A/N: For Seltika! The amazing talented illustrator whose blog you should definitely check out! whowanderlost dot blogspot dot pt. Wonderful Thorin art and my constant OC, Wren, and so much more to come!

Just as Seltika requested, it is a story of my OC joining the Dwarves on their Quest for Erebor, but this time it is not that simple…

Allons-y, my lovelies! :D


Year TA 2770, Smaug's Attack on Erebor

The fire roared and rushed through the Mountain, shaking the walls, the floor heating up under the boots of the Khazad thrashing in the chambers in panic, children screaming, men and women grabbing their weapons, and their most valuable belongings.

"Dragon!.. Dragon!.." The cries rolled through the Kingdom Under the Mountain, the terror and the heat spreading through halls, and people ran, to the Front Gate, out of their home.

Some ran into the inner halls, those whose beloved were on the way of the beast. It was not hard to surmise where the monster was plowing through the opulent chambers of Erebor, the columns and walls were crumbling as if made of children's wooden blocks, their scorching debris trailing the immense body, its tail breaking whatever was left standing behind.

"Sigin'adad!" Prince Thorin rushed through a narrow passage leading into the Lower Halls, hastily pulling his training sword out of the scabbard.

"Thorin!" Dwalin's voice came from behind, and Thorin threw look over his shoulder without slowing down. "Where is Balin?!"

"He is taking women out through the Northern Passage!" They were now running together, heading lower and deeper into the Mountain.

Treasury, he is surely in the treasury… Thorin thought with certainty, and the prickle of the familiar chagrin made him wince. King Thror seemed to spend most of his time among the golden dunes of the Horde of Erebor.

They turned around the corner and had to slow their pace, met with a large crowd of Dwarves rushing towards the stairs leading in the Upper Halls. Being taller than most, even in his young age, Thorin looked them over and saw several bright copper haired heads, and he grabbed Dwalin's forearm.

"The envoys from Iron Hills… Are those the envoys?" Dwalin stretched his neck and quickly surveyed the Dwarves Thorin was pointing at.

"Aye, there is Master Boin there..." But Thorin was not listening, pushing his way through the crowd, trying to reach the old wide shouldered Dwarf Dwalin was pointing at.

"Master Boin!" Thorin raised his voice, trying to call over the rumble and roar of the Mountain, and the terrified voices of the people, and then someone grabbed his sleeve.

"Prince Thorin!" Thorin looked down and met the eyes of a woman, who was carrying a small crying child in her arms. "Is it true?! Is there a serpent..?" Thorin frowned, not knowing what to say.

"Aye… And do hurry up, follow the others," his voice broke, and he pushed by the woman and towards Master Boin, son of Brali. "Master Boin!" The older Dwarf finally turned around, and Thorin rushed to him.

"Prince Thorin, you are supposed to be with your father!" The emissary from the Iron Hills gave Thorin a concerned look.

"Lady Dania! Where is she?!" Thorin's eyes searched the face of the old Dwarf, who suddenly smirked, despite the nightmare raging around them.

"She is safe, my Prince. They were in the Upper Halls when the beast attacked, her and the chaperones, and her sister, so probably they are already in the valley." Thorin exhaled sharply in acute relief and nodded to Master Boin. "You should be heading there as well, my Prince…" The Dwarf grabbed Thorin's shoulder, but the Prince shook his head.

"I need to find my Grandfather..." He twisted from out of the old Dwarf's grip, and followed by Dwalin he started marching to the stairs leading down to the Thror's Hall. And then he turned around and his throat bobbed, his eyes emotional. "Tell Lady Dania… If I do not… Tell her..." His lips twisted in unease from such mawkish behaviour. And then he tensed his jaw, as if arriving to an internal decision. "Tell her I will never forget my promise."

Master Boin looked at him in confusion, but Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror was already running towards his grandfather's halls.