dear_mun | Dusty Muse

Ahh, the sound of bitterness and hate. Lovely, even from an elf.

No matter your skin, I know a monster when I see one.

[A toothy smile, while human, still echoes of Smaug's dangerous teeth.]

I suppose you would know best...

[Slowly walking, circling.]

I'm surprised anyone can see through this ghastly shell.

Edited (oops) 2015-11-05 01:02 (UTC)

[A completely Dragon smile.]

In this, I do.

[He keeps watch of Smaug, barely blinking.]

Are you trapped? It would be a simple matter to free your wretched soul.

[An eyeroll of boredom.]

Please, do go on. I suppose it would be something of a triumph for you have my head for your collection of war trophies....

[He pauses as if knowing something secret, the smile returning.]

But no, I am barely a dragon anymore. I am human till I have [ugh] reformed. [A Maleficient didn't like his attitude and turned him human. He's been that way for awhile. Still not quite understanding what lesson he's supposed to have learned by this.]

I would set your head in a dusty corner to rot beyond everyone's notice.

[His pale eyes narrow and he draws his sword.]

You speak of a spell - a curse? Who could cast such magic? [There could be reason to fear them more than Smaug.]

[His temper flares at the question.] That is not important! I shall undo it in due time!

[Smaug steeles himself, regaining his composure. He seems to have no regard for the sword, why should he? After all, wasn't he the great Smaug? Nothing could hurt him.]

Edited 2015-11-05 01:20 (UTC)

You dare to raise your voice to me in this form? [With a swift flick of his wrist, he brings the sword to Smaug's cheek.] You speak to a King; a King who despises you.

[Most would stop and apologize.

Most were not Smaug.

He laughs.]

King of nothing, king of a dark corner of the woods, buried in your caves. The only thing you command is that bit of metal in your hand.

[His anger flares and he purposefully lets his blade slide - none too gently - down Smaug's cheek. Then his fingers are wrapped around the Dragon's throat.

He does not want this to be quick.]

I see a Dragon who cannot protect his hoard! My people are safe in your wake and they will live for all the years to come while your bones rot in the lake. To be felled by a Man and a single bolt - how does that feel?

[Blood marks his cheek, a curious sensation of pain he's not had before. He has no time to think of it, the elf king might decide to take him up on that offer for his head.

He looks back without remorse, a spark in his dark eyes.]

Your friends the dwarves, they've not given up the jewels yet? I would have thought that would be the first thing on their minds when taking back Erebor. I suppose sharing is something that travels over their heads.

[Hinting perhaps that if he does kill Smaug (haha yeah right) there's a chance he'll never seen those white gems again.]

Such a waste.

They will be mine. [There is something similar in them. The coveting. Thranduil's nails bite into the surprisingly soft skin of Smaug's neck.] Lives have been wasted and that I will not condone.

My people matter more to me than any jewels.

And you should know better than to call any Dwarf my friend.

[Drat this elf, he is less corruptible than Smaug had hoped. Not at all like Thorin Oakenshield. It was disappointing in a way, if he could have pulled the king of the elves over to his side of thinking, what fun that would be to watch.]

[His countenance darkens in frustration and he hisses back, his hands coming up to grip the wrist of Thranduil near his neck as if to pull it off.] Think yourself lucky, you would burn where you stand if I was in my true form.

[Okay, this was getting a bit uncomfortable. Curse this weak human flesh, how he loathed it.]

[For all his love of gems, no one can outrank the people of Mirkwood. Thranduil protects them fiercely and cares nothing for the opinion of the world when he closes his walls around them.]

I have burned before. [The scars appear - half his face ravaged by them - and they seem to extend down his neck.] It would take more than your fire to finish me.

[The scars are a surprise and it takes quite a lot to surprise Smaug. He coughs at the hands on his neck, his knees nearly betraying him for a second as he tries to reply.]

What...what young drake did that? Standing too...close...

[Oh dear, spots in front of his eyes dance about as he gasps for air. Seems he may insult Thranduil till his last breath and possibly beyond if he can manage it.]

[At the last possible moment - when consciousness hangs on a string - Thranduil lets go, the scars fading as if they never existed.]

They were earned in battle and the serpent did not survive.

[It's an embarrassment, landing on one's hands and knees in front of the elf king and gasping for air that's become so important all of the sudden. Smaug seethes once his wits return, rubbing the fingernail marks on his neck as he looks up at Thranduil above him. A glare of absolute hatred before his face falls back into its mask of hidden amusement.]

Poor serpent.

[An obvious tone of patronizing the king in his win.]

[His robes - layers of silk - make a soft sound as Thranduil turns away, unconcerned with the taunt. The days that had followed the particular battle had been filled with agonizing pain; so much so that he doesn't remember much beyond screaming.

Yet Smaug will never see him that weak.]

Your kind does not care for one another. No one will mourn you.

[Never was a long time...never say never.]

Mourning is pointless. You think I would care if anyone did or did not?

[That was amusing. Smaug picks himself up off the floor, a hand to his side in a flash of remembrance of the Black Arrow. Now that had been painful, more than anything he had experienced, even in this human form. Best to forget about that and go back to poking the bear with a stick.]

