Below, Smaug spread his wings. The great gates of Erebor exploded outward. Laketown’s lookouts saw a second dawn rise over the mountain—a red, hungry light.
“The treasure is still there,” Bilbo coughed. “But so is he. And he’s not happy.”
Down he crept, through galleries piled with coins and cups, emeralds the size of fists, and suits of armor crushed like tin. And there, at the heart of it all, lay the dragon. lo.hobbit 2 la desolazione.di.smaug ita
The dragon flew low, belly scraping the lake’s mist. Its voice boomed across the water: “ Cerco il mio uccellino… ” I seek my little bird.
That same night, thirteen dwarves and one halfling slipped through the hidden door on the mountainside. Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit of the Contea, felt the heat before he saw the glow. His hand trembled on the hilt of a small elvish blade— Pungolo , it was named, for it glowed blue when Orcs were near. Now it remained dim. But something worse than Orcs waited below. Below, Smaug spread his wings
Bilbo cleared his throat, and the sound echoed like a pebble in a tomb. “I have come to admire your… your magnificence, O Smaug il Fuocosauro. To see the splendor of Erebor reborn under your wise… uh… custodianship.”
Bard did not answer. For three nights he had seen it: a flicker of wings, too vast for any bird, circling the peak. The old songs called it Smaug , il Calamità di Fuoco . The Desolation. “The treasure is still there,” Bilbo coughed
Bard the Bowman nocked an arrow made from a family heirloom, a black shaft forged in the lost city of Dale.
“Bain,” he said quietly, “if I fail, take the barge and go upriver. Do not look back.”
“Coraggio, Bilbo,” growled Thorin Scudodiquercia, his eyes reflecting the distant gold. “Remember your contract. One-fourteenth of the treasure, and all the bragging rights a burglar could want.”