Forum Thread

My childhood was rough. As a wyrmling, my parents abandoned me since they thought I was too weak and feeble for them. At the nesting grounds where I was abandoned, I was picked on by all the other wyrmlings all throughout my childhood. There were few creatures who existed beside us in what men call, The Withered Heath, far past The Grey Mountains. Alas, despite how far away the nesting ground was, there was always sounds of dwarves in their stupid halls of stone and rubble, mining all day and night into the mountains for their precious gold and diamonds. I never really understood what gold was for, and why beings needed so much of it, yet all my fellow wyrmlings constantly argued over who would have the best hoard of treasure and how many dwarves they would kill in order to get it.
“I bet that I’ll get the best hoard!”, boasted one of the older, adolescent wyrmlings named Scatha.
“No, I will!”, yelled another one called Lmanthanc.
“You think your so mighty? You look like a baby wyrmling compared to me!”, cried Falkor. Just like every single day, they fought over their pride and it almost always escalated into a fight, until one of the older dragons who lived in the Withered Heath grew tired of the racket and had to go and teach them a lesson, often a winged fire breathing serpent who came by the name of Archion the cruel came and gave the baby dragons a good beating.

Centuries passed as we slowly started to mature. As I hit my 5000th birthday and reached my adolescent stage of my life, my adult colours started to flush into my scales. My spines grew longer and longer, whilst a nice crimson red bloomed beneath my scales. My wings started to look like dragon wings rather than bird wings, which I used to be bullied about. "Shapend wings" they called me, or in Westron, "bird wings". My body surprised me the most. In a matter of a few years, which was like days as we supreme reptilians aged slowly, so slowly that men and dwarves thought of us as immortal and could only be killed in combat, which was as rare as a malformed dragon.

What changed the most was my brain. In my childhood, I was cunning and sly, being small and slender helped me sneak round the place, stealing food off the older and more powerful wyrmlings when times were bleak and there wasn't much food available. However now, pride bloomed in my mind like a flower, no matter how many times I tried to stamp it out, it always blossomed the next year, stronger and more terrible every year. Every year, more dragons were born, but for some reason, there were no more fire drakes. It seemed like I was the last one. Despite this, I got to bully the younger dragonets, like what other dragons did to me during my childhood. These days, it was all long worms and Cold drakes, and Scatha, a long worm, never let me touch a single one of his kinsmen, or else, as he said he would
"Beat me up"
But cold drakes were much more, cold, in a way. They didn't care about anyone but themselves and were classed as the 'greediest' and the 'greediest of the bunch'. Alas, one hot summer's day, for some reason, my brain was telling me to be cocky and defiant and since I hated Scatha so much, I decided to do what he told me not to, and viciously attacked a young long worm, no more than 10 years of age, and that fateful day, he lost an eye. After the hatred over Scatha that had been building up for years was satisfied, I felt a rush of fear. I did the very he told me not to do. What was I thinking? I ran off and rammed my head into a tree, making the tree topple over. How could I have been so blinded by my adolescent brain? I was no longer small and uncatchable, rather large and slow compared to my childhood form. This meant that I was vulnerable. I still didn't know how to fly, but hid it from Scatha's mob, not wanting to be picked on even more. It wasn't my fault though. It wasn't my fault that my parents, the only dragons that could have helped me learn how to fly, left me, left me to be picked on by the others. Or was it my fault?

This meant that I couldn't fly away from Scatha and his mob who would be on my tail by sundown. A cough sounded from behind me, turning the fire in my veins to ice. I slowly turned around, knowing that my fate was sealed. There stood Scatha, with the hurt baby long worm cowering behind him, giving me a glare that would have killed a whole army of dwarves and men in one go. It took all my courage to speak some words without wavering.

"Why are you here, Scatha?"

"Oh, I think you know why," replied Scatha in his usual steely voice of his. I gulped.

