OK, just another one of my little jokes. It begged to be written, and who am I to say no? Enjoy!

"Don't do it, Bilbo," Balin said. He stood on the small ledge next to the hidden door high up on Erebor's slopes. "You don't need to go in there."

"I made a promise, Balin. That's what you hired me for, isn't it?"

While they dithered and debated, Gloin lingered at the entrance to almost certain death. It seemed such a shame to lose one's life when there was so much treasure to claim and spend. Not only that, but he had a gold chest buried in troll hoard to fetch and invest. Wouldn't boost his year-end profits if he died before he could collect. This was a fine financial state of affairs! Bilbo and Balin were still arguing while Thorin stood around looking broody and distant. He sniffed. Thorin had been acting strangely ever since they came within sight of the mountain, and he wondered if he'd go back on his word to split the hoard. That is, if the dragon didn't incinerate them first. Of course, that would save his family the expense of burying him, so there was a savings there at least. He looked into the dark hall. What would Bilbo do in there anyway? Durin's beard! He had no head for business!

The idea that came to him was shocking in its simplicity, and he looked back to see Bilbo and Balin still at it. Timing was everything in his area of expertise, and he had a keen eye for opportunity. While the others mucked about, he slipped through the tunnel, prepared to make Smaug an offer he couldn't refuse.

There was no light, but the gold reflected what little there was, and Gloin quickly calculated its worth. His big feet slid on the coins that chinked and clanked against each other. He wasn't known for stealth, but it didn't matter anyway.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Wake up, ya lazy dragon! Time's a wastin'!"

A large reptilian eye opened, and Smaug's huge bulk shivered under the piles of gold, making something of a waterfall of bright coins and priceless objects. Gloin refigured his estimates and took a quick look around for the Arkenstone, but since it wasn't a bargaining chip as yet, he wasn't too concerned.

"You must be either very brave or very foolish to come in here like this ... dwarf." The dragon's deep voice filled the ruined cavern, and Gloin looked up and around, assessing how much was needed for repairs. Trust a dragon to neglect capital improvements. He stepped back as the huge dragon roused. Just when he didn't think the fire drake couldn't get any bigger, another limb, set of scales, or expanse of belly appeared. He felt a moment's unease and even thought for a moment that the dragon might be right but then fell back on the strength of his marketing plan.

"What do you do here, thief?"

"I'm no thief!" Gloin retorted. "I've come to tell you you're wasting the opportunity of a lifetime!"

"Am I?" Smaug asked. He sent his tongue around his teeth. They were all still there and as sharp as ever. Sliced dwarf would make a lovely snack after his long nap. "I see a tasty opportunity right in front of me." He snapped his jaws by Gloin's ear, prepared to enjoy the stark look of terror that inevitably followed, but instead Gloin poked his snout with a stubby finger.

Clients. Puh. Think they know everything.

"Look you here, Smaug, you're sitting on the biggest treasure in Middle-earth and what's it done for you?"

Smaug pushed himself out of his golden nest and sat on his haunches. His head nearly reached the vaulted ceiling.

"It's made me King Under the Mountain!" he raged, and he spread his wings wide. His roar echoed off the walls, and its reverberation shifted a pile of gold to reveal diamonds underneath. Gloin added another percentage into his estimates. Smaug held his pose, sure the impudent dwarf must now be cowering on his knees in a puddle of his own mess, but looking down, he saw the ginger-haired dwarf standing with his arms folded over his chest and shaking his head.

"Lot of good it's done you," Gloin said. "The world outside's moved on without you, laddie. You're making no profit here, and you've lost out on dozens of good connections. Face it, you've no business sense and need a financial manager."

Smaug blinked at his words, momentarily taken aback. "A what?"

"A financial manager," Gloin repeated. He was on solid footing now. His skill-set, honed by years of hard-headed business decisions, would stand him in good stead. Besides he'd dealt with his like before. Every new client had issues. "You're sitting on the largest treasure haul in Middle-earth, and what do you do with it? Nothing. Foolish, it is, foolish when you can have so much more."

