Disclaimer: Thank you to all the contributors of the encyclopaedia here on CoE! Also thank you, findemaxam48 for helping me edit this story and make it better; I dedicate it to you! As you may guess as you read, “How to Train Your Dragon 2” inspired my writing; I realized how much Stoick and Thranduil are alike! No, I do not own any Tolkien characters. I have brought in information both from Peter Jackson’s film interpretations of the Hobbit (mainly The Desolation of Smaug, with a bit from the Battle of the Five Armies towards the very end), and Tolkien’s book; from what I gather, Tolkien is rather silent about Thranduil’s wife, so I thought he needed someone. And I found some wonderful comments in the forum entitled “Spiritual nature of elves and men” found in the books section; it helped me understand the immortality of elves better. If you have any questions or comments, please do not hesitate to ask!

Elvish words you need to know: Meleth means love, nestad is healing, Ada is father, Naneth is mother, and ion is son

Several tons of dark red, scaly flesh lurked near Dale and the surrounding areas, including Mirkwood Forest. Someone had been disturbed from his beauty sleep and now experienced deep anger towards those around him. Smoke flamed from his nostrils, giving an air of mystery as the pale grey aura swirled about him. His wings, though quite large, silently flapped as he flew towards civilization to wreak havoc on the peoples there. This fiery worm, wretchedly beautiful yet deadly, was called Smaug. His name, which he adored, suggested his power and fury to those around, reminding them his size alone meant crushed buildings wherever he walked, not to mention his fire-breathing abilities that could burn a building down in seconds. His force could not be reckoned with, especially when his determination to destroy something conquered his entire being. In fact, Smaug could only be killed by a large black arrow fired from a special bow and hitting him in exactly the right location.
No one knows exactly whence he came or why he chose that night to wreak havoc on the free peoples in the fading purple light of dusk, excepting the fact that he was hungry. He craved man flesh, dwarf flesh, and anything else he could scald with heat. Most of all, he desired the jewels he knew the dwarves kept hoarded in the Lonely Mountain. As with all dragons, he enjoyed being the keeper of a vast treasure; however, it had been quite some time since he had experienced such luxury and he greatly missed it. His lust for precious gems likely played a factor in the destruction he caused that fateful night. Being an enormous creature, he easily created chaos for the city of Dale and chased the dwarves from their beloved home. His fire alone killed hundreds, and although the men attempted to kill him numerous times with a giant black arrow, his scales deflected the blows with ease and he remained almost unscathed because none who fired were expert marksmen, much to the advantage of the great fiery beast. However, one arrow chipped a few scales off his left underbelly near his front leg; his wounds were not enough to truly harm or deter him but rather served only to anger him even more than he already was. So the only choice everyone had was to flee, and so they did.
It so happened that Elvenking Thranduil and his lovely wife Elvenqueen Arabesque were visiting Lord Girion in Dale at that time. The two free people groups had a good relationship with each other, constantly exchanging goods unique to either part of the kingdom. The elves liked to visit from time to time, asking if any help was needed in Dale and rendering any services necessary. The Mirkwood rulers decided on such a visit, but their only son, Legolas, chose to stay in the comfort of his own rooms in their palace. That decision suited the monarchs just fine; they had a difficult time finding time all to themselves, what with all their duties as the king and queen. Thus they found themselves sneaking out of Dale for a moonlit walk, well away from all other forms of humanoid life. They walked fairly far away from the city, still able to see it but far enough that they did not know what went on within its walls, nor did those inside know anything of their little rendezvous.
“Arabesque, my Meleth,” he’d said to her, “come away with me for a stroll!”
She playfully batted her eyes, “Only if you can catch me first!” Then she ran away, laughing. The Elvenking quickly caught up to her and kissed her soundly while she fought against him, all in jest. Then they walked out together, hand in hand. A butler, who’d accompanied them on their journey, passed them on their way out of the city, and the Elvenking scowled his way. “You are under strict orders to tell our whereabouts to no one, not even Legolas, unless of course there is a dire emergency. I expect we will be back in a few hours.”
