Disclaimer: I own nothing recognisable.
Smaug the Magnificent
Legolas was so excited that he was literally bouncing on his pony. Beside him, his father smiled wryly, a hand on his shoulder to still the writhing child. Lothellon, on duty as the King's bodyguard, mounted his own horse on Thranduil's other side.
This was the first time Legolas had ever been allowed to leave the safety of Northern Greenwood, or more specifically, the woods immediately surrounding Thranduil's Halls. A trading party was travelling to Dale, to deliver a wagon of goods – including a number of items Lady Ladlaurë had sewn.
Ladlaurë, the seamstress, was Lothellon's wife, and their two children were Legolas' close friends. Brethilríl and Brethildíl rode under their mother's watchful eye, and they, like Legolas, were fairly bouncing in their anticipation of the excursion.
A voice caught Legolas' attention, as another child of about the same age as Legolas himself was bundled up onto a horse. "Naneth!" Tathar complained as Lothelleth treated him like a child much younger than himself.
Lothellon laughed at his sister's predicament, as the seneschal attempted to seat her fidgeting son on the pony. Neldororn, Tathar's father, was on a rare break from missions south, his company having been pulled back after a number of years of relative peace. Neldororn rolled his eyes at his son, but succeeded in calming him down with a gentle hand on the child's arm.
Aldanna, the last child in the group, was arguing with her father. She wanted to ride a full horse, or else run through the treetops. Malthon, a healer and warrior of Neldororn's company, stubbornly insisted that his daughter was only tall enough to ride a pony, and so ride a pony she would.
Legolas fidgeted, for his mail shirt rubbed uncomfortably. It was a beautiful piece of work, and made of some expensive metal – but in Legolas' opinion, it chafed and was generally uncomfortable.
Tathar, who had likewise been bullied into wearing a child-sized coat of mail, was far worse off, or so he had stated when they had run into each other on the way to the gates. His mail was made of iron rings, and it was heavy. It even clinked every time he moved.
Aldanna was armoured in her mother's old coat of plate armour, which severely restricted her movement. Her father insisted that she wear it, though, and she did – though she had complained about its weight often enough. Legolas suspected it was one reason she wanted to run in the canopy – she would have to remove the armour to do so.
Brethilríl and Brethildíl were wearing heavy leather armour, with metal rings embedded in them. Both children hated it, but their parents thought they looked wonderful, and insisted they wear it outside their clothing. Legolas wished that he had been allowed to hide his own brightly polished vest underneath his tunic, for the bright sheen of the metal was very eye-catching, and Legolas hated the attention.
Finally, everyone was mounted, and Thranduil gave the signal to set off.
The convoy was larger than usual for a simple trading expedition to Dale. There were two guards in the lead, Thaliondil the High Commander and Kalhíth. After them were the tradesmen, Eregalen the woodworker, Ladlaurë the seamstress with her children, Rílmír the swordsmith, and Míruial the jeweller. Then there were two healers, Cûldol and Caranfínríl, sisters with very bright red hair who often travelled to Dale to teach the healers there.
Then Thranduil, Legolas and Lothellon rode, followed by Malthon and Aldanna, then the wagon. On the wagon rode Rílmír's son, Rílglín, an adolescent partway through training to be a warrior. Rílglín, Legolas knew, had been caught doing something very naughty, and his punishment was to mind the wagon on this journey, though he would rather have ridden instead.
Behind the wagon rode six more guards, including Celebglín, another member of Neldororn's company. Two of them were female warriors, and inspiration to Aldanna and Brethildíl: Tuilë and Eleni.
Tuilë was a Silvan elleth and a warrior, much like Aldanna wanted to be when she grew up. She had grey eyes and soft brown hair, and hard muscles.
Eleni was a Sindar. Her blue eyes and black hair contrasted with her white skin, and she bore a powerful bow on her back.
The other three guards were all Sindarin ellyn, and each had a sword at his hip.
Mallaer and Nar-rhîw were brothers, with similar dark brown hair and eyes. They smiled and laughed often, and teased each other mercilessly when they thought no-one could hear.
Coirëllach had silver hair and grey eyes, and it was rumoured that he was a close relative of Celeborn of Lorien, though no-one would tell Legolas if that was true or not. The warrior was ancient, and had an air of wisdom about him rarely seen in Elves of the Greenwood.
The passage through the forest was uneventful. Legolas and his friends slept together, all tangled up in a mess of arms and legs and knotted blankets, for they found that sleeping on the ground was very cold, and the adults would not let them sleep in the treetops.
They left the trees very early the next morning. Legolas guided his pony close to his father, for he felt very exposed without trees surrounding him, promising him safety in their arms. Thranduil reassured him that he was in no danger, and gradually Legolas began to relax.
