[150 powerstones bonus chapter]
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Lake-town.
To lure the dragon into their trap, the two wizards had dispelled the veils of fog that once cloaked the night sky. Every vacant house was lit with candlelight, casting the town in a warm, flickering glow. From the darkness above, Lake-town now shone like a blazing beacon—a mark no flying beast could miss.
Upon the rooftop, Kaen stood tall, his long black hair dancing in the breeze. His eyes snapped open, turning to the north where the Lonely Mountain loomed in shadowed silence.
He whispered under his breath, "He comes."
ROOOOOAR!
The dragon's wrathful bellow rolled across the heavens. Birds fled the forests in terror, wings flapping in desperate panic, while ravens shrieked their deathly omens and vanished into the night.
WOOOO—
From within Lake-town's arrow towers, elven archers blew their horns—long, clear notes that summoned all hidden forces lying in ambush along the banks.
Kaen raised his voice like a war herald: "Prepare to strike down the evil!"
Gandalf and Saruman burst from their quarters, exchanging only a glance before raising their staffs. Blazing runes spiraled outward as their incantations took shape, summoning dense mists that once more curled around the riversides, veiling the great ballistae hidden in the reeds.
The plan was clear: the moment the dragon loosed its flame, the shadow of its body would cut across the fog—and that would be the mark for the siege weapons to fire.
Kaen sheathed his sword upon his back and slung a great elven longbow into his hand. With a leap, he dropped from the rooftop.
ROOOAR!
"Flame! Let flame consume all!"
"I am the harbinger of death without end!"
Smaug's voice shattered the silence of the lake.
His wings, vast as city streets, stretched wide, blotting out the stars. He soared with impossible speed, his breath spewing forth a torrent of flame that scorched a line of fire straight through the town below.
Many elven archers had not yet raised their bows before they were caught in the dragon's first blaze, their cries lost in the inferno.
The survivors ducked into buildings, loosing arrows from within—but though they struck Smaug's scales, they did no harm.
Smaug wheeled above Lake-town, laughing in flame and fury. Elven archers, swift-footed, bounded from roof to roof in a desperate attempt to evade him.
"It's no use!" shouted Legolas as he vaulted over a burning rooftop. "Ordinary arrows can't pierce him! He's too fast—we need to slow him down, or the ballistae can't take aim!"
Kaen heard the cry.
His gaze turned sharp, his thoughts swift and certain.
He called out to Gandalf and Saruman.
"Forge for me a mantle of elemental shielding!"
Without hesitation, he discarded his bow. Twin lights erupted from his form—gold and silver, shining like the first dawn over Arda. He ascended the arrow tower, radiating power.
His presence instantly drew the dragon's eye. One great wave of flame surged toward him.
"Kaen!"
"Your Grace!"
Cries of fear rang out across the town.
Yet Gandalf and Saruman raised their staffs in unison. Radiant wards flared forth like falling stars.
Smaug, mighty though he was, possessed power far greater than most in Arda.But now he faced two of the most powerful wizards in Middle earth,Gandalf the Grey, and Saruman the White, wielder of godlike strength.
Their combined shield held firm. The flame shattered upon it like a wave upon rock.
When the smoke cleared, Kaen still stood atop the tower, unscathed, his sword in hand, a holy radiance burning about him like the aura of a Valar.
He raised his voice: "Smaug!"
The echo thundered across the town.
The dragon turned mid-flight, surprised that any being had survived his breath. His pride was wounded—no creature should stand after facing his fire.
With a contemptuous snarl, Smaug banked and descended, crashing down into the heart of Lake-town.
The waterborne city trembled under the weight of the beast. Waves surged outward, and buildings cracked, some toppling into the depths below.
"Human! The light you wield—offends me. It maddens me!"
Kaen did not flinch. His sword blazed with searing light as he pointed it straight at the dragon.
"In the name of the Free peoples of Middle earth, I challenge you. Your reign of fire ends here."
Smaug's great head tilted, an eerie smile curling across his lipless maw.
"Bold words. You have courage, I'll grant you. But you will die all the same—just as the dwarves did. I shall burn you all to ashes!"
"Then come," Kaen said, voice like steel. "Face your death."
Red light pulsed beneath Smaug's chest scales, rising toward his throat—the harbinger of flame.
The heat was suffocating. Yet Kaen held his ground. His blade gleamed ever brighter, light rippling across its runes.
And then—
"FIRE!"
Thwip-thwip-thwip!
From the mists surrounding the lake, dozens of silvery bolts burst forth like stars across the sky.
They twisted as they flew, trailing streaks of elemental light—piercing arrows of mithril, inscribed with runes of shattering, crafted for one purpose: to pierce dragonhide.
Thunk!
CRACK!
Screams erupted—not from men, but from the dragon.
The first volley struck true. Though Smaug's scales held firm, the runes cracked through his armor and scraped flesh. The pain was real. It was sharp.
Smaug, who had not tasted agony in an age, shrieked in fury. He had come to believe himself invincible.
But now—he remembered fear.
He turned, wings beating to lift himself skyward, hoping to flee.
But there would be no escape.
The Grey Wizard and the White had climbed the towers, their staffs alight, pouring blinding power into the battlefield.
Gandalf cried out, "Spawn of Morgoth! Monster of flame and shadow! Your doom is long overdue!"
Saruman shouted, "We bring the judgment of the Valar! You shall not leave this place alive!"
Their voices, laced with the force of wizardry, echoed in Smaug's mind like hammer-blows.
For a moment—just a heartbeat—the dragon froze.
And that was all Kaen needed.
Bathed in holy light, Smaug's massive body stood revealed against the night, casting a colossal shadow in the mist—just enough for the hidden ballistae to take aim.
Kaen shouted once more, and the second wave of arrows streaked from the mists.
They struck like lightning.
Arrows pierced his chest and shoulders. Fire-red blood splashed from the wounds, igniting wherever it touched.
Smaug roared, flailing in pain.
In desperation, he tried to shield himself with his wings.
But Kaen had already leapt.
With a battle cry, he plunged his sword into Smaug's wing, dragging downward with all his weight.
RIIIP!
The membrane tore, leaving a great ragged hole.
And then—another figure joined the fray.
Prince Legolas, agile as a mountain cat, leapt from rooftop to rooftop, then soared through the air.
His twin elven blades flashed.
He drove one deep into Smaug's second wing and ripped downward.
RIIIIIP!
Both wings ruined, the dragon could no longer fly.
Smaug screamed—a sound that shook the skies. Grounded and wounded, he was no longer a god, but a beast to be hunted.
Kaen stood atop his chest, his sword pointing at the exposed patch near the dragon's heart—just where the black arrow was meant to strike.
He turned toward the distant tower and roared, "Bard!"
A single arrow flew.
Black as night, fast as fate, it shot across the air toward the exposed wound.
That would be the end.
The dragon would fall. Smaug would die.
But at the final instant—
A shadow moved.
Something black as the void lunged into the path of the arrow.
CRACK!
The shot went wide.
All eyes turned.
Horror dawned.
Gandalf and Saruman gasped, eyes wide.
A cold voice whispered from the mists.
"Nazgûl."