One hundred and seventy-one years the dragon Smauglock lay on his hoard of gold, bothered by none and seen by none. He slept so long, not a muscle moved, that his already golden colored under-belly was now incrusted with jewels. Smauglock couldn't bear to be conscious, blaming himself for what had befallen his family, and agonizing over his intense loneliness. He knew he deserved it. He could still smell the blood and feel the heat, Moriarty's crazed maniacal laughter plaguing his nightmares. Thunderstorms around the mountain were the worst, the cracking thunder translating into the deafening sound of Ralarth's final roar.

Though to Smauglock all hope seemed to be lost, all was not as desolate as it appeared. There was another mountain range a few days journey from Erebor, through the thick and perilous wood known as Mirkwood. This range was called the Misty Mountains, and within its walls lay Goblin Town, an Orc dwelling under the High Pass ruled by the Great Goblin. This town was essentially a series of tunnels in the center of the mountain, occupied by enough Orcs and far away enough to keep out the Dwarves that lived in Moria.

It was because of this that the Misty Mountains, specifically Goblin Town, became the perfect refuge for the only other dragon to survive Moriarty's war. Mycroft. Mycroft had survived, but had not been left unscathed, and his injured wings would only take him so far. The drake had fought to escape the Dwarves he hadn't known were dwelling in the mountain and collapsed shortly after making it to the Goblins' kingdom in the heart of the mountain. Mycroft weighed a ton or more, and many of the Orcs' tunnels weren't secure enough for such a load, coming as no surprise when the dirt he'd landed on gave way. Mycroft fell hard and fast into what appeared to be a cave residing in the bottom of the mountain. It was a curious place, dark and damp. There was a lake, and even a little makeshift raft, which Mycroft would later learn belonged to a creature named Gollum.

Mycroft had passed out upon landing, sleeping for many days and nights before regaining a conscious mind. He awoke to the smell of fish, blood, and a few muffled screams, panic seizing the dragon as he opened his eyes. The creature he saw before him was small, very small in comparison to a dragon, though nonetheless frightening. He was sickly pale, almost grey in color and hunched over, his enormous green eyes glowing in the darkness. The thing smiled, revealing a mouthful of nine disgusting teeth.

"We feared it might never awaken, preciousss." It hobbled over to a sort of rotisserie it had made from a fire and a stick, attempting to cook a fish.

"We tried to cooks it, we did, we knows it probably doesn't eats it raw like we does, preciousss." The being slid the fish from the stick and eagerly offered it to Mycroft. Mycroft ignored the thing, glancing around his surroundings carefully. The cries had been coming from an Orc tied up in a corner of the cave, he assumed the creature had stumbled upon in the tunnels.

"Who are you?" A nasty gurgling sound was heard and the being sputtered a bit, sounding almost as if he were choking on the word 'Gollum'.

"Sméagol. We are called Sméagol." It finally said once it was able. Mycroft was untrusting of this 'Sméagol', as he called himself, but was grateful for the obvious care the creature had bothered to bestow upon him and decided to not harm whatever he was. Gollum showed Mycroft many things during his time in the Misty Mountains, and though Gollum's split personality was a nuisance to the drake, the two actually managed a mediocre friendship. They lived off of fish and Orcs and otherwise stayed out of each other's way, having conversations here and there.

That being said, however, one hundred and seventy-one years wore Mycroft's patience pretty thin, and a heavy melancholy befell him. Mycroft missed Smauglock more and more as the days turned into years, wishing he were less a coward. He already would have gone out in search of his brother had he not been terrified of leaving the cave after what had transpired at The Withered Heath. It had been because he and Smauglock were out in plain sight, out with the other races of Middle Earth, that their family had perished. If he went out and got Smauglock killed, he would never be able to live with himself. And so Mycroft waited, praying that one day the location of his baby brother would be made known to him and that he could overcome his fears and sneak away from his terrible life down in the caves of the Misty Mountains.

One particularly cold spring morning, an aura of change seemed to be about the air. The year was T. A. 2891 (also known as S. R. 1291 in Shire-Reckoning) and the year was young, as it was only March, the springtime bringing with it new life and new beginnings. Mycroft awoke and stretched his limbs, looking around for his scary little companion. He so hoped Gollum had already captured breakfast, as a viscous moaning was coming from the dragon's empty stomach.

"Sméagol? Have the Orcs begun their morning routines yet? I'm starved." There was no reply, not even the faintest mutter of his friend arguing with himself, which was unusual.

