The following short story has been adapted from what I have learned of the events leading up to the quest of Arabor in Unfinished Tales and in one short passage in the hobbit. Indeed the following text may be perceived as almost a prologue to the hobbit and is a good starting point fore anyone who has read the lord of the rings first before launching in to Bilbo’s epic journey.
Thrain son of Thror woke from a deep sleep he was immediately stunned and altogether flabbergasted to see that he was surrounded by many Orcs baring torches to aluminate the gloom and knives to spread there master’s darkness that was sweeping threw the lands like a title wave may at times engulf a passing fisherman’s vessel and drag it to the pitiless depths. The dwarf knew at once that he was now in a very dire circumstance. He had left his home in the mountains to try to reclaim his lost fortune that now served as a bed fore his cursed robber, the dragon Smaug. With cunning devices he had strove to make his way threw many perils but still more traps fore the unwary traveler always seemed to supplant any chance of treading his path towards Arabor. The Lonely Mountain and its vast horde of gold, jewels, and other countless treasures, his ancient home seemed to draw him from his quaint lodgings in the blue mountains and in to the face of certain deadly peril. like a magnet draws all smaller metallic particles towards its refined shining surface the son of Thror was indeed swept up by a foolish desire to reclaim his birth right his precious trinkets and other oddments still lying in the darkness but it was no normal obsession fore treasure that dragged Thrain but rather an enhanced longing fore gold and jewels brought about by one simple but powerful ring. This ring was made in Eregion long ago by the elven craftsman but it was made under Sauron’s influence and was subject to the one ruling ring made in Orodruin the fires of doom. Now this dwarven ring was given to the people of Owle not by the dark lord butt rather the elves themselves so many perceived that its evil powers where less corrupting and indeed the dwarves are slow to submit to any domination and are overprotective of there rights. These The seven rings of old where almost completely useless in making dwarves slaves like the Nazgul to the dark lord and many of them were either destroyed or lost to the black hand. Now the power of Thrain’s ring like all the seven was plain. It could swell the desire fore gold to the point that all reason was replaced by madness often landing the ring in the groping grasp of the dark lord and leaving its barer but a corpse or worse. Tales of Sauron and his cruelty lived on even after his downfall in Mordor to the last alliance but rumors grew of the Necromancer this knew shadow in the north and his acts of malaise towards the free peoples of Arda. The captured ragged grimy old dwarf knew that fore some odd reason this Necromancer must have desired his ring and had come to seize it and slay him in his black dungeons far underground. Coming to this thought Thrain struggled a little on his captor’s shoulders but was abruptly slapped over the face several times.. The yellow eyes of the orcs gleaming like lamps all suddenly turned to there prisoner and some laughter soon followed hideous and retched to here. Seeing no escape the old warrior now laid low caught off guard and humiliated muttered a few curses in his people’s secret tongue and then was knocked over the head with the hilt of a broad sword who’s black blade curved to end at a wicked point. As the darkness took Thrain son of Thror he thought of his companions still lost somewhere in Mirkwood where he had been taken. Where his friends all right. Balin will take care of them and will see to it that Thorin hears of my descrase contemplated the prisoner. His swoon lasted fore some time and when he woke again he found himself in the dungeons that he had so dreaded. Growling like a caged beast he tried to get to his feet and walk about a little but he was soon knocked over by a sly small tracking Goblin who shoved his skinny famished arm threw the bars and pushed the captive to the cold stone floor. That chill rock serfice in stark contrast with the stuffy air of that terrible place sent Thrain in to uncomfortable dreams fore he was also weary and heavy of heart. he had wrought his own demise by going on this desperate expedition. He alone was to blame caught between the shadows and the guards of night. No rescue would come. No salvation would draw him hence to safety. Only death in the midst of unfriendly foes would be the reward fore his stupidity. But despite all this he wore his precious golden ring proudly and slowly although he didn’t realize it at first being alone forlorn and helpless he began to talk to the golden band like it was a deer companion who had gone with him every step of his ridiculous journey. “Boy precious we are in a lot of trouble but I will watch after you.” “I will keep you from the dark lord.” Little did the crazed dwarf know that that ring he wore was now straining to fall in to its master’s hands its true master’s hands. The lord of the rings was not slain and he now dwelt in the forest of Mirkwood in the fastness of Dol Guldor. Where the might of the eye clung to its evil policies and devices fore the conquest of all of Middle Earth plotting to outdo Mellkor his former master. But the Necromancer was beyond any doubt a good name to fool the supposed wise. Long ago the elves and the Estari wondered if this new sorcerer was just one of the nine wraiths of the black one but low hear in the epicenter of all darkness the world could muster save in the black land itself the lord Sauron sat on another thrown but wearing all the rings of power with the obvious exception of Thrain’s, the three Elven rings, and the one ruling ring his own ring to rule all the others. Waking again Thrain found himself in another loathsome chamber wider and more carefully carven. The tiled floor was rough and painful to lay upon but the ability to stand was now hindered by a