A/N: Hello everyone. This is my first fic so I'm a little nervous… Please enjoy and review anyway! Feedback is much appreciated. :)

Tap… Tap-Tap, Tap… Tap, Tap, Tap… Tap… Tap…

The dark, blood-red ruby ring trembles on top of a pile of gold furiously. The cave is full of gold and silverware and treasures. Great diamond chandeliers swing from the ceiling and the twenty-four marble pillars which line the chamber are bejewelled with amethyst gemstones. The floor is not visible at all due to the vast amounts of treasure. Gold coins litter the ground in piles, all teetering precariously on top of the next, in no order.

Tap… Tap—Tap-tap… Tap-tap…

The ring trembles and shudders gently. Tap, tap, tap… And huge gold coins snake down the top of their miniature mountain, the ruby ring following them down in the flow of golden current. The treasures have run down their mound, making a smaller and more spread out pile below. But gold has been replaced with gold. Where the coinage had been, a solid, golden structure has appeared. This structure is glistening and moulded with large, precious scales. It flutters slightly.

A single glinting eye snaps open and blinks blearily, zoning in and out of focus. It is a ghostly galleon of yellow, which is threaded with toffee, beige, rusty orange, splatters of deep, thick crimson, dusty greyish-pink, and pure, bone white. The eye is jewel-encrusted in the most ludicrous fashion. The whole orbit of it contains triangular rubies, octagonal emeralds and hexagonal sapphires, all of which are dotted randomly over the expanse of scales. The upper eyelid is set with massive pearls, which shine happily in the tiny slither of moonlight that is tumbling through the minuscule open window.

The source of the tapping noise soon reveals itself. A thrush, peeking with such curiosity through the window, the light, sweet outdoor breeze ruffling its soft down and the discarded, cracked shell of a snail at its side. The mother bird proceeds to swoop in and glide over the expanse of gold, her keen, beetle-black eyes searching for something to build a nest with. She stops when she sees a few broken strings of a fine gold harp and flutters down towards them gently. Immediately, as she lands, the ground slips and slides, gold trickling down in tiny rivulets, like spilt paint dripping from a bucket, from the top of the nearest mound. Gold coins shift and run down between the thrush's thin legs, pooling finally at the bottom of the mound. The gold coins on which the mother thrush had been perched are no longer there. In their place, a pointed, oversized golden nostril and part of a snout lie. The thrush flies off in panic at the sight of such a strange, supernatural thing and immediately glides up over to the window again, accidentally hitting a precariously balanced gold goblet. It falls down the mound, bouncing and making an eerie racket in this not-so empty cave.

Clang...

Clang...

Clang…

The mother thrush lands on the window, just as more gold starts tumbling and pouring down in great buckets. An indignant snort is let out from the nostril and suddenly an entire snout appears, long and scaled, as the gold slides down into dips in the cave.
Gold is raining down from a massive shape that is rising from the depths of the treasure. A long, spindly wing bursts forth from the mound, followed by another, and they shake the gold and coins from the leathery crevices which span out and stretch. A long, scathing tail swipes the air, batting away any flying gold debris as it rises. And suddenly a whole massive body is shimmying from the gold, precious treasures trickling out from between long bronze spikes, which reach from the tip of the tail to the neck, down the spine. A massive head finally erupts from the tomb of gold coins, where it had been buried.
The scales which are pulled, taut along gaunt flesh, are golden, and they shine and glisten terribly, blending in with the mounds and mountains of gold surrounding. The dragon has a slim, golden snout and a long head, its yellow eyes flashing and glistening as they snap open. Its breathing is loud and heavy, and it echoes through the caves and tunnels in a low, menacing rumble.

'What is it?' the great dragon's voice snarls, its lip curling as it rises to its feet and creeps over to the window. Still, the thrush is perched, its head cocked to one side quizzically as if it has never seen a dragon awake from slumber before. The great beast reaches out with a long claw and snatches up the tiny bird, whose wings have finally begun to flutter madly.

'You are attracted to gold... Just like me,' the dragon murmurs, his eyes gliding over to rest on the harp, not entirely feeling the furious beating of frantic wings within his curled-up fist. 'I would let you go, of course,' the dragon growls, 'But that would mean risking the entire operation. The other option would be killing you, but I think you'll prove far too useful. So I think I'll let you watch the show, my dear.' He traces a bronze claw softly over the thrush's feathers before placing her in a fine metal cage that hangs from the corner of the window.

'Why do you let it live?' a voice suddenly whispers from the darkness, a raspy voice which sounds like it is caught in the wind. But the window has slammed closed. There is no wind.

The dragon's yellow eyes flash like torches, looking over abruptly at something that appears to not be there. The candlelight in the chandelier nearest the wall flickers nervously as the great beast swivels and thumps around the chamber, pacing madly and clawing at marble pillars as he passes, 'She will prove most useful. You shall see. When we finally take over the whole of Dale and enslave them. I shall feast and hunt them. She shall get in and out. She shall act as a messenger before we attack.'

