Disalcimer: The Hobbit and its characters belong to J. R. R. Tolkien.

jozs001: Looks very interesting! They portrayed Smaug well in the movie... I was worried they screw it up. In the book he was certainly good and his character has a lot of potential! Update soon!

I agree that they portrayed Smaug very well. I had been a bit worried myself, but I believe Benedict Cumberbatch was a perfect choice for his voice. Being unhealthily obsessed with dragons, I noted he looked more like a wyvern than a dragon, but other than that his character was perfect.

Chapter#3: Egos Clash

The next day, sometime around noon, Evangeline was reapplying the leaves on Smaug's wound while the dragon slept. He had only opened one eye to see what she was doing before closing it again, uninterested. The previous night had left him utterly exhausted, but at the very least his breathing had evened out, and he no longer looked as if he were on the verge of death. For the time being, he was stable.

Feeling more comfortable with his condition, Evangeline had left him that morning to return to her home, so she could tend to her animals and retrieve the sealant for his wing, which she was now applying. Luckily, the tear was towards the end, and she was able to reach once he'd laid the appendage out for her. She balanced herself on his arm as she reached down and poured the thick substance down the torn area, and then she'd gone under the wing to spread a layer from the bottom. Almost immediately after she'd applied the thick, gooey material it had begun to harden. It felt sticky on his skin, and he had expressed his disgust when he'd first seen her pouring it on, but other than that he allowed her to work. The sooner he could heal and move, the sooner he could go back to the mountain and take his revenge. Now that they had no more black arrows, there was nothing they could do to harm him.

By the time she had finished applying the sealant, he was fully awake and staring out of the cave as the gentle afternoon sun drifted in onto his face. The only sounds other than his breathing were the sounds of nature: birds chirping, the gentle wisp of the long grass as the wind glided over, and the soft whisper of the leaves in the trees. Evangeline could be heard humming a quiet melody, her voice like sweet honey that rolled from her tongue in graceful notes. Briefly he had wondered what tune she was emitting, but he hadn't asked her. He felt the need to ignore her, like her existence mattered not, even though she was the one and only thing that had kept him alive. Frankly, it embarrassed him to look so weak in the face of such a small creature, and in order to maintain his bruised ego he had resorted to giving her the silent treatment, refusing to appear interested in anything she did or said.

At some point, she had left again, taking both horse and wagon with her. He wasn't sure how long she had been gone, for he had fallen asleep shortly after she had gone. All he knew was that when he woke up, the sun had begun to go down, and she had returned. It was when he saw the four moose in the wagon did he realize she had gone out hunting. Their antlers had been severed, which had been laid off the to the side, leaving small boney stubs on their heads. Apparently, his wonder showed in his face, because when she looked at him she began to explain.

"The antlers come in handy."

He rolled his eyes.

"I don't waste a kill. Neither will you." She motioned to the four moose. "Eat. I know it's not much for your size, but until you can hunt on your own I'm afraid this will have to do. After all, you slept in that mountain for sixty years without consuming anything but your ego, so I doubt this will be a problem."

He scoffed at her. "I am not the only one here who appears to have an ego, Elf. At least I have a right to mine."

"Oh, do you?" she challenged, as she came to stand boldly in front of him. Her stature was haughty and proud, shoulders squared back and chin held high without fear. "Funny. That is not what I saw when I found you clinging to life on the floor of this cave."

Like a cobra strike, he was lunging his head in her face with a vicious snarl, jaws snapping at her with a loud crack. However, instead of flinging herself back in fear like everyone else always had, she shocked him when she held her ground, but that wasn't even the half of it. The woman had the audacity to strike him—right on the nose—and although he barely felt it the shock of her bravery put him at a temporary freeze. She had slapped him. Him. The sheer ludicrousness of the truth of it left him motionless, speechless as he stared wide-eyed at the tiny woman before him. She stood there, hands on her hips, lips pursed and head held high with a prominent frown. All fear was absent from her eyes, and she looked much like a mother scolding a child.