set of ropes and chains. Cursing another crude remark in Dwarvish the captive was forced to submit to his situation and give in to the shadow. Seeing that he was struggling his Orc guards ran to greet there prisoner with whips but a voice denied them there spoils a deep cruel voice that made the blood run cold saying “Halt and drop your whips of slaves.” “I will deal with this one.” “Leave him to me.” Thrain felt like falling off a tower rather then here that voice again. Who was this leader who could bend the will of Goblins. Well he won’t make me do anything he thought proudly attempting to ward off a malevolent sensation of pure hatred and merciless anger flow threw the very air he breathed. Soon the dwarf could feel his captor’s hairy strong arms untying bonds and pulling away chains now unfassind and he was pulled to his feet. First Thrain saw his Goblin enemies looking down at him with disgust but saw that they where afraid of something close at hand and so the dwarf reluctantly followed there commander’s gaze witch lead a cross the room to . . . . .. Shrieking in agony the prisoner fell to his knees and wept like a child. “NO” he muttered whipping away tears that flowed freely from his eyes. “You can’t be hear.” “This is just a dream a nightmare of the shadow.” “I am the shadow” replied the dark lord seated on his black thrown his glowing read eyes diving in to his captive’s mind like a knife is plunged in to the flesh of a disarmed foe on the field of battle robbing life from the fragile body. That deadly gaze now stripped the dwarf of all sanity and he was cast in to a bottomless pit of darkness that now officially ate away his brain save fore a few thoughts. He had the key to the secret door of Arabor and the map of the lonely mountain witch had to go to Thorin. Thorin would have to continue the quest fore he was now as good as dead. At last that agonizing voice said at length calmly but hardly hiding the wrath of the dark lord’s own black thoughts “I believe you have something of mine that I would want back son of Thror.” Now turning to his servants the lord of Dol Guldor Sauron lord of the rings commanded “Take from him his ring.” “No” cried the dwarf spluttering about like a fish on land squirming like a worm. “”Please have mercy.” “I have none fore you or your folk” snarled the voice of Sauron digging deeper in to his tormented prisoner’s mind extracting information swiftly but also now draining the stunted little fool’s life force like a straw slurping up water from the ornate glass. One groping Goblin hand came with a knife and with horror and indiscernible suffering the blade cut cleanly off the dwarf’s ring finger still baring the ring. “Give it to me at once” snapped the dark lord clearly enjoying watching Thrain’s struggle on the floor of his thrown room. The finger was presented to him like a trophy and the lord of the rings couldn’t help but wonder if this sense of pleasure was also as resonant in Isildur when that Numenorian captain cut from his hand the ruling ring. “Leave me” smoothly growled the dark lord staring at the Orc before him. “And drag this unhappy dwarf to our lovely dungeons” he added now staring back at Thrain laughing as he saw the pain etched on the prince’s face under that deadly glance. If only Sauron had searched that dwarf further he would have found a silver key and a map and that would have been just disastrous fore those two heirlooms would be of extreme importance as is already told in the Red book of the hobbits. Years past until on one evening when the mind of the dark lord was elsewhere one lone figure crept in to the dungeons of the necromancer and found a ruined dwarf half mad and completely witless having endured even more torture then that spy was willing to admit. That bold person who had dared venture the perils of the shadow was Gandalf and he had come to discover who the lord of Dol Guldor was although it is clear that he evidently guessed. Coming to the ragged old dwarf the wizard politely asked feeling pity well up in his heart despite his sudden urgency “who are you?” The only words that came out of the dwarf’s mouth where “Map and key.” “Map and key.” Realizing that the prisoner had to be now completely mad not to mention on the verge of death and impossible to rescue the wizard made ready to turn away but he was stopped by the dwarf who grabbed pitifully at the stranger’s ankle. Turning around with some rebuke on his lips that was soon driven from his swift mind, Gandalf found that the prisoner was remarkably handing him what was clearly a map and a silver key on a chain. “Give it to my heir” said the dwarf voice now a tad clearer but no less mad crazed from years of torment in the dark. “I had a ring” he went on seeing the wizard’s curiosity. “I had a golden ring.” “A precious ring.” “What happened to it” asked the Estari now intensely interested. Could this dwarf have possessed one of the seven? “he stole it” replied the dwarf looking afraid and turning back and forth as though being slapped by many clubs and struck by many whips. “he took it” repeated the wizard under his breath. “Who is your heir” he asked the prisoner now even more curious then ever sensing that something more important then he realized was going on although he could not comprehend exactly why. But the dwarf would give no answer. He lay there eyes now distant mind lost in some thought of the past. Knowing that the dwarf was on the edge of death and that there was no hope fore him the wizard reluctantly walked away leaving the prisoner to the shadows once again. Only five days later Thrain son of Thror died in the dungeons of the Necromancer hardly able to cling on to life at the end torn by the ageless malaise of the eye of the dark lord but his meeting with the wizard would have the up most importance fore the journey of Thorin that would take place in that age of the world leading to the defeat not only of Smaug but also to the finding of the one ring and eventually after many years Sauron’s destruction.
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