W hen he was but a child, growing up in the dreary City of Laketown, Brinhelm Halladin was a handful for his parents. He would sneak out after bed and stay out until dawn, pretending he was a great warrior battling Goblins, Trolls, and even Dragons. The only way his parents could get him to fall asleep was for his Father to tell him the story of when he was a boy of six and survived the Great Dragon Smaug's vicious attack on Laketown years ago. This tale would ressonate with him for years, inspiring both his desire to find adventure and learn great tales, as well as his hatred for Dragon-Kin.
"Alright son, I'll tell you the story again tonight." His Father Arinhelm would say. "Once you're washed up and in bed, so hurry up now."
After washing his face and hands, little Brin would run and jump into his bed, and pull the covers way up over himself, leaving the room lit with but a single candle, a nice dim setting to compliment the scary tale to come. A short time later his Father would enter and sit in the chair next to the bed, sometimes smoking his pipe, sometimes not.
"Okay, as you know it was a cool Autumn night, the last night of Autumn to be precise. And the moon shone bright in the sky, reflecting off the Lonely Mountain and the canals of Laketown alike." He'd always say.
"Your grandparents and I were just finishing supper when we heard the commotion outside, and the town's alarms sound... Loud ominous horns blasting, echoing over the water." He'd continue. "And your Grandfather burst for the door to see what was happening."
"Several long moments later, he came darting back inside, and told us to grab what we could, we were leaving, but did not say why..." He eerily said. "And when your Grandmother asked, just said to hurry up in response."
"By the time we were running down the steps from our home and reached the dock, we knew why..." He ominously spoke. "The fires had lit up the sky ten times more than the bright Autumn Moon had, as Laketown burned, attacked by Smaug the Terrible."
"One of the Great Serpents of the North, nobody had seen the Dragon in sixty years, when it annihilated the Great Cities of Dale and Erebor... " He'd say as he used the single candle to create a scary shadow on the wall with his arms. "It had remained slumbering amongst the vast wealth of the Mountain, that is, until the Prophecy came to pass."
"The Lord of Silver Fountains, the King of Carven Stone, the King Beneath the Mountain, shall come into his own. And the bells shall ring in gladness, at the Mountain King's return, But all shall fail in sadness, and the Lake will shine and burn." Recited Brin's Father, knowing the prophecy by heart.
"Made true by the Dwarves of Erebor and their Burglar friend, they awoke the tyrannical Smaug, and he had his vengeance on Laketown that night." His old-man would tell. "Most of the city was ablaze as the massive winged menace soared overhead, spewing bright hot death below... People's screams rang out amidst the crackling of all the burning wood, and panic was everywhere."
"Your Grandfather pushed myself and your Grandmother into a small boat and untied us from the dock, rowing the oars as fast as he could to get us out and away from the fires." He'd say quickly, to emphasize the rushed nature of the moment "Further and further from Laketown, which was all but consumed by the wrath of the Fire-breather."
Then he'd pause, drawing out the suspense before continuing.
"When suddenly... The beast screamed the most horrible sound imaginable, and fell from the sky, directly onto the remnants of Laketown, with a thunderous crash!" He'd say. "It was Bard the Bowman who slew the Dragon, with the last remaining Black Arrow in his family."
"The other survivors cheered from their positions out on the Lake in witness to the Murderous Smaug's defeat, as the fires slowly shrank and burned out, or were put out by the returning boats." He'd conclude. "And your Grandparents and I returned to find our home destroyed, yet considered ourselves lucky to have survived, given most we knew did not..."
"Deciding to stay and rebuild rather than follow Lord Bard to rebuild Dale itself, your Grandfather admired him none-the-less, and even named the three fastest ships he ever designed after his children in tribute to his great deed." He'd say quietly as this is usually where Brin would fall asleep. "He and many other survivors would rebuild atop the remains of the Great Calamity Smaug, the City you know today."
Standing quietly, Arinhelm would blow out the single candle and exit the room, his son fast asleep and already dreaming about adventures of his own.