A/N: As you may have seen in the first few chapters, I struggle to write long chapters, both mentally, and physically, so I apologise if you find them brain-numbingly short. I will add a few fun ‘facts’ about LotR AND tH to make it more interesting if you want. Also, I'm bad at writing battle scenes so yeah :(

Smaug’s POV:
Scatha let out a hiss as we started circling each other like wolves. He could see the fear in my eyes and knew it was a fight i couldn’t win. He knew I dreaded it. But i got myself into this fight and i knew i couldn't back out without losing all my honor, if i ever had any. All i could do was to pray to the Valar (and maybe Morgoth) that the battle would go well and there would be no big casualties.

Scatha’s POV:
I could see it in his eyes. Fear. I licked my lips, enjoying the horror on my victim. I warned him not to touch any of my kin. But here we were, with a half-blind Long Worm and Smaug the weakling, as me and my gang would call him, with blood on his claws. I didn't want to fight Smaug, even though i was double his size and age, yet i warned him and swore on Glaurung, my ancestor, that if his filthy, thiefing claws touched any of my kind, it would be bye-bye to him. Dragon battles were often dangerous, and the greatest ones left whole landscapes scorched and barren, as well as a dead dragon in extreme cases. As a crowd swarted to form, made up mainly of my ‘subjects’, a chant started to arise.
Scatha! Scatha! Scatha! Scatha, with every chant being louder than the last. Everyone was looking at me, waiting for the first pounce as i circled my opponent. I stopped and looked at Smaug for a second. His muscles were tensioned up. A flame was already kindled inside of him as his scales turned from a usual dark red to a warm, orange glow, preparing a shot of fire for when the battle started. His newly grown spines were sticking up, showing how tense he was.I knew he was nervous from his looks. I sneered as he attempted to intimidate me, letting out, what would be a breathtaking roar to all the weaker dragons here, but i was not intimidated by an inch. I roared back double. No. Triple as loud as his roar and my opponent, as well as everyone else stumbled back, as a few rocks and boulders fell down the mountain. I laughed as I saw the fear and shock in Smaug’s eyes when he realised how powerful i was. I ignited my flame within me, glowing blue from how intense the flame was. There were a few oohs and aahs from the drakainas (female dragons) as i put on my display. I blinked my eyes for a second, as the circle of chants grew silent. Then I sprang and attacked.

A/N: As you may have seen in the first few chapters, I struggle to write long chapters, both mentally, and physically, so I apologise if you find them brain-numbingly short. I will add a few fun 'facts' about LotR AND tH to make it more interesting if you want.

Smaug's POV:

Scatha let out a hiss as we started circling each other like wolves. He could see the fear in my eyes and knew it was a fight i couldn't win. He knew I dreaded it. But i got myself into this fight and i knew i couldn't back out without loosing all my honor, if i ever had any. All i could do was to pray to the Valar (and maybe Morgoth) that the battle would go well and there would be no big casualties.

Scatha's POV:

I could see it in his eyes. Fear. I licked my lips, enjoying the horror on my victim. I warned him not to touch any of my kin. But here we were, with a half-blind Long Worm and Smaug the weakling, as me and my gang would call him, with blood on his claws. I didn't want to fight Smaug, even though i was double his size and age, yet i warned him and swore on Glaurung, my ancestor, that if his filthy, thiefing claws touched any of my kind, it would be bye-bye to him. Dragon battles were often dangerous, and the greatest ones left whole landscapes scorched and barren, as well as a dead dragon in extreme cases. As a crowd swarted to form, made up mainly of my 'subjects', a chant started to arise.

