this chapter took me a little longer than the others but I'm happy with it. Please Review!
Chapter Five:
Nalene woke up drenched in sweat. She had dreamed of the fires over Dale, and the dragon's heat searing through the mountain had only made her dream more tangible.
She didn't get up right away. If she had been at home right then she would be sleeping in fine sheets, with feather pillows beneath her and the bedroom windows open to let in the summer breeze. She knew she'd never experience that again, no matter how much she wished. Nalene had to think in the now- now she was the dragon's, now she was living on a lie she had no idea how to bluff her way through.
Afraid to think on it any longer, lest she turn into a crying lump, she got up. Her first action was to scan the area for Smaug. Then, with no indication he was lurking nearby, below or above gold, Nalene allowed herself to relax.
The growing pain in her stomach begged for her attention but there was nothing she could do yet. Instead she focused on soothing her thirst, and made her way to the well. The kitchen where the well stood was a small enough room at the end of a narrow hallway; Smaug couldn't reach her down there. But as she went she couldn't help wondering. Where was Smaug? He left and arrived without warning, never offering an explanation, and it probably didn't even cross his mind to give her one. Nalene was half-certain Smaug had forgotten he wasn't the only one living under the mountain. It made her curious how long Smaug had been alone.
Dragons lived long lives. Nalene couldn't imagine going so long without another person around. It was a little sad.
Nalene frowned, annoyed by her easy sympathy. Sad? As if. He was a murderer. An unfeeling monster! He'd ruined her life, tossing it up in literal flames. She wasn't going to cry because he was too atrocious for anybody to suffer his presence.
Except her, evidently, but she wasn't going to be any companion of his. It was, after all, in her interest that her interactions with Smaug were kept at the minimum. Every time they talked her life ended up getting threatened, one way or another. He'd shown her nothing but cruelty and indifference and she didn't expect that would ever change. No comfort, no food...
By the Valar, did she miss her cooks, her soft bed, her baths... right now she could have been enjoying her breakfast with sweet jams at the table, which was in fact a family heirloom. Nalene's lips twitched into a smile, it was undoubtedly a pile of ash now, but she could remember it clearly. As a little girl she'd collided with the table head on and gotten a hideous bruise on her forehead. She'd sobbed for hours.
Nalene regarded the well before her without enthusiasm. How things had changed. No food to speak of and a lone well for water. She retrieved her usual cup, an lonely tin thing so unlike the finery she had grown up with, and began the usual task of pulling up the water. She hoped it hadn't gone bad. Could water go bad? It felt like a silly idea, but she'd never fetched her own water from a well before. She'd had maids for this- or had the footman done it?
Only an actual princess could be more unprepared for this than her.
"What I would give..." she sighed mournfully as she lugged the bucket over the side. Grunting at the weight of if- nobody ever told her water could be so heavy- she dragged it across to one of the few still standing counter tops. Setting it down she rubbed her tender shoulders. Four days and she'd been subjected to more menial labor than she could remember.
She pursed her lips as she stared indignantly at the bucket. This was how Smaug treated a "princess?" She scoffed. And how would she be treated as a merchant's daughter? The richest merchant in Dale, but still a merchant.
She sobered, scowl dropping from her face. She knew exactly how the merchant's daughter would be treated. He'd already told her, hadn't he? She'd be dead.
Nalene was still realizing how important her lie was. Then again, she'd never actually claimed to be a princess, so it was more of an omission. Valar help her if Smaug found out the truth. She needed to be slick, to learn to lie smoothly. He could hear her heartbeat, smell her fear-
Nalene felt a growing wave of hopelessness. Her own father had named her the worst liar in Dale- how was she going to outwit Smaug?
Perhaps avoidance would keep her alive, she considered as she sipped the water. He could hardly catch her lies if he never had reason to tell them.
She had other problems too. The water did nothing to lessen the ache in her stomach. It was hardly bearable at this point. She had planned to avoid it as long as she could, but Valar, she was having trouble focusing on anything else now. Nalene wanted an entire feast of food for herself, all five courses.
