Smaug the Terrible
1. Chapter 1
Merry is 6 (about 4 in man years) Pimpernel is 9 (6) Pearl is 13 (8) and Frodo is 20 (13)
The dragon prowled down the corridor, he could smell the intruders. They were in his mountain, stealing his gold. Slowly, he crept to the doorway, spying them out, watching their every move. There were eight intruders- but that was nothing. He was Smaug the Terrible. He had dealt with far more intruders than this before. As silent as a........ as a.........., well, he, Smaug was completely silent as he slithered into the room, unnoticed by all of his enemies. He inched towards the smallest of the intruders- the worst of all the eight of them. Now he was close enough to touch her, but still, she didn't see him there. Smaug the Horrific smirked maliciously as he moved in for the attack. He stretched out his arm, the weapon he held squirming and writhing. He was careful in his movements, precise in the placement of the weapon. It wriggled as he placed it on her leg, then it scuttled upwards. His work was done, Smaug the Destroyer stepped back to view his work.
''Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!'' Pimpernel screamed, jumping up and shaking out her skirts-sending the unfortunate millipede flying, ''Meriadoc you little monster! Oh, get it away! Get it away!'' She continued to shrieked as it scurried about on the rug. Merry grinned- he knew she'd appreciate it. However, now was not the time to gloat over his victory. It was time for Smaug the Stupendous to disappear. He slipped back through the doorway and bounded down the hall. He knew just where to go so that no-one could find him- well almost no-one. No-one who would tell at any rate.
Saradoc sighed- yet another problem his son had caused. He stepped on the tiny insect, and threw it out. He then excused himself and went to search for Merry, who would have to be punished. Pimpernel had recovered from her initial shock and now sat glowering at Frodo, who was doing a very poor job of concealing his amusement. Paladin began to lecture his daughter on name calling, while his wife Eglantine and Esmerelda, Merry's mother, exchanged knowing looks. Pearl continued to demurely work on her embroidery, her sister could make such a fuss sometimes. Bilbo looked slightly amused at it all, but said nothing.
When tea time came, Merry still hadn't turned up. It had been an hour since anyone had seen him, and his parents were beginning to get worried. Everyone spread out to look for him, starting within the smial. As for Merry, he had a good reason for not turning up- he had fallen fast asleep under a hydrangea bush. It really was the perfect hideout- the bushes lining that part of the wall created a natural barrier, and a hawthorn tree close by provided a canopy. He rubbed his eyes and sat up yawning. Suddenly, a shadow fell across the sun-dappled ground- had someone found him? Then there was a chuckle as Frodo sat down beside him.
''You know, Merry, you're going to have to go in there some time.'' He said. Merry frowned, he didn't mind getting in trouble, but apologizing was another matter. ''Anyways,'' continued Frodo, ''it's nearly tea- time, and Bilbo's making pork pie.'' Merry immediately sat up.
''C'mon, Frodo!'' He said, yanking on Frodo's hand, ''Let's go before Pearl eats it all!'' Frodo got up, giving in to Merry's plea to ride ''piggyback.'' After a hard day's work punishing invaders, Smaug the Great Calamity was famished, and Bilbo's cooking was unbeatable!
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.