Right, I've been kicked to update this tonight… well not really, but I'll still blame annarien for the quick update because she apparently couldn't sit still any longer, so there you go ;)

By the way… lads, lasses I am most disappointed by you! Honestly now! Having read through this story you should all know by now that I'm prone to changing large parts of the story and the parts I love to change most are the important ones. Plus… I had promised some more action, hadn't I? :P

Thanks lovelies for all your reviews and enjoy the next chapter that has been uploaded way too soon!

The tip of Orcrist's blade nudged the red scales of the dragon carefully, always causing a light jingle, for Smaug's scales were thick and hard like a suit of armour. Thorin stood, his arm stretched far from his body whilst the rest of the dwarves stood in some distance, eyeing the unmoving beast carefully.

"It might be a trick, you know?" Balin muttered and Bofur pulled a face, shaking his head.

"This is a bloody dragon we're talking about, what sort of tricks would he know?"

"If you had ever encountered a living dragon you would know how smart they are, you impertinent fool!" Balin hissed and puffed himself up. Thorin however seemed content that the dragon actually did lie dead and he lowered his weapon and turned to his company.

"Done", he declared but suddenly grew very pale, when he saw the panicked looks on the faces of his companions. He heard the clangour of the scales grinding against each other and slowly turned around.

He jumped back and toppled over, falling on his rear when Smaug's massive jaws snapped shut right before his face, nearly biting the dwarf in half. The large, horrible fangs of the beast clicked and crunched and the tongue darted out again as Smaug lifted his head and picked himself up to his full size once more. A fire was glowing in his amber eyes and even though he felt sick, an unruly rage had begun to dwell in him, the moment he had fallen from the skies.

"I will not forgive you that", Smaug growled and once again snapped at Thorin. It was a close call before the King was gripped by the collar and yanked back by Nori and Glóin, so forcefully that they nearly choked him. He quickly got back on his feet and steadied himself, lifting his blade.

"Ifridî bekâr!" he roared and the dwarves quickly grabbed their weapons and charged at the dragon without fear or hesitation. Whilst the ones equipped with maces and hammers tried to break the thick scales and get past the layers of gold, the ones with blades mauled the soft underside of the beast, cutting and slicing until Smaug bled from many wounds. He screeched and roared in pain for he had not anticipated an attack as skilled and forceful as this. He snapped at them, tried to whisk them away with his claws and whipped his tail down upon them but they were quick and agile, dodging the blows and running underneath him if they needed to. He soon lost three of his large claws and many scales hung broke from his skin and he cried and wailed and grew more and more furious with each new cut.

"WINGS!" Thorin suddenly screamed when Smaug rose again, unfolding his massive wings in an attempt to escape to the sky once more and attack them from above. "BREAK HIS WINGS!"

But none of them was even close to the wings, busy cutting and slicing his chest and front claws, avoiding the snapping and biting jaws. Smaug snickered dark, a terrifying sneer on his golden face when suddenly a horrible scrunching sound echoed across the grassland and the dragon howled in pain.

Two hammers thundered down on the bones of his wings, one to the left one to the right of the massive body. They crunched and broke and tore the leathery skin flaps, ripping great holes into them and each blow rendered Smaug's wings more and more useless. Blood was pouring down onto the ground, drenching the grass below as well as the bearers of those hammers. White bones shimmered through the red scales and leather, badly cracked and crushed and the dragon roared and screamed in agony and frustration.

"Dwalin! Fíli!" Kíli yelled, his face lighting up when he recognised his brother battering down onto Smaug's right wing. He had the tip of one of his swords hooked deep into the leather and held the wing down with all his might while his hammer thundered down upon the bone again.

"Hurry! Help them!" Thorin bellowed and soon three dwarves were holding onto the wings on each side while the rest of them tore and ripped them to shreds. Smaug had gone into a frenzy, snapping and biting and sending the dwarves flying again and again when he attempted to shake them off his large body but each time they returned, proving their sturdiness and stolidity alike.

Soon his large wings were nothing but useless lumps of torn flesh and bones and any attempt to fly again was futile. The pain drove the dragon into a craze though and he only missed the scurrying dwarves by inches, biting and roaring and spitting like the cornered animal he was. The dwarves were quick but so was the dragon and his long neck and the jaws attached darted down again and again, snapping and snarling. They soon found that the safest spot was right below his belly but fighting proved difficult from there, for his skin was still covered in a thick layer of gold. They soon realised that there was only one thing they could do to weaken him enough for a last blow.

