The Faes were once a proud race, living in harmony with all races. Never had anyone ever had a problem with the Fae folk, but that was until Azog the Defiler raided the once peaceful race, now almost all Faes are in hiding using their magic to look...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"My dear Frodo."
Bilbo lights a match, then uses it to light a candle. He walks through a hallway in Bag End, carrying the candle.
"You asked me once if I had told you everything there was to know about my adventures. And while I can honestly say I have told you the truth, I may not have told you all of it."
Bilbo opens a chest. He glances with fascination and recollection at Sting, his sword in its sheath, and reaches out to touch it. At the last second, he hurriedly restrains himself and pulls out a large red book from the chest instead. Sitting down at his desk and opening the book, he sees a drawing of his younger self. He picks up the picture and gazes at it.
"I am old now, Frodo. I'm not the same Hobbit I once was."
Bilbo dips his quill in a pot of ink, and poises to write in the book. He begins writing.
"I think it is time for you to know what really happened. It began long ago in a land far away to the East, the like of which you will not find in the world today."
The camera fades away from Bilbo in his study and begins panning over a map of Middle-earth. We see a city, Dale, full of humans and Dwarves walking happily through markets and bazaars.
"There was the city of Dale. Its markets 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."
The camera swoops over the city of Dale and reveals an enormous mountain just behind the city; a massive gateway has been built into the side of the mountain, flanked by humongous stone statues of dwarfs. We see Thror and his son Thrain inside the castle, looking out of the battlements and observing their domains. The camera pans through the city of Erebor, seeing vast chambers and massive, carved statues. Thror sits on his throne as his son, Thrain approaches him; his grandson, Thorin, stands at his right side.
"Thror ruled with utter surety, never doubting his house would endure, for his line lay secure in the lives of his son and grandson. Ahhh, Frodo, Erebor; built deep within the mountain itself, the beauty of this fortress city was legend."
The camera pans over the vast gold quarries within Erebor; Dwarves with magnifying lenses sift through piles of rare jewels; smiths pound metal with mallets. A dwarf quarrying for gold sees a glow in the rock; he peels away the rock and finds a beautiful, glowing gem, the Arkenstone.
"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 his right to rule was divine. All would pay homage to him, even the great Elven king, Thranduil."
