First things first: I don't own The Hoobbit! All rights belongs to J.R. and Peter Jackson!
Hi Guys, since i have written my fanfiction "Smaug der Schreckliche" i TRIED to translate the Prologue into english and it was very, very hard for me.
I had to get much help from my translater and i apologize for mistakes i made.
I am not sure if i will try to translate the other two chapters of this fanfiction. Like i said: It is very, very hard and some things in german, i just can't translate into english :(.
Anyway, i hope you like it and i am so sorry for mistakes :(
Have fun in reading it :)
Smaug the Mighty
Erebor ...
The ancient kingdom of the dwarves, home of Thorin, descendant of Thrain.
But the days of the dwarfs were long gone...
Many years ago, a mighty fire dragon attacked the mountain, killing all who stood in his way. Since those times, the beast ruled the ancient kingdom, and no one dared to go there more.
The beast now ruled the kingdom of the Dwarves.
The gold had him dressed like a magnet and he would defend his treasure even unto blood, and until the end of his.
The name of the beast was Smaug, a fire dragon, who had come from the depths of Middle Earth and had brought disaster upon the Dwarves. Everyone was afraid of this monster, and no one dared to be more close to the Dwarves kingdom for fear of waking the again.
For years, they had seen nothing of Smaug or heard and it seemed almost as if he was no longer there. But deep in their hearts knew the dwarves, the elves and the humans, that was not the case. They knew that he was still there.
Buried deep under the gold slumbered the beast, waited, lurking...
However, the dragon felt that the silence around him would be soon disturbed.
He was awakened from his long sleep and had fought his way out among the tons of gold.
Now he sat there and waited again, waiting for his enemy...
Steps invaded his ears, his muscles tensed to under the red, scaly armor, his mouth twitching with excitement already. Deep he sucked air in from around him and breathed it out. Black smoke came out of his nostrils, and he sniffed the air again. A very well-known odor reached him and a deep rumble crept out of the depths of his throat, which did shake his whole body. His eyes were fixed on the door in front of him, of which the steps were coming from.
They came closer and closer and then the huge door opened suddenly and a shadowy, little figure entered. Black hair framed the angry face of the figure. A short beard grew in his face, made him look even angrier than he already was. A sparse chain mail was the only thing that covered his chest. He didn't even wear a suit of armor, only his coat and his clothing. Not even a shield he held in his hands, only his sword…
The eyes narrowed angry, he raised his sword for battle, he entered the huge hall until he stopped walking right in front of the beast.
Eye to eye, they were standing now, ready to kill each other!
Thorin would fight for his people, for his kingdom and all that he loved, even if it might cost him at the end of his own life. He would not give up, not after he had come so far...
He was the son of Thrain, the rightful successor and king and this day would decide who had the right to rule over the Erebor...