The notion of so much more clearly hadn't occurred to Smaug who swallowed back the flame in his belly that would have turned Gloin into a drifting cloud of hot ash. The dwarf grinned at the flummoxed look on the old drake's huge, craggy face. The dawning look of fresh greed never failed to thrill him, and he preened in triumph. A new client was born or rather hatched in Smaug's case.

"What would you do for me?" the dragon asked as he drew closer. "Do not lie. I will know if you do."

"Why, I'd manage your portfolio and invest the wealth to increase your earnings. With solid investments, I can guarantee you quarterly profits of 25 percent over the next three fiscals. Just think on that, laddie. Twenty-five percent!"

Now dragons were shrewd mathematicians as well as being nearly indestructible. Why Smaug knew down to the coin what he had in the vault, but his inexperience with interest rates and market shares was his undoing.

"Go on," he said, "I am listening."

Gloin rubbed his hands before whipping out a parchment and quill. It paid to be prepared. "The way I see it is your portfolio should be built on bonds since you're risk averse." Smaug opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it since Gloin was right. The dwarf cocked his head and squinted. "Am I right or am I right? You see," and he tapped the side of his nose, "I know my business. Thorin Oakenshield of all people trusted me to finance his quest, and where did it get him? Right outside this mountain!"

Baring his teeth with a roar, Smaug turned his head toward the tunnel, but Gloin rapped his quill against Smaug's claw. "No incinerating my clients! I do have others, you know."

"Oh?" Smaug asked, vexed that his mortal enemy was just outside. "I require personalized service, and I will not do business with someone who is not available when I have questions."

Gloin rolled his eyes. New clients could be so demanding, but he'd nip that in the bud. "Are you telling me how to run my business?" Smaug blinked. "Are you? What does it say that I have other clients and famous ones to boot? What? That I'm good, that's what. Don't worry yourself over trifles."

He reduced Smaug to a petulant lizard, but the huge fire drake wasn't so easily dismissed.

"What is your fee?" he asked with suspicious brows lowered over even more suspicious eyes. Gloin knew the question was coming though and prepared his argument. It was risky, but no one ever made twenty-five percent on bonds without collateral.

"One thing and one thing only," he said, privately bemoaning giving up his commission for Thorin. "Just a trifle. You'll never miss it. I want ... the Arkenstone."

He appeared nonchalant on the outside while bracing his innards for his new client's inevitable tantrum. They always acted like that when discussing fees.

"The King's Jewel worth more than the hoard?" Smaug worked himself in a froth and paced back and forth while Gloin waited for reason to return. "I should burn you where you stand!" Smaug lowered his head to eye level. "Tell me why I shouldn't eat you now?"

"Because the Arkenstone is a worthless investment," Gloin said. He pulled out a small ledger from his worn jacket and thumbed through it. Smaug couldn't help trying to read what it said, but Gloin pulled away and held the book against his chest. "No peeking. Trade secrets. Now let me ask you. Who is Middle-earth would be willing to deal with the Arkenstone? Know of anyone who'd be willing to risk the wrath of dwarves? It's hot property, I tell you. Can't do a thing with it."

"Maybe I will keep it for myself then," Smaug said. "If it is of no value, I will keep it, and you can have something else."

He was clever, this fire drake, but no negotiator. Barging through gates and incinerating customers was no way to win venture capital.

"No," Gloin said. "I need that as a bargaining chip for your future partners."

"What future partners?" Smaug asked, coiling around a pillar. "You did not tell me about partners. Is this some kind of trick?"

Gloin pinched the bridge of his nose. Really, if he had his way, he'd have every new client take introductory business and accounting classes.

"Listen," he said, "this is how I see it. You're just sitting here getting fat. Now, you know it's true, so don't look so huffy. You're lying there not earning a copper penny while ignoring Erebor's wealth. Now, if you were to partner with the dwarves, they'd reopen the mines, earning you your percentages."

