Work Text:
Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, heir to the throne of Erebor, the greatest Dwarven kingdom in Middle-Earth, was twenty-seven before he ever saw a sunrise. He was born deep in the Mountain, in a chamber bright with fire and gold, mithril and crystal and faceted gems, far and far from the light of sun or moon. Had not Durin woken and walked before those lamps of Aulë and Varda were hung in the heavens? A prince of Durin's Line should likewise know the dreaming dark of stone before standing beneath the naked vault of star-bright, sun-struck open air.