Chapter 5; Impressions:

I just couldn't wait to update, so I decided not to! Please enjoy folks!

Some of you may be wondering why I like calling Smaug the Red Dragon. The reason is that I grew up not only reading the Hobbit, and imagining Smaug as a red dragon, but I also used to watch the Bass cartoon The Hobbit, in which Smaug was indeed, a red dragon. So for the sake of keeping my childhood alive, Smaug is seen as a red dragon, though his appearance is that of the Peter Jackson rendition.

There is no song featured in this chapter, but I listened to Thrice's "Red Sky" over and over again. I think it's a good atmosphere song for Smaug, though not for poor Raelynne, as she finally (yes, finally) comes face to face with a legend we all love!

The mountain lay quiet. The stillness of the air weighed heavily in the stone halls, darkness entrapping all the senses into the unnatural silence. The vast, catacomb like halls of Erebor soaked in a coldness that seethed out from the marble pillars and stone columns. Everything was spacious, but all at once, all felt tight, as if some strange thing was invading, stitching the air closer together, sewing everything up in one moment of oncoming anxiety.

Muted by this repressive silence and tenseness was the steady breathing of Smaug. He had laid himself still upon his trove, not bothering to nest beneath its pleasant weight to rest. It did him no good anyways, though once upon it was the embodiment of comfort for the dragon. No matter what he tried, he still could not find that peaceful state called sleep. There were no relentless thoughts, no unsatisfied desires, no urges that had not been gratified. There was nothing other than mere wakefulness.

Mere dreaded, hated wakefulness to plague his hours with displeasure and growing ire.

Restless, the great dragon lifted his fearsome head, talons setting to work on clawing through the pile of coins that where beneath him. The loud chimes that rhythmically cascaded into echoes calmed him, though not as it once could. With the loss of sleep came a slow decline in all things enjoyable to Smaug. Meat, however red and fresh, tasted dull, and even the hunt itself for sustenance lost its charm. Even the sky itself could not tempt Smaug to fly, a temptation he had always satisfied since he first took to the wind, had lessened.

Perhaps, it was all merely just boredom. The activities and habits of dragons were not numerous, but with them came a pleasure in the fulfillment of all of them. And yes, all of his baser needs had been fulfilled, a hoard, food, safety, but for Smaug there was one possibility that he thought of that might be the reason for his current state, that of tediousness. He dismissed it before, but now it seemed more viable with every hour he continued to spend in waking.

To himself, the heat and victory of claiming this great hoard was merely a memory, but a glorious one. All his battles were. And when, so long ago, dragons were numerous, there were so many other glories. To fight, to bleed for a hoard or a victory, it was almost a second instinct to dragons next to their love of all things shimmering. Bouts with mortals, they were nowhere near as pleasing as a confrontation against one of his own, for when Smaug was confronted by mortals, there was only dust left, with one of his kind, there were spilt skies.

Despite their strong kinship and respect to one another, dragons would often fight whenever paths crossed, and for many reasons. Primarily it was to claim the other's hoard, but there were the occasional exchanges produced by a dragon simply vying for a mate, or trying to pin a potential one into submission. It was the only form of communication they could stand to have with one another, because for such creatures as dragons there were no need for pleasantries, merely a challenge that could finally satisfy their cry for blood, for power. They were creatures of dominance, and needed to dominate something worthy of them, to clash with a will as powerful as their own. Perhaps it was this baser need that had yet to be fulfilled for Smaug, though this was an impossible satisfaction.

Then perhaps, being the last, Smaug coveted for his kind again, even if nothing more than the opportunity to spill their worthy kinship, to fight with noble beings once more and have his blood race from a challenge and a struggle that could erase the tedium. Time can do many things to an immortal being. Making him the last of his kind was one such example.

Impatient with his pining thoughts that had become abundant in his state of sleeplessness, Smaug's tail swept itself through the air, stirring the silence and dust. A creature of magnificence such as him on principle did not let such things deter their mind, not even for a moment.

But in an instant his eyes flashed with interest as his senses picked up the faintest hint of a presence, his form becoming taunt in attentiveness.

Someone was in his mountain.

His senses working to unravel the company that dared make itself present to him, Smaug tasted the air, his sense of scent the strongest of all. With a single breath, all was told to him, and the dragon recoiled back down to his reclined position, though now there was a small excitement in his torching eyes.

It was Alfrid. The smell of him was always distinguishable against the stale mountain air, such an unfortunate offense to Smaug's senses that often he wondered why he bothered with the human. But following this was a yet another scent.

