Chapter Text
After months of traveling, the ragged group of dwarves (and one hobbit) had finally made it to the Lonely Mountain. Of course, they would never have had made it so far if their burglar, a certain Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, had not been there with them. Through all their challenges and perils, the hobbit had remained a steadfast and loyal companion for all of the dwarves, which made it very difficult for them to send the little hobbit into the mountain claimed by Smaug.
None of them knew if the dragon was still alive. They all hoped it lay dead somewhere inside, but they would remain uncertain of that fact until Bilbo made the journey into the heart of the mountain.
The first time Bilbo entered, he ran as quickly as he could, grabbing the very first piece of gold he laid eyes on, a heavy gold cup, more like a chalice, really, with rubies studded evenly along its width, before turning and running back the way he came, heart hammering in his chest and blood pounding in his ears. When he’d returned to the Company, they had all passed the cup around in awe, amazed that the burglar had actually, well, burgled. When Bilbo had explained that he hadn’t gotten a chance to see if the dragon was there or not, the entire Company seemed to deflate just a bit. In their excitement, they had nearly forgotten about the monster hiding within the mountain.
It wasn’t much longer before Bilbo was sent back down into the mountain, looking grim, despite the wane smile he gave the Company before he entered the dark passageway. As he walked blindly in the darkness, his hand reached into his pocket, tracing the shape of the warm ring there with shaking fingers. It brought him some relief, knowing that he at least had his magic ring to accompany him, to make him invisible to Smaug’s eyes.
The darkness of the hallway seemed endless to Bilbo. It pressed on him from every angle, a tingling, unnerving sensation of the walls closing in around him. Bilbo decided then to put on his ring, in hopes of soothing his quite frayed nerves.
It felt like hours before the passageway began lightening up around him, what was once black slowly growing tinged with a green light. As Bilbo continued on, he found himself on a platform, looking out upon a sea of gold.
Those few seconds he had been in the treasury before, Bilbo had barely given himself a chance to actually see anything. He had simply grabbed the cup and ran, admittedly too afraid at the prospect of facing a dragon to try to explore the vast treasury. Yet this time, with the ring snugly hugging his finger, he gave himself the opportunity to observe what he had missed.
Bilbo couldn’t help the gasp that left his lips, which he quickly, in panic, stifled. He began, quite suddenly, to realize how small he was. It was certain, throughout their quest he had felt rather diminutive in the stead of humans, elves, and especially the skinchanger Beorn, but never before had he felt so completely insignificant in comparison to the vast golden landscape he had stepped into.
Never in his life had he seen such an absurd amount of gold. Hobbits were creatures which had no particular fondness for the stuff, and so it was indeed a shock to Bilbo how much of the precious metal there was. The landscape of treasure he laid eyes on wasn’t just gold, though: it was silver and brass, steel and copper, alongside metals and stones he was certain he had never seen before in his life. Coins, plates, bowls, weapons, towers of precious jewels of all colors sat alongside full suits of armor, glittering in the faint light from above. When Bilbo looked to the ceiling he saw it was impossibly far away, the room a massive, arching hall that seemed to go on and on indefinitely. The architecture was all solid green stone, marbled with streaks of a darker green and of gold, which despite years of disuse gleamed warmly in tones that reminded Bilbo faintly of the sea. As the small hobbit descended into the land of jewels and precious metals, he remained silent, straining his ears for any sign of life within the mountain.
The further he descended, the more panicked he grew. He wondered idly if the dragon already knew that he was there, if the dragon was watching him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The thought made Bilbo tense, his grip on Sting tightening, the skin on his knuckles pulled taut and white with the force of his hold.
In the center of all the gold was a great crater, a massive sunken spot amidst the rolling hills of metal, black and ominous amongst the inviting glitter of the treasure. As Bilbo drew closer he saw that the crater’s area was covered completely in ash, a thick layer that rose to his mid-calf. He stepped back quickly, avoiding the ash in worry that Smaug might see the clouds of dust that would inevitably rise from any step into the soft ash.
