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The dark stone corridor, lit with fiery torches was all but silent. In fact, the only real noise was the pattering of heavy booted footsteps as a member of the Royal Guard was hurrying his way down, short sighs coming from behind a thick dark beard as he went. The long stretching, high ceilinged corridor, with the burning bright torches were the only witnesses to him rushing. His shadow flicked over the walls as he urgently seemed to run down a flight of stone steps, reaching a whole new level of the kingdom of Erebor.

"My Lord," a little out of breath from the quick pace in which he walked, but nonetheless able to reclaim some semblance of normalcy to his tone as he spoke. Before him, seated on the large stone throne of the kingdom was Thrór, the dwarf-King was surrounded by dark, fur robes varying between grey and black. His hands leisurely rested against the arms of the stone seat as he looked to the guard with a blatant look. Recovering from the impromptu bow, the guard looked upwards at his King. "They have arrived," he said, sounding all caught up with his breath now he stood silently for a few moments.

It was a sudden thing, visitors. Sure, dwarves visited, wanting to trade. Even some from Esgaroth, Lake-town, came and went, not that many men seemed to dare to come in; more the other way around, if they wished to trade it would be the dwarves within the Mountain going down to their town.

These visitors however, were something really quite, very sudden. It was all because a special day had been and gone within Erebor. It had all started within the mines; the lines of lantern light illuminating the many workers digging away in their work. Every so often one would stop, examine their find and either choose to keep it to one side, or dispose of the faux hope of it being valuable. It was in one such occurrence that something spectacular was discovered; a lone dwarf soon found his axe striking something solid. Not stone, not anything else he knew of. Placing the axe to one side and commencing cleaning the surface to discover what he had hit, he could not believe his eyes. The stone was like nothing he had ever seen before. It shone brighter than the sun in the sky, and stars in the night sky, it had all manners of colours swirling together within it. There was nothing that could compare to the light in which this stone radiated, it was truly something. This stone was special, it was special and it was important, that much was clear.

The entrancing stone was the heart of the Mountain; the dwarves had come to name it the Arkenstone. Seeing as what it was, it was presented to Thrór, he then went on to name it the King's Jewel. It was truly befitting such a title considering the magnitude of it.

As it was something special, news of the find had spread. News got around rather fast despite the distance between neighbours. The stone had barely been free from the rock which confined it before news reached Thrór that a small company of elves from the Woodland Realm were drawing near. Elves rarely visited Erebor, let alone ones from somewhere such as there. It was a surprise, they were expected any day, and it seemed that today was the day. Luckily all things had been prepared for their arrival.

Usually, if it was just a fleeting visit there would be no need for such a fuss; however, Thrór had been alerted to the Elvenking Thranduil being amongst the group. This made things even more surprising considering he was not one for leaving his kingdom lightly. Considering the distance was relatively short between Erebor and the Woodland Realm, everyone knew that it would only be a day or so before they arrived. That gave everyone enough time to rush and get things ready and prepared. It seemed everything paid off well, timing wise.

Considering who he was to greet, Thrór called upon his son, Prince Thràin, and his grandson, Prince Thorin to join the meeting. It was only fair, Thrór was not to know who Thranduil was bringing with him. The three descendants of Durin made for an impressive line up as the small group made their way across the stone pathway that lead towards the throne.

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