The Unknown Tales: A Collection of Short Stories, One Shots, and More

The Lost Stone

Mini Lord of the Rings fanfic!

Glaudin gazed out across the Valley of Erebor. A sharp wind blew across his beard sending brown tendrils flying into his face. Below him stretched out Long Lake glittering in the early morning sun. The bustling city of Dale, rich with gold flowing from the mountain, awoke beneath him. Behind Glaudin deep inside the Lonely Mountain the hammers of the dwarves were already hard at work extracting gold, silver, precious stones, and mithril, the most precious of all. Mithril was the lightest and hardest of all metals in Middle Earth, none could compare.

Someone tapped Glaudin lightly on the shoulder. He turned around and saw his good friend Theafandir. Theafandir was a Silvan Elf from Northern Mirkwood now called Greenwood, he was deaf but that didn't stop him from being an effective, but annoying, talker at times. He towered over Glaudin, blonde hair that reached the middle of his back flowing in the wind.

"Good morning." Glaudin said.

Morning? It's nearly midday! Theafandir signed. Glaudin snorted.

"To an elf yes. But to a dwarf it is early."

You are a soft prince.

"I am not! I'll have you know I spent all day in the mines!"

Doing what? Gazing at the jewels. Theafandir's blue eyes glittered with mischief. He smiled widely.

"You've been snooping haven't you?" Glaudin exclaimed appalled.

Does it matter?

"Humph!" Glaudin turned away muttering under his breath. Truth be told he had been looking at the jewels but he was doing more than that. He was counting them carefully making sure each one was still there. He hated the job but as Prince of Erebor it was one of his many responsibilities.

Your father wants you. He sent me up here to get you.

"Of course. It's always 'do this do that, finish my job, be a good prince', it makes me sick."

He said it was important. Theafandir signed. Glaudin sighed.

"Fine, fine I'm coming." He trotted down the massive polished stone stairs into the throne room. The huge room was lit by thousands of torches casting an eerie glow over the place. Columns of stone hewn away until they stood smooth and gleaming in the fire light supported the roof that still gleamed with hundreds of priceless gems and rare metals. Along the path leading to the king's throne were large cases of rubies, bigger than a hand, diamonds worth more than cities and armor made entirely from mithril.

Glaudin ignored all this as he rushed along to his father. His father was Fasdin, son of Dain, and king under the mountain. He was powerful, influential, and the richest dwarf in history. His wealth was rumored to be greater than that of Thror. He sat now in the center of his throne room waiting for his son.

Fasdin was dressed in rich purple robes with gold thread woven in intricate details giving the illusion that he was shimmering in the light. His hair was a deep brown with thin streaks of grey that belied his still young age. Glaudin bowed deeply before his father.

"Father. You wished to see me."

"You're late." Fasdin's deep voice echoed in the hall.

"I did not know you had summoned me."

"I told you last night I wished to speak with you before noonday. A pity the elf knows to be here when you do not."

"Father, I can explain."

"Silence!" Fasdin roared. Glaudin flinched. "I do not want an explanation. I want you to be here when I tell you to and not have to send the elf after you. It's becoming a common occurrence." Fasdin did not tolerate tardiness and punished freely. Glaudin bowed his head to receive his punishment. Theafandir interceded.