The day began like many before it, though Thorin could not help but feel unsettled. The prince of Erebor could not quite place his finger on what was amiss, nor why he felt so uneasy, but he put those thoughts aside and went about his daily duties as his grandfather's adviser. Something would happen today, he was certain of this...though he was unprepared for the horrors that would soon take place.

What happened that day remained a haunting recollection for many. Lives were lost, Erebor was attacked and engulfed in a dangerous wave of flames. The dwarves had once believed their kingdom impenetrable, but that was far from the truth. Smaug saw to that. The mighty dragon had claimed victory, and the Arkenstone was forever lost...or so many believed. 

Thorin, on the other hand, refused to believe this. He had saved his grandfather from being brutally killed, and he remembered the sight of the Arkenstone slipping down the stairway, only to be buried with gold, and covered by Smaug's impressively large form. 

The Arkenstone was still there, and he would one day reclaim it.

Many years after they had settled in the Blue Mountains, Thorin's younger sister, Dis had married and had two sons of her own. Fili was the eldest, then Kili, the youngest. Both brothers were close as could be, and both had shown promise. As they grew, they proved themselves, and finally Thorin relented. They were to accompany them on their journey to Erebor, to reclaim what had been stolen.

After the attack on their homeland, Thorin had changed, and not for the better. Haunted by his past, he vowed to put things right. For his kin, and for his people. It was only a matter of time before they set out, a company of thirteen.