Bilbo continued to wander, steps as quiet as he could make them. His eyes roamed everywhere. From all the stories he had been told, Smaug had been absolutely massive. Yet even so, such a creature would be fairly obvious to spot, even in a room as cavernous as the Ereborian treasure room. The only clue as to the dragon’s whereabouts had been the crater, and apart from that, Bilbo saw neither scale nor claw of the mighty dragon.
“Where are you, thief?” came a sudden hiss of a voice, making Bilbo freeze on the spot, his heart palpitating rather violently against his rib cage. Bilbo could barely breathe as the voice continued, drawing nearer. “I can hear you. I can smell you.”
Bilbo held his breath as he looked around wildly, trying to place where the dragon could possibly be. He could not understand how such a supposedly massive monstrosity, so big that Bilbo was but a flea in comparison, could somehow be hidden amidst the gold.
He hurriedly ran away from the crater, unintentionally kicking up coins on his way. And quite suddenly, Bilbo found himself sprawled on the ground face-first, Sting falling from his grip, his body pushed down by an unknown force. With a shout, Bilbo turned himself onto his back, and what he found himself face-to-face with was simply not what he had expected.
A particularly tiny scaled creature sat upon a golden tray, an arm’s length away from where Bilbo had fallen. It was certainly a dragon, but oddly enough, the little creature was just a tad bit bigger than a cat. It looked particularly proud as it stared at Bilbo.
"Why is it that I cannot see you, thief?” it asked, though it stared directly at—well, Bilbo supposed, through—him. “I hear your breathing. I saw my coins jostle as you moved, yet you are invisible to me.”
Bilbo stuttered, staring at the small dragon with shock in his eyes. “Are you Smaug?”
“Answer my question, and then I may answer yours,” replied the dragon, amusement in his eyes of pure, glowing gold.
Bilbo toyed with the ring on his finger. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel that he was in danger, as the small creature was, of course, small. What damage could such a miniscule dragon like this one do, anyway? It was insane to think it, but for whatever reason, Bilbo decided to remove the ring from his finger.
The dragon blinked, surprised by Bilbo’s sudden appearance. “Ah, there you are. Of course, I already knew you were there. You are a particularly pungent thief.”
Bilbo frowned at that, but didn’t argue. “Are you Smaug?” he repeated.
“I am,” said Smaug. “You seem to have found me at a particularly bad time, thief.”
“I, well. I was certainly expecting something a bit bigger.”
Smaug seemed offended, tiny clouds of smoke and sparks flying from his mouth as he roared, “I am Smaug, the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities!”
Bilbo tried to stifle the manic laugh that left his lips, but couldn’t. Smaug stared at Bilbo, fury in his glowing eyes.
“Why, pray tell, are you so small, o Smaug the Mighty?” asked Bilbo. Smaug huffed, puffing out his chest and fluttering his paper-thin wings in an attempt to look bigger than he was.
“Do you know nothing of dragons, thief?” Smaug hissed.
“Apparently not,” replied Bilbo, watching Smaug with curiosity. A semblance of a sigh left Smaug’s mouth, settling down into a more comfortable position.
“Dragons are quite diverse in their species. There are the fire drakes, the cold drakes, and the stone dragons, to name a few. I myself am of a rare breed of fire drakes, called phoenixes,” began Smaug, smoke rising in pale tendrils from his nostrils as he spoke. “We are special in the sense that, unlike other dragons, we are truly immortal to time.
“Our immortality, though, comes at a price. Phoenixes, every single one of us, are destined to live in a reoccurring cycle of life and death. We are born, grow and mature to great strength in order to make our hoards, and then die in a great plume of ash and fire, only to begin the cycle anew, once again as a hatchling.
