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Smaug roared, not wounded, but enraged.
Even without breaking the scales, the strike had insulted him, and the dragon answered with fire, sheets of flame flooding the hall, stone glowing red, gold running like water.
Watching closely, Jimmy caught it.
Smaug's vision was weak.
Not blind, but limited.
Static shapes barely registered, yet the moment something moved, the dragon reacted instantly, tracking, predicting, striking with terrifying precision.
Like a frog.
Motion-based sight.
Jimmy adjusted immediately, slowing his movements, using sound and scattered debris to pull the dragon's attention where he wanted it.
As he observed, respect crept in despite himself.
This was a dragon.
Even though not fully grown, Smaug was close to flawless.
The wing membranes were reinforced with fine scales, flexible, resilient, and tough enough that tearing them would require a perfect opening.
Three seconds.
That was the minimum.
Three seconds of stillness to destroy a wing properly.
And there would only be one chance.
Miss it, and Smaug would take to the air and never land again.
Jimmy tested cautiously, striking scales to measure resistance, never pushing too far, never triggering full alert.
The conclusion was clear.
Smaug's scales were not invincible.
Two strikes in the same place with the Cloud Coil blade would break through.
With claws, a clean penetration was possible.
As long as Smaug stayed on the ground, Jimmy could kill him.
The trick was keeping him there.
Jimmy began provoking the dragon deliberately, noise here, movement there, keeping Smaug furious and grounded, studying patterns, blind spots, habits.
No matter how intelligent, a beast still had instincts.
Instincts could be exploited.
A sudden metallic crash echoed through the hall.
Both Jimmy and Smaug turned.
The dwarves.
Hidden among ore carts, Thorin Oakenshield's people revealed themselves.
"Will it come for us?" one whispered.
"I do not know." another replied, clutching the strange fire charges they carried. "But standing still is worse."
The hammer rang again.
Smaug's head snapped toward the sound.
"Dwarves." Smaug hissed.
And he moved.
Thorin ran.
To his credit, he ran well, leading his people through collapsing tunnels and falling chains, baiting Smaug deeper, using the mountain itself.
Against all odds, they trapped the dragon inside the forge chamber.
"You crawl like insects." Smaug snarled. "You think this will stop me."
Jimmy arrived just as Thorin shouted back, deliberately provoking him.
"You fear us," Thorin said. "You cannot even breathe fire properly anymore."
The insult worked.
Smaug exhaled.
Flames poured out and ignited the ancient furnaces.
After years of silence, the forges roared back to life.
"Good," Jimmy muttered. "Now it gets interesting."
"Bombur, feed the fire," Thorin ordered. "Bilbo, up top, get ready to pull the lever."
"I will get him there," Jimmy said.
He grabbed Bilbo by the belt and lifted him easily.
Something hard knocked against his chest.
The Arkenstone.
Without hesitation, Jimmy slipped it into the cube, then secured it beneath his armor.
The crown jewel of Erebor would not be misplaced again.
Some stories like to complicate things.
Jimmy did not.
That stone belonged to the king.
No debates.
No delays.
No mistakes.
Later, when the dragon was dead, it would go back to Thorin where it belonged.
He set Bilbo down.
"Stay focused," Jimmy said. "You are doing fine."
As the furnaces blazed brighter, Jimmy glanced back at the roaring dragon.
The plan had a problem.
A big one.
They were trying to kill Smaug like a machine.
And Smaug was not a machine.
He was alive.
And angry.
Should I say very angry!
Letting others rush in for advantage before the dragon was dead would have been madness.
If the king fell and every heir believed possession alone meant rule, would you open the gates and invite them all inside?
Of course not.
With Jimmy here, Smaug did not need anyone else to finish the job, and anyone hoping to profit from the chaos could stay far away.
Bilbo was flung upward, landing hard against the control lever above the forge.
"Hold him." Thorin Oakenshield shouted. "Just a little longer."
"On it," Jimmy replied calmly.
He scanned the chamber, then spotted a loaded ore cart.
Perfect.
Jimmy heaved.
The cart's contents screamed through the air, iron and stone tearing past the grating like artillery fire, the impact forcing Smaug to whip his tail again and again, deflecting the barrage.
Smaug inhaled.
Jimmy saw it coming.
"Move."
Fire erupted where he had been standing, the heat close enough to blister skin, but Jimmy was already clear.
Thorin exhaled sharply.
"Bilbo, pull it."
Bilbo leapt and yanked the lever.
Steam roared.
Water surged.
The sound was violent, like metal plunged into ice.
Smaug's gathered flame sputtered out before it could be released.
For a heartbeat, hope flickered.
Then reality answered.
The so-called secret weapons exploded against Smaug's hide, flaring uselessly, sparks dying on unbroken scales.
They did not even slow him.
"King's Road," Thorin ordered. "Move. Now."
Jimmy watched the dragon tear free of chains and ore carts, gold flowing around him like molten light.
And he understood.
This plan was wrong.
Fatally wrong.
Trying to boil a fire dragon alive was like trying to drown a fish.
Smaug was born of flame.
Heat was not a weakness.
It was his element.
Jimmy sighed quietly.
Thorin meant well.
He simply did not know dragons.
While Smaug was distracted by the dwarves, Jimmy climbed, silent and precise, reaching the great beam that spanned the King's Road.
He flattened himself against it and did not move.
Not even to breathe deeply.
His claws slid free, six points of hardened bone and metal ready beneath the skin.
---
Smaug finally tore loose, rage blazing in his eyes.
"Fools!!!" he thundered. "You will pay for this, all of you!!"
He smashed through the archway into the great hall.
Stone shattered.
Gold scattered.
And he passed directly beneath Jimmy.
Thorin shouted up at him, fury and grief pouring out in words that echoed through the hall, chains rattling as he tried to assert ownership, history, justice.
Jimmy barely listened.
He was watching muscle tension.
Wing position.
Timing.
Thorin's voice rose, proud and defiant, but Jimmy could only think one thing.
Talking was cheap.
The dragon had made a mistake.
He had stayed on the ground.
And Jimmy was done waiting.
The wrong plan was about to be corrected.
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