"Enough!" she snapped after a moment. "I saved your life, dragon. I didn't have to. I could be carving your carcass right now and roasting you for supper while using your bones for toothpicks. So before you decide to breath your fire at me for striking you, let it be known that it would stop your heart dead." Her eyes were as, if not more, sharper than the head of a black arrow. Like forest green storm clouds, she stared him down, and in spite of himself he found he did not feel the expected anger burning within his chest, urging him to purge the incinerating flames upon her. He merely sat there—staring—not at all sure what to think. That had been the very first time someone had ever stood up to him in such a way, and even though he knew he should feel rage he felt something quite different. Fascination. Mild interest was what he had expressed towards her, but now that curiosity had grown to astonishment.

"Eat," she said again, voice firm, and then left the cave.

It was a whole five minutes before he even glanced at the moose lying in front of him. Not wanting to deal with her grief when she returned, he begrudgingly consumed them. Now that he had recovered from his shock, he had recovered his wits, and with them a slow frown had gradually formed on his face. Who did she think she was? Injured or not, he was much larger and much more important than she was, and she should fear him simply out of respect.

"You're feathers are still ruffled, I see," said Evangeline smoothly, as she appeared in the mouth of the cave.

His head snapped down to her, and before she could react she felt a large, clawed hand wrapping around her, and the next thing she knew she was being pinned to the ground. She struggled briefly, startled, when Smaug's face was once again in hers, his anger renewed in full. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, and he felt an exhilarated rush when he saw the hints of fear in her forest green orbs. Good. She should fear him, for even when wounded he was more than capable of crushing her. She spat something in Elvish at him, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"What did you say?"

"I said you're an arrogant fool!" she snarled. "I am not your enemy, Smaug! You fight me when I am merely trying to heal you!"

"Hold your tongue, you insolent mouse!" he roared.

"I am not yours to command!"

She was aware of the warmth before she saw what was happening. One second rage was flashing over his features, and in the next she became morbidly aware of the orange glow that had begun to form through the scales in his chest, which was gradually spreading up his throat like a lava flow. It became horrifyingly clear to her what he was about to do.

"SMAUG, DON'T!" she screeched in alarm.

He had realized his error before she had even managed to open her mouth, for his had closed right as she yelled. The horrible pain in his chest felt as if it would burst, and he released her as he fell back with a choking sound similar to a ragged gasp. Evangeline was quick to her feet, as she rushed over to his chest.

"You see what your arrogance causes?" she scolded.

He did not respond, too busy with catching his breath and choking back the suffocating sensation in his chest. It was like someone had a vice grip on his heart and lungs. He could hear her murmuring something in her language, her hand against his wound, but he didn't pay attention. What was a mere few minutes felt like hours, as his agony slowly dissipated, leaving behind only a dull ache.

"You need to take it easy. You're going to strain your wounds," she said. Her voice had quieted, and he realized she sounded concerned.

Curiously, he opened his eyes to look at her. It didn't make any sense to him. He had proven he was more than capable of killing her even without fire, and yet even after he'd made a clear attempt at her life she still aided him.

"Why are you helping me, Elf?" he asked her, finally giving into the millions of questions swirling in his head.

She met his eyes. "Because you need it." She came to stand near his head. "I wouldn't have taken advantage, even though I know that's what you think."

He made a deep sound. "You think me a fool?"

"I do."

The eye watching her narrowed precariously.

"However, I'm not lying to you," she continued, keeping calm despite the promise of death in the large, golden orb. "A wise friend once said to me that true courage is knowing, not when to take a life, but when to spare one. You were not harming me; therefore, I had no right to harm you."

"You do know who I am, little lamb." Smaug purred. "What makes you think I will not hesitate to kill you and others once I am capable of doing so?"

"If you were going to kill me, you would have by now. You've had plenty of opportunities. That's why I didn't fear you when you had me pinned."

"I find you interesting, lamb. Do not think I won't take your life once I grow bored of these games."

Once again she surprised him when she did not express fear, disgust, or even anger at his words. Rather, she smiled. It was not a sardonic or mocking smile, but it was genuine—almost amused in nature. Taking a step forward, she reached up and placed her hand on his face. His eyes snapped to her hand, and almost immediately he jerked his head and knocked it off with an angry snort.

"I am not your pet, mouse!" he snarled at her. "Keep your hands off me unless you are tending to my wounds."

He wished hell upon her when her smile only grew instead of faltering.

"Well, the tales certainly didn't exaggerate your arrogance."

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I do believe I will enjoy getting to know you, Smaug. I want to know what makes you tick."

He couldn't deny he craved to know the same about her. When he no longer needed her, he would get rid of her. For now, he would tolerate her.