Chapter 87: First encounter
"Ugh, those stairs were too high," Fili complained as he collapsed at the top. They had reached a small plateau behind the head of the stone statue. The way the stairs were built had made their ascent difficult; the steps were too high for their size, and at times, Aldril had to help Bilbo climb a few of them.
"Why would they build them like that?" Kili asked, agreeing with his brother's statement.
"They weren't built for climbing," Thorin interrupted, his exhaustion evident on his face. "Their construction is more focused on descending." After all, that hidden door was an emergency exit, able to be opened from the inside, but only accessible from outside on Durin's Day, something Aldril honestly thought was foolish, but it was a dwarf matter, and he had nothing to do with whatever was on their minds when they built this secret door.
Despite his obvious fatigue, Thorin managed a smile, one rarely seen on his face. "Let those who laughed at us remember that these 'foolish dwarves' managed to reach and enter Erebor," he said with a boost in his spirits.
His declaration earned laughter and joy from the other dwarves, who cheered and danced, expressing their great relief at finally reaching the end of their journey. Balin, though also feeling happy, reminded the group that the hardest part was yet to begin. "I hate to interrupt your happiness, but aren't you forgetting something? There's still that dragon. Yes, our journey is over, but our biggest problem has just begun."
"Balin is right," said Glóin, surprising everyone and prompting them all to look at him oddly, which he noticed. "What? Did I say something wrong?" he asked, frowning.
"No, not at all, it's just unusual for you to be so calm," added Fili, lying down with a mocking grin that irritated Glóin, who grumbled furiously.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing, just that it's strange for you to endorse a sensible idea," Kili chimed in, backing up Fili, "and besides, you and Dwalin are the most foolish." He added this, almost laughing out loud at the furious expressions of the dwarves he mentioned.
"I am not stupid!" Dwalin shouted. "You damn kids need a good smack on your backside," he continued, sounding even more irritated.
"The stupid one here is Dwalin, not me!" Glóin retorted, making Dwalin glare at him.
"What did you say?!"
"That's enough!" Thorin interrupted in a loud voice. Though reluctant, the dwarves fell silent, not wanting to anger Thorin. "Kili, Fili, that's enough," Thorin reminded them, looking at his nephews. He cared for them deeply, but sometimes these young dwarves brought out the worst in others with their constant jokes.
"Let's not waste any more time. Search for the keyhole," he ordered, prompting the dwarves to set off without objection. Behind them, Aldril kept observing the rocky wall, his hawk-like gaze fixed as if hunting prey. He looked carefully, trying to see if he could locate the keyhole without having to wait for the last light on Durin's Day.
But here lay the problem: this entry was specially crafted with magic, that mysterious magic in this world. It was said that this door was cloaked in concealment magic by a wizard who was a disciple of the two blue wizards from the Istari. Yes, it was rumored that they taught magic to those who could sense it. Why would they do this? A good question, but not hard to answer. If Gandalf saw hope in Middle-earth through the hobbits, these blue wizards taught magic in the hope that those with magic might stop Sauron. Sadly, it never worked out; after all, "The hearts of men are very weak and easily swayed."
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"Has your keen sight found anything?" Bilbo asked beside him, having long since stopped searching the wall, unlike the dwarves who were still looking. Bilbo returned to examining the map, trying to find some clue.
"No, it seems this door is layered with magic that prevents the keyhole from being visible," Aldril replied, averting his gaze.
Nodding, Bilbo made no further comments and focused on the map. The daylight was slowly beginning to fade, further frustrating the dwarves, who kept searching urgently, trying to find any sign of the keyhole.
Noticing the light starting to disappear, Thorin, in a desperate act, shouted, "Hit the wall, break it down!" An order the dwarves, just as desperate, obeyed, and soon the clash of weapons echoed across the desolate plateau.
"But how could simple weapons bring down a wall imbued with magic?" As if it were paper disintegrating in water, their weapons, which had accompanied them throughout their journey, broke. It was significant: those weapons no longer served to protect them—they had fulfilled their purpose, and there was no need to exploit them further.
This was a sign for Thorin, who turned to look at Bilbo and Aldril, noticing they were examining the map. With a glimmer of hope, he approached them. "Have you found anything?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope.
His spirits lifted at Bilbo's words. "Yes, with Aldril's help, I found this strange phrase," he said, prompting Thorin to gesture for him to continue.
"It mentions something about a thrush striking a nut," Bilbo replied, much to Thorin's surprise.
"A thrush?" Thorin murmured.
"Yes, like that one over there, coming this way," Aldril said calmly. He hadn't intervened because he knew that sooner or later, this bird would appear to help them find the keyhole.
"Don't move," Thorin whispered immediately. It was fortunate he'd spotted the thrush, giving them enough time for the others to stop moving and stay still, letting the bird come closer.
"Everyone, don't make a single move," Thorin emphasized in a low voice. Due to the bird's proximity, the dwarves could hear him clearly and, remaining as still as statues, watched as the bird flew toward them without worry.
Unfazed by the dwarves' presence, the bird, holding a nut in its beak, landed near a rock beside Bofur. It wasn't afraid of the dwarves; these types of birds were already accustomed to their presence and were naturally quite sociable, a magical touch of this world.
With precise hops, the bird bounced between Bofur's legs, happily jumping about. Not even the desolate wasteland or the inherent danger near the mountain could make it retreat. Why should it? This was its usual spot for cracking nuts; there was something about that wall that made it easy to split them open.
As the bird tapped the nut against the wall, the last ray of sunlight illuminated a section of the wall just above where it was striking. There, a keyhole appeared, surprising the dwarves, who quickly ran toward it. The bird, not understanding what was happening, took its nut and flew away, fortunately having already cracked it open.