“Yes, your majesties,” he nodded, rather accustomed to such orders. That is a nice thing about being royalty, that one can give orders and they are obeyed!
However, dictating silence on their whereabouts proved rather detrimental; perhaps the news could have reached them before the impending disaster, but alas no one shall ever know, for they knew nothing of the desolation Smaug had caused in Dale and Erebor.
Soon the monarchs found themselves along the lakeside, strolling hand in hand, oblivious to all around them and unconcerned about any danger since they did not expect any. Arabesque snuggled against her husband’s warm side as their lovely flaxen locks wafted together in the gentle breeze. “Thank you for bringing me, Meleth! We have not been able to do this for such a long time.”
Thranduil laughed. “Meleth, it has only been three weeks! Such a long time in the life of an elf,” he winked at her. They both giggled and the Elvenking nuzzled his Elvenqueen’s nose, then the couple shared a deep and passionate kiss.
They continued along Long Lake’s banks, contemplating laying down a blanket so they could do some stargazing. They found a level place and put the covering on the ground, then lay down side by side. Then Thranduil scooped up his wife and settled her on his lap with the intention of spooning under the moonlight. He liked to Eskimo kiss her and then go in for the real thing as they already had even before reaching their special place, and she eagerly responded to his advances.
Nostrils wide with passion, the Elvenking took a small break from kissing. “I love you, my Arabesque!”
“And I love you, Meleth! I shall never understand what you saw in me or why you married me, but I am ever so glad you did!”
He gently tweaked her cute little nose. “You are the most beautiful elf in all the land, precious and priceless. How could I resist you?”
“Aha, the question is how I could resist you, you handsome man!” And so they continued, lost in a world consisting of only the two of them, more interested in themselves than they stars. However, their spooning was interrupted by the acrid smell of fire and smoke that wafted towards them. Untangling themselves, they got up and looked towards Erebor and saw the desolation Smaug breathed down upon Dale. They gave each other a look and took off running towards the city, unsure of how to help but knowing they may need to lend medical assistance and perhaps even bring some of Dale’s people and Erebor’s dwarves back to Mirkwood for a time.
Smaug, upon finishing his devastation of Dale, flew silently around the Lonely Mountain and the surrounding areas; he thought he had detected the smell of elf, which he despised, and suspected the one he hated most of all might be about somewhere. He was one of the last surviving dragons because the elves, in particular, fought and conquered the majority of his kin. The Elvenking Thranduil, a handsome and skilled warrior, murdered his father and mother, so the fiery worm wanted revenge against him. He searched for the distinctive natural crowns of the Elvenking and his evil wife, the Elvenqueen, and finally spotted two figures running towards the city, rather than away like all the other survivors. His wings made no sound as he drew closer to the elves, easy to make out because their flaxen hair practically glowed in the moonlight.
“At last!” he thought. “I have found the wretched elf himself, and his grimy little wife too.”
The dragon landed gracefully at the edge of Dale to await the approach of the elven rulers. He greeted them as they neared, swaggering towards them with a wicked gleam in his large eyes.
Smaug laughed manically. “I found you, smelly elf king! Face my wrath! I am the King Under the Mountain now and you shall not get in my way!” Apparently he thought the Elvenking was in league with Erebor and might try to claim any jewels that were rightfully his, which would be a good assumption on his part, mostly true; however, the winged serpent was not about to let anyone get in his way and had to take revenge for his parents’ deaths. Besides, all those lovely jewels and trinkets called to him; destroying a whole town was tiresome work even for a dragon, and he could hardly wait to enter his new home and take a nap on his treasure hoard.
Arabesque clutched her husband, and he whispered in her ear, “Meleth, you must run back to Mirkwood while I distract him. Go; you must stay safe!” Unfortunately, an elf is no match for a dragon by herself, even in a forest. The giant beast noticed the trick and caught up to her, easily snatching her up with his large talons.
“Thranduil! Help me!” she screamed and kicked, trying with all her might but unable to free herself from the fiery serpent’s clutches.
“NNNOOOOOOO!!!!!” Thranduil shouted, charging at Smaug, sword in hand. Yet the dragon simply flew away, calling back, “Now I have received your payment and shall devour your wife, bit by stinky bit!”

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