A/N 02/19/17: Added a scene between Johnbo and Smauglock, and adjusted a few lines to suit.

The council broke for the day after that so that everyone could be introduced and the whole story of the Other World related. Then, while the others rested, weary from the long battles, Thorin and Smaug negotiated late into the night, Gandalf serving as their mediator. Their anger with one another was spent, taking too much energy to sustain.

In the end, their terms were simple, and so long as neither made any attempt to harm the other, they would stand. Smaug would help the dwarves defend the mountain while simultaneously allowing them residence inside it. In exchange, the dwarves would allow him to come and go as he liked, and set aside gold for him as a sort of payment for their peace, one piece out of every fifty.

"Not a small amount," said Balin, when he heard, "but a small price to pay for the aid of a dragon."

In a surprising show of generosity, the dragon also allowed each man, woman, and child from Laketown to take ten gold pieces from his part of the hoard, as restitution for the destruction he wrought. Nothing could bring back the town's dead, but at least the survivors could rebuild their lives.

"Bilbo."

The hobbit looked up from his book to find almost all of the company gathered next to his bench. Bofur was at the forefront of the group, twisting his hat in his hands. "Ah, yes?" the hobbit asked, "What is it?"

"You need to talk to Smaug."

"Why? What's the matter?" He shut the book with a snap and nearly jumped to his feet. "Is he hurt?"

"Uh, no. At least, near as we can tell. But I – we saw him headed into the Gallery of the Kings, and he seemed… distressed."

"'Distressed?'" Bilbo repeated, frowning.

The dwarves all nodded, making the hobbit's frown deepen. He headed for the Gallery with them in tow, but the company stopped at the door while he continued into the hall.

It looked much the same as it had that night, what seemed like a hundred years ago but in reality was only a week or two, if that. Dwarven builders were focusing their efforts elsewhere, working on making the mountain safe and habitable again before they turned to cosmetic fixes. There was still rubble on the floor, and the gold still lay where it had solidified, though the giant tapestry had been shoved off to one side.

Smaug was hard to miss in his dragon form. He lay stretched out to his full length on the solidified gold. His eyes were closed, and his only movement was his breathing. Yet to Bilbo's eye, the dragon was not relaxed, even though he was lying down, apparently asleep.

The hobbit walked over and sat down next to the gold pool, leaning up against one of the spattered pillars. Smaug would speak when he was ready.

Several long minutes passed, long enough that Bilbo wished he had brought his book. The dragon was radiating heat, bring the hall up to just the right temperature for him to start nodding off.

But at last, the dragon rumbled, "I am not him. Not anymore."

"Neither of us are," Bilbo said gently, "That world is gone, and so are they. We have their memories, but we are also ourselves."

"But I want to be!" Smaug hissed, "I remember – everything used to be so clear, so sharp and defined. And when we were on cases together, it was all so bright." His tail whipped back and forth like a cat's. "Now the only thing that shines is the gold, and all of me is bent to acquiring it, clouding my mind with lust. It took everything I had just to give up what I did."

"You still have my fourteenth share, and the promise of more to come – much more. Is that not enough?"

He let out a bark of laughter that was more breath than sound. "All the gold in Arda would not be enough. Even if I had every speck of it under my belly, I would still strike out into the stars in search of more."

"Does your human form give you no relief?"

"It gives me centimeters," said the dragon, "but I need leagues, leagues and leagues to be who I was, to do what I did." His blazing hot breath hissed out between his teeth in a sigh. "I envy you. Not for who you are – I know what you carry – but for what you are. You are free. All I have are whispers of wonders, and a pile of metal my nature will not let me leave."

Bilbo moved closer, and laid a hand on his scales. They were rough, but warm. "You don't have your cases to hoard anymore, but you still have me."

"Do I?" he asked wistfully, "When you return to your Shire, will you still be mine? What guarantee do I have that you will return?"

"That's why I want you to come with me." Well, he hadn't thought about it before, but now…

"What?" Smaug's voice was as sharp as a whip-crack.

"Come with me to the Shire," Bilbo dutifully repeated.

"Why?"

That was the question, wasn't it? "How old am I, Smaug? Do you remember?"

The dragon thought for a moment. Then, "Fifty-one."

"And how old will I be when – if I pass into the West?"

Hesitantly, "One hundred and thirty-one?"

Bilbo nodded. "Eighty years… And I don't know if the Valar will let you come with me, even just to Aman. Do you?"

"…No."

The hobbit laid his other hand on the dragon's scales. "There will always be gold in Arda," he said, "but there will not always be me."

Smaug hissed, soft and angry.

"And things are different now, in us but also in this world. Thorin wasn't supposed to live. Neither were Fíli and Kíli. Neither were you. Who's to say I'll make it to one-thirty-one? A robber in the dark, a stray arrow from a hunter, an unexpected illness…"

The dragon started growling at that.

"And who's to say our friends are the only ones who are here with us? Irene, Magnussen, Moran, Eurus… If Moriarty's here and we encounter one another, do you honestly think he'll just let me go?"

