Erebor was not a joyful place to those who looked upon it from the outside. It was a Mountain that lived up to its nickname of The Lonely Mountain. The kings under the mountain held a job that few were strong enough to handle, and even fewer were willing to do. For the kings of Erebor, shepherded the souls of those lost to hardship and strife, to war and hunger and goblin attack, to accident and old age and murder, all of the souls that died went through the under gates of the mountain, greeted and ushered onto the next life to be judged by the Creator by the king.
The people of Erebor adored their king. Each time a new heir would take up the heavy burden that came along with the crown, they gave their support and love. For such a job wore upon the soul of a person, the many woes of the lost people dragging at the many kings' sanity and happiness. Yet not once had a king of Erebor shirked their duty or tried to pass the crown to another before they could handle no more. Each time the line of Durin stepped forward to claim their crown and take up the task of escorting the dead to their rightful place. Such was the curse of the mountain.
As much as his own people could show their support and loyalty, not everyone in Middle-earth held such views on the king of death. As such when a young prince named Thorin just barely of age took the crown from his ailing father, he was made aware of just how feared his position was to peoples outside of Erebor, how loathed and terrifying he became as the king of death. As much as his kin and friends tried to shield it from him, every time he dared to wander outside of the mountain he saw the fear, and the hatred. For he was the one who came to take their family away when they passed, and for that crime he was forever guilty and to be shunned.
So King Thorin stopped leaving the mountain, he slowly lost the gleam of life in his eyes as the years of his service wore on. His hair was streaked with silver and his face was lined with an age he did not own; there was no joy in the king under the mountain, for he had no one to share the burden and no one willing to comfort him in the way only the one closest to his heart could. Thorin had given up finding his one when he took the crown, for who would want the king of death as a life mate?
So his heart grew heavier and heavier in his chest with each passing day, and his vitality began to drain away. He was holding on, but his people could see his suffering, and knew he had not long to last. So they began to search for something to help their king that they so loved, something or someone to bring joy back into his life once more.<|im_end|>
Balin had been the adviser and friend of the king since Thorin's grandfather, King Thror, had been king under the mountain. His heart ached for the suffering of the young king. The worries of his short years clearly showed on his face. Balin had watched his king slowly die right before his eyes and felt completely helpless to stop it. That was, until he remembered her.
It happened one day when he and his brother Dwalin were discussing what they could do to help their friend. A messenger had come, bringing Balin a letter from their brother Kailin. Kailin lived in the Iron Hills as a fur trader and was asking permission to send his daughter Am'lia to Erebor to live for an indefinite amount of time. The brothers couldn't help but grin at the memory of a young dwarven prince chasing around the young fairy girl, begging for a feel of her "arkenstone" wings. This had gone on for about a month before her family returned to the iron hills.
Of course, young Thorin didn't know that the only time you touch a fairy's wings is when they are injured, trying to injure them or during coitus. Balin smiled fondly, remembering his own life-mate Karana. She had been a half-fairy dwarf and he quickly discovered the benefits of having a light and gentle touch... Dwalin brought him back to the present by suggesting that they invite Thorin to dinner the first night Am'lia was there, which wasn't unusual since the king usually had dinner with them when he wasn't drained from his daily activities.
With these plans in mind, they quickly sent a message back to their youngest brother, informing him that they would be delighted to see their beloved niece again. She had always been a sweet child but they hadn't seen her since before she had become of age, for they were busy helping Thorin adjust to his new role as king and keeping him going ever since. Of course they really did look forward to seeing their niece, but if she could do anything to help their king it would be all the better.
Balin had been waiting anxiously at the front gates of Erebor for the better part of the afternoon, today being the day when Am'lia should be arriving. He had not received word stating otherwise so she had to be coming. When his pacing had caused him to turn his back, he heard the distinctive neigh of a pony, followed by the cheery cry of "Uncle!" He turned with a smile and ran to greet his niece. She hadn't stepped foot in the door and yet the lonely mountain was slightly brighter place due to her presence. As the evening came, word of her arrival began to spread until whispers of a young, very beautiful woman reached the ears of the king.<|im_end|>