The amount of panic I felt when I tried to get onto Fanfiction the other day and my computer kept saying 'page cannot load' was absolutely unreal O.o Thank God it's alright now. I'm far too attached to this site for my own good.

tinkerbell265: I'm honestly not sure. At the moment I'd like to say no, because the way I have things planned out, it doesn't seem like an option (or at least one that makes sense). But who knows? I've changed things around a lot in other stories.

Time Reviewer: I actually was planning on doing that a bit haha. Particularly in this chapter! I just thought it was funny that you mentioned it while I was writing it :D

Enjoy!

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Dragon's Bait
Chapter 4—Be the Student

Arya had never really seen herself as someone who could grow fond of imprisonment. Then again, she'd never particularly seen herself being imprisoned in the first place—let alone as the pet of some gigantic, red dragon.

Low and behold, her brief residency within that crack had seemed to shift the atmosphere of her situation into a much more positive one.

Of course, that's not to say that suddenly she and Smaug were the greatest of pals and spent the long afternoons gossiping and giggling together like teenage girls (Though that would have been pretty awesome). It was something more along the lines of a common understanding… a mutual respect, if you will.

Smaug no longer sneered when she spoke, so she no longer rambled on simply to irritate him. She said 'thank you' when he brought her meals and he hummed low under his breath—the closest he would get to ever saying 'you're welcome,' she supposed. Arya spent her days exploring the innumerable amount of rooms and halls of the Lonely Mountain. If she found something interesting, she snatched it up, or ripped it off the wall, or pried it from its case, and brought it back to her pillar. Smaug had commented on that once. He'd called it 'nesting,' or something along those lines. Though he complained grouchily each day about the ever growing pile of junk, he never actually carried out any of his threats to melt her treasures into goop, so she assumed he didn't really mind as much as he claimed to.

At night, after she'd returned with her haul of the day and sorted it properly, Arya would sit with Smaug to eat her dinner and play a game—a game of riddles.

During their little 'argument' those two weeks or so ago, she'd promised to keep him entertained. Arya had never thought that she was particularly unintelligent, but for the life her, she hadn't been able to figure out what the heck a dragon did for fun. Burn villages? Steal gold? All valid possibilities… None of which she could really see herself comparing too. But she had heard once that dragons loved a good riddle. That day, she'd sat and thought over every riddle she'd ever been told, and even made up a couple of them herself. So when Smaug had settled down to sleep, she'd piped up from across the room—

"From the dark realms constellation did I gain my birth, secret children of Mother Earth, in armor's coat the protection I give, to lie beneath those who live."

He'd opened his eyes to stare curiously at her for a moment or two before answering.

"A dragon's hoard."

"Right. Your turn."

"What?"

"Yes. Your turn. Now hurry up. My brain only functions for so long at a time."

And that was how it started. Simple enough, but it was enjoyable none the less. Each night, Smaug settled into in his hoard like some kind of gigantic tom cat curling onto its favorite pillow, and closed his amber eyes. Smoke would billow up slowly, almost peacefully, from his nostrils and he'd wait. Sometimes, if she took too long, he'd crack one eye open the smallest bit to glare over at her until she too got comfortable in her little nest.

Arya would start—often with one so simple that he wouldn't even bother opening his eyes to reply to it.

"What's round as a dishpan, deep as a tub, and still the oceans couldn't fill it up?"

"A sieve."

"Right."

Then, he'd ask one in return.

"In and out, like the tides, I go. Past the jaws, I move to and fro. If you lose me, find me fast, or else my loss will be your last."

"Is it… air? Breath?"

"Hmm."

"Yes! …Actually, I already knew that one. So that's kind of cheating I guess."

It would go back and forth for a while, each set of riddles becoming more difficult as time went on. Well, more difficult for her at least. The most she'd seen Smaug think over one her brain teasers was a solid thirty-five seconds. But it'd been a satisfying thirty-five seconds none the less.

The game would continue until eventually, he'd ask her one that left her puzzling for minutes on end.

"There is a story that a man and not a man, saw and did not see a bird and not a bird, perched on a branch and not a branch, and hit him and did not hit him with a rock and not a rock."

"What is that even supposed to be asking?"

"What is the story."

"You just told me the story!"

"How is it plausible."

"Ugh."

