Work Text:
In a faraway land long ago lived a king and his fair queen. Many years had they longed for a child, and finally their wish was granted. A son was born, who filled their lives with sunshine. Then a great holiday was proclaimed throughout the kingdom; so that all of high or low estate might pay homage to the infant prince Bilbo.
And our story begins on that most joyful day.
The Shire was not a powerful kingdom, nor was it a large kingdom; all its riches laid in the beauty of the land and the harvests of the fields. The residents were a small people- not in population, but height, and above all they were gentle folk. King Bungo and his queen Belladonna of the Took line ruled the realm with compassion and understanding, and even in the harshest of winters or driest of summers there was no mouth left unfed and no body left unsheltered.
Erebor, the neighboring kingdom, was neither large nor rich in outer beauty, as the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain kept to themselves; the only exception being trade caravans they sent out to foreign lands. The Shire provided them with food and livestock while the dwarves offered jewelry,tools, toys and other products of their crafts.
Trade relations had been prosperous for decades, eventually prompting the two pairs of royals to become friends.
For a long time the monarchs dreamed to unite their kingdoms; making them both stronger, more powerful, never to fall victim to wicked outside forces.
Thus they announced that Thorin, son of Thrain and future King under the Mountain, would be betrothed to the Hobbit king’s son on the holiday dedicated to him.
Thorin, already a strapping young lad by this point, scoffed at the mere idea that he would one day be tied down to this weak, fragile little thing lying in the cradle which he looked upon.
He’d seen a baby before, but the hobbit didn’t look anything like Thorin’s younger brother did; his curls were softer, the hands and body smaller, and the face somewhat fairer.
From the first look he didn’t much like the little prince at all.
The dwarf had no time to dwell on his thoughts and opinions about betrothal and marriage, for the trumpets soon sounded the arrival of some very important guests.
“The most honored and exalted excellencies, the three good wizards- Sir Radagast, Sir Saruman, and Sir Gandalf!”
The wizards of the realm had arrived to give the child their blessings.
Thorin soon realised, however, they came to do much more- for example, stand by the crib and coo at the young hobbit, praising his features and fawning about him to his parents.
Mahals’s sake, were they this bad at my birth too? This is an embarrassment…
Thorin had already mentally checked out when it came time to actually distribute their gifts for the prince . Something about beauty so rare and a gift for song- nothing of benefit when ruling a kingdom, or two rather. At least they’d had the decency to give him blessings befitting a dwarven prince; skilled hands, an affinity for leadership and an unbending will.
Or pig-headed stubbornness, as his mother would say every time she cursed the wizards for it.
It was only when the castle doors blew open accompanied by a thundering bang and flashing lightning that the prince looked up- finding a tall, dark-clad figure surrounded in flames standing in the throne room.
Thorin could figure out they were trouble from the looks the wizards gave each other, jaws practically hanging down to the floor. An unexpected guest?
“Why, it's Sauron!”
“What business does he have here?”
“Shhh! Be quiet!”
The figure- Sauron, as he seemed to be called- shot the wizards a scornful glance before advancing toward the dais where the thrones stood. Both king and queen had risen at this point, looking even more fearful than the wizards.
If only Thorin had a sword or axe- he would have drawn it by now.
“Well...what a splendid holiday, King Bungo. Royals, nobles, peasants...and worse.” The sorcerer’s voice rang deep and smooth through the hall, reverberating from the walls as complete silence had fallen over every else.
“I felt quite distressed, you see...not having received an invitation.”
“You were not wanted!” shouted the shortest of the wizards, looking more red in the face than his companion’s robes.
“Not wanted? Dear me, what an awkward situation. I had hoped it was merely due to some oversight. It seems I'd best be on my way, then.”
“Surely you're not offended…- your excellency?” Queen Belladonna looked more confused than relieved, but her voice didn’t falter as she spoke up, eyes darting to her son’s cradle occasionally.
“Why no, majesty,” Sauron’s eyes showed no kindness, no anger, simply no emotion at all. It made Thorin want to cower behind his father- but he had outgrown being a little pebble. He’d have to stand his ground.
“And to show I bear no ill will, I, too, shall bestow a gift on the child.”
In an instant the wizards jumped to stand before the hobbit child, but Sauron stayed where he was, simply lifting his staff.
“Listen well, everyone! The prince shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who know him! But before the sun sets on his sixteenth birthday, he shall put a gold ring on his finger...and die.”
“NO!” Queen Belladonna cried out, rushing to the crib- but it was too late to protect her son from the evil wizard’s ‘blessing’ now.
“Guards! Seize that- that creature!”
His evil laughter filled the room before the not-quite-properly armed hobbit guard could make a move on the wizard, who proceeded to disappear in a flash of flames.
With panic spreading throughout the crowd and both royal couples it came to some surprise to Thorin that the red wizard out of all people spoke up and calmed them
“Don't despair, your majesties. Gandalf still has his gift to give.”
“Then you can undo this fearful curse?” King Bungo’s head whipped around to spot the blue-clad figure, who still hadn’t quite recovered from Sauron’s declaration.
“No, sire- Sauron’s powers exceed my own-”
“But he can help! Just do your best, Gandalf. For the prince.”
“Yes, yes- For the prince.”
The wizard looked back at his companions with uncertainty in his eyes; seeming almost reluctant to show his skills. As frightened as he was himself, Thorin still felt a little outraged at this. Does he even know his craft? I’m beginning to understand why amad doesn’t appreciate their meddling…
“Sweet prince, if through this wicked wizard’s trick a ring should to your finger stick, a ray of hope there still may be in this, the gift I give at thee.
Not in death but just in sleep the fateful prophecy you'll keep, and from this slumber you shall wake when true love's kiss the spell shall break.”
Dear Mahal. Thorin wasn’t sure he would have taken death over a kiss, but he found himself having a hard time deciding which was actually the lesser evil. True love, yeah right.
There was no way, simply no way he’d be involved in any of this. Surely his parents would feel the same way.
After King Thrain and his family left the Shire with a promise to return shortly- to aid in the dismantling and melting down of every golden ring in the land- Thorin tried to broach the subject.
“So...does that mean the engagement’s off?”
And he was promptly cussed out by his mother and father who suddenly used words he had scarcely heard them say in the nastiest of smithing accidents.
Still. Even if he had to continue the betrothal, there was no saying he’d be the prince’s true love.
Right?