''Scatha! Scatha! Scatha! Scatha!'', with every chant being louder than the last. Everyone was looking at me, waiting for the first pounce as i circled my opponent. I stopped and looked at Smaug for a second. His muscles were tensioned up. A flame was already kindled inside of him as his scales turned from a usual dark red to a warm, orange glow, preparing a shot of fire for when the battle started. His newly grown spines were sticking up, showing how tense he was.I knew he was nervous from his looks. I sneered as he attempted to intimidate me, letting out, what would be a breathtaking roar to all the weaker dragons here, but i was not intimidated by an inch. I roared back double. No. Triple as loud as his roar and my opponent, as well as everyone else stumbled back, as a few rocks and boulders fell down the mountain. I laughed as I saw the fear and shock in Smaug's eyes when he realise how powerful i was. I ignited my flame within me, glowing blue from how intense the flame was. There were a few oohs and aahs from the drakainas (female dragons) as i put on my display. I blinked my eyes for a second, as the circle of chants grew silent. Then I sprang and attacked.

Smaug's POV:

I jumped back, just before his claws scraped into my face, and instead, caught onto nothing. I felt fear take over me like a caged animal, urging me to run away. But my foolish and arrogant brain told me to stay instead and fight like a true winged lizard. Suddenly, a twang of pain hit me as I was too muddled in my thoughts to see Scatha coming in with another swipe. I could smell a metallic scent, one that I usually associated with prey filled my nostrils. I looked down to see my crimson blood flowing from a bloody, yet small cut. The first blood was drawn. Scatha sneered," is baby Smaug going to go running back to his mummy? Oh wait. You don't have one!!" I howled in rage and took a breath in, before launching a massive fire attack that could have melted mithril in an instant, but only tickled Scatha. Scatha blinked twice, surprised that I fought back. Being an opportunistic hunter, I knew this gave me the perfect opportunity to return the bloodshed by slashing Scatha's snout as well. My claws hit true as he heard Scatha trying to suppress a whimper of pain at the back of his throat. Red blood dribbled from the impressive 20cm slash wound, down his chin and dripped onto the floor. With a sadistic smile, Scatha licked the blood away from the wound, exposing the glistening red tissue underneath. The blood tinted Scatha's teeth red, adding an extra creepy touch as he grinned menacingly. "You shouldn't have done that, weakling. You just screwed up.", he said in his normal steely voice.

All hell broke loose. We leaped onto each other as if we were wrestling, both of us trying to overpower the other. He lunged at me and I only just managed to dodge. His flurry of claws, teeth and wings descended upon me and I could feel my strength being sapped away. I knew I couldn't keep up any longer. As if Scatha heard my thoughts, his tail smacked right into my chest, knocking all the air out of my chest and sending me flying back, knocking into a tree, causing a dent in the wood, before the tree fell down. I had been knocked back a whole 30m, which was a long distance, since it was almost a third of my adolescent size. Something cracked when I hit the tree, probably a rib or two, and I was left there, greedily gasping for air. A warm liquid trickled from my broken rib, and I looked at my chest to see a scale missing, and instead, just a waterfall amount of blood and exposed flesh. I tried to move to get a better look at it, but my ribs screamed at me in protest, causing me to nearly pass out.

I couldn't move. I was incapacitated with pain. My vision was blurry and I couldn't see straight. I lay down onto the blood covered floor in pain. Scatha must have left, I thought,I could finally rest!,but how wrong I was. As I he read my mind, he appeared beside me. "Oh, is baby Smaug hurt?"he cooed,"does Smaugie need some help?". With that, he leapt towards me and grasped my front right limb within his mouth and held it up in a jerky manner, making sure I was in as much pain as possible. I screamed out in an almost human-like way, but I couldn't do anything to harm Scatha anymore. I was subdued. With a simple flick of the head, he had dislocated my arm. I let out a groan of pain as the world started to black out. I let my head fall limply to the floor in defeat and looked up with pleading eyes at Scatha for him to stop the torture. Alas, all he did was wrench it more, causing me to completely black out. The last thing I saw was Scatha's triumphant grin as he walked away. Then, I felt no more.

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-Fact of the day-

1.Jackson refrains from showing us Smaug

Peter Jackson said he deliberately "hinted and teased" Smaug as he attacks Erebor and Dale at the start of the movie. He didn't want to fully reveal the dragon until the second movie.