There were marshes between the Forest and the Lake, and the way to Dale skirted the northern end of the bog. Legolas wrinkled his nose at the distasteful stink of the mire, and saw that Aldanna pinched her nose, when he glanced behind him. Beyond her, Malthon gave Legolas a wry little smile, and then signalled something in hand gestures.
Legolas shrugged his shoulders, for he had not yet learnt the warriors' signal languages fully, though he thought that he caught the gist of it. Malthon was reassuring him that it would end soon.
Aldanna caught the movement, and took her fingers from her nose to talk, but pulled a face as she once again smelled the muck, and resolutely pinched her nose once more. "I don't like the world outside the wood," she said in a strange voice.
"Neither do I," Legolas commented, before returning his attention to his path, when his pony hopped back after stepping on slippery mud at the edge of the path.
Malthon called back, laughing, "The world isn't only bogs, you know!"
Thranduil glanced over his shoulder to answer the warrior before his son did. "Take care in what you say, for I can have you assigned to this bog for the next ennon!"
Legolas laughed, and heard Malthon cough and splutter as he assured the king that he loved the woods over any other part of Arda, and they continued plodding along the way to the city of Men.
But they never reached Dale.
A great wind came from the north, and a thunderous noise like a great drum, but it reverberated through Legolas' head, making it hurt. Suddenly, a shadow passed over the sun, and then Legolas felt a hard jerk on his back, ripping him free of his pony.
What Legolas saw did not make sense. It was like looking at a map, except it was in exquisite detail, and the colours were true to life. There were even small figures, and Legolas recognised a party of Elves with a wagon, and then lots of people in a bustling marketplace.
Suddenly the marketplace got bigger, and then the pull on Legolas' waist became very, very painful as the scene got smaller again, though there was now a fire burning in the square.
The air was hot, and the thunderous noise continued. Legolas squeezed his eyes shut, and each time he opened them he saw a different part of a great city of Men, and the horror of each scene grew. Legolas did not understand what was happening, and he tried to ignore the visions of painful deaths in fire and flying stone, but his stomach hurt, and the pressure increased greatly many times.
Soon the scene changed. Legolas was happy to forget the images of the burning city of Men, but he did not relish the visions which replaced it. This was a great city carven into a mountain, with many straight lines and small people. Dimly, Legolas realised it was a Dwarven city. The images flickered between great halls and many dwarves fighting something high above, and aiming swords and axes directly towards Legolas. Eventually, though, the images fixed on a great treasury, filled with gold and jewels beyond Legolas' wildest imagination.
Legolas suddenly fell to the floor with great force, and he scrambled to his feet. He was in the vision, or so his jumbled mind deduced, for he was surrounded by high mounds of disorganised treasure, which looked like they had recently been spilled across the chamber's floor.
Something growled behind him. Legolas spun about, and screamed.
.
Thranduil kicked his heels in, and his horse reared in protest. Lothellon reached forward to pull the King bodily back, while the children screamed.
"Erebor!" Lothellon shouted to his King, "A dragon can only want treasure, and the only treasure in these parts is in Erebor!"
Thranduil nodded, his scattered brain somehow processing the information and accepting it. Wheeling the horse around, he headed away from Dale, and the dragon, and his son, and rode hard for the great Dwarf realm, ignoring the distraught screams of the four children, clutched in their parent's arms.
He reached out to the trees, and they conveyed an order to all his people: gather the army to aid Erebor. Dale was already beyond aid, burning with dragon fire in the distance, but perhaps the Dwarven realm could be saved.
The dragon moved to Erebor before Thranduil arrived. Dwarves fled, and none recognised the rider as he galloped past. Finally he made the ruined gates, and fought to make his way through the crowd of dwarves as they fled the ruin of their kingdom.
Thranduil dismounted, and frantically ran through the corridors until he came to the underground treasury, where he found the dragon - and, more importantly, his son, alive and well.
Little Legolas seemed caught in a dream, as if he didn't understand what was happening to him. Thranduil had heard many tales of dragons, and he knew how to communicate with them.
But he didn't care to flatter the beast, when it licked its chops as it advanced on his son.
.
A great red dragon was before Legolas, nostrils smoking, and gold eyes glowing.
Legolas fell on his backside, and scrambled backwards, trying to put some distance between himself and this nightmare. The dragon took a single step forward, and Legolas froze, terrified for his life.
The dragon extended a single great claw, and touched Legolas' chest, raking a tear through the soft fabric of his cloak, exposing the metal rings beneath.
Legolas had never been so grateful for the little mail shirt, for it protected his ribs from being sliced apart by the sharp, foot-long claw.
"The mithril calls to me," a deep voice said, and Legolas realised that the dragon was talking to him. He squeaked, and attempted to remember how to string a sentence together in Westron.
"Please don't kill me," he managed to articulate, and the dragon laughed.
"Oh, but you will be so much fun. I have never tasted elfling before."
"And nor will you ever!"
