Having consumed a small fortune in gemstones during the journey, the seven Stone Giants finally settled against the slopes of the Lonely Mountain. They drifted into a heavy sleep, their massive forms once again indistinguishable from the natural grey rock.
Smaug remained in Erebor for three days, attempting to wake them for more conversation, but the titans remained unresponsive. On the fourth morning, he decided not to wait any longer. He divided a hoard of multi-colored jewels—rubies, topazes, emeralds, and sapphires—into seven piles and placed them before the chests of the sleeping giants.
If they get hungry while I'm out, they can help themselves, he thought.
He took flight, shifting into his Eagle form once clear of the valley, and made a straight line for the Misty Mountains.
This time, he had two distinct goals.
The primary objective was the One Ring. This required extreme caution. His true draconic form couldn't fit into the narrow fissures of the deep tunnels, and even if he shifted into a smaller creature, simply "robbing" Gollum was risky. Gollum was cunning, lived for the dark, and knew every inch of the terrain.
Smaug had a strange thought: I actually find the wretched creature interesting. If possible, I'd like to recruit Gollum for the Mountain too. But if he stole the Ring, Gollum would never follow him. He needed a better plan.
The secondary objective was the Goblins.
Smaug recognized their potential. Individually, Goblins were small, ugly, and weak combatants. But they possessed two great virtues: sheer numbers and a terrifyingly fast reproduction rate.
As far as Smaug was concerned, they were the perfect "cannon fodder." Imagine tens of thousands of Goblins pouring out of the subterranean gates of Erebor like a tide of filth, swamping a Dwarven or Orc army. Stimulating! he chuckled mid-flight.
The Misty Mountains
Inside Goblin-town, life was as chaotic and industrious as ever. Countless Goblins were busy digging tunnels, mining scrap, and hammering together their ramshackle wooden bridges.
The Eagle landed outside the main entrance to the mountain. Smaug walked boldly into the cave, located the secret mechanism he remembered from his previous life's knowledge, and gave the latch a heavy kick.
The floor tilted. Smaug fell into the dark, but quickly adjusted his wings, gliding down through the twisting chutes. After a minute of spiraling through the dark, he emerged into the massive central cavern.
The glow of thousands of torches illuminated the sprawling, rickety city. Smaug landed on a high rock and took a moment to observe. In its own twisted way, this place was more impressive than the ruined halls of the Dwarves.
He spread his wings and dove toward the lower levels, aiming straight for the Great Goblin. The King was easy to spot; he was a mountain of wobbly, grotesque fat perched on a pile of junk.
Tweet—tweet—!
The alarm whistles shrieked from hidden crevices.
"An eagle has broken in!"
"Attack!"
A hail of tiny, poisoned arrows whistled through the air. Smaug, currently in his fragile Eagle skin, didn't stay to be a pincat. He dove behind a jagged pillar of stone.
He couldn't use his true form on the wooden bridges—they'd shatter like toothpicks. But he needed his voice. He shifted back into his massive, golden-red draconic form, standing atop a solid rock foundation.
"Great Goblin! Is this how you treat a royal guest?" he roared, his voice shaking the cavern to its roots.
The effect was instantaneous. Thousands of Goblins froze in mid-stride. Because they had been running so fast, the sudden stop caused waves of them to tumble into each other like falling dominoes. Dozens of unlucky Goblins were shoved off the narrow walkways, plummeting into the lightless abyss below.
Well, Smaug thought, Gollum's dinner just arrived.
The arrows stopped.
The Great Goblin, who had been lazily watching the "Eagle" hunt from his throne, stood up so fast his fat jiggled like a bowl of jelly. His eyes went wide with sheer, unadulterated terror.
He had assumed the dragon was too big to fit inside his kingdom. But there he was, standing in the heart of the cavern!
Mother f—! the King thought. The nation is doomed!
The Great Goblin stared in horror for several seconds before his survival instincts kicked in.
The dragon hadn't immediately opened his mouth to incinerate the city. That meant there was a chance for diplomacy. There was a chance for survival.
"Stop! Stop, you idiots!" the Great Goblin bellowed at his subjects. "Stay your hands! Do not disturb our most honored guest!"
He turned back to Smaug, his voice dropping into a sniveling, greasy flattery. "Exalted Smaug! A thousand apologies! My minions did not realize that the Eagle was merely a mask for your royal presence!"
"Is that so?" Smaug replied with a low, rumbling chuckle. "Ignorance is not a crime, I suppose."
Smaug shifted back into his Eagle form and glided over to a platform about ten meters in front of the throne. Standing upright as a bird, Smaug was nearly as tall as the Great Goblin himself.
"Exalted Smaug," the Great Goblin stammered, trying to suppress the tremors in his voice. "What brings such a magnificent power to my humble tunnels? Whatever you require, we are your servants."
The King's posture was a far cry from the arrogance he would show to Thorin Oakenshield in the original story.
Smaug enjoyed the view. Power truly is a wonderful thing.