"FÍLI!" Thorin cried out, ramming the blade of his sword into the ground and lacing his fingers together. The youngster took a good run up and, with a boost from Thorin, was pitchforked up in the air with a great deal of speed and strength. Smaug's large head swung around but against the high midday sun he saw nothing but a black silhouette before his face and then it was too late already. A black throwing knife drilled itself deep into his left eye and he howled in agony.

"BRING HIS HEAD DOWN!" Kíli yelled and in a flash of foolishness, Fíli used Smaug's large snout as a stepping stone before he buried the hook of his sword deep in the soft skin at his cheek and dragged the large head down with him when he dropped back to the ground, pulling him down with such a force that the bones in the dragon's neck cracked audibly.

On the ground, Kíli stood ready and when the amber eye of the dragon was in sight, he fired another arrow, deep into Smaug's other eye socket. Crying and roaring, the dragon yanked his head up, blinded on both eyes and while the knife stuck in one, bloody foam gushed down from his other eye for the poisoned arrow burned and dissolved the sensitive skin and flesh.

Blind, poisoned and broken, Smaug began to believe that his death was inevitable but in a last rage, he at least wanted to take as many dwarves with him as he could. Again his large chest rose as he pumped his lungs up with air and when another fountain of fire blast from his jaws, the dwarves barely managed to get away. Nori's jerkin caught fire and he desperately tried to put it out with his brother's help, rolling around the ground and pulling the singed cloth off his body.

"Easy!" Thorin bellowed. "Don't panic! If he can't see you, he can't take aim!"

Another attack from the front was useless still though, for the flames gushed from Smaug's throat in a never ending rain and none of them got close enough to his head to do something about it. The dragon spun around again and again, dragging his head from left to right and he did not care anymore if the burned the dwarves or the surrounding grass. It was then that Kíli noticed something peculiar, as he took shelter behind a large boulder. For whenever the dragon fire burned down on Smaug's own body in his frenzy, the beast seemed entirely unfazed.

"KÍLI! DON'T!" Fíli yelled when he noticed his brother leaving the safe barrier and quick and agile like a ferret, he scurried over to the raging dragon. He pressed himself close to Smaug's side, standing in his shadow and after a small jump, he had one of the large red scales firmly in his grip, the platter hanging loose from all the cutting and breaking. The dragon screeched and tried to reach the source of the sudden pain and discomfort, snapping and breathing fire but Kíli held on tight. He drew his sword and began hacking down on the massive scale, a red platter of horn, larger than his own body. Smaug roared and cried and desperately tried to shake the dwarf off but to no avail. He finally sent Kíli flying and the youngster landed on his back, his spine cracking but he did not care much, for he was still holding onto the scale.

As soon as he was back on his feet, he tossed the scale over to where Thorin was standing.

"Fíli, one of the axes", Thorin commanded and Fíli quickly reached down to his boots to draw one of the throwing axes and hand it to his uncle. Thorin swiftly rammed it into the horn platter, creating a handle and before Bifur could even attempt to protest, neither in Khuzdul nor in Iglishmêk, Thorin had nicked his boar spear. The sight that unfolded itself before them then, burned itself deep into their memories.

Thorin stood before the dragon, dressed in nothing but charred and torn rags, his coat and the jewellery as well as the precious coat of mithril gone. The massive, red dragon scale, he held in his left as a shield, the spear in his right and thus he faced the beast that had driven him from his home and robbed him of his throne.

Deaf from the blazing of the flames and blind, Thorin approached the dragon, step by step. Surrounded by dragon fire he marched on, ignoring the unbearable heat and the gnawing pain whenever a flame licked at his skin or singed his hair. He grit his teeth and went on, slowly but steady whilst the dwarves of the company held their breath. Thorin soon found the shield useless however, for even though it protected him well enough from the fire, he could not see an opening to actually reach the beast.

The more surprised was the look on his face, when Smaug suddenly began to cough and the rain of flames ceased and when Thorin peered around his shield, he spotted a third black arrow sticking deep in the dragon's throat. Kíli stood by the barrier, bow and arrow in hands.

