Bilbo had hoped that he would be able to sneak back into his house and deposit his dragon in his room without having to face his father, but Bungo had been waiting up for him.

"Well son, let's see your dragon then." Bungo said, beaming at Bilbo from where he sat by the fire.

Bilbo gulped nervously, but he obediently pulled his dragon from his pack and held it out for inspection.

Bungo frowned. "It's very small. Are you sure it isn't a Common or Garden?"

The dragon lazily opened one eye and hissed at Bilbo's father. Thorin isssn't a filthy Common or Garden. Thorin isss a Night Fury, a princcce under the mountain.

Fortunately for Thorin, Bilbo spoke Dragonese. Unfortunately for Bilbo, his father had outlawed the language, so he was the only one on the entire island who understood it.

"He's not a Common or Garden; he's a Night Fury. They're very rare but extremely deadly," Bilbo said.

"To what, mice?" Bungo asked, chuckling at his own joke.

"Well, um, well he's still just a baby, so he's got a lot of growing to do. And besides, he's a prince among dragons," Bilbo stammered.

Bungo shook his head. "You still should have caught a Monstrous Nightmare."

Bilbo said nothing as his father turned and left, feeling crushed by the weight of his father's disapproval.

0o0o0

There was only one book in the entire island of the Shire. It had been stolen from the Mirkwoods by Gerontius years ago, and it was written by the only expert on dragon behavior, Professor Gandalf.

Bilbo and Fortinbras snuck into the communal hall later that evening to sneak a peek at the book. A rousing feast was under way behind them, and the Vikings were toasting Otho and his Monstrous Nightmare, Dwalin.

The book was a magnificent thing, with a thick, heavy cover and metal clasps on each corner. It didn't just show its importance; the book shouted out its grandness like a Viking war cry, expecting that all who beheld it would tremble with respect and awe.

Bilbo and Fortinbras reverently opened the book, hoping to see countless bits of wisdom and secrets about the dragon race, or at least some clue on what the Hel a Night Fury was supposed to be. Instead, there was only one line.

"How to train your dragon: Yell at it!" Bilbo read incredulously. "That's it, that's all that Professor Gandalf knows about training dragons, yelling at them?"

"Sounds like good advice to me." Fortinbras muttered. Bilbo chose to ignore him.

"I'll come up with my own way of training Thorin. Dragons are pretty intelligent, so maybe he can be reasoned with," Bilbo mused.

0o0o0

All the other heroes in training found that yelling worked pretty well on their dragons. They had some problems; for example, Otho couldn't keep Dwalin from mothering Thorin; Drogo sometimes couldn't get his Gronckle, Gloin, to shut up; and Lobelia's Nadder, Nori, kept stealing things. Not to mention that Primula's Zippleback, Fili and Kili, liked to annoy everyone, and Bofur, Fortinbras' dragon, was the least vicious creature ever. Despite all the little quirks of their dragons, the others were far beyond Bilbo, who couldn't even get Thorin to obey simple commands like "go" or "fetch."

They are beneath me. It is not dignified for a dragon to obey orders, he always insisted.

When reasoning didn't work, Bilbo tried bribery, but the little dragon just accepted it as his due. He tried using the promise of jokes to motivate Thorin, but the dragon had just looked at him and asked why he thought that jokes would make him forget his dignity. Finally, Bilbo resorted to compliments.

Truly, you are the most majestic dragon in the world, Bilbo praised.

One of Thorin's ears perked up from where he was sleeping on Bilbo's bed. It was a sign that the dragon was interested, so Bilbo continued.

You must be far faster and stronger than any of the other dragons.

Of course, Thorin sniffed. Night Furies are superior to any other breed.

Including Monstrous Nightmares?

They may be fierce, but none can match me, the little dragon bragged.

Would you be so generous as to show me your fishing prowess? Bilbo asked.

Thorin looked at him with a baleful eye that communicated that he knew exactly what Bilbo was doing. Then he jumped off the bed and waddled out of the hut, glancing back to make sure Bilbo was behind him occasionally. He waited for Bilbo to open the door, then took three surprisingly graceful leaps to carry himself outside before launching himself into the air. He circled Bilbo's head twice in a lazy spiral then he shot off towards the beach, flying so fast that he was almost a blur.

Bilbo's jaw dropped open in amazement before he hurried after Thorin, the ever present wind cutting through his clothes.

By the time he reached the beach, huffing and puffing, Thorin had caught two good-sized fish and was already hunting another one.

Maybe Bilbo had a chance of passing the test after all.