smell in a long time, a very long time indeed. Dwarves he can smell, and ponies, and a peculiar earth-and-lazy-afternoons-and-plum-pudding smell—but
smell, faint but clear, he knows. The smell of Wizard. He hasn’t smelled Wizard since, well, he never thinks of
one. The one before was juicy, though its beard tickled rather on the way down. Wizard. If he weren’t a dragon, steaming gently on his golden bed, he might shiver.
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.