Smaug snarled. In an instant, Bilbo found himself pinned against the dragon's side, his whole body curled around the hobbit like a snake. He managed to squirm his way to the dragon's head and pressed himself close. "Come to the Shire with me," he said, "You say your human form gives you centimeters? Well take those centimeters and make it give you leagues. Fight for them. If not for yourself, then for me."

Bilbo and Balin walked out of the gates of Erebor. The hobbit had his pack slung over his shoulder, prepared to leave – at least temporarily. "Are you sure you cannot stay?" Balin asked, trying in vain to persuade him, "There is to be a great feast tonight. Songs will be sung, tales will be told and this company will pass into legend."

"I know that this is important, Balin," said Bilbo, "But what I must do, and soon… If I do not, I fear for all of Middle Earth."

"It truly means so much? And cannot wait for a few days?"

The hobbit shook his head sadly. With each day that passed, he could feel his will to fight the Ring eroding slowly away. He had to go now, or soon he wouldn't be able to bring himself to go at all. And if he wanted to return to Erebor, he needed to put his affairs in order in the Shire, too. "Well, I think I'll slip quietly away. Will you tell we others I said goodbye?"

"You can tell' em yourself."

Bilbo looked back and smiled when he saw the other dwarves standing behind him, even Thorin and Thranduil. To all of them, he said, "If any of you ever passing Bag End, tea is at four - there's plenty of it. You are welcome anytime. And, eh, don't bother knocking."

The dwarves all chuckled and bowed to him. "Farewell for now, Master Burglar," said Thorin, "Go back to your books and your armchair. Plant your trees - watch them grow. If more people valued home above gold, this world would be a merrier place."

Bilbo smiled. He turned away, only to almost collide with Smaug. For a dragon, he could be remarkably sneaky. "Are we going?" the dragon asked, peering at him with a great golden eye.

"Can't we go on foot?" The hobbit gently tapped him in the nose with the sheathed Sting.

"Flying is faster than riding a pony." He snorted, then crouched low. "Get on."

Someone (Gandalf, thought Bilbo) had rigged something like a harness to fit in the spike-less hollow between Smaug's neck and shoulders, with loops around some of the spines further away to help hold it on.

But this was more than just reestablishing the two's friendship. It was also a test of the new alliance between dragon and dwarves. When Smaug returned to Erebor (and he would), would the dwarves welcome him back as the terms decreed? Or would they return to war?

Bilbo exhaled loudly, then scrambled up onto the dragon's back. Once there, he quickly figured out the harness and began strapping himself and his gear in.

"See him safely home, dragon," said Thorin.

"Guard the mountain, dwarf," Smaug replied. When Bilbo was strapped in, he reared up and leaped into the sky.

Smaug flew almost due south away from Erebor, passing over Esgaroth and the Long Lake without stopping. Some residents had returned to the burned remains of the city to gather whatever might be salvaged; Bilbo saw them as people little bigger than ants from the air. Some looked up as the dragon passed overhead, but when he kept going, they returned to their work.

The hobbit wasn't sure if the dragon would be able to hear him over the rushing of the wind, but he decided to try anyway. "Do you think we'll be able to just fly over the border defenses?" he shouted, "Get into Mordor without having to sneak?"

Smaug rumbled thoughtfully. "It's possible," he said at last, "provided they aren't ready for us. The remains of Azog's army went south, likely trying to reach the safety of Mordor's borders. No doubt they've brought word that I was fighting with the dwarves, rather than against them. Sauron will prepare for the inevitability that his armies will face me someday and build more artillery weapons. We can only hope that he thinks it will be later, rather than sooner."

"So we'll scout the border?"

"Mm. We could also fly east along the Ash Mountains, then circle back around and head for Doom from behind. Given the fact that most threats are going to be coming at Mordor from the west, its eastern border is more likely to be only lightly defended. Of course, that exposes us to a greater risk of being seen by the Eye."

"Rock and a hard place, then."

"Indeed."

The dragon flew far and fast, following the River Running as it snaked away from Erebor and Esgaroth, only stopping when dusk fell and the temperature dropped precipitously. Even so close to his warmth, Bilbo shivered with the chill, and at last Smaug landed and let the hobbit down off his back.

They sheltered in a copse of trees alongside the river, Bilbo pressed close to the dragon's side, warm and safe under his wing. The hobbit ate a meal of cold meat, cheese, and bread for both supper and breakfast the next morning, while Smaug drank deep of the river. "We will follow the River Running to the Sea of Rhûn, then fly due south to Ered Lithui, the Ash Mountains, to see what might be seen. I know not how far Sauron's Eye can see, but it is best to avoid his gaze however we can."

"Amen to that." Bilbo scrambled up onto the dragon's back and strapped himself in once more.

They arrived at the easternmost foothills two days later. Smaug folded back down into his human shape, and dressed in the rough tunic, trousers, and boots the people of Laketown had provided for him. He had claimed a sword from the Hoard, as well – Ringil, the sword of Fingolfin, the late High King of the Noldor Elves. It had suffered the same fate as Glamdring and Orcrist, stolen and concealed, now come back to the light at last in the hand of a dragon.