“I admit, it is rather disheartening to suddenly lose all your power and your strength, and be forced again to be this embarrassing size. But I have no quarrel with being immune to the passing of time.”
Bilbo stared down at the dragon in surprise. “So, how long does it take for you to grow to your… average size?”
Smaug stretched, tiny, spiked tail curling behind him. “It can take hundreds, if not thousands, of years.”
“And how long have you been this small?”
Smaug gave Bilbo a dirty look, a frown of sorts on his angular little face. “Not long.” The dragon approached Bilbo with confidence, stepping out from the tray and across the gold, onto Bilbo’s lap and then up his chest. Bilbo cringed as hooked claws prodded at his skin, surely drawing blood.
“Who are you and where do you come from, may I ask?” Smaug wandered up to Bilbo’s shoulder and stopped, turning a few times before finally sitting down, tail fanning back and forth across Bilbo’s back in an almost soothing motion.
Bilbo decided that it would be of no harm to tell the miniscule little creature his name. “I am Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire.”
“The Shire?” Smaug asked, his voice as soft as a purr. “I have never heard of this Shire.”
“It’s quite a long way away, I must say.”
“And what are you, thief?” Smaug asked, a warm, scaled nose suddenly pressing against Bilbo’s hair for a moment as he breathed in. “You smell of dwarf, but you are no dwarf.”
“I am a hobbit,” answered Bilbo, tensing at the feel of Smaug’s muzzle against his hair.
“I have never eaten hobbit before,” the dragon said thoughtfully. That was enough to make Bilbo start, pushing the dragon off of him, Bilbo’s shirt going with it as it ripped against Smaug’s talons. The dragon made an indignant, and rather humorous, yelp, flapping his wings in a panic to not hit the ground. Smaug landed on his feet, glaring at the hobbit with something akin to betrayal in his eyes.
“And you never will!” Bilbo scolded the little beast.
“You need not be so rude, thief,” Smaug said off-handedly, still glaring at Bilbo. Bilbo was amazed by how absurdly cat-like this tiny dragon was.
“You want to eat me, and somehow you expect me to not be rude!”
Smaug wore that unusual-looking frown again. “I can’t eat you! You are far too big! Or are you too dumb to understand that?”
Bilbo sighed. “This is absolutely ridiculous.”
Smaug approached, sitting closer to Bilbo. “We would not be in this situation if you hadn’t stolen from my hoard, you know.”
Bilbo choked out a laugh. “I stole nothing from you, you little worm! I returned a piece of this gold to its rightful owner! You’re the one who has stolen, from the dwarves who once lived in this mountain!”
“Maybe they should have kept it better protected, then,” huffed the dragon, pointedly not looking at Bilbo. “It’s not my fault they had so much gold! I simply couldn’t resist!”
“Oh, quiet, you!” Bilbo suddenly grabbed Smaug, pinning his delicate front legs against his chest and his wings to his back. Smaug squawked and yelped, fire streaming from his mouth.
“Put me down! Thief! Thief!” cried the dragon. Bilbo held Smaug far enough away from his body that the pitiful little flames could not hurt him.
Smaug bit at Bilbo’s hands to get him to let go, unable to get a good grasp because of the awkward position. He wheeled his spiked tail around, slashing with his back legs, hoping to be free of the tight grip. Bilbo stood, heading back up the stairs toward the passageway.
“Where are you taking me?” Smaug yelled, his attempted roars merely angry little cries. Oh, how frustrating it was to be so small! Bilbo didn’t respond to the dragon, as the little beast tried desperately to free himself.
“If you stop squirming, maybe I’ll tell you,” said Bilbo. “And stop with the biting!”
After a few more moments of panicked wriggling in Bilbo’s grip, Smaug froze, his entire body going limp with defeat. “I’ll kill you for this,” he muttered. “Just you wait…”
Bilbo couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in his chest. How absurd this all was!
He couldn’t wait to show this to the Company.