It was the scent of copper. Copper that poured over alyssum blended together with a warm, gentle spice of earth. A sweet musk. A feminine scent.

Alfrid was returning to the mountain. And he was not alone.

"My King Under the Mountain, I have returned." Announced the manservant to the dragon once he had finally arrived to face his presence. Alfrid was breathing heavily, having a blanket wrapped figure that weighed greatly in his arms for obviously quite some length of time and distance. Laying the heavy bundle upon the coined hill he had climbed up to greet his master none to graciously, the exhausted man did his utmost to bow to his master.

The civility shown by Alfrid was lost to Smaug, who deliberately ignored the bundle of blanket that had been set before him, settling instead to fix his servant with a dangerously piqued glower.

"It has been two months Alfrid." The low voice of gravel and smoke that was his master's discontentment with him kept Alfrid's head bowed, and he swallowed a stutter. The impious creature sneered at his servant's nervous silence.

"What kept you from fulfilling your master's commands for so long?"

"I-I-I needed time to find a minstrel that matched your wants. Most were men, and those that were women traveled with husbands." Was the excuse the man finally offered, daring to look up towards his master, "I had only found this girl a few days previous, and needed to make absolutely certain she was the troubadour needed. Many questions needed answers to meet your specific wants. I am sure you understand, my lord."

Alfrid prayed his explanation would be enough to please his master. He had not been idle these two months, and it really was a task to find the specifications set by his master. Nearly all of the female musicians were wedded, and if unmarried, they were a part of another, older, female occupation, and so finding one that was untouched was a task in it of itself. And even when he found the girl he had now, it was quite a daunting chore to find out such information, using both the tavern woman he bribed and himself in disguise to produce the truth. Luckily for him, the same girl had all the other qualities he was searching for, and luckier still, had yet another quality that would ensure his master's good faith in him once more, what little there was to begin with.

Done with hearing his servant's excuses and wanting to gaze at his latest prize, Smaug directed his attention to the blanket wrapped bundle that was laid before him.

It was a humble sight, dirt stained and smelled heavily of horse with just the faintest hint of blood. The scent from before though, that floral, copper tainted saccharinity that could not be explained away by the mere presence of lifeblood, clawed out from underneath the humble garb, and stole away the dragon's intense curiosity.

Needing no verbal command from his master to know his desire, Alfrid pulled the shabby cloth away, forcing a small figure of limbs and long hair to tumble out onto the bed of coins. Weaving his head lower so as to gain a better view of what had spilled out from the blanket Smaug felt a sneer of amusement curl over his teeth.

"So…this is to be my song bird?" He said with dark delight.

Before him, lying on her side with limbs pulled in close, was a woman.

Of her age, Smaug could only guess, but she appeared to be quite young by the way her unlined face, colored cheeks, and dark lashes spoke of very few experiences with winter. She was a clear portrayal of a rare beauty that was surprising form one of her species, from the slenderness of her long fingers that clutched themselves in frightful sleep to the willowed lengths of her legs. Her skin, what little was shown by her bare neck and hands, reinforced the freshness of her youth. Gleaming and pale, it acted as a dappled mirror to the coins that echoed their gold image against it. Colliding against this paleness was a halo of hair that was cast all about her, reaching to the length of her waist and framing her face in dark, tangled waves. It was a striking hue, like that of a red sun setting against the night, a fading combination of both illustrious gold and crimson. It reminded Smaug of his own dragon fire, a lethal beauty that called all to death with its licking colors, and he found himself oddly pleased by it.

Continuing his inspection with a look similar to what he wore when inspecting his hoard. The rest of her, her figure and shape was difficult to determine by the loose way her unappealing guise of men's clothing hung over her, but what he could make out was telling of a woman just blossoming into the potential of her full fleshed beauty. If she was indeed the pure thing he had asked for, if she was the indeed the lull that would bring slumber, then all of her had the potential to be a seamless part of his collection. She was just that becoming.

Alfrid, having watched his master the full time he was examining his latest prize, saw promise in the intensity of his master's study of the girl.

"She is most fair, as I have promised, yes? Most pleasing to your magnificent eye?"

This interruption of silence brought Smaug's attention back onto his servant, an obvious irritation that diminished the dragon's strange, studious mood.

"She is sufficient."

Rising fully to his impressive height, Smaug made to stand himself closer to the two humans, a large hiss of breath serving to catch the female's scent one last time before he ushered a command to Alfrid.

"Wake her."

Immediately bending down towards the girl to obey his master's order, Alfrid reached into his robes. Pulling out a skin of water, he opened it, and without hesitation poured all its contents onto the maiden's slumbering face.

