T.A. 2770

Raug accepted the brutal whip. Pieces of sharp Mithril were bound to the ends of the leather straps. They would not pierce his hide, but they tore his scales. The wet, smelly, dark, stone dungeon was deep underground, near the mines that kept the Dwarves so occupied. Raug was tortured by the endless clinking of the Dwarvish pickaxes on the jewel-rich stone.

The dungeon's walls were blackened from the young Dwarf prince Thorin's attempts at taming the Fire Drake. Raug had woken up from his deep slumber thirty years earlier. When he awoke, the arrow wound was gone and healed, but a hole still sat in the right side of his chest. He had scars all over his body. One dark red scar went from the top of Raug's eye to the right corner of his snout. It was littered with shards of Mithril, giving it a silver shine. Against the amber of his eyes, the scar made Raug a fearsome sight indeed. Raug had grown much in his sleep. His wings were much larger and his feet wider. Fangs of immense size rested in his jaws.

No light could enter the dungeon. Torches were brought only when Thorin came for a visit. As time went on, Thorin began entering the dungeon less often. He had given up on taming the Fire Drake. They could not be tamed.

But the prince returned for the first time in many months. He brutally whipped the poor beast.

"You serve me!" Thorin shrieked, sweat flying from his dark hair as he threw the leather straps onto Raug's hide. Raug groaned and tried to grab the prince. His feet, wings, neck, and tail were shackled to the walls.

"Your kind is gone. There are no more. You serve me now. No one else. You will protect this kingdom from outsiders," Thorin commanded. "Now, I owe the Lord of Dale a gift," Thorin said delicately. He pulled his sword out of his scabbard, the blade glinting in the torchlight. Raug let out a massive roar that shook the entire mountain. Thorin wiped the blood off of his blade and pulled the dragon claw out from under Raug's skin. Blood began pooling up at the Dwarf's boots. Thorin yelled something in Dwarvish and the great iron gate of the dungeon lifted. Two Dwarves entered, carrying a large wooden stretcher. They lifted the claw, which was nearly bigger than them, and rested it on the stretcher. The Dwarf prince spat on Raug's snout and left with the others. The low, orange light vanished into darkness. A loud metallic bang told Raug that the gate was closed. The sound of pickaxes hitting stone continued monotonously.

…

Thorin pushed open the great door and shut it behind him. The sight of how much gold the Dwarves had collected still shocked him deeply. He walked slowly down the stairs, putting on a nice fur coat with a blue collar and cuffs. The gold pile stretched far above his head on either side. It was as if he had entered a massive, shining canyon. Thorin followed the path between the piles. After some time, he came across another, older Dwarf. He was giggling stupidly with glee and dancing around, throwing coins into the air above him. Thorin watched from afar in the low-lighted gloom of the room. Light tears came to his eyes. He awkwardly gulped and carefully approached.

"Grandfather?" he said quietly. The older Dwarf stopped and stumbled in shock. He whipped around and faced the prince. He wore dark blue robes embroidered with gold. His dark gray beard was braided with mithril rings. A large gold and black crown sat lopsided on his head.

"Oh…Thorin," he muttered, wringing his hands and looking around madly at the piles surrounding him. Thorin felt a chill run up his spine. Thror was much wider than he had remembered. A terrible stench rose from his mouth and clothes. His eyes were glazed and crazed-looking.

"We scavenged a claw from Raug," he said, holding back tears.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Thror asked. His eyes flitted from gems to chests of gold.

"The Fire Drake that dwells in our dungeons, we scavenged a claw from him. It is waiting outside. We are taking it to Dale. It is worth much, and a suitable gift for Girion." Thror looked at Thorin when he mentioned 'worth much'.

"If it is worth much, bring it here! I will not give prize to those Men!" Thorin and his father Thrain fought constantly with the King of Erebor over giving gold away to others and engaging in trade once more. Thror was on the brink of madness. Thorin whipped around and climbed the stairs again, his grandfather leaving no farewell for him. Thorin punched the wall in deep anger. After regaining composure, he exited the room.

"Take it to Dale. I will join you," Thorin commanded the Dwarves guarding the claw.

…

The small train of Dwarves approached the city's gate. They were led inside by armed guards. Thorin did not like the company of Men, for they towered over him and his people. Merchants and citizens hopped to the side of the cobblestone street as the group marched up the hill. Eventually, they came to a great house. Two guards stood in front of the doors. They, in unison, reached for the handles and pulled open both doors.

At the back of the tall ceilinged room, against the beige walls, was a modest throne. Upon it, in casual garb, sat Girion, Lord of Dale. The sleeves were rolled back on his black tunic and black leather boots sat on the floor. His long, black hair rested on his shoulders. He was talking quietly with an advisor. Thorin approached and kneeled, undoing the clasp on his red cape and handing it to a guard.

