"What is it?" Asked Farthorn.
"A rock!" Said the guide.
"I can see that. I mean what significance does it hold?"
"Legend says that this rock holds a great treasure!"
"What kind of treasure?"
There was a long pause.
"The kind that's great!" Answered the guide.
Farthorn went back to camp shaking his head.
"They take too much pride in these things." he said.
"What things?" asked Thranar, an elf from Thranduil's kingdom who helped Bilbo and the Dwarves escape from the king's dungeons in barrels.
"They know that they have a treasure but they don't know what it is."
"I know, I've asked the local shamans and they don't even have an IDEA of what kind of treasure is on that rock."
"I, for one, don't like it here." Said Farthorn. "It's cold and there are dragons everywhere. Why do these people put themselves in danger and to what gain? There isn't any good farmland around for miles!"
"Dragons are dimwitted. At least, most are. Smaug was the smartest dragon I'd met in ages. They probably don't even realize that these people are here."
Suddenly, one of the locals burst into the tent.
"Dragon!" He said before he dropped dead, a hole in his back.