"Get up girl. Time to meet your master." Spoke Alfrid harshly as the young woman's features began to twitch with that of oncoming wakefulness. The female suddenly sat up as the natural reflex to cough overtook her, sputtering out the water that had coked her into consciousness. Her eyes remained unopened, though it was easy to tell that already her senses were warning her of the strangeness of her situation, her hands scrambling to wipe the water from her view. Her actions caused her to groan with pain however, as she then tentatively felt the back of her head, which seemed to be wounded and aching.

"Get up!" Alfrid shouted as he then stood up, giving the woman a harsh shove with his foot that sent her back helplessly to the floor, her ordeal of waking taking a heavy toll on her feeble strength. With a seized might though, the woman opened her eyes, wanting to take in the sight of the villains that had stolen her sleep.

She was found not to be disappointed.

Almost by instinct, the first presence the girl was made aware of was that of Smaug's. Her gaze landed on him virtually the instant her sights were open, settling on the sole source of light to focus in the dark; Smaug's hollow, burning eyes. To her, they must have been like two lanterns that she hoped to have spare her from the dark, but as she continued to watch the way the twin lights flickered over her, she found the blackness of his narrowed irises watching her as she was them.

Slowly, shell pink lips opened to make a scream. But disappointingly, none was produced.

In fact, the young woman hardly breathed. Like he had seen so many times in his quarry when he bothered to stalk, Smaug noticed all the signs of a creature that was aware of its current position as prey, and its future's imminent discloser. Her heart, an insignificant sound that did not register beforehand, now pounded against her chest in a beautifully erratic rhythm. From that cascaded all other signs of the hunted. Her eyes were frozen in their watch of him, her scent changed from its natural comeliness into that of fear. And as cruelly amusing as this was to the dragon, he was unsatisfied by her awed horror, for she still did not scream. And that would not do.

He wanted to hear her scream, have the sound of her fear filled voice echo in his halls. If her scream was pretty enough for him, then surely, her song could be what might bring back the sleep he needed.

Suddenly, with the speed of the damned, the young woman's breath was restored to her as instinct finally took over, and she began to run. Alfrid tried to grab the as she drove past him, but his meek strength was nothing in comparison to her fear. In a few, mere seconds, she had already made it down from the hill of gold down into a rare valley of stone. She stumbled, her panic and waking fragility impeding her escape, but with desperation she continued on, clawing up the next wall of coins.

Only when she had made a noticeable distance did Smaug react.

With a stroke of his tail, he swept up the fleeing maiden, transforming her body from its animated panic to the state of a helpless ragdoll. She weighed so slight that with little effort, outside of controlling his force so as not to significantly harm the human, Smaug succeeded in tossing the female back to him.

Landing roughly before his scaled hand winded and dazed, the woman took a shuddering moment to regain her senses, all her panic from before manifesting itself into a desperate attempt just to stand up again. Alfrid, who had the wisdom not to move before to chase the girl, finally came forward to try once more at grabbing her, but halted as she found her voice at last in terrified protest.

"No! Please!" She shouted at Alfrid to stave him off her before turning to gaze towards the dragon before her "D-do not eat me, oh Great Ancient! I-I-I-I do not taste at all sweet!" She pleaded, the fearful shaking of her body impeding her ability to speak without a stutter "In fact, I'm probably very sour and very bony-"

"Be silent."

The violent tremor of Smaug's voice instantly stilled the woman, forcing her to collapse from both fright and terror as she clutched the ground in desperation.

It had only been a few moments, and yet already the human had managed to amuse Smaug. Not only did she immediately recognize the reverence he deserved as a higher being, but also dared to plead with him, tying to connive her way out of being eaten. Rather than just beg, she tried to reason with his appetite. But consuming her was far from his mind assuredly, for the moment. Still, the maiden did not need to know that, as the way she trembled at her thoughts for what possibilities awaited her flesh was most humorous to the dragon.

She was promising.

Snaking his head lower to where she shuddered, Smaug tilted his head to cast a closer, curious eye upon the young woman.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked, the resound of his voice sending a visible flood of shock through the young female. He could hear her swallowing her cries of fear, but she managed to keep a calm enough mind to answer him with a vigorous shake of her head. This answer disappointed him, but the opportunity to introduce himself was a rarity these days, one he would enjoy now.

"I am Smaug the Terrible. Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities."

The maiden's eyes quit in their submissive study of the ground to once more gaze upon the great beast before her, mouth agape in terrified bewilderment.

"S-Smaug? The Red Dragon?"

Smaug was pleased by the way she stuttered his name so fearfully, as if she was muttering a curse. But then the young woman began to shake her head viciously, as if she wished to fling out the very thought of him.

