Disclaimer: Not mine, not my own, definitely not my precious.
Fifty Years After the Invasion.
Roäc flew in the cavernous hall, ready to re-tile the dragon with the slogan 'Fifty Years Unconquered- Erebor I Spy Champion', and was surprised to find Smaug not there. Inspecting the larger rooms and tunnels of the Lonely Mountain, Roäc could find no sign of the dragon, so he flew back outside to search the rest of the mountain.
Eventually he found the dragon perched on the highest point for miles around; the very peak of the mountain. Roäc had never seen Smaug in a better mood. Of course, it was difficult to ever find the dragon in a bad mood, but today he looked especially happy.
"Smaug? What are you doing up here?"
"Roäc!" cried Smaug joyfully. "Do you have any idea what day it is?"
The raven shook his head, nonplussed. Smaug grinned even wider.
"Go on- guess!"
Knowing the dragon's weakness for guessing games, Roäc decided to attempt a guess.
"Your birthday?"
"No! Well, it might be. I don't actually know when my birthday is. Bloody Melkor, never told me. But no! That's not it!"
"Is it fish-delivery day?" said Roäc, referring to the Lake-men's customary tribute of fish sent to the mountain to keep Smaug away from Esgaroth.
"No... wait.. yes it is! Where are those fish? But that's not it!"
Roäc furrowed his feathery brows. Even though he was not so young a raven anymore, at thirty-two years of age, he still wasn't the brightest bird in the flock. Smaug, bored of the raven's confused face, decided to put him out of his misery.
"Go and ask the Thrush. Or your father. Ask them what happened fifty years ago today." Beamed Smaug, unable to keep the glee from his voice.
Roäc dutifully flew from the mountainside down to Ravenhill, landing amongst a crowd of his fellow birds, and jostled about to find his father.
Carc was perched resplendently on small piece of rock jutting above the other ravens, nodding in sleep.
"Father!" said Roäc impatiently, waking the old raven up. "What day is it today?"
"Whayousay?" mumbled Carc. "Oh, eagles! Not mine and your mother's anniversary, is it?"
"No! Smaug said there was something special about today."
"Maybe it's his anniversary..." the old bird trailed off, nodding back into sleep. Roäc looked concernedly at his father, perceiving in his heart that the day was not far off when he, Roäc, would become chief raven of the Lonely Mountain. But for now, his father still lead the flock, and did not look like he would give up the ghost at that very moment, so Roäc decided to seek out the Thrush.
Knowing the only place he would find him, Roäc immediately flew towards the Doorstep of the mountain, in front of the Hidden Dwarven door.
And, sure enough, the Thrush sat there sadly, silently gazing towards the distant lands to the West.
"Thrush!" said Roäc, landing on the rock beside the bird. "What is it about today that's made Smaug so happy."
"No dwarves." Said the Thrush simply.
"There are never any dwarves! I don't understand." said Roäc, confusedly. The time when the King Under the Mountain ruled was long before Roäc was born; he had only ever known one lord of Erebor, who was certainly no dwarf.
"Fifty years ago today Smaug first came to the mountain. Fifty years ago today I told him the dwarves would return. He said if they didn't arrive in the next fifty years I had to shut up and leave him alone."
"Oh! That's terrible!" Said Roäc, concernedly. "Now you'll never be able to speak to Smaug again. And to think, you never did incur his wrath."
"That's not the point!" said the Thrush heatedly. "Why haven't the dwarves returned? What's stopping them?"
Roäc didn't answer. He didn't understand the importance of a few dwarves, and besides, if they returned, Smaug would have to leave.
Realising that it would probably be a good time to leave the Thrush alone, even though he couldn't understand what was upsetting him so much, Roäc flew off again to find Smaug and finish his mosaic.
He came upon the dragon again, this time near the Front Gate as the fish delivery arrived. The nervous Laketown men hurriedly unloaded the huge cargo in front of Smaug, casting fearful glances at the dragon every now and then.
"Twenty years of delivering me fish, you'd have thought they'd stop flinching so much by now, wouldn't you?" mused Smaug as the men cowered beneath him to hear the dragon speak. "Did you find out what today is?" he asked Roäc, picking up a fish in his huge claws and inspecting it.
"Yes. No dwarves-day." Said Roäc.
"Well done. I'm thinking of a new slogan:- 'Fifty Years Unconquered: King Under the Mountain'. What do you think?"
"I think it might upset the Thrush." Said Roäc anxiously.
"You're probably right, I suppose." Said Smaug, still scrutinizing the fish. "Well, do you want to finish the I Spy one, then?"
"Alright." Said Roäc, watching the Lake-men as they unloaded the last of the fish and hastily rowed back down the River Running to Esgaroth.
Smaug devoured a great number of fish before slipping back into the warmth of his lair, Roäc flying silently beside him, wondering at the irony of his situation. His greatest friend should be his worst enemy, who had killed so many dwarves and men. But Smaug seemed to be harmless. Gazing up at the dragon as he lay on his golden bed, Roäc was thankful he had never seen Smaug's wrath incurred.
Finishing the pattern of jewels on Smaug, he left and flew back to the Doorstep, sitting beside the old Thrush in a profound silence in the deepening dark of night. Eventually, the Thrush spoke.
"They will come back."
"Don't you care that if they do, Smaug, or the dwarves, most likely both, will end up dead?" said Roäc angrily. That had been the only thing running through his mind.
"Yes. I do. That's the problem."
And without another word he flew into the night, leaving Roäc alone.
A/N: Whoa! Getting deep, isn't it? I'm not good at this angst stuff- it depresses me. I'll try to make the next one a little lighter before we come to really dark chapters i.e. the return of the dwarves.
