Sméagol's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

Dark fell, and Sméagol woke hungry in the reeds. The dragon still lay across the river, a black shape under the stars. Sméagol crawled toward the shallow pool, ready to hunt at last. His eyes were strong now. The night belonged to him. Then he smelled something rank on the breeze, and every muscle went stiff. Something large moved along his own bank. He heard claws scrape stone. He heard slow breathing, low and wet. It was hunting too. It swept its head side to side, sniffing the mud where Sméagol had walked. It was tracking him. Sméagol pressed flat and held his breath. The thing came closer. He could not outrun it. He could not fight it. If he stayed, it would find him in the reeds and drag him out. He was the fish now, and this bank was the pool. His clever plan to hunt by night had made him prey. Across the water, the dragon watched. His green eyes caught the starlight. Sméagol met that stare and made his choice. He splashed into the shallows and swam hard for the far bank, kicking through cold water. Behind him the beast crashed into the reeds and roared. Sméagol reached the mud and scrambled up beside the dragon. "Help us," he gasped. "It hunts us. It smelled us out." The dragon rose. He did not look at Sméagol. He looked at the thing thrashing across the river. "It followed your trail," the dragon said. "Now it knows I am here." "Then send it away," Sméagol begged. The dragon spread his wings. He opened his mouth, and blue fire lit the whole river. The flame struck the far bank and burst against the stones. The beast shrieked and fled into the trees. The fire faded. Smoke drifted over black water. The bank was empty. Sméagol sagged in the mud, shaking. "Safe," he breathed. "You saved us, precious." But the dragon folded his wings and stared downriver, and his voice went hard. "They saw the fire." He pointed his snout at a faint glow far along the water. Lamps. People. "Men live near here. They fear my kind. They will come with iron." He looked at Sméagol at last. "You brought a hunter to my river. Now I cannot stay." The glow spread. Sméagol saw it clearly now, a cluster of light through the trees. A house stood there among the leaves, its faceted walls catching the fire's last shine, vines wound thick across the glass. Shapes moved behind the bright windows. Doors opened. "The thief walks that way," the dragon said. "Toward the men. If you follow him, you follow into their hands." He crouched to spring skyward. "I go where no one reaches for a spear. You go alone now." Sméagol clutched the wet mud and stared at the glowing house downriver. The beast was gone. But the way ahead was full of people, and they were awake, and they had seen the fire.