under the name Peregrin the Lucky. As time went on, a few things trickled into his memory slowly. He remembered first his name, later an approximation of his age and then a fragment of his past as a blacksmith. Each piece of information learned was celebrated by his Hobbit friends, most especially the Took family. He began working in the forge, starting small by fixing metal work and gradually increasing the difficulty and method of his work. When he was confident in his skill and knowledge, he taught interested Hobbits. The next skill set to awaken in his memory were his battle skills. He forged weapons, some of which were more familiar and seamless to create. He practiced with swords, daggers, axes, bow and arrow. News of his prowess reached the Bounders, drawing them to his company out of curiosity. He taught them all that he knew, forming bonds of friendship with them, especially the Tooks and Brandybucks. He forged and repaired their weapons, rode out with them occasionally when the days in the forge grew too hot. He enjoyed his life among the Hobbits very much. He laughed with them, shared their food and drink, shared grief when the occasion called for it, and partied with them. His closes friends in the Shire were the Took clan and their numerous relatives. The large size of Hobbit families amazed Frerin.