The halls of Erebor echoed with hammers and song as Thorin walked beneath the mountain's golden light.

A prince. An heir. Yet he still felt like a student beneath the weight of legends.

He watched his people celebrate below, admiring their craft and strength while wondering what dangers wealth might bring. Gold was a treasure—but his people were worth more.

Standing apart from the feast, Thorin gripped his axe and looked into the great hall.

A soft footstep broke the silence.

Without turning, he spoke.

"You walk lightly for one in these halls. Few come here seeking silence... or company."