Dinah couldn’t help but sneak off, away from the chamber of gold. She felt like a child, sneaking out of their bed at night when they weren’t suppose to. How would Smaug know? She reckoned, smiling to herself as she explored the dwarven ruins. She had heard legends of Erebor, how majestic it had once been...until the fire drake took it.
She came to a long corridor, crumbling from age and previous damage. It looked like it was a once great ballroom, and she imagined herself in an elegant dress, floating around with a man...
She’d never been with a man. She’d been too busy taking her mothers place while her father slaved away to support the family. And now, under these circumstances, she’d never have a man, or a husband, or a family. She’d be forever tragically alone with a dragon as her only companion. Without realizing it, Dinah had been spinning in circles, making herself dizzy. She laughed, finally feeling free to do so. She never even laughed, before she was captured. Her life was such a tragedy, but in that moment, she didn’t care anymore.
She danced and twirled her way across the ballroom, and towards an open doorway. She imagined herself dancing hand in hand with a gentleman, her hair twirling with her, a ballgown swirling too. She danced and danced and danced, until she’d made it to the other side of the room, and now stood at the corridor.
She gazed up at it, catching her breath as she did. The archway was so intricately detailed, carefully crafted with steady hands, apparently. This is what Dinah loved; art, not hordes of gold. She ran her hand along the carvings, following them down the corridor, which was beginning to grow dark. Dinah pushed on, despite the dimly lit hallway. She felt along the wall, her fingers running within the curves of the designs.
Suddenly, her foot jammed on something, and she stumbled to her knees. She felt the sting of the scrape, but that was the least of her worries.
What had tripped her up?
She felt along the floor in the dark, her fingers dipping into a hole, along something rigid and then something rather hairy. She jerked back, fearing she had dipped her fingers into a spider’s nest. She continued her venture in the dark, thinking that whatever she would find in here, would be much better than the dragon out there.
She would prove herself wrong.
Dinah walked until she could see just a hint of light off to her right, leading into another room. Dust was heavy in the air, tickling Dinah’s nose, and she peered into the dorm. The light was being given off by a high window, covered in dust. This must’ve been a bedroom, for the stone bed frame was still standing. There was a pile of rubble stacked up in the middle of the bed, intriguing her. If only she could see clearly.
She made for the nightstand, hope maybe there would be an untouched oil lamp, or match that she could strike. She could feel the glass of the lamp, and she gently shook it, listening for the liquid inside. She reached inside, feeling for a wick. She held it in one hand, and felt around for a match within the drawer. In the far corner of the drawer, she felt a small, splintered piece of wood. Just one. She pulled it out, and scraped it against the wall.
Nothing.
She did it again. This time the match ignited, and she dipped it down, pressing it again the wick and the flame spread. She blew the match out, tossing it to the side, and turned.
First, she realized that the dust swirling around her was not just dust, but ash. She’d stirred much of it up, and it was thick like a fog. Then, as she turned towards the bed, she realized what she had thought to be rubble was not rubble, but corpses. One thick framed, and two smaller ones, huddled together. Their bones had dried, and the ash had covered and stained them. Dinah covered her mouth in shock, and it proved that her predicament was not the worst there was. She rushed back out into the hallway, desperate to get away from the horrific scene. She tripped once again, managing to save the lamp but busted her lip in the process. She looked down and discovered what she had assumed to be a spider’s nest was a skull, smashed against the wall, and blackened by ash. The dwarf’s beard was withering like dead roots in winter, most having been singed.
She gave out a surprised and horrified cry, and gathered herself before running out of the corridor and back to the gold room. She could feel tears welling behind her eyes as her lip trembled. The poor, innocent lives that had been trapped in the flames.
Her thoughts strayed to her sister, and her heart swelled and tears began to run down her cheeks. Her sister had experienced the same, terrifying flames.
“Oh, Mila.” She murmured. “It is better that you’ve moved on. This dragon-hole is ghastly. And terrifying.” Dinah looked around the chamber. “...And lonely.”
She was about to put her head in her hands when she stopped: Her hands were covered in ash! Not only that, but so was her dress. Oh, Smaug would surely know what she’d been up to now.
The chest! Dinah suddenly thought. The chest with the dresses! Luck was on her side. She clambered over the mounds of gold to the pile of clothes she had dumped out. There were many dresses, corsets, necklaces, boots an entire wardrobe she could change into! She sat her lamp within the chest, knowing that if Smaug saw it he would find out about her adventure.
