Chapter 28: Smaug's Plan — Vicious Beyond Imagination
Mirkwood
For a fleeting moment, Thranduil genuinely felt that relocating might be an excellent idea.
Leaving this place.
No—better yet, abandoning Middle-earth entirely and sailing straight to Aman, never to return to this cursed land again.
"Sauron…"
Reality, however, was not so simple. A realm this vast could not be uprooted on a whim. Thranduil silently drew a breath and spoke,
"His physical form was destroyed, and his spirit gravely wounded. What could he possibly do now?"
Smaug shook his head.
"Without the One Ring, he cannot regain a physical body. But his spirit has recovered considerably, and his Orc legions continue to grow."
"Old neighbor, the times have changed."
"The peoples of Middle-earth are no longer what they were in the previous Age. Today's Middle-earth is fractured—nothing more than loose sand."
"Sauron no longer needs to be as powerful as he once was. That alone is enough to shatter this world."
"Elrond and Galadriel understand this perfectly. That's why my discussions with them went so smoothly."
Thranduil's lips twitched.
Was Smaug lying?
He didn't think so.
The reason was simple—he could contact Elrond and verify everything with ease.
After several seconds of silence, Thranduil decided he had heard enough. His mind was already overflowing; he needed time alone to think.
Thus—
"I will give the order. Beorn may pass through Mirkwood," Thranduil said, rising to his feet.
A clear dismissal.
Smaug understood at once.
"My thanks. I'll pay in gold—just allow me to change forms," Smaug said playfully.
"…" At this moment, Thranduil wanted nothing more than for Smaug to disappear.
Change forms?
Change your damn—
"No need," Thranduil snapped, already walking away.
"Oh? How generous. Then many thanks," Smaug replied cheerfully, then suddenly remembered something.
"Oh, one more thing, old neighbor. I'd like to ask about something. You know of the Stone Giants, yes?"
"…?"
Thranduil had no choice but to stop.
Stone Giants were ancient beyond reckoning.
But that wasn't the issue.
The real problem was their terrifying combat power—beings of living stone. Unless their stone hearts were shattered, even if smashed into pieces, they could reassemble themselves.
Thranduil truly didn't want to look at Smaug again, but still turned back with clenched teeth.
"I know of them. Why?"
"Do you know what language they speak?" Smaug asked eagerly.
"I tried every language I know. No reaction at all."
Thud.
Thranduil nearly choked on shock.
"You found Stone Giants?"
It wasn't strange for him to be stunned.
Stone Giants were incredibly rare, and stone… tended not to move.
The last time Thranduil had seen one was nearly a thousand years ago.
In fact, there had been no confirmed sightings for centuries. Most beings now considered them nothing more than legend.
"Yes," Smaug nodded. "Two of them."
What in the world happened to this dragon?
Slept for sixty years and mutated?
Thranduil desperately wanted to complain—but held it in.
"And you intend to bring them to the Lonely Mountain as well?"
"Yes!" Smaug replied at once.
"Do you know how to communicate with them? Or what they desire?"
He paused, then added,
"As payment, there is plenty of jade within the Lonely Mountain. You're welcome to choose whatever you like."
Rich people really do whatever they want.
The gold and jade buried beneath the Lonely Mountain were beyond counting.
Spend it. Waste it.
Thranduil wasn't entirely uninterested—but not enough to care deeply. After a brief hesitation, he answered only the first question.
"They speak the Tongue of Stone. Knowing that won't help you. Only the Creator and the Ainur understand it."
"However, Stone Giants live for ages. They should understand many other languages."
"If they didn't respond, there are two possibilities."
"One: they are sleeping. A Stone Giant can sleep for centuries."
"Two: they simply don't wish to acknowledge you."
Smaug felt mildly speechless.
"…Thanks. Then what do they want?"
"That, I don't know," Thranduil said—lying without hesitation—and turned to leave again.
Seeing this, Smaug sighed inwardly.
Fine.
Whether Thranduil truly didn't know or simply refused to say, it didn't matter. No need to push further today—best not to provoke him too far.
After all, they were neighbors.
Plenty of time ahead.
With that thought, Smaug spread his wings, rose into the sky, and reverted to his true form.
Before long, he passed over Long Lake, leaving the unsettled elves behind.
---
Dale
After days of steady development, the people had largely adapted to their new—almost idyllic—lives.
What was there not to adapt to?
Smaug hadn't appeared for a long time.
And when he did, he didn't kill anyone—he only demanded food.
Life was safe.
And Dale, by every measure, was vastly superior to Lake-town.
For ordinary folk, full bellies, warm clothes, and hope for tomorrow were more than enough.
The eastern wasteland had already been cleared and cultivated.
More land was still being reclaimed.
Life was showing signs of genuine prosperity.
Inside the Governor's Hall—
Bard the Bowman had officially assumed the role of Lord of Dale and was slowly adjusting to it.
At this moment, he sat at his desk, awkwardly handling paperwork.
Suddenly, his son—playing by the window—turned and shouted,
"Father! Smaug is flying back!"
Bard rose instantly and moved toward the window.
His daughter was faster, darting ahead and peeking outside before calling smugly to her brother,
"I told you he wasn't sleeping in the mountain! You said he was!"
Bard reached them and saw Smaug.
Objectively speaking, even after all this time, the sheer size and oppressive presence of Smaug still triggered instinctive fear in Bard.