When she finished drinking she set the cup aside and began the trek back into the main chamber. She tried keeping quiet but it wasn't easily done. Noises tended to echo and Nalene wasn't the most adept at navigating the ruins without tripping over something or knocking priceless jewels over.
Walking through the archway into the man chamber, Nalene froze midstep.
Smaug had returned.
He was perched above her on a stone outcrop, watching her. Uncertain, Nalene hesitated under his intense study. His stare was piercing, and she couldn't discern whether he was upset with her or feeling apathetic was usual. When he showed no intention of otherwise acknowledging her she plowed forward, holding her head down, self- conscious under his blatant watching as she made her way back to her usual column.
"Exploring?"
Nalene stumbled over a sizable chalice in her fright. The collision rang out in the quiet chamber, bouncing off the walls as she sat there, mortified. She risked glancing towards him as she pulled herself off the ground, wincing as more gold coins and other assorted treasures clattered to the ground. Her hands stung.
Smaug didn't give a reaction to her stumble, but inwardly she thought there might have been a flicker of something in his eyes. She didn't know what, annoyance perhaps, but for a second she thought he might have looked... less indifferent.
"I was getting water," she answered truthfully. She could only hold his gaze for a moment before her attention moved to her hands. She turned them over, her chin quivering as she took in the bloody gashes on each palm. Of course this would happen to her, she thought miserably. Maybe next time she'd fall and break her neck too.
"Fascinating..."
Then his gaze turned towards the bloodied treasure beside her, and again she thought his blank expression might have faltered for a second.
Nalene knew he could smell the blood on her hands, but he wouldn't care. A part of her wanted to scream, but most of her wanted to cry. Her hands were bleeding- undoubtedly going to scar too- and nobody cared. Her family and friends were dead, her cuts stung, and she was stuck with a dragon who was too cruel and high-handed to concern himself with a human's scratched palms.
"Yes," she agreed sullenly, trying to compose herself as she stared at the trickle of blood running down her forearms.
"You've gotten blood everywhere," he replied in a conversational tone. She was surprised he wasn't angry. Then again he was probably used to the sight of blood.
"Yes."
He assessed her silently, and Nalene started to think that was the end of their curt interaction.
But then he spoke again. "It's custom to apologize when you make a mess of someone's home," he prompted, still perched above her like a king above a peasant. She certainty felt like a peasant- nothing like the princess she was pretending to be.
Nalene tensed, eyes sliding over to where he waiting for her answer. What did he want with an apology? She was bleeding, and he didn't even care. She nibbled the inside of her cheek, contemplating her answer.
"But this is my home too," she challenged recklessly. There, see what he made of that. The bravery required to say it was already fading, and once again she was drawn to her oozing palms.
At the shriek of claws on stone her head shot up, but Smaug was not attacking. In fact, for the first time since the conversation had begun, he actually looked intrigued. Two large claws were scratching over the stone ledge, and it reminded her vaguely of a cat kneading at a blanket, a rather disturbing comparison in Nalene's opinion.
"You haven't been using your titles," he said in an strange tone.
She stared at him with pinched eyebrows, not understanding.
He seemed to be contemplating something as he stared down at her. After a few confusing moments he gave what might have been the dragon equivalent of a shrug, but he didn't look away.
It struck Nalene that this might be an opportune moment to mention the lack of food. But then she remembered her hurting palms and his indifference, and rejected the possibility. She wasn't going to ask if the answer would clearly be no. Well, he might help her, if he wanted his captive princess to last long, but still...
She wanted to be furious at him, to scare him with her anger, to punish him for killing her family, but she'd never been especially intimidating and the reality of her situation was becoming clearer by the second. She was dependent on Smaug's good will to stay alive, and she was afraid if she showed any strong emotion she'd end up crying in front of him.
She wondered if he could hear her stomach when it rumbled, but was cruel enough to make her beg for help. He would probably like that.
