Chapter Text
The great red beast curled around the piles of shining gold and jewels, long whiplike tail twisting and shimmering almost as much as the precious stones winking in the pale glow of the dim torchlight. Another moment passed, a snuff of smoke puffed from the massive dragon's nostrils as it turned in it's slumber. However since the two eventful visits from Barrel-Rider, Ringwinner, and Luckwearer, Smaug was cautious of one who smartly refused to reveal his name given at birth, as he tiptoed cleverly passed the question with intriguing riddles and enchanting puzzles that distracted the frequently bored dragon. Well, ever since then, the gigantic lizard had slept with one eye open.
Obviously the Thief would be quite cautious after his first true encounter with the scaled beast, Smaug had let his temper get the better of him and had sent a teasing tongue of flame after the careful riddler when the Thief had given the parting shot, "Ponies take some catching, I believe, after a long start. And so do burglars."
A lazy multicolored eye, nearly as big as a dwarf was tall, slid open at the sudden strong smell. The Thief was quick and clever and quiet, but he could not stop the strange unfamiliar meadow/aged paper/pipe weed smell that had settled around his form like a cloud that was far more telling than the noisiest of men and their ugly sweat/dirt/beer scent.
Smaug huffed, the other eye opening slowly, "Don't be afraid, Little Thief. As long as you don't make any more unfortunate and distasteful quips all will be forgotten."
The cautious voice that cracked and that Smaug had come to know rather well, answered, "O Mighty Magnificent Smaug, I would not deign to laugh at your expense."
Smaug, however, had grown bored with flattery, which was an uncommon thing in dragons. Most of the terrible yet beautiful creatures could listen endlessly to man and beasts praising their glory and majesty in a desperate attempt to appease the dragon's vanity. However, Smaug was uncommon even among his own kind. He enjoyed flattery but not to a ridiculous extent, he was always far more clever than most of his species. He had even, through the course of countless centuries, become learned and well versed in the magical arts.
"I grow bored of your flattery, Thief. Tell me stories of your adventures, I know you come from a far away land where even I have not yet walked, but I do not know the tale of how such a person as you made your way into the mouth of my mountain."
The invisible Thief paused and then the voice curiously murmured to itself something that sounded like, 'Cheer up, at least he's not trying to eat you.' A notable gulp and then a worried, 'yet.'
There was another second wherein Smaug had just made up his mind to snap angrily at the Burglar to hurry up about his tale when he began, "Well it was in the spring when this whole unfortunate journey was brought to my attention." A pause and then, "I being known for my..." A cough, "Adeptness at being able to remain undetectable was known of, yet I did not- don't- enjoy using it."
Smaug tilted his great scaly head and questioned, "Do all of your people have the ability to remain unseen by the eyes of living creatures?"
"Uh, no. Just me. Now, we, my people I mean, don't enjoy adventuring. In fact at the moment I would rather just be at home, smoking a pipe and blowing smoke rings in the cool of the evening." Smaug relaxed as the Thief's words of the warm sun and azure sky and open meadows full of heather flowed over him like a rushing roaring stream of cool water. He had never intended to enjoy himself so throughly, but it had been a literal age since the dragon had any creature willing to engage in conversation. Smaug had always used his magics to learn more about the world around him, but the centuries of growing fat on the greed of Thror's treasures had clouded his keen mind. Now, the Thief's story of wicked goblins and fearsome spiders, endless dark woods and majestic misty mountains, and tall elven halls full of laughter and beautiful singing awakened the desire to learn, something he had not possessed in quite some time.
After many long hours, the Thief's voice croaked to a halt. When the constant enchanting spell the small Thief had been weaving with his winsome words stuttered awkwardly to a halt, Smaug lifted his horned head with something that resembled a rough bashfulness, "My apologies Ringwinner, Barrel-Rider, and Luckwearer, you have been talking for far too long and your transport is in need of a rest. Go and return once your voice has found its way back to you."
Smaug paused as he heard a single faint step pattering away. It was enough for the lizard to deduce that while smaller, the creature was the owner of abnormally large feet. The enormous dragon began before the Burglar of the dwarves was out of earshot, "You may take but one treasure to satisfy the dwarf's gold lust."
Smaug could practically smell the fear, uncertainty, and grateful astonishment roiling off of the unseeable Thief. The small one, still invisible, picked up a large blood red ruby and spoke in his strained hoarse voice, "You have my gratitude, O Great One." And for the first time, the fire breathing beast believed that he meant it.
Bilbo hurried back along the hot steaming passage, sweat trickling down the back his neck along the edge of his worn and frayed buttonless waistcoat. He finally emerged into the cool night air and was greeted by the frantic worry of thirteen dwarves. Well, eleven, Bombur and Bifur having fallen into an exhausted asleep.
Bilbo was quite unable to tell them what had happened, his voice having been left far behind in the glittering caverns and heart stopping might of the terrible Smaug. Luckily, the dwarves understood his wild gesticulations for water and food, which they brought out quickly. It took some time and many breaks between words, but Bilbo told them a little of how he'd distracted the dragon and gotten them a part of the treasure, which he produced from his pockets. That distracted them from asking the halfling burglar the details of how he had gotten his voice quite so sore and why he had been gone for so long.
For some reason, Mr. Baggins felt uncomfortable divulging what had transpired in the unfathomable carved halls of Thorin's deceased forefathers.
Bilbo finished his food while the dwarves admired the recovered treasure from the ancient halls and the hobbit felt just a little uncomfortable at the boundless greed shining in their eyes. He settled in for the night and fell fast asleep, only to be troubled by nightmares of fiery flashing eyes and snapping jaws and the endless sound of the Thrush bird knock-knock-knocking a seeming warning against the cold hard stone of the Lonely Mountain.