Children, thankfully, were far less affected.
Bard's expression hardened. He said nothing—only watched.
Within Dale—
Some of the elves sent to help had already returned to Mirkwood. Others remained, assisting with final improvements.
Notably, Prince Legolas and Tauriel were still present—and still working alongside the people.
Not heavy labor, of course.
Hearing that Smaug had returned, both stopped and looked skyward.
They had discussed Smaug's absence many times.
"More than half a month," Tauriel said after a moment.
"At his speed, he could have flown across half of Middle-earth."
"And yet… no news at all," Legolas said, puzzled.
A dragon that large flying freely should have caused chaos everywhere.
But there had been nothing.
"He came from Mirkwood," Tauriel said thoughtfully.
"Perhaps he met with your father again. He might have answers."
Legolas hesitated briefly.
"Then I should return at once."
Tauriel hesitated.
"I still have things to do. You go."
Her refusal had two reasons.
First—life in Mirkwood was dull. Helping here was, frankly, more interesting.
Second—she understood Legolas's feelings and knew Thranduil would never approve. Distance was wiser.
"Alright," Legolas said simply, turning away without argument.
By now, Smaug was overhead.
"Lord Bard, prepare ample food and fine wine. I'm hungry."
Without stopping, he continued toward the Lonely Mountain.
---
The Lonely Mountain
The main gate had been thoroughly restored by nearly a hundred elves.
The old dwarf-king statues were gone.
The debris cleared away.
Basic embellishments added.
Simple—but refined. Elven aesthetics did not disappoint.
"Nicely done," Smaug remarked after landing, admiring it briefly before strolling inside.
Minutes later, deep underground—
Gold and jade stretched beyond sight.
Not a single piece missing.
Smaug inhaled.
No unfamiliar scents.
"Excellent," he said with satisfaction.
Soon after, he sprawled atop a mound of gold.
For a fire-drake, the cool touch of metal was bliss.
Only then did he summon the system and open the upgraded bronze blind box.
[Congratulations. You have obtained: "Complete Guide to Cooking" + "Complete Guide to Spice Crafting."]
"…?"
These… came from a bronze box?
In Middle-earth?
In this era?
This was absurdly powerful.
He hadn't eaten much variety yet—but even so, it was obvious.
Forget cooking techniques.
Spices alone were priceless.
Salt and a few basics—that was all Middle-earth had.
Now add advanced cooking and spices…
Heh.
Dale's people would be eating themselves into loyalty.
"A people's livelihood lies in food," Smaug mused.
Perhaps…
It was time to begin spreading doctrine.
Agriculture.
Cuisine.
Spices.
The foundations of faith.
And loyalty.
Give out gold.
Dispatch enough people.
Send them across all of Middle-earth to spread the word—
Tell everyone that the Dragon Kingdom has endless fresh produce, three meals a day, and cuisine beyond imagination…
And most importantly—
King Smaug gives out gold whenever he feels like it.
"Truly—
the plans of the evil dragon Smaug are vicious beyond belief!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Smaug amused himself greatly.
---
Time passed in the blink of an eye.
Mirkwood
Legolas hurried back and soon found Thranduil, whose expression was grave as he stood deep in thought.
"Father, I saw Smaug return," Legolas said. One look at Thranduil's face told him everything—there was no need to ask. Smaug had already been here.
"Did he say anything to you?"
In the past, Thranduil would never have discussed such matters with Legolas.
First—because in his eyes, Legolas was still too young.
Second—because as a father, he did not wish to burden his son with worries of this magnitude.
But today was different.
Looking at Legolas's youthful face, Thranduil hesitated for a long moment. In the end, he decided that perhaps it was time for his son to grow up.
"Legolas," Thranduil said at last, "sit."
Legolas was slightly surprised, but obediently sat down. He did not speak, instinctively waiting for his father to continue.
"Smaug came," Thranduil said calmly.
"And he brought with him some… extremely grave problems."
Since he had already made his decision, Thranduil wasted no time. He explained everything in one breath, from beginning to end.
When he finished—
Legolas froze.
It felt as though lightning had struck him. He could scarcely believe what he had just heard.
Thranduil had gone through this same shock himself. He understood his son's reaction perfectly.
"I've already sent messengers riding at full speed to Rivendell," Thranduil said quietly.
"But I believe Smaug was telling the truth."
"Our future—this kingdom's future—has likely already changed, quietly and irreversibly."
"We must begin considering what comes next."
The words sank in.
Legolas blinked several times before finally recovering. His lips moved again and again before he managed to speak:
"Father… if Sauron truly returns to Middle-earth, his first destination will be the Lonely Mountain, won't it?"
Thranduil nodded.
"Without question."
"Then… shouldn't we cooperate with Smaug and prepare in advance?" Legolas asked, earnestly—and innocently.
Thranduil froze for a moment.
Then he laughed softly.
"Legolas," he said, "you still have much to learn. You cannot think about matters like this so simply."
"Do you think my concern is Sauron?"
"No. I am not afraid of Sauron."
"If Sauron truly acts and returns to Middle-earth, that will be a catastrophe for all peoples—not just us."
"Why should we be the ones to stand at the front, risking our lives to block him?"
Legolas stared at him, utterly confused.
"...?"
Thranduil ignored the reaction and continued:
"What truly frightens me… is Smaug."
"I have a feeling—"
"That dragon will become something far more terrifying than Sauron."