And with that, she'd concede in silence and both of them would turn away from each other to sleep. It wasn't much of anything—just a way to keep the two of them entertained during her stay in the mountain… But Arya enjoyed it. And she had a feeling that Smaug, cold and condescending as he may be, did to.

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Just this morning, Arya had stumbled upon what she assumed to be a dining hall. There had been a fairly large and very pretty tapestry hanging on one of the walls. After seeing so many of the other tapestries that the dwarves had created, she assumed that this one—like all the others—depicted some kind of story. However, for the life her, she just couldn't figure out what the heck it was about. The most logical thing to do therefore had been to tear it from the wall and bring it back to her pillar for further observation.

Now, she stood back at the hoard—confused and irritated.

She held up the tapestry, brow scrunched as she focused on the jumbled characters and slashes interwoven into the fabric. Normally, the pictures were clear enough that she could make out the cloth's story, but this one… This one seemed so much harder… The confusing tapestry began to slip and swallowed her arms whole. It appeared to be working on eating her head next, so she simply gave up with a heavy sigh and sunk to the ground to drown in fabric.

"What are you doing, little oaf?"

Arya poked her head out from beneath the gigantic tapestry. Huh. She thought he'd been sleeping. "Can't you tell? I'm trying to figure out what's happening."

"What's happening?"

"Yes. What's happening in the picture," she nodded, pointing to the intricate stitching which made up the face of the regal looking dwarf residing on the tapestry. His sword was tipped with blood, but there was no enemy to be seen. In fact, his grave and depressing countenance was surrounded by what looked like happy faces. "I can't figure it out…"

The dragon snorted.

"Look at the words underneath. Those tend to describe the situation adequately enough. Though why you feel the need to understand a dwarfish tale is beyond even my understanding."

Arya rolled her eyes and returned to fiddling with the fabric in her hands. She glared at the scrawl, brain fighting to make sense of the garbled mess. Smaug watched her struggle with a curious eye.

"The writing is not too old—Dwarfish or otherwise, you should not have trouble deciphering it. The written language in Dale, and therefore the one also used in your precious Esgaroth, was very similar to that of the Dwarves so that trading would be a simpler task."

Arya stared down at the bit of tapestry she held in her hands. She bit her lip and averted her gaze. Smaug frowned over at her from where he lay across the room.

"Do you mean to tell me you are illiterate?"

"Don't put it like that. It makes me sound like an idiot."

Smaug lifted his head with a scowl. "Those who cannot read are idiotic."

She crossed her arms stubbornly with a huff, though she looked a tad dejected. "What's it matter? It's not like reading is important." She wrapped the tapestry around herself like a blanket. "There was never any time or real need to learn how to read back in Lake Town… I know how to make out a bunch of numbers from helping my father at the docks, but being able to pick up a book was never really a necessity."

Smaug extended his long, serpentine, neck to growl in her face.

"I will not have an imbecile for a pet."

"Well, unless you feel like flying out and finding a new pet, you're stuck with this one."

He pulled his head back so that she had to crane her neck to return his glare.

"Go to the library and return with as many books as you can carry."

"There's a library in here?"

He closed his eyes with an irritable huff of steaming hot breath that brought sweat to her brow.

"Find the library then, and return with as many books as your tiny arms can hold."

"Why?"

"Do not question me, little oaf."

She glowered up at him.

"What? Are you expecting me to be able to sit and stare at a book and just magically be able to read? Or are you going to play teacher? Because that would be absolutely hilarious and I might just keel over at the sight."

He sighed, annoyed, and bared his teeth. "What must be done, must be done."

Her jaw dropped.

"You're kidding."

"Do I appear as if I am 'kidding,' little oaf," he snarled.

She gulped. "Not in the slightest. But, isn't that… I don't know… beneath you, or something like that?"

"Of course. But, as you have told me in the past, desperate times call for desperate measures."

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Arya lifted another heavy novel from the dusty shelf and dropped it at her feet. The pile was growing bit by bit and she wondered if she'd be able to carry all the books back. She'd been wandering the rows of this library for what felt like a very, very long time. Any book she found that had an interesting looking picture on the cover, she tossed onto the stack at her feet. If a book had no picture, it was stuffed back into its place. Not a very fair form of decision making, but she had no other way to make any kind of judgment… It's not like she could actually read the titles, after all.