Fifty Years After the Invasion.
Roäc flew in the cavernous hall, ready to re-tile the dragon with the slogan 'Fifty Years Unconquered- Erebor I Spy Champion', and was surprised to find Smaug not there. Inspecting the larger rooms and tunnels of the Lonely Mountain, Roäc could find no sign of the dragon, so he flew back outside to search the rest of the mountain.
Eventually he found the dragon perched on the highest point for miles around; the very peak of the mountain. Roäc had never seen Smaug in a better mood. Of course, it was difficult to ever find the dragon in a bad mood, but today he looked especially happy.
"Smaug? What are you doing up here?"
"Roäc!" cried Smaug joyfully. "Do you have any idea what day it is?"
The raven shook his head, nonplussed. Smaug grinned even wider.
"Go on- guess!"
Knowing the dragon's weakness for guessing games, Roäc decided to attempt a guess.
"Your birthday?"
"No! Well, it might be. I don't actually know when my birthday is. Bloody Melkor, never told me. But no! That's not it!"
"Is it fish-delivery day?" said Roäc, referring to the Lake-men's customary tribute of fish sent to the mountain to keep Smaug away from Esgaroth.
"No... wait.. yes it is! Where are those fish? But that's not it!"
Roäc furrowed his feathery brows. Even though he was not so young a raven anymore, at thirty-two years of age, he still wasn't the brightest bird in the flock. Smaug, bored of the raven's confused face, decided to put him out of his misery.
"Go and ask the Thrush. Or your father. Ask them what happened fifty years ago today." Beamed Smaug, unable to keep the glee from his voice.
Roäc dutifully flew from the mountainside down to Ravenhill, landing amongst a crowd of his fellow birds, and jostled about to find his father.
Carc was perched resplendently on small piece of rock jutting above the other ravens, nodding in sleep.
"Father!" said Roäc impatiently, waking the old raven up. "What day is it today?"
"Whayousay?" mumbled Carc. "Oh, eagles! Not mine and your mother's anniversary, is it?"
"No! Smaug said there was something special about today."
"Maybe it's his anniversary..." the old bird trailed off, nodding back into sleep. Roäc looked concernedly at his father, perceiving in his heart that the day was not far off when he, Roäc, would become chief raven of the Lonely Mountain. But for now, his father still lead the flock, and did not look like he would give up the ghost at that very moment, so Roäc decided to seek out the Thrush.
Knowing the only place he would find him, Roäc immediately flew towards the Doorstep of the mountain, in front of the Hidden Dwarven door.
And, sure enough, the Thrush sat there sadly, silently gazing towards the distant lands to the West.
"Thrush!" said Roäc, landing on the rock beside the bird. "What is it about today that's made Smaug so happy."
"No dwarves." Said the Thrush simply.
"There are never any dwarves! I don't understand." said Roäc, confusedly. The time when the King Under the Mountain ruled was long before Roäc was born; he had only ever known one lord of Erebor, who was certainly no dwarf.
"Fifty years ago today Smaug first came to the mountain. Fifty years ago today I told him the dwarves would return. He said if they didn't arrive in the next fifty years I had to shut up and leave him alone."
"Oh! That's terrible!" Said Roäc, concernedly. "Now you'll never be able to speak to Smaug again. And to think, you never did incur his wrath."
"That's not the point!" said the Thrush heatedly. "Why haven't the dwarves returned? What's stopping them?"
Roäc didn't answer. He didn't understand the importance of a few dwarves, and besides, if they returned, Smaug would have to leave.
Realising that it would probably be a good time to leave the Thrush alone, even though he couldn't understand what was upsetting him so much, Roäc flew off again to find Smaug and finish his mosaic.
He came upon the dragon again, this time near the Front Gate as the fish delivery arrived. The nervous Laketown men hurriedly unloaded the huge cargo in front of Smaug, casting fearful glances at the dragon every now and then.
"Twenty years of delivering me fish, you'd have thought they'd stop flinching so much by now, wouldn't you?" mused Smaug as the men cowered beneath him to hear the dragon speak. "Did you find out what today is?" he asked Roäc, picking up a fish in his huge claws and inspecting it.
"Yes. No dwarves-day." Said Roäc.
"Well done. I'm thinking of a new slogan:- 'Fifty Years Unconquered: King Under the Mountain'. What do you think?"
"I think it might upset the Thrush." Said Roäc anxiously.
"You're probably right, I suppose." Said Smaug, still scrutinizing the fish. "Well, do you want to finish the I Spy one, then?"
"Alright." Said Roäc, watching the Lake-men as they unloaded the last of the fish and hastily rowed back down the River Running to Esgaroth.
Smaug devoured a great number of fish before slipping back into the warmth of his lair, Roäc flying silently beside him, wondering at the irony of his situation. His greatest friend should be his worst enemy, who had killed so many dwarves and men. But Smaug seemed to be harmless. Gazing up at the dragon as he lay on his golden bed, Roäc was thankful he had never seen Smaug's wrath incurred.
Finishing the pattern of jewels on Smaug, he left and flew back to the Doorstep, sitting beside the old Thrush in a profound silence in the deepening dark of night. Eventually, the Thrush spoke.
"They will come back."
"Don't you care that if they do, Smaug, or the dwarves, most likely both, will end up dead?" said Roäc angrily. That had been the only thing running through his mind.
"Yes. I do. That's the problem."
And without another word he flew into the night, leaving Roäc alone.
A/N: Whoa! Getting deep, isn't it? I'm not good at this angst stuff- it depresses me. I'll try to make the next one a little lighter before we come to really dark chapters i.e. the return of the dwarves.