Why not?

[smaugthegolden]

I am not here for your...entertainment. {He breathes out a stream of flame.} Leave.

Comments

[greatdragon]

[Nostrils flared. Circling. Wary despite himself.]

You seem to amuse them enough to exist.

[smaugthegolden]

{A deep rumble; consider your wariness returned, self.}

I would exist without them.

[greatdragon]

[Have a toothy smile, as fake as his sentiment.]

Of course you would.

[smaugthegolden]

Are they our creator? No. He been absent from their world for some time.

{So there. He is going to make himself comfortable on his gold.}

[greatdragon]

Gone but hardly forgotten.

[Hmmmm, nice pile of gold...don't mind him as he runs a claw through the nearest group of coins.]

[smaugthegolden]

How could we forget? {It's not in their nature! He huffs. Get your own gold, self!}

[greatdragon]

[Why be satisfied with his own? When he could have twice as much...the thought had certainly crossed his mind.]

We forget nothing.

[smaugthegolden]

{There is a problem with that thought process.

And that problem is him. His tail lashes and he curls his claws.}

Precisely. Do remember that I am letting you have your say.

[greatdragon]

[He turns tail with a hiss, circling around again. Would he indeed risk angering 'himself' to have more gold.

The thought was very tempting.]

Perhaps you would prefer if I let my own writer toss a dwarf at your complaint instead?

[Taunting.]

[smaugthegolden]

{His teeth are bared and his eyes glow like an angry flame. Try, self. Try. He will bury his teeth and claws in your hide.}

They are easily exterminated.

[greatdragon]

[This hide has teeth and claws of its own.]

Perhaps, perhaps.

[Had he sunk this low? That he was taunting himself with his own failings? Absolutely.]

So long as there is no molten gold for them to fling around.

[smaugthegolden]

{There is nothing better to do?}

Are you speaking to me or to yourself?

{Really. They are endowed with the power of being snarky bastards with wings, but this isn't helping either of them.}

Melting gold is a shame.

[greatdragon]

[He slithers closer, confidentially dropping his voice.]

A solid golden floor is less shameful.

[A glint in his eyes as he imagines walking on a pure golden floor.]

[smaugthegolden]

{He growls, the sound rumbling in his chest.}

Can you sleep in a floor? Can you hear it jingle as you shift it around?

[greatdragon]

[He snarls, not wanting to admit his other self had a point there.]

Gold coin on a gold floor would be just as lovely.

[He holds up a handful of coins, letting them drizzle through his claws.]

[smaugthegolden]

{Each coin is meticulously counted as it hits the floor. Don't steal any. He will know.}

I suppose. But gold isn't a hard metal. It would have to be mixed.

[greatdragon]

[The thought of less than pure gold was distasteful. Smaug makes a face. Perhaps it was better neither of them were around to enjoy the golden floor after all. It was all the dwarves fault!]

Those hateful dwarves and their forges...

[smaugthegolden]

{Dwarves are stupid. They don't know the beauty of pure gold and jewels.}

Let's eat them.

[greatdragon]

Yesssssss.

[Finally a good idea between them.]

They would trouble us no more.

[smaugthegolden]

That was the idea. {He stretches out a wing.}

[onewhodares]

[Here's a dwarf, holding his sword with anger in his words. He had thought the dragon dead.]

Do you hear laughter at your expense, worm? Why not go back to the hole you crawled out of?

[smaugthegolden]

{Yes, so did many he suspects. They obviously didn't know about parallel worlds and universes.

But he didn't either, so -}

Slain by an Orc, were you? Just one? I thought you tougher than that.

[onewhodares]

[His anger boils over at that offhand remark against his own death.]

Fine words coming from one who never faced one Orc and still lay dead from one shaft of an arrow!

[smaugthegolden]

Orcs know their place before a Dragon. {Or they should.

And he merely glowers at the mention of the bolt.}

[onewhodares]

[More like they probably taste terrible. Thorin reins in his temper, lifting his head proudly.]

My kin own the mountain now, no dragon, or orc, will ever darken it's halls again.

[donum]

Maybe you've got it wrong! [Little voiced, earnest: a child's.] Maybe it's that they're lonely.

[makerofkings]

But for someone's, obviously.