Ah, perhaps you suggest they will mourn you? Oh great king of the elves. [He licked his palm to wipe the blood from the cut on his cheek.]

Edited 2015-11-05 02:28 (UTC)

A heartless creature would not care for such. [A useless, wasted life in his opinion.] You recall.

[He glances over a shoulder, malice making his eyes colder.]

The arrow pierced deep; it touched the emptiness within. Shadows cannot bear the light.

[His voice is low, steady; pointedly so.]

I do not live to be mourned. Death shall not claim me.

[They were opposites in a way. Smaug and his darkness, dark Erebor, his stash of gold tainted with his own festering greed over the years. Elves were all purity and light. So good it was downright sickening to the former dragon.]

No arrow can remove me...

[Denial, always denial. He refused to believe a mere human had taken out the great Smaug.]

Edited 2015-11-05 02:43 (UTC)

[Victory flashes in his eyes and his lips quirk. The Dragon - the Serpent - is in denial. Thranduil lays a hand over his own heart.]

It sank deep. Here. You fell from the heavens and tumbled into the dark waters. The splash you made was great, but you did not come up for air.

[He scoffs at that openly.]

Someone is spinning tales for the benefit of your ears.

[That was a more plausible reason. Obviously. He was still here.] One should not listen to every gossiping pleb to come to your gates.

You were seen. [So, no. Not a tale. He pours himself a cup of wine.] Dragons fall like stars.

[Hisses through his teeth in malice.]

Don't compare me with your stars!

[It wasn't true! He had survived that attack...granted he would have died had Maleficent not intervened but this existence was hardly better.]

I am fire, I am DEATH. [He may have rushed the king at that point, but keenly aware of the guards with their bows drawn off in the shadows.]

[He doesn't move. Amusement dances in his eyes and his voice lowers a notch.]

How can I not? You flare with a dying light that rivals even your greatest shadow!

[Inching closer, eyes locked with Smaug, he whispers:]

Yes, you were fire and yes, you died.

[The guards forgotten, Smaug snarls and leaps at the king. His own safety forgotten in his anger.]

Then Death comes for you!

[The guards are stopped with a look and Thranduil forgoes his sword for a dagger. Said blade is pushed against Smaug's chest, right over his heart.]

This temper does not stand you in good stead!

[No claws, no wings, not even his firey lungs. And yet his anger drives him to madness, attacking an armed man with nothing in his hands. That doesn't stop him though, Smaug grabs at the dagger, ignoring the blood on his hands as he tries to wrest it from the hand that holds it and strike out at Thranduil.]

[It is a shame that a Man's body is so much weaker than an Elf's. Thranduil ignores the hand trying to wrest the dagger away and grabs Smaug's chin, holding him tight.]

So like a youngling who demands attention.

[He glances at the blood and shoves the Man against the wall.]

There are delicate arteries in your hand...and your wrist. Sever them and the bolt won't be needed.

[...hm...he didn't know that. Of course, he didn't know much about the anatomy of humans other than crushing or burning them to death. His struggles pause, looking back at his hand. It did sting, the blade, but not that he had noticed much in his rage.

How he hated this weakness with ever fiber of his being. It was starting to make him cautious in his choices. More devious in trying to accomplish his means. But he had come unhinged for a moment there, it was not something he could hide.]

Then why keep me alive? [He asks through his teeth. It was obvious to a blind man that he could end Smaug right here and now. He considers goading him into doing it, at least he would not be human anymore. Perhaps it would even end this curse of his, he hadn't been able to break it with anything else.]

[Taking a handkerchief from his robe, he deftly wraps the injured hand, showing very little care for how the cloth might irritate the wound. It is enough that he covers at all, really.]

I like to see you suffer, oh great Smaug. [He grins and dabs at the cut on the Dragon's cheek.] For all of those you have slain, it is fitting that you now feel their weakness; their despair.

You reached too high. You never sought to know your enemy. [He manipulated them just fine; Thranduil knows this is a clever beast, but he never understood weakness.] Be fire; be death, however, understand that the tides can always be turned against you.

[Doesn't seem to matter if he tries to pull his hand or his head back from the care given to it. The fact he does anything kind at all is completely perplexing to Smaug, he can only assume its some sort of trick.

Manipulating others was his specialty, he had a knack for finding what people didn't know could be used. Like with Bilbo, a few minutes with Smaug and he was doubting the loyalty of the men he had been traveling months with.]

I have no such feelings for insects.

[A trick to stave off infection and death. There is so much Smaug does not know about his body.]

You wear the skin, the bones, the muscles of an insect. The world will be hard for you.

[He sheathes his dagger and steps back.]

I could give you a taste of it.

Your penchant for the obvious is astounding.

[Sarcasm. Have some.]

[His eyes narrow at that veiled threat. Not replying because he is not going to give the elf king the satisfaction of seeing him beg for his life.]

Dusty Muse

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I don't know why but this thread is awesomesauce

Because of the tension~ <3

here I thought human Smaug would never work

he actually works very well!

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