'No!' the voice whispers firmly, its raspy echo bouncing over the gold coins, 'No, O Smaug!'

'Yes…' Smaug murmurs, smiling slightly, eerily, 'Yes… Yes…'

'NO!' the darkness yells, its voice whooshing through the chamber in thick, black wind. 'We shall target Middle Earth. Dale is too small for us. It is a mere pinprick compared to the whole of Middle Earth. It is but an ear of corn in scores of fields filled to the brim with golden sheaves. We can gain so much more.' The darkness hisses enticingly, 'Indescribable power will be wielded by me – by us. We shall be supreme!History shan't forget us.'

'We shall bring down Middle Earth until it falls, begging upon its knees,' Smaug growls, scratching a long, bronze nail into the single patch of earth, the single patch of bare soil in his entire cave. A line… then another line… All with the utmost, careful precision. 'Starting with Dale.'

'Good…' the darkness mutters in approval, 'You understand, if I am correct, that if we position ourselves correctly at precisely the correct moment then –'

'We? WE?' Smaug the Magnificent screeches, 'I shall be the one doing all the work, and where will you be? Skulking around in this gloomy cave, no doubt!'

The darkness is quiet for a moment. It takes a while before he speaks, and when he does, his voice bounces across the walls behind the great dragon as if he is moving, and while doing so removing the warm, smug blanket from Smaug and breaking down the walls of his cool exterior. When the darkness speaks, he speaks slowly and deliberately, as if issuing a warning, 'Durst you speak to me like that? With such authority?' the darkness stops, before passing through the great golden-scaled dragon, and Smaug barely holds back a shiver. 'Think you that this is wise, O Smaug?'

'Please. You are in no way superior to me…' Smaug calls out fearlessly to the darkness, throwing back his great head and laughing. 'Girion, Lord of Dale, has been fifty years dead!' he booms, his great roar triumphantly shaking the cave where Smaug himself had defeated the lord, 'I ate his people like a wolf among sheep. I kill where I wish and none dare resist.

'My eyes are torches in the night, seeking, preying upon those whom my enemies hold most dear,' Smaug boasts, edging closer towards the precious Arkenstone on his massive throne of jewels with each slow, calculated step. He smiles a slow, twisted smile, flashing perfect white teeth in the chaos of a wide, cruel smirk, 'My teeth are knives and daggers which tear through the putrid, sweating flesh of those who oppose me. My claws are the hooks which help the struggling fish get caught on my line, ready for my supper. But I do not take home my catches, no, I eat them raw and whole. My wings rip the night into ribbons as I glide on them silently, towards my prey, towards you… My cry is what man fears most of all. It cuts through the air like a whip marking the back of a slave, and it will always leave a scar of some shape or form. I am better. I am fire and flame. I am King Under the Mountain. I. Am. Death,' he breathes finally, reaching down with a long, spidery digit and scooping up the huge crown he had fashioned from the broken metals he had melted and welded.

'You?' the darkness laughs coyly, and the precious metals in the cave jingle and ring hollowly, 'You are death? Where would you be without me, o dragon? You need me.'

Smaug contemplates this, spinning his crown on a glimmering bronze claw before tossing it up onto his head. 'You are merely a travelling being, one who seeks refuge in my cave.'

'It was my cave before it was yours and you know that,' the darkness growls menacingly, but Smaug thinks nothing of it. Instead of reacting in fear he flicks his tail and lets it fall with a loud thump that shakes the cave and the whole mountain, all the way down to Dale. He can feel the unspoken fear of the residents seconds afterwards, and he can already taste the sweet terror on their flesh as they anticipate his pillaging. They know he is coming. One breath, one movement, and they believe that he has awoken from a great slumber. He paralyses them with fear.

'I could kill you now.'

Smaug smirks, picking lazily at his overgrown incisors as he lounges, his full length stretching across his throne, 'You wouldn't dare.'

'How can you be so sure?' the darkness asks, its voice hollow. Then suddenly, a flurry of bats erupts from the shadows behind Smaug, but if they startle him, he doesn't show it. Their cries echo and shriek around the cave, bouncing off the walls, making Smaug's ears ring. He snaps his jaws around half a dozen, tearing them with one powerful munch of his canines. He swallows them whole and licks his scaly lips, 'Mm… Delectable. Have you got any more?' he snuffles, almost mockingly, as he swallows.

'No.'

'What a shame…' he snorts, expelling a spurting fine trail of grey-blue smoke, before gathering himself up and casting his crown aside. He stretches his wings, the massive span engulfing the darkness of the room. 'Well, be off with you, then. Now I shall feast.'

Smaug drags his nail finally through the thick layer of dusty soil, completing his absent-minded sketch. It's simple enough – a few lines, parallel, horizontal but the most prominent is curved, and also a circle, along with some extra lines. A hangman.