"Sméagol?" He called again, deciding to get up and investigate. He slithered around in the dark cavern, which had grown on him over the years, reminding him slightly of his den back home. The coolness of the stone beneath him felt good on his scales and he was delighted when he heard something move near the lake. Mycroft submerged himself in the water and swam out to the little raft, not particularly shocked when he saw no one there. Mycroft was aware of Gollum's magic ring and blew a huge gust of air in the direction of the raft. There was a cry and a splash and the dragon erupted with laughter.

"Found you. You really should try harder to be quiet when you're hiding. What are you up to this time?" Gollum gasped for air and climbed back up on the raft, taking off his ring and glaring at Mycroft.

"It could have killed us! We aren't good swimmers, preciousss, and now we've lost our fishes!" Mycroft turned his snout up and shook his head.

"Ugh, good riddance to it too. I'm tired of fish, Sméagol, and I'm ravenous. Why don't we go look for an Orc or two? Who knows, we may even find a human, you bloody well know that the Great Goblin loves to take prisoners." It was Gollum's turn to shake his head, letting out a long whine.

"No, the stupid Orcses got smart. Orcses don't come to the tunnels now unless they has too, and we're scared to venture out into their lair." Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Your ring, Sméagol, don't be daft. They can't see you." Mycroft knew the moment he said it, however, that Gollum was going to be difficult about it. Gollum wouldn't answer him, and Mycroft's hunger was becoming more than he could bear. He had been living for a very long time on less than a dragon should, and honestly it was catching up with him.

"Fine, if that's the way you're going to be, I'll do it myself." Dragons, though few knew it, were magical beings. They were, of course, far less powerful than wizards, or even Elves, but they were more than capable of the basics of magic. One of the basic things was the ability to take a more human form, though very few dragons took advantage of it, as it was a more vulnerable state for them to be in. However, it seemed to Mycroft to come in handy in this situation, as he currently had no fingers. Gollum watched in awe as Mycroft shifted, the enormous drake becoming Man sized, around six feet tall.

He was ginger, a little scruff around the face, and with grey colored eyes. His hands were still covered in thick patches of purple scales, more patches to be found in various different places on his body and his golden tail and large wings remained, though he looked otherwise human.

"Now, if you would kindly give me the ring." Gollum's fist clinched around the ring, and a deep hiss emerged from the back of his throat.

"No! MY precious!" An irritated look crossed the dragon's face, folding his arms and sighing deeply.

"I'm not trying to rob you, you fool, I'm trying to feed you! Now shut up and give me the damned ring." Mycroft made the mistake of reaching out for it, Gollum pouncing on him, hands wrapped securely around his neck. The two fell into the water below, and Mycroft could have easily taken the creature had he not been caught so off guard. Thankfully for him, Gollum dropped the ring in his attempts at strangling his friend, and he let go of Mycroft to frantically grasp for it. The dragon didn't bother with vengeance, swimming to the surface and making his way back to shore.

That is why we don't do human form. Mycroft reminded himself, shaking his hair and wings dry. He watched Gollum as he struggled to the safety of the coast, ring in hand. Mycroft was trying very hard not to be cross, but he couldn't help the frustrated quip that flew out of his mouth, which had been building up for far longer than Gollum probably was aware of.

"I am so sick of you! There are so many places I would rather be stuck, namely with my brother! You have been driving me mad for almost two centuries, and the sad thing is, you don't even realize that you are mad!" He yelled, feeling a bit of remorse as Gollum flinched and his childlike green eyes filled with tears.

"It doesn't have to shout, preciousss." He mumbled, fiddling with his fingers. Mycroft was about to apologize when the 'other side' of Gollum decided to pipe up.

"We told you it didn't care, my love. We told you it wasn't our friend." Gollum put his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Leave us alone!"

"Fine, we'll leave us alone, if you tell it that we're a liar." At this, Gollum's eyes shot open and he began to look panicked, Mycroft's ears perking up and his head tilting to the side. He wanted to ask, but he knew if he listened he would eventually get his answer.

"We are not a liar!"

"Yes we are. Tell it how we heard about the desolation of the dragon, tell it we heard Dwarveses from Moria speak of Smauglock the Terrible and that we didn't tells it!" A pit of dread formed in Mycroft's stomach, feeling as if he had just been slapped.

"What do you know of my brother?" Mycroft's voice came out bitter and dark, clearly frightening the creature.

