Bagin’s Oath

Sauntering onto the Golden Mountain, the jingling of coins resonating under every step, the Hobit darted his eyes across the dragon’s pale, white chest; its feet like slender, scarlet streaks embedded into a golden back ground, the gasping, black holes engraved into its dry nose acting like a furnace as the translucent wisps of smoke rise into the air like fading spirits and its cresting, tinted horns that claw onto the air, slicing it in two directions.  

Silently the Hobit crouched his back like an arching tree tiptoeing on its roots and snagged the: gems, jewels, silver and wrought and unwrought gold in his path. The Hobit swayed back and forth (as the expenses tipped him over and over again) and grasped for more. Suddenly Smaug’s snorting distorted and his nose throbbed as the wisps of smoke leaked out of his nose like a murky, vertical river and flashed out of sight; an eerie silence traversed he room, coiling round the gravel-built pillars which surrounded Smaug and a booming roar pierced through the air and filtered the silence into the crevices which creased the concrete structure’s smoothness.

The Hobit rooted his veins to the ground as if he was paralysed, inhaled the vast scent of dread and felt the bitter feeling of pain being poured onto him – Smaug had awoken. With feet as elegant as a cat’s paws Hobit sluggishly traipsed back down Smaug’s expensive nest and clenched onto a sword and an axe in both palms as his sixth sense banged in the pit of his stomach screaming at him to run.

Smaug gently spread its Burgundy, paper-like wings into the air and glared its blood-shot red eyes into his – at that moment the Hobit’s heart was battered by the fear of death. The dragon fleeted into the air and descended down like a soaring spear its deep-orange flames at the front line. Leaping into the air Hobbit managed to dodge the first blast of flames. But before he could act, Smaug swooped down once more draping the Hobbit in a red cocoon.

Hobit balanced his sword and blindly slashed it around deflecting of Smaug’s spiky, rigid claws and on the final impact he plunged it into his jaw, striking it down as another red flooded onto Smaug’s face stretching out all the dented, dry skin form site. Boldly Hobit drawed an axe from the boundless maze of precious items and was about to strike Smaug down forever until the feeling of guilt engulfed him. He had promised himself he would not harm a single living. Being ever but he had now broken it and would not wish to break it again,

Sympathy had immersed him and the he dropped his axe as it clanked onto the cold, rough surface.