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"Crack!"
The door opened. A few moments earlier, Thorin had inserted the key, allowing the hidden entrance to open. At last, they had achieved their long-sought objective. Now, they only had to face the final obstacle… the dragon.
"All right, Aldril, Bilbo, it's your turn," Thorin said, turning to look at both of them, who nodded. A somewhat nervous Bilbo glanced at Aldril beside him, who returned his gaze.
"Relax, Bilbo. Just focus on gathering the gold," he said calmly, then with a determined look added, "I'll take care of the dragon."
With that, Aldril entered the passage. He didn't admire the architecture like a tourist—there would be time for that if he survived what lay ahead. Now, his entire focus was on how to wound Smaug. He was so focused he didn't even notice when he had descended through the enormous halls filled with gold.
But something stood out in these gold-filled halls. There, in the middle of the vast chamber, lay Smaug lazily, resting, deeply asleep. It wasn't until Aldril reached the lower part and stepped on the gold that Smaug opened his eyes, apathetically observing him as though he posed no threat.
"Oh?" Smaug said curiously, still lying down and observing Aldril without concern. "A human?" he mused aloud. "What have you come for? To die?" he replied lazily. It wasn't until he recalled something that his reptilian brow furrowed. "But how did you get in?" he asked again without getting a response. Not that it mattered to him; he assumed the human was stunned by his magnificence! Yes! A dragon's ego was as grand as the highest mountains. It never crossed his mind that Aldril would face him head-on like a warrior; after all, those brave warriors had long since died. "Oh it doesn't matter" he finally decided, uninterested in a response. "It's better you tell me why you're here; I'll grant you the honor of speaking before I kill you," he concluded with a mocking tone.
Indifferent to Smaug's taunts, Aldril looked at him calmly, feeling a stir of excitement within him, an emotion he quickly suppressed. This thrill had emerged since he was trained by Malenia; it was something akin to a "yearning to face the strongest."
"I am here to challenge you," he finally spoke, words that to Smaug's disgust sounded so ridiculous that the dragon slowly rose, his resting form shifting, sending cascades of gold clattering below.
Smaug's imposing body cast a vast shadow, intimidating to any who might see him. His formidable size told tales of his ancient age; here, standing before Aldril, was no ordinary dragon, no! Here stood a being who had survived the War of Wrath, where the mighty Ancalagon had perished at the sword of Eärendil. And now, his great-grandson rose with pride to equal those long-sung feats.
"You? A mere human comes to challenge me?" Smaug muttered with derision. He couldn't believe it: a mere and wretched human dared to stand before him. How many years had it been since he last saw such a sight?
Such scorn might provoke a reckless fool, but was Aldril one of those? Certainly not! Faced with the taunt, he showed no hesitation. His calm state foretold that no matter what Smaug said, he would not back down.
"What? Did the dragon eat your tongue?!" Smaug shouted, his thunderous laughter shaking the pillars that firmly supported the treasure chamber, a structural marvel of the dwarves. Not even a dragon could shake these foundations! Perhaps Ancalagon could have, but that dragon had been dead for centuries and posed no threat.
"There is no need to speak," Aldril calmly replied, already knowing what awaited him as he drew Anguirel. That sword glowed with a radiance rivaling the moonlight! There it was, that dragon again! The blade longed to slice him once more. Its will, born over the long ages, yearned to face such a creature, and finally, what it had craved was fulfilled. "For between you and me, there is nothing left to say," he concluded.
"Boom!"
Smaug's powerful tail moved with unmatched speed. His massive size didn't slow him down; on the contrary, the magic within made him swift. His strike, fast as an arrow, impacted the spot where Aldril had stood.
But hadn't Aldril seen it coming? Of course he had! Before Smaug could react, a brilliant light darted above his tail, marking each step with a fine line of blood, blood! This sword could cut his scales, rumored to be harder than steel.
"Arrgh!"
A deafening pain filled him. 'How could a few simple cuts cause such agony?' he wondered, though only fleetingly, as he quickly whipped his tail to hurl the glowing figure far away. Yet, as if unaffected by gravity, Aldril's light form landed softly on a set of stairs at the side, his figure gradually revealed.
It was then that Smaug remembered, that same pain! That very sword! The scent that had reached his nostrils! With a furious roar, he bellowed, a cry that shook the dwarves observing the clash from afar.
"I RECOGNIZE THAT SCENT!" he roared ferociously at Aldril. "YOU! YOU'RE THE SON OF THAT CURSED ELF!!"
"Yes, I am Tindómiel's son, Aldril, and I have come to challenge you, SMAUG! TODAY I WILL CLAIM THE FEAT MY MOTHER COULD NOT ACHIEVE!"
With that shout, Aldril lunged toward Smaug at a remarkable speed. Smaug, likewise, charged toward him, his enormous body shaking the hall with each step, more so as he moved on all four limbs.
From afar, the expedition team watched the encounter in awe. They knew Aldril was strong, but this? It was completely unbelievable! They never would have imagined Aldril would be capable of standing up to Smaug head-on.
"we should help him," Balin said, concerned. Known to hold Aldril in high regard, seeing him face that imposing dragon brought him deep dread, fearing for Aldril's life. With his suggestion came the nodding of the dwarves, who, despite their fear, would not hesitate to aid a friend, especially Aldril.
"No, we'd only get in the way," Thorin responded, a sobering truth. "This is a fight we can't interfere in. Aldril is already a monster to be able to face that dragon," he continued.
"The monster of the present vs the monster of the past; that fight isn't for us," he concluded, making the dwarves turn back to the distance, where powerful clashes rang out.
"Let us pray he can kill that lizard."
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