All that is gold...does glitter
(Written for rokosourobouros as part of the Lord of the Rings Secret Santa 2019)
SUMMARY: A short story offering Smaug's POV as he sacks Dale and drives the Dwarves-under-the-Mountain out of Erebor to claim the land and the treasure it offers for his own august enjoyment.Ft. sarcastic asides courtesy of your local pillaging dragon. (It's nothing personal.)
All that gold. Shiny, brilliant gold. Treasure, littered carelessly in the pockets of puny mortals. Going about their lives as if they mattered. (They don’t)
Smaug knew that in Erebor and its surrounding lands, there were goblets, coins of pure gold, silver and copper (Still shiny). There were gilded mirrors and jewelry. New crafted ornaments from the woodland elves and mithril armor coming from those stinking Dwarves in the Lonely Mountain. (Wasters of treasure)
These fools with their ridiculous fences and fortified ports. They were trapped on their island, would be trapped in their twisty caves. Nothing was a match for him, Smaug the undefeatable!
He curled closer around a large jut of rock high and far away from the men of Dale and the Dwarves-under-the-Mountain, watching for those lovely glints of gold, (Only a magnificent dragon such as himself could see so far) biding his time.
(He could be patient. For a while.)
Months passed, during which Smaug periodically watched the caravans of precious gems exit from the Mountain, saw the busiest times of day for men to exchange gold. (Horrific practice, gold was meant to be taken and hoarded, not given away for plants that were soon consumed). The gold called him by singing it’s magnificent song of hypnotic shininess and power. It took all of his considerable will to not fly and burn the place to the ground before the time was right. For the dwarven king grew greedy, amassing such wealth that the more Smaug delayed, the more Smaug would gain.
His plan was simple, fitting for a (Powerful and direct) firedrake such as himself; circle the sky above the town, let panic and flight set it, then burn it all to the ground. The Dwarves would be distracted, and while they were watching the town burn, hot enough that the water itself flamed, he would burn their holes. Smoke them out like the rats those rock dwellers were.
Smaug launched himself into the air, winging through the clouds as he stoked the fire ever simmering inside of him. His long tongue weaved in and out of many rows of teeth, popping bones and bits of fur out from between them. (Killing was always better enjoyed with a clean palette)
Smoke from chimneys rose and rested in a hazy cloud far below him.
He pursed his mouth and puffed, a small breath of hot air spiraling forcefully downwards and making a perfect circle that let a shaft of sunlight briefly shine through. That wouldn’t do. Smaug positioned himself in front of the sun, flapping his wings to hold himself in place as his shadow covered the central marketplace. He waited for the mortals to look up.
Screams. “Dragon!” Running. “To arms” Shrieks. “Watch out!” (A fitting tribute to his tremendous presence. Cower mortals!)
It was time, his lips pulled back in a devilish smile to shows rows of stained teeth.
Fire swirled up from his belly, tickling and pleasantly warming his throat. He freed it, watched it catch the wooden roofs. Lick the beams and spread its destructive beauty.
Smaug spiraled down to see the fleeing mortals. A small one (hatchling?) craned her neck up at him, he curved around mid-air in a tight loop to hang above the human hatchling.
The fire engulfed her, she screamed and fell to the ground, writing as her skin peeled off to expose dried white bones. A cloth toy fell abandoned on the ground.
A relatively large human compared to the human hatchling shook a sword at him. (Shaking swords does nothing, you have to poke something with them. Idiot.) Smaug laughed, deep within his throat and pierced the human’s head with a talon so that it burst like a recently killed donkey corpse, viscera, and blood splattering every which way. (He wasn’t hungry enough to eat a human)
Smaug looked up to see a phalanx of angry men advancing and angling pickaxes, swords, and spears towards him.
“Nothing can stop me!” Smaug roared and once more let loose a gout of flame that immediately incinerated the would-be-dragon slayers.
(He was just warming up.)
Dale-town was ridiculously easy to burn. (Remember, it was painful knowing some gold had melted, but this wasn’t the real prize)
Humans ran screaming through the streets.
Small ones stood alone, shivering, those he passed. (Not worth the hot air)
He had saved the large town hall for last. It had a large lookout affording a view that pitiful human eyes judged a distance that would give them a warning of impending danger. (Look where they are now, ha!)
Archers lined the sides, longbows nocked and ready to shoot at him. Besides thieves, archers were his most hated type of humans. (Pesky sticks destroyed the perfect sheen of his scales)
The archers released their arrows as one, Smaug laughed and let the sticks hit the underside of his wings where they bounced off the impervious scales. Time to burn this tower, watch it fall and crush the archers. Maybe he would be able to see one of them get impaled by their bow. (Irony, how he loved it)
A single man peeled off from the archers and ran below. (Coward.) He reappeared, lugging a crossbow and twisted cast-iron quarrels with him. (Fine, a fool.) Smaug caught an updraft from a nearby house that caved in, accompanied by two humans jumping out of a window clutching each other, (only he could fly) and rose higher into the air.
The first arrow went far, not even reaching a wickedly clawed foot.
The second glanced a spike at the tip of his left wing. (No more time to toy around. Shame.) As he opened his maw to end the human and move on to the real pest delving between him and the gold, the foolish archer shot an arrow that went much to straight.
An arrow that had too much force.
It hit his underbelly, enough to knock his pattern of wing -beats off for a brief, yet all too long a moment. (Oh no he didn’t) Smaug growled and knocked the quarrel out of his underbelly. To his horror, a single, beautiful scale came off too, falling into the ruins of Dale.
The rage came and overpowered him, no more toying, no more fun. He was Smaug the impermeable, Smaug the untouchable!
He incinerated that tower, those pesky archers and the foolish one who had dared to mar his skin.
Dale was destroyed, and he would scavenge it later. Now to claim the lives of the dwarves and their treasure as his own.
