[Kransha]

Over Dale flew Smaug the Golden, his radiant scales gleaming as coins of brightest gold in the light of the gently shining sun. The jewels on his breast were dulled as shadow found them, no light piercing them to be reflected down upon the ground so far below, and they did not glint as they had. But, exercising his flapping wings, the dragon swerved and spun, his body, serpentine but careful, spiraled downward and upward again, exposing the multitudinous gems encrusting his underside to the sky. Though none could see the true glory of Smaug the Magnificent from where they stood, he swelled with ominous pride, like a cloud bearing rain before a storm to rival all others, as his front shimmered so grandly, his form ablaze as bright fire. Then, abruptly ending his skyward acrobatics, flipping and twirling in the heavens, he dipped and plowed suddenly downward, seeking prey.

He swept himself, his two crumpled wings of scaly leather unfolding and unfurling with a grandiose flourish, sweeping out to each side to loom over the town. His head, atop a long and winding neck, cocked slightly to one side to see the rough slopes of the Lonely Mountain. He saw its ragged terrain, speckled with numerous rocks and boulders that lined it otherwise smoothly declining sides. He would change that soon, though, and set afire that mountain and all that hid ignobly within. That was his first goal, to see the mountain fall, is proud peak humbled by his fire, but first, he could enjoy the fruits of Dale as a brief interlude. He swooped down, his flying form barely hovering above trembling rooftops and the people that now inevitably wished to seek refuge beneath them. He careened over the buildings of Dale, over thatched and wooden roofs, gardens, fields, fences, and all manner of manmade establishment in the community. It was a rural place, yet untouched by the withering hand of industrialization that might leech the life from its fields, the green from its grass, and the many playful children from its dirt and cobblestone roads. Still the place was picturesque, painted by a natural instinct for beauty and added to by the race of man who settled there. But Smaug cared for none of this, since he did not doubt that whatever was rebuilt after his desolation of the areas would not retain its former tranquil innocence.

Finally spying the victims he sought, Smaug veered sharply to one side, the great gales of wind carried by his wings singed the houses he passed over, the many gusts following him ripping shingles from roofs and mortar from walls with its mighty force. Snorting a plume of billowing smoke, Smaug shot down, tearing over the countryside dotted with smaller structures until most of what lay below him were dappled fields of crops, pockmarked by confused livestock. Another demonic grin appearing on Smaug’s face, showing his countless, dagger-like teeth, the dragon swung himself up and uncoiled his legs beneath him, clenched palms opening to reveal glistening talons. Those claws hooked into the grass beneath him, ripping up dirt and soil, as the dragon alighted nimbly on the ground, sending the surrounding animals braying madly in the opposite direction. After the mild shockwave from his landing had settled and his perpetually moving wings had slowed their pace to a standstill, Smaug began to move, cautiously lifting one leg after the other and soon bounding across the fields, wings flapping again.

His gargantuan back legs shot out suddenly from under as his whole body surged forward along the swiftly rolling hills, scooping up several members of the scattering herds of cattle. After barely a minute, his front and back claws were filled with the noisy creatures, grunting and growling in bewilderment. Smaug, a dank laugh bubbling up in him, circled back into the air, spiraling back and forth again and dropping the beasts one by one, tossing them from his grip to plummet down helplessly. He heard the miniscule wails and shrieks of meager bystanders in the town, sprinting through the streets and seeking safety in homes. The sounds of fear ran rampant in the streets as Smaug let all his quarry drop, many clattering noisily onto the streets. Then, once his load was fully released, he fell again, his wingspan spreading and stretching until he’d reached the earth again. He tucked his legs and arms into their appointed places and his monumental jaws dropped open, smoke cascading from their corners. He buried the tips of his talon in the ground, tearing it easily asunder as his open mouth clasped around two more unfortunate creatures and eagerly devouring them without a thought, letting the minute bulk of each simply glide down his throat carelessly. After the four herd animals had ‘fallen’ into his waiting maw, he turned up again, tossing more sheep and cattle aside, letting them fly into the distance all around him. He swung himself, claws and wings out, across the fields, pondering his midday meal.

In a short time the fields of livestock were all but cleared, Smaug’s monstrous belly still not filled, and the town of Dale, in severe disarray, awaited Smaug’s coming. Leaving the last few lone beasts galloping over their sundered home, Smaug the Golden shot up and over the wooden fences that bordered all these open lands, heading back over the town. Again his jaws pulled open, but this time more oozing smoke dripped over his many teeth as a deep-rooted light grew behind his flickering tongue. He aimed his head down and a torrent of red and gold fire blossomed from him again, his narrowed eyes following its course down. He watched the prongs of flame stab mercilessly at the first few houses. They erupted beneath him, the tongues of fire dripping over them and enveloping each part of them until a row of three or four houses was completely aflame with the jets of crimson now spreading to other structures. Again he dipped low, letting another incendiary fountain burst from his gaping jaws. The force of it struck a house’s wall head on, crashing through feebly constructed stone and causing the building to cave in instantly, fire and dust spraying up around it to create a smoggy cloud of black and red that roared up into the sky, overshadowing most of the town as the fire at its epicenter consumed houses block by block.

Smiling again, another tremendous laugh brooding in his throat, Smaug plunged through the smoke, carrying some trailing plumes with him, clinging to the tattered edges of his wings and his curling tail. Now he hovered high above, his narrowed gaze straying from the blackening cloak over Dale to the ruptured ridges of Erebor. After more destruction, he would continue his assault on the mountain. He would have headed there many moments ago, but he always put pleasure before labor, and he felt he would get far more pleasure causing the inhabitants of a half-destroyed town to cower in fear than assaulting a mostly inanimate object. But, he knew that Erebor would be the more dangerous target. The weak forces in Dale might oppose him with stone and arrow, but his hide could withstand whatever they could throw. He would have to overtake Erebor soon. So, taking all this into account, he decided to conclude his fun with something particularly enjoyable, and then turn from Dale.

There had been a long, disquieting silence as Smaug lurked in the sky, despite the damage; the ant-sized forms below were now coming out into plain view, gathering in the streets. The dragon, though, was far from done on his rampage. Suddenly roaring with more monstrous laughter that filled the skies, using the blackened clouds of smog as rivers to carry its bombastic sound hither and yon, he dipped again towards the earth, aiming himself carefully at one of the unpaved streets of the town. Soon, the ground flew up to meet him and he pulled up sharply, opening his claws to the roads and tearing down the length of one such road. Every poor creature, man, dwarf, or otherwise, that lingered still on the road could not avoid him as he flew, many caught up in his groping talons, flung aside by the flailing span of his wings, or crushed beneath the bulk of his tremendous tail. Most who were not slain fell beneath the crumbling houses which he left in his wake, a trail of havoc that appeared behind him wherever he flew. As he completed the destruction on that road, Smaug leapt and soared into the air, high above the earth, again through the plumes of black smoke and then, emitting a most terrible roar, plunged down again to repeat the process.