The world is a queer place. Life wraps itself around beauty, which we define by something that is pleasing to the eye. Few things on this earth are as stunning as the Arkenstone of Thráin. It has been said that its beauty came only through the many souls it had captured. Snow white it was, a thing to be marveled as its excellence enveloped the cultures it held. I say, "it held" because although it seemed to be controlled by the dwarves. It controlled them with its growing strength. It was the sacred treasure of the dwarves kind and it was believed that their power lay inside its glow. It protected their people with its magnificence, a power that was lusted after by the worms of the south. They wanted its power so greatly that they would often come in great numbers to steal the dwarven treasure.

Yet the power of the Dwarves was too great even for the dragons. For as long as the Arkenstone kept its amazing power none could stand before the Dwarves. But one fateful day something happened that would strike the land forever. The Arkenstone’s power began to dwindle. No one seemed to notice it at first but slowly its power began to fade and the dwarves grew steadily weaker. Many did not notice this, but a particularly wretched worm by the name of Delerath, slowly realized what was happening. It started when he watched the Dwarves at battle with their foes. For it seemed that slowly, their casualties and losses slowly grew, yet the process was so slow that the dwarves never knew what was happening until it was almost too late.

Delerath came at the strangest of times, slaughtering all inside the Lonely Mountain. His fire was so great that his name was changed to Smaug the most Evil of all devils. He became the object of hatred and many curses yet his flame was legendary, as the conqueror of the Arkenstone. Thráin however, a particularly intelligent Dwarf, believed different. Although his father Thrór would never accept the Arkenstone as defeated, Thráin watched and waited, as he knew doom was coming.

At last when he knew things would stand no longer, Thráin vanished into the distance. Those thought he had gone mad when he left. However, Thráin had not gone mad, in fact he had never been clearer in the head. He traveled through the misty mountains and through the old forest as he continued his journey. He had a growing fear in his mind that kept driving forward. At last he came to his destination, the lands of the Necromancer. There he found out his worst fears, the Necromancer had been their foe. If they had ever been able to fight his growing power they wouldn’t be able to now. He had drained the Arkenstone and used its protective power to form a ring of amazing power.

Thráin hid for many days before falling into despair, hope would never come. Beside him he bore Orcrist, his sacred sword. He had taken it in one of the Elven Wars after slaying their leader and had kept it with him as a secret from which he kept carefully hidden.

At last he could bear it no longer. The enemy had grown in power since the past war. Tragically wandering the land he was captured by the Necromancer’s warriors and brought to a horrible prison where he lived in slavery under the dark lord. But, Orcrist was taken by a Goblin with the name of Teleran to be destroyed, as he detested its existence.

However, as he made way to destroy it three Trolls stole it and kept it for themselves in their lair. It was not until much later that the sword was discovered and taken by Gandalf and Thorin in their travels to the Mountain.

As for Thráin, Gandalf found him in the dungeons where he relinquished a map that held sacred Moon Letters telling of how one might enter the mountain and rescue the sacred treasure of the Arkenstone. This map Thráin had acquired from his father, Thrór, before he had ventured into the mines of Moria. He had hoped that Thráin would one day conquer the mountain.

Never did he dream, that the mountain would one day come in the control of his grandson who would lead the dwarves into a vast battle against their enemies and once again reclaim the Arkenstone for the Dwarves. Even through the ages, though its power was drained, the Arkenstone never lost its captivating glow.

–R. Emmons

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