A/N: I actually wrote this for my creative writing class last year, and I've only now gotten around to posting it here. A poem about Smaug coming to the Lonely Mountain.
Vanya Syl (Fair Winds)
Weathered pines
Standing tall amid a rubble of boulders.
Wind whistles mournfully through
Dry branches.
The sky is grey,
Foreshadowing a coming trouble.
A single mountain looms,
A dark sentinel over an open plain.
The wind shrieks over bare stones;
Fire licks over the horizon
Nearing the peak.
The golden-red beast, wings urging the fire,
Eyes glow with the thought
Of the gold hidden in the mountain.
Sending tongues of flame down the slopes,
He alights on the pinnacle:
A fiery point in a black cloud,
Gloating silently over his new domain.
The dragon has come.