T.A. 2589

Raug's eyelid slid back slowly. Several burning trees illuminated the ashen ground that he lay on. Raug was lying on his back. He could see the stars twinkling above him. But as he rose to get up, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He looked down and saw it.

A massive black arrow made of solid metal was lodged in his chest. Several of his golden-red scales were missing in the spot. He roared loudly at the pain and a branch fell from a burning tree. He desperately tried to reach his claws to the shaft, but he thought better of trying to pull it out. Raug's hands were attached to his wings like most Fire Drakes.

Suddenly, Raug remembered everything that had happened before he was shot. Two waterfalls poured down from his amber eyes as he saw the corpses of his friends and family around him. He bellowed deeply and shoved his black claws into the dirt, tightly pulling up rock and ash.

"Dwarves," he whispered and hissed. His father had always told him stories about their greed and destruction.

Father.

Raug looked around. For hours he searched the battlefield, looking for any sign of Smaug. He knew his mother was dead, but there was a possibility that he was alive. Then, he remembered watching him fly away to the west.

"The west!" Raug said to himself. Raug rose into the air. He growled at the pain from the arrow. It was getting worse by the minute. He had to find help. Raug turned and looked back at the Withered Heath. He said a small farewell to those who had died defending their home. Then, Raug spread his wings and glided over the trees into the Grey Mountains.

Smaug landed before the gates of the great Dwarvish mine. He cringed at the scent of his most hated enemies. Both bronze doors were broken down. Smaug looked in amazement at the massive piles of mithril and gold inside. He was overtaken by greed. His pupils dilated as he approached the shimmering mound of riches. Smaug touched his claws to the pile. It was ice cold.

Suddenly, the pile burst open, sending mithril and gold flying everywhere. Smaug recoiled and wrapped his red tail around his body. Fire welled up in his chest. Out of the pile came an ice blue and silver dragon. Icicles fell from his chin as he opened his jaws and hissed. The cold air hit Smaug directly and steam rose from his nostrils rapidly. He coughed and wheezed.

"Have you come to steal from me?" the Cold Drake snapped. Then, a realization came in his bright green eyes. "Smaug! My dear fellow! Why did you not simply knock?" A wide grin spread over his long snout.

"Oh it's you!" Smaug came towards the pile once more. "I have heard that you have slain the great Dain!" he laughed.

"And his son, Fror," the Cold Drake laughed. "The fools thought that they had great defenses!" he snorted and frost burst into the air. Smaug coughed again. "Oh I'm dearly sorry old friend," the Cold Drake apologized.

"Lagra, the Withered Heath is destroyed," Smaug said quietly. Lagra's eyes widened. Then he began to weep.

"How many survived?" Lagra asked through icy tears.

"One," Smaug said uncertainly. Something inside of him told him that Raug was alive. He was stabbed with guilt. "Just me," he said quietly.

"Who could have possibly done this?" Lagra asked, exasperated.

"The Dwarves," Smaug growled. He whipped his tail into a stone pillar. Smaug looked up. The hall was quite beautiful. Dwarvish Runes were carved all around the large, gray, rectangular ceiling.

"Some of my kin still live to the north and the west. You can stay there," Lagra sympathized.

"No. I need revenge," Smaug hissed. He thumped out of the hall and was about to fly.

"Smaug, wait," Lagra said. "There is something that I must show you." Lagra slithered out of the doors and climbed the wall. The hall was embedded in a small hill, and there were guard towers above. Smaug followed his friend to the tower.

Lagra grabbed something off of the ground next to a frozen Dwarf.

"Does this look familiar?" Lagra asked.

He held in his claws a solid black arrow. It looked as if it was made of tough metal. Smaug recoiled.

"These devices killed us!" Smaug yelled.

"Then take caution, old friend," Lagra said. "The Dwarf kingdoms of the north have these everywhere. They call them 'Black Arrows'. When the Dwarves declared war on us several years ago, the Men of the Lake and the Dwarves of Erebor crafted these. They are one of the only things that can pierce Dragon hide." Smaug looked at the precarious weapon. "May the wind carry you swiftly," Lagra warned, a serious look in his eye. Smaug nodded and flapped his wings. He rose into the air and glided south to the Ettenmoors. The sun was just on the rise.

Raug's wing flapped painfully. His wound was getting even worse. Dried blood coated the area around the shaft. He had to land. It was morning now, and birds were talking in the trees. A small clearing appeared near a hill. Raug flapped his wing weakly and crashed into a tree. He moaned and fell on his front, skidding across the rocks and grass. There was a loud chink when he hit the ground. Raug lifted himself up and looked.

The shaft was gone. It was half buried in the earth where he landed. A trail of blood followed from it and seeped from the hole in his chest. The wound throbbed and ached. Maybe, he thought, it would heal now that it was gone. But he was very wrong.

Raug looked around him. To his surprise, a large hall lay before him. The doors were knocked down. Above the hall, on the gray hill, stood what appeared to be a guard tower. Just from seeing the architecture of the building, Raug knew that it was Dwarvish. He crept slowly inside. There was nothing in the hallway. Some torches were on the walls, but they looked fairly new. Raug ducked his head under the doorway.

He noticed a small trail of mithril and gold coins on the ground. They led to a dark cavern inside of the hill. Raug walked to it and peeked inside.

Large carts were flying back and forth on a rope. They were filled with all kinds of jewels. Suddenly, he heard shouting below. Raug's stomach flipped when he saw how deep the cave went. Down in the darkness he thought he could just make out a group of dwarves. The walls were covered in frost and icicles. Raug jumped off of the cliff and plunged into the darkness. The air was very stuffy and smoky. When he reached the bottom, Raug saw it.