"You're dripping," he suddenly said.
"Does that bother you, O Most Impressive?"
One lip curled up, revealing his teeth. "Obviously," he snapped.
She was considering the benefits of tearing into the hem of her dress for bandages. As irritating as his bland observation had been, it did reminder her that she needed to stop the bleeding and clean herself up.
"Apologies."
Then, afraid he'd truly become angry, and feeling as though she'd failed her plan of avoidance enough for one day, she nodded so deeply she was nearly bowing, and turned away. Cradling one bloody hand in the other, she slowly made her way back to her usual spot, careful not to lose her balance and fall over again.
Leaning against her column she inspected her gown. It was a beautiful creation of swirling silvers and blues. It was the one her father had surprised her with on their walk, and it had been tailored especially for her. She'd looked lovely in it, the dress she'd hoped would compete with her jewels. The day of her party she'd eagerly put it on, and when the party was underway she'd giddily accepted the compliments her guests gave her. She sniffed pitifully, wiping her nose with the backside of her hand. Then her night had been ruined.
Her nose tingled, and when she brought her hand up to touch it she found blood on her fingers.
She groaned beneath her breath, frustrated. Was there blood on her nose or had her fingers already been like this? She couldn't just walk around with blood on her face- but she couldn't wipe it off!
She groaned again, glaring down at her useless hands; she needed to wipe her face but she couldn't, she wanted to clench her hands into fists, but she couldn't do that either, and now there was blood on her face and trying to fix it would only make it worse and she couldn't do anything.
Her throat closed up and she blinked back tears. It wasn't fair! She sniffed again, and this time she grabbed a handful of her dress- hand protesting at the use- and wiped her face with her gift. When she let go there were two red blotches ruining it.
It was ruined, she thought pathetically, just like her life.
By now she was blatantly crying, and she made little effort to stop herself as she tried to figure out which part of her dress would make the best bandages. She hadn't wanted to rip it, but there was no reason not to now.
She tested the material down by the hem. Then by her sleeves, and finally by the hem a second time. It would not tear. Through her tears she smiled at the irony of it. Of course it wouldn't tear. It was made by the finest tailor in Dale, with the most expensive materials. Her father would buy nothing less.
Her undergarments then. Not caring if Smaug was still around she pulled back the dress, exposing the airy, thinner cloth beneath. That would do.
Wincing at the pounding in her palms, she grabbed the material and tugged. It made a poor bandage, she thought as she inspected her work wrapped around her hands, but it was better than nothing. Smaug wouldn't have reason to complain about dripping blood for a while at least.
It must have been hours later, when the bandages were seeped with blood and she was even hungrier, that Smaug spoke again. He was sprawled in his gold again, and she'd thought he was sleeping as she stared at her hands and willed them to heal quickly.
"You never told me your name," he said, the question implied.
Nalene glanced his way, where he had one eye open as he waited. It felt like too normal a question, or maybe too personal. Normally she would have already answered, but this was coming from him. She wanted to refuse him. It'd been days, why did he want her name now? He hadn't cared for her name when he'd whisked her away from the burning fields and dumped her into his plundered home. But there was no way around answering.
"Nalene."
"Nalene," he tried the name, and in his voice it sounded completely unfamiliar. "Hardly a royal name."
She stiffened. "Maybe not," definitely not, but she needed to navigate this conversation carefully, "but it is my name... We can't all be 'Aldamacil.'" Technically, there had been no lies. And thankfully Smaug didn't appear to detect her deception. He hummed, although it came out as more of a growl deep in his throat, and his eye closed.
She watched his huge torso rise and fall with each breath. He was lying close enough to her that she could physically feel the heat radiating off him as he slept. With the silence broken only by his steady breathing, Nalene suddenly felt a range of emotions: sad, angry, lonely, confused.
He was completely at ease but she felt frayed and fragile. Hardly a royal name, he'd said, but this was hardly fair.