She added one more novel to the pile and stepped back. Arya nodded at her tiny collection and reached down to pull it into her arms. The combined weight of leather and paper was staggering and her arms gave way almost immediately. The books tumbled to the ground with an echoing BOOM. She looked around on instinct to see if anyone had caught sight of her blunder (which was actually a pretty stupid thing to do when she thought about it, because who else was in this mountain?). Carefully, she plucked three of the books from the jumbled mess and hurried out.

The library had taken some time to find. She'd spent ages opening door, after door, after door and squinting into dark rooms until she'd found the right one. Now that she had to leave, she wondered if she'd ever manage to find her way back again. This mountain and the kingdom within were beyond enormous—far too big to be the residency of one girl and a dragon. It was so empty and cold… She wondered how Smaug had managed to live here all these years without losing his mind.

After a bit of wandering, she managed to find a familiar hallway and from that she was able to make her way back to the hoard.

She was half way down the stairs when Smaug spoke.

"You could not manage to carry more than three?"

The baritone rumble of his voice reverberated throughout the entire chamber and made her brain buzz. She shook her head and continued down the staircase.

"You're free to go find the library yourself and bring back some more."

He huffed.

"Three will have to do."

She plopped down on the tapestry from earlier that she'd left bundled up on the floor and placed the books neatly before her. Smaug pushed through the piles of treasure to settle a few meters away. He looked down at her with narrowed golden eyes. The fire breather looked as thrilled to be dubbed her tutor as Arya was to be his student.

"Tell me what you know."

"About…?"

"Reading."

She frowned. "I know that I can't do it, and that's about it."

The dragon sighed and lowered his head to look over her shoulder.

"Open one of the books."

She picked up the one with a faded etching of a knight on the cover and turned to the first page.

"Each chunk of text is a paragraph—noted by the indentation at the start of it. Each paragraph is made up of sentences, each sentence is made up of words, and each word is made up of various letters or characters. When we speak, words are separated by pauses. In writing, words are separated by small spaces."

"I know what a word is, Smaug."

"Not in written form, you don't, little oaf."

"Touché. Carry on."

"Each letter or character makes a unique sound that, when strung together, create words."

"Is there any reason that letters are a lot larger than other ones? Like the first one?" She pointed at it. "That one right there."

"No."

"Then why do they do that?"

"Aesthetics."

"Ugh. This is already hurting my head." She rubbed at her temples. "How many letters are there? Five? Ten?"

"Almost triple that."

Arya groaned. This was miserable! Smaug, however, looked like he was quite enjoying her mental anguish. With a heavy sigh, she placed a finger over the first word on the page—the one that started with the obnoxiously big letter that had no purpose other than aesthetics.

"What's that word?"

"Once."

"And that one?"

Smaug snorted. "It is customary to read the words in order, little oaf."

"I see…" She pointed to the second word. "So what's that one?"

"Upon."

"And that one?"

"Did I not just tell you that you must read the words in order?"

"I know, I know. I just really want to know what that particular word is."

"Coalesce."

She squinted at the word. "Who would have thought it…?"

"Perhaps yourself, if you were not illiterate," he mocked.

"Hey, baby steps. I know what a letter is, and I know that people make them bigger for no valid reason whatsoever."

Smaug hummed and Arya flipped to the next page, and the next. She held the novel up to her nose and squinted at the tiny font.

"This book has a lot of words."

"Yes, books tend to do that."

She rolled her eyes and closed the heavy leather cover with a 'thud.' She frowned up at Smaug.

"Am I really going to be able to learn how to read all of this? It seems… Well, it seems like a lot."

"Once you are able to read, the amount and size of words will be no issue. You will be able to easily understand any and all books that you find—both in this mountain or otherwise."

She glanced up at him hesitantly.

"You're sure?"

The dragon snorted. "Do you doubt my ability to teach you?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Good. If that is indeed the case, I suggest you reopen that book and pay attention. Even someone such as me may be a bit taxed when it comes to instructing someone such as you."

Arya sighed and flipped the book back open. Smaug grumbled low in his throat and made himself more comfortable on the ground.

"Now. Where were we…"

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I love reading and I considered making Arya an avid reader too. But then I remembered that she didn't exactly grow up in a place where the average Joe would have very much of an education under his belt. So this idea was formed.

I'm a bit overtired at the moment, so if anyone notices any spelling or grammatical errors, please let me know so I can fix them.

Hope everyone enjoyed it and see you all next week! :D