She shimmied out of her black, ash-stained dress, and into one of the elven dresses. It was more like a white gown, laced in -of course- gold, that sagged too much in the front for Dinah, and wrapped around her feet. She threw it off, and pulled on another, which turned out to be much too small. Her bosoms spilled out, and she could not fully lace up the bodice. She quickly pulled that one off, reaching for the only other one left; a soft green dress, with lacing across the chest and up to the neck. It concealed her bosoms, allowed her to breath, but did not swaddle her to the point where she felt as if she was wrapped in a blanket.
“This will have to do.” She murmured, brushing her hands off on one of the fur pelts. They were still black, but maybe she could conceal it.
Smaug returned, a charred cow in his jaws, and several more in his belly. He rolled the boulder out of of the doorway, and pushed it open, and then once inside, sealed it shut. Half of him was hoping that she’d remained in the cavern, the other half hoping to catch her doing something to his displeasure.
He slithered into the gold room, eyes scanning for anything different or disrupted. He dropped the carcass onto a platform, growing anxious that he hadn’t spotted her yet.
“I am here, Lord Smaug.” Her gentle voice echoed across the chamber, and he turned, spotting her struggle up a pile of gold. He swung his head around, lowering it to her level.
“A change in wardrobe? Ah, yes, tedious mortals and their...peculiar ways.” He looked over her in the elven dress, the way she held her head low and folded her hands together. She smelled of something aweful, like sweat and ash. “What has the mortal been up to?”
“Waiting for your return.” Dinah said quietly, putting a hand upon her stomach.
Smaug chuckled, and flicked his tongue across his teeth. “I am inclined to disbelieve you. Now, what were you really up to?”
Dinah clenched her fists, hoping that he would not see how nervous she was. “Awaiting your return, like I said. My stomach aches from-”
“Liar!” Smaug hissed. “I know the curiosity of men and the stupidity of them.” He noticed how she wrung her hands, anxious to hide them. “Your hands.”
“Please, just a morsel-”
“Not until the truth is spilled. I am not one for pretenders, liars!” Smaug sniffed her. “Ash, corpses, the scent is strong on you.”
Dinah felt like a rock had hit the bottom of her stomach, and she was a child again, for a moment, getting caught in the act of doing something bad. “I saw what you did. You burned them....those innocent children.” She said without looking up at him. “You’re a monster.”
“I never claimed to be anything more.” He growled and slithered off.
* * * * *
After picking at the charred meat and brushing off the extra ash and remaining fur, Dinah had finally satisfied her hunger, but was now parched from such a dry meal. She had a feeling that asking for water would be pushing it, but she needed it. She knew without water she would not last much longer.
“My...my Lord, Smaug!” She called out hesitantly and then sheepishly added. “I need...I need water.” She paused for a moment, waiting for a reply. With nothing happened she continued; “It is urgent.” As if that would convince him. She sat back against a pile of gold- which was quite uncomfortable, mind you- and ran her sandpaper tongue against the roof of her mouth. Her throat was sticking together, and the more she thought about it, the more she craved and thirsted for water.
But Lord Smaug would not answer her pleas, so she laid back and closed her eyes.
It was a good bit later when Dinah awoke (not realizing that she had dozed off) to the sound of someone entering the chamber. She expected Smaug, but this noise was a little noise, not a calamity made by a dragon. It was the one, two step of a human, and she knew she had to be dreaming.
She saw the person, a man, upon the pier carrying a bowl. His skin was pale, and reflected the gold around him, giving him the appearance that he was glowing. Dinah watched as he placed the bowl down and just stood there, staring down at her. He looked ferocious at first, daring her to take another breath, but then he broke the stare, swallowing nervously, and then turned his eyes back to her. When she didn’t move, he nodded towards the bowl, and she understood.
She climbed onto the platform, and peered at the contents of the bowl; pure, sparkling water. She knelled at the strangers feet, cupping her hands as she desperately drank the water. It felt like it had been centuries since she’d had water, and it felt so good having the cool liquid run down her throat, like it was waking up her flesh. It was a rather large bowl, but she made quick work of the water and soon she was just left staring at the bare feet of the stranger.
She looked up from her knees; he was tall, that was for sure. Beneath the leather she could tell that he was muscled, and from the quick glimpse she got from his face, he had sharp features.
“Are you an angel?” It was the only thing she could think of to explain the scenario. She had to be dead, having died of thirst.
He didn’t answer, but instead put a gentle hand on her face, cupping one side. He narrowed his eyes as he inspected her lip, running a thumb down where she had busted it. And as silently as he came, he went.
“Where are you going? Where did you come from? Don’t leave me here!” She called after him, but he practically glided over the gold while she was left stumbling. “I don’t even know your name.”