"Just that it is in Erebor, we swears it, it killed the dwarveses and stole the gold." That didn't sound like his brother to him, but he had to find out, changing swiftly back into his natural state. Gollum curled up into a ball, fearful that Mycroft was going to hurt him, but he was unconcerned with anything but his little brother in that moment. Mycroft made his way quickly out of the Mountain and into the fresh air, not caring who or what saw him for the first time in almost two hundred years.

Meanwhile, the entirety of the Shire was abuzz with gossip and excitement. The most unadventurous and unlikely Hobbit in all of Hobbiton had decided to journey to the mountains. All of the highly conservative Bagginses were shocked and appalled, blaming Bungo Baggins's wife, Belladonna Took, for this very strange behavior.

Bungo and Belladonna had even taken their newborn son Bilbo with them on this adventure, and as it had been officially six months since they left (no one in the Shire had any sense of how long it took to get anywhere in Middle Earth on foot, mostly because they hardly ever left their own houses) they believed the couple was never coming back.

It was because of this that on this day over half of Hobbiton was quarreling over who Bungo's famous Bag End was going to go to. Specifically, Camellia Sackville and her husband Longo Baggins, who believed that they were the heirs to the estate since Longo was Bungo's next eldest brother.

However, Belba Baggins, the eldest Baggins sister (and second eldest of all the Baggins children), knew better than to trust Camellia, who was one of the greediest Hobbits she had ever met. It was also only Belba who believed that Bungo was surely coming home, and it was because of this that she insisted she and her husband look after Bag End until their siblings return. The dispute was settled by the patriarch of the family, Mungo, who allowed his daughter her request at the behest of his wife who refused to believe that her son and first grandson had perished in the mountains.

It was while this was going on that the two young Hobbits, who in reality were doing just fine, reached their destination. Belladonna was quite in her element, as she had always been quite the adventurer, and she did most of the hard work on the couple's journey to the Lonely Mountain. Her husband came from a much more reserved branch of Hobbits, and it had taken her nearly forever to get him to agree to this little excursion. One may argue however, that this made Bungo not so much a coward, but a smarter Hobbit. The Bagginses made a mistake travelling this far from the Shire, and by the time they realized it, it was much too late.

"Belladonna, love, Bilbo has fallen asleep. Perhaps we should wait to enter the mountain for a little while." Bungo suggested quietly, a loving smile crossing his lips as he looked down at his young baby. Bilbo was a precious little Hobbit, all chubby cheeks and unruly copper-brown hair, the absolute apple of his parents' eyes. Belladonna sighed and pecked her husband gingerly on the cheek.

"It's best we get him inside the mountain while he rests. It's a little chilly out." She reminded him, peaking around for the mouth of the entrance. Bungo's eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"And you're sure old Smauglock doesn't live here anymore?" The Hobbit rolled her eyes and laughed, walking on to the long since melted gates of Erebor.

"Don't be silly. Smauglock hasn't been seen for over a century, he's probably dead." Bungo wasn't so sure, but he trusted his wife, and followed her blindly into the caverns.

It didn't take Smauglock long at all to pick up the new and very interesting scent that was now about the air. He opened a golden eye lazily, not bothering to move until he figured out exactly what it was he was catching wind of.

Not Dwarf….not Elf….Man? No, Men smell far worse than whatever creature is invading my mountain…I can smell Lake Town from miles away. Certainly not a fellow dragon, nor an animal. Hmm, let us see then. He thought to himself as he finally decided to have a look.

It was around the time that Smauglock reared his head that Belladonna and Bungo had made it to his very chamber, and the dragon didn't have to go looking for them after all. The couple had laid Bilbo just behind the bend, for safe measure, as they were preparing to peak around and make sure the mountain truly was dragon-free. Smauglock held very still as he heard one of the small creatures slip, tumbling into a pile of his gold.

"Belladonna, I told you to be careful! You best be glad Smaug the Terrible seems to have taken holiday!" A Cheshire-like grin crossed the drake's face, watching with delight as the male Hobbit dove in to help his wife to her feet.

"It's Smauglock." Both Hobbits' blood ran cold as they slowly turned around, a pair of bright gold eyes staring back at them from the shadows.

"Come now," Smauglock began, slowly walking into the light.

"Don't be shy." His skilled mind was analyzing them instantly, drinking them in, reveling in the fear he felt radiating off of their tiny bodies.

Small, very small, obviously a sub-breed of some sort.

Fast pulse

Newly married

Opposites

Sheltered

Far from home….perfect. Smauglock was quiet while he deducted, which was probably the most frightening thing about him in Bungo's opinion. He pushed Belladonna behind him and tried to put on a brave face. Smauglock thought it was cute.

