Chapter 7. Old Neighbor, Buy Me a Drink
Above Mirkwood—
Smaug heard the blaring of horns and saw figures stirring throughout the forest. His gaze then settled on Thranduil.
"Thranduil, I'm not here to cause trouble," Smaug said decisively.
"There's no need to worry."
Thranduil had already concealed the hideous scars on his face, his handsome features restored.
"Then why have you come?"
"To make a friend," Smaug replied casually,
"and to conduct a bit of business."
As he spoke, he retrieved a white gemstone necklace from his storage.
The moment Thranduil saw it, his expression changed drastically. His eyes widened.
That necklace held extraordinary significance for him—priceless beyond measure.
Long ago, it was over that very necklace that Thranduil had become enemies with the Dwarven King. That feud had directly or indirectly led to the fall of Erebor and the destruction of the Dwarven Kingdom.
Thranduil fell silent.
His thoughts raced as he weighed the situation, judging, calculating.
Smaug continued calmly,
"As far as I know, this necklace belongs to you. Returning it to its rightful owner—how does that sound?"
Thranduil desperately wanted it back. After a moment of inner struggle, he made his decision.
"What price do I have to pay?"
"Could you let me come down first?" Smaug replied with a hint of amusement.
"Hovering like this is tiring."
"…."
Thranduil genuinely didn't understand how a dragon—this dragon—could say something so utterly out of character. He was momentarily speechless.
Still—
Speechless or not, facts were facts.
Smaug had brought the white gemstone necklace.
And so far, he had not attacked.
Could he be trying to get close… to kill me? Thranduil considered the possibility.
One second.
Two seconds.
Thranduil lowered his gaze, sweeping his eyes over the Elves below, all fully prepared for battle.
As king—
If he showed fear at a moment like this, his authority would be shattered.
In the end, Thranduil clenched his teeth and answered with regal composure,
"Come down."
"Much obliged," Smaug replied politely.
In the next instant, he landed not far in front of Thranduil and gently placed the white gemstone necklace on the ground.
"It truly is a fine piece of jewelry," Smaug said calmly.
"But that was never a reason for those greedy Dwarves to claim it as their own."
Thranduil disliked Dwarves—but he had no intention of following that line of conversation.
In truth—
Standing this close to Smaug, a creature that could reduce him to ash with a single breath, Thranduil wanted nothing more than to hear the price, conclude the deal, and part ways as quickly as possible.
"What is the cost?" Thranduil repeated.
"You're quite impatient," Smaug said with a grin, clearly enjoying Thranduil's unease.
"You don't even offer me a drink."
"Fine. Let's talk business."
"You likely already know—I've just founded a kingdom."
"My Dragon Kingdom currently lacks many things. I want to trade this necklace with you."
"????"
Thranduil raised an eyebrow.
That's it?
What exactly was wrong with this dragon?
Had decades of sleep finally dulled his mind?
He exhaled silently, relieved. "Trade for what, exactly?"
"A large supply of food. Fine wine. And manpower—to help rebuild Dale and my palace," Smaug replied.
"For now, I only need you to handle the exterior reconstruction."
"And those two Dwarven statues—frankly, they're hideous."
This dragon… is serious?
Thranduil was genuinely baffled.
One dragon.
A few hundred humans.
Did this fool really believe such a kingdom could last?
Still—
That wasn't his problem.
This deal was workable.
Perhaps I can push for more, Thranduil thought. Just as he was about to agree—remembering the mountains of gold beneath the Lonely Mountain—he changed his wording.
"This exchange seems… uneven. Food, wine, and labor require—"
Clatter—clatter—
Before Thranduil could finish, Smaug casually pulled out a pile of gold from his storage, dumped it straight into his mouth, then opened his jaws and let the gold spill onto the ground.
"I think that should be enough," Smaug said calmly.
"Enough, at least, for you to buy me a drink."
Thranduil fell silent.
After all—
A trade was a trade.
But buying a dragon a drink?
What sort of situation was this?
"Thranduil," Smaug continued, "you wouldn't be so stingy as to refuse me even a single cup of wine, would you?"
At that point, refusing further might genuinely anger this clearly unstable dragon.
And that would be disastrous.
"…I'll have someone bring it," Thranduil said through clenched teeth.
"Legolas, be a dear and bring up a cup of wine," Smaug immediately called down.
"Much appreciated."
Below, Legolas—bow in hand, ready to fire at any moment—froze.
"?????"
Thranduil's brow knitted sharply.
How did Smaug know Legolas's name?
Had his son encountered this dragon before?
Moments later—
Legolas returned with a large cup of richly scented Elven wine.
Gulp—
Smaug bit down on the cup, tilted his head back, and swallowed it in one go.
"Excellent, excellent," Smaug praised, though he'd barely tasted anything.
"Elven wine truly is fine."
"Old neighbor," he added cheerfully,
"next time I visit, you'll have to buy me another."
With that, Smaug took to the air and departed without another word.
Thranduil and Legolas stood there, both wearing expressions of utter disbelief.
After a short while—
"Father… what just happened?" Legolas asked, completely lost.
Thranduil felt no clearer himself.
"…It may have gone mad."
Legolas: "..."
---
Thranduil acted swiftly.
By early afternoon, one ship after another set sail—carrying hundreds of Elves, wine, food, timber, and tools—toward the ruins of what had once been Lake-town.
By a little past three in the afternoon, the massive Elven convoy arrived outside Dale.
Naturally, Bard led the welcoming party.
Before long, Bard and the others learned what Smaug had done.
They were completely dumbfounded.
But the confusion didn't last.
As the news spread rapidly through Dale, people began—one by one—to change their view of Smaug.
"Has Smaug… really changed?"
"It seems like it?"
"He actually forced those arrogant Elves to come work for us!"
"He even wants us to farm—so we'll have fresh vegetables and fruit!"
"If that's the case… submitting to him doesn't sound so bad."
Ordinary people rarely held rigid convictions.
To live.
To eat well.
To sleep soundly.
To get through their days in peace.
That was enough.
And so—
[Loyalty +5]
[Loyalty +8]
[Loyalty +3]
[Loyalty +15]
[…]
On the open ground before the Lonely Mountain—
Smaug, devouring one whole sheep after another with great enthusiasm, glanced at the system notifications.
Then he looked toward Dale in the distance—
And broke into a broad, unmistakable auntie smile.