Musings of an Exile
Cross-posted to theatrical_muse
*He gazes hungrily into the dark orb, which shows him visions of the world he has forsaken; a world of easy hunting, a rich lair, and a reign of fire. The world to which, one day, he will return. And then that world will burn…*
"My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath - death!"
I am Smaug - Smaug the Magnificent, Smaug the Golden, Lord of Erebor (in exile), last of the great Dragons of Middle Earth. You may well have heard of me, for the rumour of my deeds spread far and wide in the latter days of my glory. Those rumours say also that I am dead, which amuses me mightily. I, Smaug the Terrible, who smiled as the Nine fell to the lures of the Dark Lord; who witnessed the downfall of Nùmenor; who survived Sauron himself? One so strong and ancient as myself is not so easily defeated. HAH!
The bowman’s barb wounded me grievously, I admit; but though he found the one vulnerable spot in my jewelled armour (I have my suspicions as to how he came by this knowledge), my own scales are still stronger than Dwarven steel. I survived the blow, but I realised then that my power had waned; too much easy living among the spoils of the mountain maggots. I waited in the dark depths of the lake until the victors grew incautious with their merrymaking; then I crept away, leaving behind my shell of jewels as a decoy in years to come, and fled to the Withered Heath in the far north where I now abide.
I wait, and I watch, and I nurse my malice with my wound, and my power slowly builds. I see the accursed Elves deserting Middle Earth, and Men and Dwarves growing weak and foolish in their carefree existence. One day, I will return, and my might will be unbounded; I will lay waste to the land they claim for their puny kingdoms, I will scorch the earth to ashes and their bones to dust, I will raze the land from the Iron Hills to the Bay of Belfalas in Gondor. They dared to defy me, to stick me with their puny stings, and I WILL have my revenge!
ROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!
But until that day comes, I will rest here within my cave, and watch their doings through this pretty crystal, and learn their weaknesses thereby. And if the rules of the stone should require me to give of my opinions on sundry matters, then so be it! A little conversation, now and then, will while away my exile most amusingly.
*He gazes hungrily into the dark orb, which shows him visions of the world he has forsaken; a world of easy hunting, a rich lair, and a reign of fire. The world to which, one day, he will return. And then that world will burn…*
"My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath - death!"
I am Smaug - Smaug the Magnificent, Smaug the Golden, Lord of Erebor (in exile), last of the great Dragons of Middle Earth. You may well have heard of me, for the rumour of my deeds spread far and wide in the latter days of my glory. Those rumours say also that I am dead, which amuses me mightily. I, Smaug the Terrible, who smiled as the Nine fell to the lures of the Dark Lord; who witnessed the downfall of Nùmenor; who survived Sauron himself? One so strong and ancient as myself is not so easily defeated. HAH!
The bowman’s barb wounded me grievously, I admit; but though he found the one vulnerable spot in my jewelled armour (I have my suspicions as to how he came by this knowledge), my own scales are still stronger than Dwarven steel. I survived the blow, but I realised then that my power had waned; too much easy living among the spoils of the mountain maggots. I waited in the dark depths of the lake until the victors grew incautious with their merrymaking; then I crept away, leaving behind my shell of jewels as a decoy in years to come, and fled to the Withered Heath in the far north where I now abide.
I wait, and I watch, and I nurse my malice with my wound, and my power slowly builds. I see the accursed Elves deserting Middle Earth, and Men and Dwarves growing weak and foolish in their carefree existence. One day, I will return, and my might will be unbounded; I will lay waste to the land they claim for their puny kingdoms, I will scorch the earth to ashes and their bones to dust, I will raze the land from the Iron Hills to the Bay of Belfalas in Gondor. They dared to defy me, to stick me with their puny stings, and I WILL have my revenge!
ROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!
But until that day comes, I will rest here within my cave, and watch their doings through this pretty crystal, and learn their weaknesses thereby. And if the rules of the stone should require me to give of my opinions on sundry matters, then so be it! A little conversation, now and then, will while away my exile most amusingly.