"O Smaug, the great and terrible, we are sorry to have trespassed. We'll be on our way, o magnificent one, we are but lost travelers." Smauglock thought he spoke intelligently, and this was probably the only reason he didn't flay him where he stood.

"I SAID MY NAME WAS SMAUGLOCK!" He roared, the entire bottom of the mountain trembling beneath their feet.

"Y-yes, of c-course, King under the Mountain! I a-apologize!" The groveling was pleasing, the drake slinking around the Hobbits in a predatory manner.

"Who and what are you, from where do you hail?" Smauglock demanded, weaving his long body in even closer around the terrified couple.

"We are s-simple Shire Hobbits, from Eriador… our name is Baggins." Smauglock found this to be most interesting, he'd never heard of a Hobbit before. None of the dragons had ever been west of the Misty Mountains, and most didn't even know regions such as Eriador and Rohan existed.

"Tell me then, Hobbits of Eriador, what business you have in the East, and do be brief." Smauglock, though intrigued, was also easily bored and the Hobbit's ability to answer this question and answer it well was his determining factor on whether or not he was going to let them go.

"My wife is a bit of a thrill-seeker, runs in her blood, yeah? So naturally, when that Gandalf fellow popped up in the Shire again several months ago raving on about dragons and the great King Moriarty's new alliance with the Dwarves taking refuge in the Blue Mountains near our home, she got really curious. Gandalf said it all began around this area." Smauglock narrowed his eyes as the name Moriarty immediately caused hatred to rise inside the drake.

"Great King Moriarty? Is that what they call him? Tell me, Halfling, what is so great about one who slaughters without purpose, rips family from innocent beings without so much as a sliver of remorse?!" He bellowed, beating his wings harshly in the air.

"Is that not what you did to the Dwarves?" Belladonna spat, her bravery becoming here her greatest downfall. Smauglock was both hurt and shocked, a flood of emotions coming over him at once. He didn't want to believe he had been in the wrong, the Dwarves had deserved what became of them…hadn't they? No, No! He was not a murderer! They were! And so were those in alliance with the filthy monsters!

There was no time for either Hobbit to react, thick hot magma spewing from Smauglock's chest like a dam breaking. It was as if all the guilt and sadness welling in him all those years finally ruptured, and he couldn't stop. Flame and death and decay radiated throughout the chambers, melting some of his precious treasures in the process. The fiery screaming tantrum didn't end until the dragon's ears picked up on something crying in the distance. By then Belladonna and Bungo Baggins were no more than mere scorch stains on the floor, which Smauglock chose not to feel the slightest bit guilty about until he stumbled upon the source of the cries.

"Oh my vala…" When his eyes fell upon the wailing Hobbit child something inside of the dragon shattered. That curly tuft of auburn hair, those tiny tear-filled blue eyes…it was the smallest and cutest baby he had ever seen and it killed him on the inside. He had just killed this child's parents like Moriarty had killed his, and while he may never believe the Dwarves were undeserving, he knew that this baby was. He shifted down into a more human form, as Mycroft had done earlier, in order to properly care for the little one. He was about an inch shorter than his brother when in this form, and paler, his hair dark and curly, his eyes remaining gold. Red patches of scales ran along the underneath of his left eye, sporadic patches running all along his body. He shot the baby a fanged, terrified, and depressed smile.

"I am so sorry, sweet child. I beseech your forgiveness." Smauglock picked the baby up and cuddled him tightly to his chest, eyeing the blanket he was wrapped in curiously. In cursive print was stitched the name "Bilbo" and he chuckled to himself as he carried the child back to his mountain of gold and began to rock him.

"Bilbo Baggins…what a terrible name. I always thought I'd name a son John." The baby quieted and popped his little thumb in his mouth, the deep sound of the drake's voice seeming to calm him. A strange feeling was stirring inside of Smauglock as he watched over the child, and he found himself longing to protect him, especially after what he'd just done. He supposed then, the proper thing to do would be to raise him himself.

"How about…Johnbo…close enough to the original but better, yeah?" Of course the baby didn't say anything, but the tiny cooing noise that he made around his thumb made Smauglock smile genuinely for the first time in he didn't know when.

"Johnbo it is then." It was about this time that an incredible roar was heard at the non-existent gate of the mountain, and one that was blissfully familiar. Smauglock's head shot toward the direction of the sound, a bright smile on his face as he shushed Johnbo gently, who was startled by the volume of the vocation.

"Mycroft!"