Then they began to climb.

When the two ascended the last hill to peer into the darkness of Mordor, they saw signal fires spaced out in an almost completely straight line along the border in the mountains, and beyond out into the plains dividing Mordor from Rhûn, Orcs and a handful of Uruk-hai patrolling between them. Even the easternmost border of Mordor was so heavily guarded that Bilbo didn't want to try sneaking past them. "What can we do?" he whispered as they peered down at the orc's fires from the Ash Mountains, "I know what the Ring will do to me – I have seen it, I can feel it – I can't keep it, I won't –"

"Peace, Bilbo," Smaug whispered back, turning to clasp both of the hobbit's hands in his own, "We can hide it in my part of the hoard, and keep you from it."

Both of them were briefly silent when a Fell beast shrieked and rushed overhead, a Ringwraith on its back. Then Bilbo said, "But what if the time comes and we cannot find it again?"

The dragon chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming in the dark. "I know every cup and coin and carat in the Treasure Under the Mountain," he rumbled, "I will not lose the One Ring, not even if all the gold in the world was melted down and forged into exact likenesses."

Bilbo felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. In John's memories, he could see himself as the Ring's creature, a step above Gollum but only just. And here Smaug was, offering him an escape from that, freedom and adventure in one, just as he had offered John all those years ago. He sighed, and briefly tucked his head against the dragon's throat.

"Let us hurry to the Shire," Smaug said gently, "so we can go back to the Mountain."

They were on their way west before dawn broke, flying only by night until they were well away from Mordor. Minas Tirith, Helm's Deep, Isengard – all fell away behind they as Smaug flew as high and as long as the hobbit could bear. After they passed through the Gap of Rohan, they turned north along the Misty Mountains and aimed for Rivendell. Elrond was actually awaiting their arrival, though he did not expect a dragon to come soaring into the Hidden Valley and land in the lake below the Elf-home. Though wary of him, the elves welcomed the dragon nonetheless.

Galadriel was still there as well, recuperating from the assault on Dol Guldur. When Elrond led Bilbo into a receiving room where they could speak privately, she sat up straighter and smiled at the hobbit. "Welcome back, Mr. Baggins. What news do you bear?"

"Nothing good," he sighed unhappily, "The orcs from the battle for the Mountain reached Mordor faster than we did, and Sauron had them guarding all the borders. We couldn't have gotten in without being spotted by the orcs on the ground or the Ringwraiths in the sky."

Both elves sat up in alarm. "The Ringwraiths are mounted?"

"On Fell beasts, yes. Smaug could take them down no doubt – he's more heavily armed and armored, and his fire could probably deal some heavy damage to the Nazgul, too. I still don't understand, though – it's too early!"

The elves exchanged glances. "But you have the Ring, yes?" Elrond asked.

Bilbo nodded and pulled it from his pocket so they could see it. Both of the elves reacted as if they had been struck. They talked for a while longer, debating alternatives, before they broke apart. There was little they could do at the time but keep the Ring safe and begin gathering allies.

Bilbo went in search of Smaug. He found the dragon examining the shards of Narsil, standing before its pedestal. "Even broken, it has power," the dragon said without looking up as the hobbit approached, "It stinks of it, waiting for Aragorn, son of Arathorn." He weighed the handle piece in his hand, then reverently laid it back on the plinth. "Whole, it could slay me, if it came to it."

"Will you make it necessary?" Bilbo asked, a note of concern leaking into his voice.

Smaug was silent a moment. Then, "I do not plan to, but plans may change. There are many more things beyond our control in this world than the last, and circles within circles, plans within plans, don't you think?"

The hobbit hummed in agreement. "Elrond says he will lend us horses for the rest of the journey to the Shire. It wouldn't do to have half the residents keeling over in shock at the sight of a dragon landing in the party field."

Smaug snorted. "No, I suppose not."

They spent the night in Rivendell, the hobbit pressed close to the dragon, who radiated heat like a bonfire even in human form, a welcome respite from the winter chill. John had been afraid of his attraction to Sherlock in a way, forever seeking a "safe" woman to focus on, Bilbo reflected, watching the dragon sleep. But here… here, although people might look oddly at romantic relations between two men (or a dragon and a hobbit), there were no lynchings or burnings or public beatings of the couple, at least in the Shire. And Bilbo could play the role of an eccentric millionaire to the hilt, so he really had no one to be concerned about but himself, for the most part. The dwarves and men and elves would accept it, or they wouldn't.

When Bilbo climbed the last hill before Hobbiton, he looked toward Bag End and saw none of the activity he half-expected, making him sigh in relief. He claimed his keys from his neighbor by correctly answering the "security questions" he'd set and unlocked the door to reenter his home, Smaug following behind, hooded and cloaked. The dragon stooped to enter the hobbit hole, and peered around once inside. All was as it had been the day Bilbo left, now layered with dust.

Bilbo brushed off his favorite chair and sank down into it with a sigh.