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Various Dwarves and two humans sat around a table at an inn. One Dwarf sat at the head, as was his birthright. “Well, Gandalf?“
“I knew a Hobbit from the Shire during my adventures a generation ago… I should like to have another one.“ Thorin looked skeptical. “Right… Balin, how about you?“
Thorin’s most trusted advisor spoke. “The barbarian has indicated that he is not interested in any treasure whatsoever. All he wants is the dragon’s… heart?“ The barbarian shook his head, and made the gesture again. "Soul? Soul!"
Gandalf looked curious. “There must be some sort of misunderstanding. Nevermind how to get it out, what would you even DO with a dragon’s soul?“ The barbarian made some sort of vague gesture that either meant, “long story” or “It would take too long to explain.“
Gandalf became frustrated. “Well, if we’re NOT going to use a Burglar, how are you planning on fighting it? We have enough warriors and axes.“ The barbarian smiled, and said nothing. “Fine, what do we call you?” The barbarian made an expansive gesture with both arms. “The Biggest One, it is.”
*Insert time skip.*
“There it is, the Lair of Smaug. We need to wait for the moon to rise, so we can sneak in through the… Where is Biggest going?! Nonono, that’s the front door!“ Biggest didn't break stride. "He's gone mad! Leave him! Stick to the plan!" They fled behind the crest of a hill, to watch. A few of the Dwarves started to lay bets.
Smaug heard them all running away, of course, and woke up. “Who dares?” The barbarian, who until now was called The Biggest One, cleared his throat, and took a few deep breaths. Smaug flew out, and repeated, “WHO D-” That was as far as he got, before the Dragonborn uttered the first syllable of his thu’um: “JOOR…” Smaug’s brow furrowed in confusion, a fatal hesitation before a distant memory surfaced from the depths of obscurity. “Not… Alduin’s Bane?!” and angled his wings to flee! “… ZAH FRUL!“ His very soul shredded, Smaug forgot how to flap his wings, and he crashed heavily! But the Nord barbarian was not yet done. “KRII LUN AUS! KRII LUN AUS! KRII LUN AUS!“
Smaug whimpered… “B-but, my ah! armor… is like t-tenfold sh-shields…” The Nord sneered. “Not… anymore.” And just punched him. “Bah, Fire Breath? I already have that one.” A too-curious bird disintegrates. "Oops. Shutting up now."
The keen of a dragon’s death-cry was echoed further away as thirteen jaws hit the ground. Thorin broke the silence first, as was his birthright. “Did… did I just see what I thought I saw?” Balin stammered, “If you’re asking me, did I just see Smaug the Red fall on his face, all his scales fell off, then die from a punch to the jaw? …Aye, I saw it too.” Thorin shook his head, incredulous. “Nobody’s going to believe us… Right. As King Under the Mountain, here’s my first, official order: If anyone asks, we went with the Hobbit.”