A large, blue and silver dragon was speared through the stomach, throat, and leg, and was hanging above a doorway. Dwarvish runes were crudely drawn on its body in blood. Inside the doorway was a tomb. It looked relatively clean. Raug thought for a moment that he recognized the dragon. Its bright green eyes were staring blankly at the ground.

Lagra!

For a moment, Raug became his father. He ran full speed down the dark cavern, until he came to a mineshaft. Dwarves drank and laughed at a small table.

"Dain is avenged!" they yelled with glee. There were about five of them. The candle light made strange shadows on the wall. Raug took a large breath of fire and blew out. The only thing remaining was a silver helmet and a half-burnt barrel of ale. The rest was black ash.

Lagra had raised Raug while Smaug was away hunting. He was like a grandfather to him. Raug pulled the wicked spears from Lagra's body and brought the dragon to the ground.

Raug felt a sudden pain in his chest. He lost his breath and his heart raced. His vision clouded. Raug had to get outside. He attempted to climb the walls, but he was too dizzy. Raug tried to fly, but the pain was too great. He would die down here and rot. Raug let out a hoarse roar. He toppled over and lay next to Lagra's corpse. Days went by, and his wound began to spread. After three weeks, Lagra was merely pile of smelly meat. Raug watched the rats come and feast on his body, and he used what strength he had left to fight them away. After two more weeks, Raug fell into a Dragon-sleep.

T.A. 2770

Smaug crawled slowly over a great stony hill. A sheer cliff dropped below. The shape of the valley under the massive peak formed a bowl shape. The hills dissipated to the south and opened to what appeared to be a large lake. The floor was of pine trees and gray rock. In the center of the valley, there was a large hill. Upon the hill lay a great city.

Roofs of a dull rust color were scattered here and there at different heights over the city. Light, sand colored stone houses and towers were packed tightly together. Ribbons of bright colors were hanging over archways and marketplaces. People wandered the streets, happily talking and laughing. Children frolicked and ran from their mothers' grasps to play with each other. This was Dale.

Smaug released a low grumble and a huff at the sight of it. It was merely a small obstacle before his main goal. His head shifted to the base of the giant mountain before him. A massive, dark green, stone door stood etched into the side of the mountain. Gold runes shimmered in the sunlight on the great door.

"So this is the famed Dwarf kingdom of Erebor," Smaug chuckled. For nearly two-hundred years, Smaug had traveled about the north, killing Dwarves and plundering villages. He had never forgotten what had happened to his family. The Dwarves would pay. Gray, misty clouds scattered around in the hot and dry wind. Smaug spread his wings and plunged down the side of the hill into the valley below.

Pine trees were uprooted as he glided low and near to the ground. The city of Dale was right before him. Smaug took a deep breath and covered the guard towers in orange fire. Screams suddenly rang out through the alleys and archways. Smaug sliced through a tower like a knife through butter. Stones flew about, crushing people below and damaging other buildings. Fire consumed nearly everything. People ran from the city to Erebor. Smaug glided through another building. Arrows bounced off of his tough scales like coins on a stone floor. He shot a blast of fire at a group of people, turning them all to ash. Suddenly, Smaug felt a deep pressure on his chest. In a tower to his left stood a man in armor. Long black hair rippled from his head in the firestorm. He stood at a massive contraption, the like of which Smaug had never seen before. The man loaded another arrow onto the machine and fired. Smaug yelled in pain as a hole was bore in the same spot in his chest. The man was consumed in a great wave of fire, along with many other archers.

"Black arrows!" Smaug bellowed. Dale was now no more than a pile of rubble and ash. Smaug breathed fire onto the road to Erebor as he flew toward his goal. People attempting to escape the wrath of the Dragon were killed. The pines in the valley were all ablaze.

The young Dwarf prince ran quickly up the dark green stone stairs. Hot wind caused flags and banners to whip and crack on the wall. His old friend was at his side. Thorin tried to hold his fur coat down as the gusts continued to shoot through the air. He looked out at the city of Dale. The towers were missing. Huge plumes of black smoke rose slowly into the air. Thorin's black beard and hair rippled behind him as he looked in terror at the horizon. Suddenly, he saw a large, golden-red figure flying toward the mountain.

"Balin! Sound the alarm!" he yelled over the whistling wind. "Call on the guard! Do it now!"

"What is it?" the old Dwarf asked quickly.

"Dragon," Thorin said calmly as he ran to a lookout into the city of Erebor. "Dragon!" he yelled as loudly as he could. Dwarves inside began to scatter and run. A massive roar echoed over the valley. Great flames breached the wall as Balin froze in terror. The Dwarf prince grabbed Balin and pulled him behind a pillar. Flames shot past the pillar and burned everything in sight. Smaug flew around and prepared to return to the gate. The two Dwarves sounded the alarm and prepared a small army from what they had available.

The Dwarves, led by Thorin and his father Thrain, charged at the great door as it burst open. Smaug whipped his tail and legions of Dwarves flew against the stone walls. The torches that dimly lit the great city went completely out as he stomped his way down the hall. He burned every living thing in his path. Looking below, he saw great hallways crisscrossing down into the darkness like veins. Smaug smelled a very familiar smell. Gold. Smaug tore his way through a stone wall. Dwarves fled out of the gate like lemmings following each other to their doom. When the wall fell, he saw a marvelous sight. There was more gold in this great room than he had ever seen in his entire life. His amber eyes gleamed at the sight of it. He dove into the pile, flapping and shaking his wings rapidly, mixing the gold and sending it everywhere. When he had settled down, he heard the screaming stop. Erebor was completely silent. Smaug pulled his head out of the pile and looked around at his hoard of gold. He grinned and laughed a deep, menacing laugh.