The Song of the Lonely Mountain
In the heart of the ancient abandoned kingdom of Dwarrowdelf, lay the Lonely Mountain. The stories of endless treasures and fatal dangers whispered across the lands had given it a name filled with allure and terror. Far from civilization, it housed a wealth of unimagined fortunes and a beast that loved gold more than anything else, the mighty dragon named Smaug.
Among the common folks in the nearby village of Daelin, no one dared to set foot in the formidable mountain, except for one. An uncommon character, a dwarf, named Thror. Unlike his brethren who were content with their peaceful lives, Thror was touched by an unquenchable thirst, a restless spirit for adventure, and a burning desire to reclaim his rightful heritage.
Thror was a direct descendant of the last king under the mountain, whose legacy, the heart of the mountain - a gigantic gemstone - was now under the possession of Smaug. This gem was said to hold the power to command the mountain and the one who possessed it was the real king. Thror, although a blacksmith by profession, was a king through the essence of his blood. Thus, he assembled a band of thirteen brave yet somewhat eccentric dwarfs.
As their journey commenced, the band of dwarfs had to pass through the dark forest of Mirkwood, inhabited by monstrous spiders and deadly predators. They encountered numerous trials, skirmishes with goblin mobs, and the deadly whispers of the enchanted forest. That was when Thror, using his ancestral battle axe, led his comrades out of the predicaments. His bravery made the troupe put their faith in him, believing him to be their destined king.
However, the real test awaited them at the steps of the Lonely Mountain. As they stepped in, they found not only mountains of gold and gems but also the sleeping dragon. Thror, filled with terror and excitement, managed to locate the heart of the mountain, glowing amidst the gold. As he approached the jewel, the loud beating of his heart woke the beast.
Smaug awoke with a roar that shook the mountains. Fire blazed from his nostrils as he looked upon the intruders with disdain. Unarmed before the mighty beast, Thror felt a wave of despair, yet he stood his ground, his eyes fixated on the prized gem that lay beside the colossal dragon.
Showing unprecedented courage, Thror tried to reason with Smaug. He spoke of the suffering of his people, the vitality of the gemstone to the dwarves, and his rightful claim. The dragon, amused by the dwarf's brave yet naive pleading, was surprisingly convinced to leave the heart of the mountain and return to his ancient sleep, on one condition: Thror would play a tune on his antique flute, a melody which no living soul had dared to play in centuries.
Thror had spent countless hours observing his father play the ancient tune, though he never played it himself. This was the moment.
With shaky hands, he picked the flute lying beside the heart of the mountain and put it to his lips. The melody echoed through the vast chamber, winding its way around the piles of treasure, a song that spoke of their homeland, of its glory, and the lost majestic era of the dwarves.
The melody affected Smaug, putting him back into his ancient slumber while leaving the stone up for the taking. Thror, with tears streaming down his dusty cheeks, picked up the gem and held it high in the sky. He was their king, the king under the mountain.
Their triumphant return to Daelin was met with a grand celebration. Thror's bravery restored the faith of his people in their lineage, inscribing his tale into the pages of history, sung by poets and minstrels in the years to come as the 'Song of the Lonely Mountain.'