Hello all! This is my first Hobbit fic. I am mostly a Sherolly writer, but I do dabble in other fandoms. This one is going to be angsty and I've been thinking about it for awhile. I just had to get it out. I hope you enjoy this and if you do, I will make it a multi chapter fic.
Thanks for giving it a shot!
Disclaimer: Not mine!
He was watching her again. He had been watching her for a long time now. Her grief was just too much for her to overcome. He knew it was his fault, yet he could not, would not ever give her up. She was the most precious of all his prized possessions.
He remembered the first time that he had laid eyes on her. He knew he had to have her. Whatever it took, he would have her. So he invoked the most powerful magic that he could and it had worked. He had hidden his true self behind a mask of charm and handsomeness. He knew she would be easy to woo. She was nothing more than a child compared to the others of her kind.
He remembered the lyrical sound of her laughter and how her russet colored hair would shine so brightly in the sunlight. But it had been a long time since he had heard her laugh. Now all he heard were her soft cries, begging, pleading with him to release her. If he had a heart, he would swear that she was twisting a knife so deeply into it that she was ripping into his very soul. But alas, he had no heart, or at least that is what he tried to tell himself.
She was dying, this much he knew. Her grief would take her from him as surely as the moon would rise and give its silvery white light over the landscape but still he could not be moved to let her go. His mind and non exsistant heart would wage war within him. Would it not be better to let her go back to her people, to feel the warm sunlight on her face again, to let her live freely again and just watch her from afar instead of letting the darkness within her take her from him forever?
But no he knew that he would not, could not let her go. He had killed many of her kind who had tried to come and take her back. She had cried and pleaded with him, begging for mercy and for the lives of her people to be spared.
He had told her that they would never stop hunting them so he must make anexample of them. Her people must understand that death would be the only thing to come to them should they ever try and take back what belonged to him. And she did belong to him, whether she accepted it or not.
It had been awhile since any of her kind had come for her and tried to rescue her. So she had finally accepted her fate or so he had thought. But then she slowly began to wither away from what she had been. He had heard the tales of how grief could so easily take her kind and they would simply fade away.
She was crying softly in the shadows, lying curled in a ball against the cold dank stone. He lumbered towards her, but stopped. She would need tenderness now. Even if she did not want it from him, she still needed it. Slowly he closed his eyes and spoke the dark magic that would change him into the guise he had first used to trap her. It was excruciatingly painful, but it was worth it a thousand times over if it meant only that he could hold her in his arms again.
He cried out as his body twisted and jerked painfully. His bones and muscles ripping and breaking into their new shapes as the hot searing pain of their re-healing tore through his body. He pitched forward onto the floor made up of gold and precious gemstones that had surrounded him for nearly 60 years. He convulsed and twisted violently until finally, his body had finished its transformation.
He pushed himself up onto his newly formed hands and knees struggling to catch his breath as he stared hard into the darkened corner. Even in the darkness he could see clearly her small form trembling as it shook from her sobs. Though his body had changed, his senses remained the same as always.
He pushed himself up onto his feet and took a step. He stumbled slightly; it always took him a few moments to get his bearings upon two legs.
The mist rose from his body as the bitingly cold air mixed with his tremendous body heat. He took another step and the newly grown mop of brown curls fell forward into his green eyes. He brushed the hair from his eyes with his large newly formed hands and moved towards her slowly. He could see her body stiffen as she heard his approach. She was elf kind after all and her senses were even better than his own. When he reached her he knelt down beside her.
"Tauriel…" He called softly, the rumble of his deep baritone filling the massive hall.
"Even now you cannot leave me in peace." She said softly, her voice strained by her tears. "Have you no pity, no mercy? Can't you let me die in the comfort of my own dreams?"
He did not answer her. He moved to lie down beside her. She attempted futilely to move away from him as she always did. He did not know why she even tried, but she did every time. He easily overpowered her when he placed his arm around her and with a tenderness that he would not be able to have were he in his true form. Smaug the Terrible, Smaug the destoyer of men, pulled the small elvish woman that he prized with every fiber of his being back against his warm body. He folded himself around her, holding her to him. Her tears increased and her small body shook more violently with her sorrow and pain as the light within her diminished even more.
Yes, if Smaug the desolator had a heart, it would have broken into a thousand pieces.
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