"Let them back in? You must be mad!"

"Oh, have plans to expand more than your gut, have you? Using all the space, are you?" He stared unblinking at the dragon who groused and grumbled but did nothing. "I thought so."

"Why should I get only twenty-five percent then? I should get all of it, and they would be my slaves."

Gloin refused to let the dragon outwit him. "Do you think they'd work hard for those wages? We need a thrifty working class that takes pride in its efforts. Besides, you haven't exactly been keeping the place in tip-top condition, have you, laddie, aye? We have years of repairs to make thanks to your neglect of solid assets." Smaug hung his head as he looked around. "They could come back to repair and work the mountain, and you could travel and look for new investments. Let's face it, no one fancies hanging around while major renovations are underway. You might want to try Mirkwood. It's ripe for a hostile takeover, but don't scorch the workforce."

"Oh, but they would try to kill me then," said Smaug whose tone got testy. "Yes, bring on the seven armies and destroy me. Take back the mountain. Oakenshield is not out there wanting to be my partner, fool. He is out there plotting to destroy me."

"Aye," Gloin said, "but aren't you plotting to destroy him? 'Tis true, you two hate each other, but profit should outweigh personal considerations. Bad for business. He wants to bring his people home, and you want riches. I see here an opportunity for both of you to have what you want. I'll handle the transactions, take all the risk. Why, with power of attorney I can make it so you'd never see each other. Balin can write up the contracts."

"I do not see why I should do this," Smaug said. He dropped back down on his carpet of gold like a sulky child. "I have everything and need nothing."

Gloin actually felt sorry for the dragon who had no notion how exciting business could be. The wheel, the deal, the steal, if you will. It made his toes tingle. He walked up and sat down next to Smaug's snout, patting it like a father would an ignorant child.

"Laddie," he started with a sigh, "weren't you the least bit excited swooping down on Dale and burning it to ash? Or how about raging at the front gates of Erebor before crashing through and crushing the competition? Didn't you feel anything?"

Thinking back on it, Smaug had to agree that those were thrilling moments. The wind rushing past his scales as he approached Dale, the crash of stonework after well-aimed swipes of his tail, the thrill of breaching Erebor and beholding the treasure hoard for the first time. Before he knew it, he had drooled a bit out of one side of his maw. Gloin merely shifted out of the way. It happened all the time in his line of work.

"And now?" Gloin challenged. "No new conquests, no exhilarating back and forth of negotiations. Why anyone would think you'd retired. In fact, everyone's been thinking you died in here. Why else would only a few of us bother to check, aye?"

Now that got Smaug's goat, of sorts. So everyone thinks he might be dead? Out of touch?

"It appears that, erm, perhaps I may have been short-sighted in developing my, erm, investment portfolio," Smaug finally admitted.

"Well, laddie," Gloin said with a wide smile and pat on the nearest scale, "that's why I'm here."

"Oakenshield though will never agree to this," Smaug said. "Never."

Reaching down beside him, Gloin pushed a pile of coins and jewelry aside to reveal the Arkenstone. Smaug's considerable jaw dropped.

"It was buried," he said, his bulbous eyes wide. "How did you know it was there?"

Gloin tapped the side of his nose again. "Like I said. I know my trade." Plucking it out of the mound, he tossed it in the air, caught it in his hand, and slipped it in his pocket. Smaug didn't say a word. A little sleight of hand always smoothed over the little matter of compensation.

"What about Oakenshield?" Smaug wanted to know.

"Leave him to me," Gloin said. "Look here, if I can make a deal with you, a mighty dragon, then I can handle Thorin Oakenshield, trust me."

"What do you intend to do?"

Gloin fingered the Arkenstone in his pocket and chuckled.

"Why, I'll make him an offer he can't refuse."

Thanks for reading, and now I'll make you an offer you can't refuse. A review for a smile, chuckle, laugh, or guffaw!