Life is Precious

AN: This is another short one, but this chapter is a bit different than any of my others so far. Not much dialogue in this one as it's mostly just what Smaug thinks of this whole situation and how that changes over a relatively short amount of time.

A quick heads up, too: I'll be going on a trip and won't be able to post the next chapter when it would usually come out, so sorry to say this, but the next chapter will be a month before it releases.

(Edit 8/7/23): Yes, the guy spouting hate speech in the comments has already been blocked and reported. No idea if that's someone's idea of a joke, but there's no cause for posting that on some random LotR fanfic.

(Update 8/8/23): Sent an email to the support team, who were kind enough to remove that particular review for me. So, much appreciation to them for the help.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.

Chapter Thirteen:

It was strange how the taste of his own blood was so horrid to him when he enjoyed the taste of his victims. Every time he lapped at the fresh wound where his missing scale had been, a shudder of disgust ran through his body. His face was locked into an almost permanent grimace.

He seems to have vastly underestimated what the girl was capable of.

Instead of turning into a sniveling mess that would fully submit to his dominance like he'd expected, she'd turned vengeful. Small though that dagger was, he was not used to feeling such pain. How could he be when he was covered in impenetrable armor?

But it wasn't just the pain that he wasn't used to. For the first time in his life, he had felt fear of a mortal. The fear he felt of death was natural, especially since his recent brush with it. Make no mistake, he'd felt that in the moment, as well, but it was nothing to the fear he felt of that mere girl.

It was in that moment that she'd finally realized that she held all of the power against him. Forced into a helpless position, he could do nothing except watch, silent save for his screams, as she punished him for his transgressions against her. Ironic, given that whole situation arose from him trying to punish her.

He'd never actually been helpless before, though. Dragons were supposed to be the strongest, toughest species on the entire planet, and until now, he'd never had cause to think otherwise. Of course, if not for the spell upon him, the girl would've been a mere stain on the ground months ago. Because of that, he was now beginning to realize that he was not the one in control here.

And it scared him.

It scared him enough to call the girl 'master' in hopes that she would spare his life. She did, which he should be thankful for, but now he was just as afraid of displeasing her again for fear of her finishing the job. It was hard to admit, but admit it he did to make sure he never decided to do something stupid. He was afraid of her now.

Just the memory of being helpless before her had him shivering again, and not from the taste of his blood.

Even his initial plan of making her hate him in order for him to have a reason to hate her failed spectacularly. After all of that, he couldn't help but hold a begrudging respect towards the girl. Her reaction was a very...draconic response, and he found himself having a modicum of respect for her now. Empathy was for the weak. Making him submit and instilling fear—and respect from that fear—was the way of the strong.

His chest twinged with a fresh wave of pain, and he licked the sore wound, grimacing at the taste again, before looking behind him at the mouth of the cave. She sat just outside, her back turned to him. He spied the dagger still in her hands, and he had two simultaneous yet very different reactions to seeing the bloodied blade. Both shivering with lingering fear and grinning darkly at the oblivious girl, he chuckled quietly. "Perhaps this will be more interesting than I thought..."

It had been a very long time since anyone challenged him. A human girl was not who he expected to be his new opposition, but something deep inside of him seemed to enjoy the possibility of having that challenge. Admittedly, he was more excited for that than to simply dominate her will until she was barely more than a pet blindly following his orders.

There were many things he expected she might do with her new power over him, but none of those came true. Instead, she didn't speak to him for an entire week except to give him orders, which he followed without argument. And he made sure to remember his manners, addressing her as 'master'. Every time he did, he noticed how she seemed slightly uncomfortable...and he found that interesting.

Thanks to his efforts, their cave was becoming more like a home by the day. Each day, he would patrol the immediate area, killing anything that even looked like an orc or spider. Because of that, he noticed that the area become much safer after only a few days. Speaking of, the path deeper into the mountain had been blocked with as many large boulders as he could find.

He did pile up a lot of smaller rocks at the stream's source, and while it didn't block it, he figured that would be a good enough filter. There was no way of knowing where that stream originated or what might have been thrown into it, so it was better to be safe than sorry. He was not going to let Earyth get ill or die because of bad water.

He also made two firepits for her, one inside and one outside the cave. They were both basically just large holes that he'd dug into the stone and then melted with his fire. He'd already uprooted several trees, which she chopped up with an orcish axe she'd also found. All of the spare firewood was kept inside the cave to prevent it from getting wet.

For food, he hunted for her, though she was the one to skin and carve up the carcass. It was something she was rather bad at, and he could tell she was sickened by the sight of all that gore. Honestly, he was surprised she knew how to even start, but he supposed either her brother or father had either shown her or spoke of it enough for her to have some understanding. Still, despite how she detested having to do it, she did. And he believed her technique would grow better with practice.

The one problem they'd been faced with was her current attire. It wasn't suited for such hard living and was already coming apart. She already had several wolf pelts and deer skins drying on a rack she'd fashioned, using vines as rope. They weren't pretty with the amount of accidental cuts and tears she'd had while skinning them, but once they were ready, they would be good enough for some new clothes, which he assumed she already knew how to do. Sewing was a woman's job from what he understood of human culture, which admittedly wasn't much.

What purpose did knowing how the inferior races lived serve a dragon?

Until now, the answer was none. Now, however, he needed to keep this particular human alive, so while she was actively avoiding interacting with him, he was actively observing her. Her routine was just as important as her behavior, for the more he knew, the better equipped he was to keep her needs met.

And despite how she tried to avoid him like the plague during the day, at night, she was never more than a few feet away from him. The warmth he provided was simply too inviting, too tempting, for her to ignore. Her little campfire didn't produce the same all-encompassing heat, and neither did it protect her from the wind. Whenever she rested, the crook of his neck or the top of his snout tended to be her preferred places.