Legolas fell to his back with relief at the sound of that wonderful voice – even speaking a foreign language, and raised in tones of defiance and command, his father's voice was the single most amazing thing Legolas could imagine, for it meant he was rescued.
Thranduil strode purposefully down the wide stairs, stepping around fist-sized nuggets of pure gold as if they were rubble. He came to a halt between Legolas and the dragon, his sword drawn and raised in challenge.
The red dragon laughed, a cold sound which filled Legolas with chills. "How do you plan to stop me?" he leered, raising himself to his full height.
"I will kill you if I have to," Thranduil answered promptly, leaping forward and stabbing obliquely at the dragon's exposed chest. The dragon roared and retreated a few thunderous steps, and a single scale fell to the golden floor, skittering and bouncing to land at Legolas' feet.
"I would settle for an exchange. Return the child to me, and I will not seek to oust you from this place."
"Why should Smaug the Magnificent fear you, insignificant Elf?" the dragon snarled, ignoring the gaping hole in its otherwise flawless armour, right over his heart. "You saw me destroy a Kingdom of Men and a Kingdom of Dwarves in less than an hour."
"And I counted every second of it," Thranduil snarled. "I am the Elvenking, Thranduil of the Greenwood. I have the means and the might to do what I like with you, if given reason. That child is my son."
Smaug recoiled, and seemed to think about it. He could have simply torched both Elves, and got what he sought, but then there was the distinct possibility that this little King's people really could threaten Smaug.
"You will not challenge me while I am in this mountain," Smaug stated, "and you will give me the mithril."
Thranduil did not lower his sword. "In return, you will not threaten my woods to the west. You will not hunt in the trees, and you will not travel above them, and you will not eat any Elf."
Smaug crouched, eyes level with the King, and snorted, a single jet of flame passing within inches of Thranduil's head. Legolas' father did not flinch, and his eyes burned with determination as he battled with Smaug's will.
"Dragon sickness will not take me," Thranduil informed Smaug. "You cannot change my heart. Give me your word, and I will give you mine, and we can leave this place in peace."
The dragon whipped his long tail through the air, and Legolas covered his ears at the loud crack. Thranduil stood his ground.
Finally, Smaug accepted the offer. "I will not threaten your people or your wood," he grudgingly promised.
"I will not threaten your residence in Erebor," Thranduil responded. "Ion-nin, take off your mail. Place it on the floor."
Legolas obeyed, though he did not know why. Smaug wanted the mithril, not Legolas' mail. Still, he obeyed his father, for he knew that Thranduil would not give orders without a reason.
The mail fell to the floor, Smaug's eyes tracking it hungrily. Legolas ran to his father, and they both took to their heels, running from the vast hall as fast as Legolas' legs could take him, while the dragon snatched the piece of armour from the floor with a strange noise – satisfaction, perhaps.
Legolas and Thranduil burst from the ruined front gates, and fell in step with a long line of Dwarves fleeing the caverns.
The Dwarves were muttering among themselves, and many of them seemed to be cursing their ill fate. One, a leader, perhaps, shook a fist at the great doors, cursing the dragon. He turned, and Legolas caught a glimpse of a great army on the top of a rise – Greenwood's army. On a great elk at the front was an armoured figure, and Legolas knew that there was his brother-in-law, ready to lead an army into battle against a dragon to save him if need be.
As he watched, Bragolaglor turned away, and the army melted back into the distance. Thranduil had sent a message through the sparse trees, roots and bushes of the area to let his Crown Prince know that the army was unnecessary.
The Dwarf whom Legolas had noticed earlier, now cursed Thranduil for not coming to the aid of the Dwarves. Legolas and his father kept their heads down, and melted through the crowd, until they met the horse who carried them up to their trading party once more.
Legolas was swept up in a tight hug, and he hugged his father back, tears finally falling. He still did not understand what had happened, but he was now safe, among friends and family, and it was the only thing that mattered.
Aldanna and Brethildíl hugged him at the same time, both girls crying in relief and babbling about how scared they thought he must have been. Tathar and then Brethilríl were next, and then Legolas was all but passed from one adult to the next as they all assured themselves he was really alive and well.
Malthon wrapped Legolas up in a blanket, while Culdol checked his eyes and asked him questions he didn't understand, and Caranfínríl brewed a warm tea for him.
Legolas drank the tea, and soon fell asleep, safe in his father's arms.
The next morning, the trading party turned back toward home. There was no Dale anymore, and no Erebor either. The Elves were all but alone in this corner of the world now, with a tentative peace treaty with their new reptilian neighbour.
When they re-entered the forest, Legolas was enveloped in the goodwill and support of the trees, and he truly felt safe once more.
When he returned home and his mother hugged him tightly, everything was right with the world. Legolas was only eleven, and returning home to his whole family and his trees helped him to put his experience outside the forest behind him.