"Y-y-y-you can't…can't be real! Dragons, they don't – You're a story!"

With the last echo of her denial of the presence that was his magnificence, Smaug, with a strike of his tail, sent a flurry of coins and gems into the air, some harshly landing on maiden as she pressed herself to the unstable floor once more, biting her lip to keep down the whimpers that clawed at her throat in desperate fear. Alfrid, who had taken cover some time ago, bent his own head to avoid the golden projectiles that landed near him, smirking at the foolishness of the girl.

Though, this may mean that he might have to go out yet again for another maiden…

"Was that not real?" Smaug asked the young woman as a winged hand came to rest by her, his talons resting mere feet away from her quivering form.

"Is the harsh bite of my claws a story you doubt?" He asked, this time with a cruel sneer as he tightened his grip on the gold below his claws, shifting them through the metal and jewels as if it all was merely sand. He could see the maiden fought her all her urges to run, to cry, and to move away from him, already learning it was best just to tremble in his presence. Good, she seemed to be a fast learner.

"You would do well to acknowledge my existence, as not only are you in my presence, but at my mercy. What little of that exists."

The message of warning he gave the maiden perceptibly weighed heavily on her frame, she taking every word he spoke as sacred truth. A sly fascination played over the heartlessly twisted features of the dragon as he watched the young woman for any more signs of a humbled response, but hadn't the chance as he noticed Alfrid approaching.

"My most terrible master, may I present to you, your song bird!"

With a wave of unearned grandeur, he gestured to the young maiden, who sat still on the ground, who watched this transaction with a curiosity mixed horror. Wanting to claim his master's attention to his job well done, Alfrid continued with an air of showmanship.

"She is fair, she is untouched, and I had the pleasure of hearing her play myself. And I must say, you will be very pleased with her skills for melody and dance. I have delivered all that I promised you, and," At this, Alfrid finally managed to procure a grip on the woman, grabbing a knot of her hair, forcing a pained hiss from her as he wretched her head back to fully face the dragon "here is the more. If you would take note of this woman's eyes…"

The young woman clutched her hands ferociously against the grip Alfrid had against her, about to fight him off, when Smaug twisted his head down in order to judge for himself what was so noteworthy about her. This looming nearness of his scaled features and the sudden close heat of his breath stilled the maiden as she stopped her struggles to observe him just as inquisitively, if far more fearfully.

Turning to slant the side of his reptilian face closer, Smaug caught the distinct feature his servant was so proud to claim as his find.

The woman had eyes of two dissimilar, opposing colors.

Yes. Two colors. A hue of sun bleached forget-me-not petals ringed with black surrounded the dark center of her right eye, and the left was decorated with the color of a green that budded only for the prisoners of winter, bringing life back into their branches. Two opposite, small marvels held in a mortal's terrified eyes that made a wondrous, ethereal sight. One that Smaug had not been witness to before in all his many years.

This maiden was promising, indeed.

"She is a rarity amongst humans, a one of a kind that most had thought to have died out centuries ago. And she belongs all to you master." Alfrid stated after the moment of silence he allowed her his speech to take effect, knowing the distinctive, though rare, signs of his master's pleasure.

A moment of arching silence passed, with only heartbeats and locked glances exchanged. But with a swift movement, Smaug brought himself back to his full, imposing height, eyes now gleaned with a burning indifference.

"Get her cleaned up and bring her back here ready to entertain. I desire to put the skills you praise her of owning to the test."

Alfrid humbly bowed, the young woman forced to slant her head forward as well with a stifled cry.

"As you wish Smaug the Splendorous."

Well, that was a bit of fun, wasn't it? I know this chapter was a bit long for just an introduction, but I wanted to take my time with it. I find first impressions of characters often to be the most fun in writing.

In this chapter I finally described what Raelynne looked like. I wanted to hold off on doing that for one, the sake of not making this story incredibly off putting by describing a character through their own eyes, and more importantly, to reflect that Raelynne is already a character in her own rights without having to resort to her appearance. However, her looks do factor into the story, especially her hair and eyes, so do pay attention, there will be a test. No, no there won't be. I hate tests.

Also, wasn't Smaug such a peach? He really knows how to make an impression on a girl. But just wait, in the next chapter we have even more fun, as we get Raelynne's perspective of her meeting with the dragon, and her discovery of just why she has been brought before a creature she thought was only a legend.

Special thanks to: RadCatz, The Queen Dragon, DONOVAN94, vixen1991, Forgotten Shadow Dweller, and Teddy bear 007 for reviewing!