"NOW!" he yelled and swiftly Thorin rushed forward. Just when the first fires licked at the large fangs again and Smaug steadied himself to breathe another baneful flame at his enemy, the spear skyrocketed and Thorin drilled it through the dragon's open fauces right into his skull.

Smaug roared and staggered, blowing dark fumes into the air before he slowly tilted over like a massive rock and the whole valley trembled and shook violently when the dead body of the dragon hit the ground.

It seemed as if the time had stopped. Thorin sank to his knees, his legs trembling violently and it took the dwarves a long while to actually comprehend what had just happened.

Smaug was dead.

Their greatest fiend, the cause for all the pain and agony in Thorin's life lay dead before him. And only a few yards away, standing proud in the faint distance was Erebor. Their home. And it finally belonged to them again. A sudden emptiness once more befell the King again but it was an emptiness of a different kind. The feeling of a massive weight lifted off one's shoulders. His whole body began to tremble and he buried his face in his blood-stained hands, the red shield lying on the ground next to him and only a few feet away lay the dragon.

Already worried, the youngsters made a few careful steps towards their uncle when a quiet sound came from Thorin, that did not sound like crying. The dwarf was laughing. Quietly at first, gently like silver bells but his laughter grew louder and louder until it echoed across the grassland. Tears of joy ran down his cheeks and he laughed wholeheartedly and never before had Fíli and Kíli seen him laugh like this. Pride and freedom gushed over them like a refreshing wave and whilst some dwarves broke into laughter as well, roaring and cheering, others sank to their knees as well and bawled and cried badly, grinning at the same time. Even Dwalin, big tough Dwalin stood with tears in his eyes for he knew now that he would finally return to his home.

It took them a long while to calm down again and whilst some were still blowing their noses and fumbling with their singed clothes, Fíli had begun to rummage around the burned pile of luggage, obviously searching for something.

"What's the matter with you?", Kíli asked, watching curiously.

"Is there nothing left?" Fíli called out distressed, actually making his brother worry.

"Left of what?"

"Poppy seeds!"

"Why? Ye hurt again?" Dwalin picked up a half burned satchel to find the contents reduced to nothing but coal.

"No. I don't now, I'm not hurting right now but once the rush is gone and maybe then and I- there must be some of this left!" the youngster nearly panicked and suddenly it dawned on them.

"Oh for Durin's sake, Fíli!" Balin bellowed. "You're afraid of some bloomin' pain?!"

And they all burst out laughing again. Amidst them stood the little lion of the company, the young dwarf with royal heritage and a loudmouth at that and the thought of pain alone scared him enough to take poppy seeds as a precaution. They howled and cried and Fíli felt entirely foolish. Though brave he was, he found that he could not even bare the slightest pain. Death and battle did not terrify him any longer but the thought of agony did and it frightened him to the bones.

"It's not that funny", he mumbled, blushing badly.

"Now, now", Dwalin chuckled and his large hand crashed down onto Fíli's back, pressing the air from his lungs for a second. "Don't be such a whimp! I didn't raise ye to be a mollycoddle like that!"

"You raised me?" Fíli inquired, eyebrows nearly pulled up to his hairline. "You traumatized me as a child, is all you did!"

"Oh dear, here we go again", Balin muttered and looked over to Thorin, silently begging him to stop the upcoming commotion but the King of Thorin's Halls merely grinned and shrugged, too relieved to give a single care in the world.

"Of course I raised you! I taught you everything you needed to know!" Dwalin declared proud and Fíli snorted.

"And nearly killed me at that! Remember when you tried to teach me how to swim?"

"Indeed", Dwalin nodded. "And you swim easily today."

"You threw me into a pond and said 'swim or drown, pixie!'"

"Worked just fine."

"I was four years old!"

"Still worked fine", Dwalin insisted, crossing his muscular forearms before his chest in a sulking manner. The quarrel would have continued for ages, hadn't it been for Kíli, who had suddenly grown very quiet. Thorin softly called out to him and everyone watched in surprise, when the youngest of the company suddenly spun around on his heels and dashed off towards Erebor. Not a word spoken, he just disappeared.

"Where is he going?" Dori asked and suddenly Fíli too grew incredibly pale.

"What is it? Pain comin' onto ye?" Dwalin teased but quickly stopped the bullying when he noticed the panic in Fíli's eyes. "Laddie?"

"Damnit. Bilbo!" the youngster cried out and immediately rushed after his brother.