"Ah! The Heir of Durin! What a surprise!" Girion laughed and rose from his throne to welcome his friend. Girion had a relatively long black beard that went down to the center of his chest. He kneeled before Thorin and rose again.

"We have brought you a gift," Thorin said quietly. The guards carried up the dragon claw. Girion picked it up and tipped forward, almost surprised at its weight. It was very long, and came near to being as tall as Girion himself. Thorin grinned smugly, expecting a gift in return and a look of joy on the Man's face. But Girion did not look happy. He glared at Thorin in concern.

"Where, in Dale's name, did you find this?" he asked shocked. Thorin told Girion about Raug, and his attempts to tame him.

"Rid yourself of that beast! Free him back to the wild! Do you not know what I have seen?" he yelled at the pale Dwarf prince. Girion threw the claw to the floor. "There is another Fire Drake," he whispered into Thorin's face.

"That cannot be. My kin wiped out their kind two hundred years ago," Thorin said with an arrogant air of confidence.

"You are blind to the world, Master Dwarf! I saw a Dragon in the North not four days past. He was of enormous size, his scales golden-red! Your king needs to empty his stockpile of gold and riches! Dragons desire nothing more than that. The day will come, when Erebor and Dale fall, but I will give my life if necessary. Heed my warning and go. The dark days are coming. A new age will begin. The world is changing, Thorin. You must be careful," he warned and backed away to his throne. Thorin turned his nose up at the Lord of Dale and whipped around, leaving the claw on the ground. The Dwarf guards followed him out of the city.

…

Raug stirred at the noise. Thorin had not entered the dungeon since he removed a claw. Raug had spent much of his time sleeping in the dark. Every now and then, a Dwarf would slide a steak underneath the gate for him to eat. Raug was very skinny for a Fire Drake, and his ribs could be seen under his scales.

He continued to sleep until he heard screaming. The clinking of the pickaxes finally stopped, and he heard Dwarves running down a hallway near the dungeon. Raug's amber eyes slightly lit the pitch black darkness. The ground shook for a moment, rattling the chains binding Raug to the walls. Something was coming. Raug tore as hard as he could at the chains on his wings. With a loud clank, the rusty shackles snapped, along with the one around his neck. Raug whipped his tail repeatedly against the wall, shaking the surrounding area. Soon, he was free, for the first time in nearly thirty-five years. Raug used what strength he had to break the gate. He was extremely weak. Eventually, however, the gate was torn apart and Raug stomped out into the light. The Dwarves obviously did not want him to escape. He walked into a big room. Layers and layers of Mithril bars covered the gate into the great Dwarvish city. Raug tried to burn the bars. They bent and melted slightly, but they were too strong. He was trapped.

Raug looked about in panic. Then, he saw it above him. There was a small tunnel that lead to what appeared to be the sky above. From looking around, Raug gathered that this was once a forge room. Raug flapped his wings and attempted to fly up the old chimney. He was much bigger than it, and his claws tore away stones and rocks that fell to the floor below. He clawed his way up for a very long time, when eventually he reached the top. The daylight hurt his eyes. He was soothed, however, by the sweet, fresh air and the cool breeze upon his back. After his eyes adjusted, he realized that he was on top of a massive mountain. Icy snow covered the tip of the peak. Raug looked forward and saw the Withered Heath in the distance.

"Home," he said gladly. But, when he turned around, he saw another sight. Great, black plumes of smoke rose from what appeared to be a ruined city in the valley below. Smoke even rose from the gate of the mountain. Thorin had told Raug about Erebor and its treasures many times. He longed to see the great room of treasure. Somehow, Raug thought that everything seemed too quiet. He wondered if an army had raided the two cities. Raug spread his wings and glided down the face of the peak. He reached the bottom and looked around.

The ground was black with ash. Dead and burned bodies lay everywhere. Trees were nothing more than black sticks pinned in the ground. Raug walked inside of Erebor. Walls were crumbled and pillars cracked. There were dead bodies piled up against the walls. The entire kingdom was abandoned. Suddenly, an idea occurred to Raug. If he found the treasure hoard, he could make his home here. He grinned evilly and marched down the hallway.

A huge hole was torn in the stone wall. There was more gold in the room than Raug had ever seen. He climbed inside. Something was not right. He carefully walked over the gold, in a spot that seemed particularly lumpy. Raug froze in terror as he began sinking into the gold. A huge head emerged. Amber eyes lit the darkness before him. Small coins tumbled off of the golden-red scaled head.

"Father?" Raug hissed in terror. The Fire Drake before him winced and tumbled backwards into the gold, slithering between the coins, continually watching the smaller Fire Drake that had awoken him.