And he was beginning to find that he didn't mind.

Before, she had been like a defenseless hatchling that he was being forced to care for, something that male dragons did not do. While he still had to provide for her, she had proven to have teeth when they were necessary. She wasn't completely useless anymore. So, while he would have been rightfully miffed for her using his face as a bed before the incident, now he was more at ease with her.

Her actions had caused quite a big change in how he viewed her, but it was clear she hadn't noticed. Already, she had made it abundantly clear that she was no dragon and didn't think like one. If she was and did, however, she would know just how crucial her reaction that day had been.

It was a genuine surprise to him how well—and how quickly—she had adjusted to this new existence. Here he was just over a week later, laying just at the mouth of the cave and watching her chop firewood with her orcish axe. She never complained about her living conditions or the amount of work she had to do to survive. It was not what he expected from a girl who'd never left the city.

The axe hit one of the trees he'd uprooted with a constant tempo as she worked on cutting the limbs off its trunk. The trunk itself was too large for her one-handed axe to break through without considerable time and effort. He supposed she would be asking for his claws soon enough. Once he'd rent the trees into more manageable pieces, she would doubtless work upon them, but for now, she still had limbs to hack off. The pile of firewood in their cave was growing quickly, but she never seemed satisfied with the amount. The normal human mindset was to have it all done by winter, which it already was—the tail end of it, sure, but winter, nonetheless. And it's not as if she would be out gathering wood in the snow. He'd just go out, rip up a few trees, and drag the trunks into the warm cave for her to work on there.

Still, having a surplus of firewood wouldn't hurt, he supposed, and if the fervor with which she attacked the trees was any indication, the action itself was mostly likely cathartic. Her frustration and anger hadn't yet diminished, it seemed, but it was better that she took it out on the trees and not his neck.

As he laid there watching her, he came to realize just how much she tried to do things herself. To be fair, with most things, he couldn't exactly help. He was a little too big to tie knots or skin animals. Still, other than hunting, she did everything herself. She was learning how to rely on only herself, and more importantly, she was showing him that she could rely on herself.

Though he doubted she saw it that way.

He did, though. Through her actions, she was proving that his assistance only made things easier. He wasn't necessary for her to survive out here. He had his purpose, make no mistake. Without him, spiders, orcs, trolls, and goblins would've been competing for the chance to feast upon her flesh. She stood no chance against them. He protected her from all of them by his presence alone, but she didn't really need him for anything else.

It was...fascinating.

Superiority complex put aside, dragons were simply more suited to hard living. His kind was bigger, stronger, and infinitely more powerful than a single mortal. However, watching Earyth create things and use tools to help with her lack of natural defenses and power was quite enlightening. She was quite crafty, using limited supplies to accomplish things he would've thought impossible. Here he was prepared to attack some settlement or other to find some more clothes for her, yet she was out here making her own. She had no thread to sew them together, but she was making thin leather strips as a substitute.

If all humans were as crafty as her, it was no wonder her species seemed to be spreading so quickly. For him, he'd never actually seen things being created. He was always more preoccupied with stealing or destroying things that were already done. His mountain was an impressive lair, and he knew it had been created by the dwarves, though he'd never actually seen it being built. As far as he cared, his mountain had always been the way it was because that was the way he found it.

To see Earyth actually creating things before his eyes was a rather different experience. Scattered materials that he thought were mere scraps suddenly came together into something else with a practical use. Dare he say, he was impressed.

Putting everything together—her ability to survive on her own and her willingness to put him in his place—eventually lead to a single conclusion that brought a toothy grin to his face as he watched her pummel the trees into pieces.

He liked this human.

It was a strange thing to admit, but he was beginning to genuinely like her. Now he knew why the spell bound him to her, of all beings, but he wasn't content with being at odds like they were. Her words from that day came back to him, and his expression turned thoughtful.

Empathy...

Not a very draconic quality, he would admit. A mere week ago he dismissed the idea as ridiculous. Now, however, he was beginning to realize that he needed to be the one to change here. For the first time in his life, he needed to swallow his pride and accept that his previous outlook of the world needed to...shift a bit. If she was ever going to speak to him again, he needed to at least try to understand her. Plus, he was the only one who could decide how easy or hard his new existence could be. They could be enemies, or...they could be...

Friends.

Just the mere thought almost had him gagging in disgust, but he supposed that was what she wanted. Maybe once he...apologizedthat thought made him growl softly, for dragons don't apologize—she would be more open to interacting with him again.

It was worth a shot.

"Earyth!" he called, taking a chance by using her name instead. She paused from her work and glared over at him suspiciously, but before she could say anything, he continued. "I've been thinking over your words, and I have concluded that...friendship," he almost spat the word, "Would not be so bad."

He watched her expression harden as her suspicion and anger grew. "Yeah, right. From the sound of it, the mere thought disgusts you."

Before she could return to her chopping, he caught her attention again. "It goes against my very nature," he hissed, displeased that he'd been shot down so quickly. Though, he probably should've expected as much. "To think of a mortal as anything other than food is foreign to me."

"Uh huh..." She wasn't convinced, clearly. He growled in annoyance, but she spun to him in fury. "Just be quiet! I don't want to hear from you until I say otherwise!"

Once again, their staring contest ended with him looking away first. Now, he couldn't even growl out his annoyance since the command forbade him from making any verbal noises. With a small huff, he laid his head down.

This was going to be harder than he thought...

AN: How about that? Did the thought process make sense for a dragon? Leave a review if you've got thoughts or concerns. I always read them and try to respond to every one.

Until Next Time

AdmiralCole22