Bilbo Baggins only had a brief moment to ponder how, what had started out as, a simple life had led him to this point, before he began thrashing about, trying to escape. The goblins only gripped him tighter and began to sing a horrible tune:

Hammer, holler! Blind and blur!

Crash, crush! But in no rush,

As down and down to our town

You go, my lad!

Break, smash! Cut, slash!

Far and long! Fast and strong!

Round and round to the underground,

Ho, ho! my lad!

Ring, chime! Rhythm, rhyme!

Beat and batter! Howl and Clatter!

Fire, hotter! Like a lamb to the slaughter,

While Goblins sneer and Goblins jeer,

Away, away, from light of day

Below, my lad!

Poor Bilbo heard these terrible words and began to tremble. If he could not find a way out of this situation before he was carried into the mountain, he would be second breakfast for sure! As the mountain loomed closer, and a door opened in the side of the rock to reveal a gaping mouth of darkness, Bilbo let out a terrified shriek that resembled the noise of his kettle back at his hobbit hole. There was a sudden rush of wind, summoned by the outcry, and the landscape was cast into a bright, red-gold glow.

The goblins had stopped their evil procession and were looking around, but none thought to survey the sky. Bilbo, however, could see the light perfectly. Smaug was angry, his scales glowing brighter than Bilbo had ever seen them, and the beat of his leathery wings was scattering leaves and bending the dead grass. The mighty dragon of only four years-old landed directly between the goblins and the entrance to the mountain, bristling his spine and growling in warning, but only once. He opened his jaws, and the goblins, recovering from shock, dropped the hobbit none to gently onto the grass and scrambled away into the forest as fast as their legs would carry them. A small blast of fire only caught one goblin, searing his backside as he clambered after his brethren.

As soon as the enemy was gone, it was as if someone had turned the lights off in the forest. Smaug's glow softened to it's normal hue, and the overgrown lizard licked a single, loving line up Bilbo's face, leaving behind disturbing amount of saliva and the stench of decay and blood. The dragon went for a second public display of affection, when Bilbo put out his hands and cried, "Ok, ok! That's enough!". Smaug settled for burrowing his large face in the hobbit's tiny chest and humming happily. "I love you, too, Smaug." Bilbo laughed, and scratched the soft spot on his pet's chin.

The dragon fell asleep again when they got back to the clearing, and Bilbo woke him only to start a fire, then he went back to snoring peacefully. Other than a few scratches from landing hard on some twigs, Bilbo was grateful that he had made it out of the mini peril relatively unscathed. As he nibbled on his rice cakes, he watched the sleeping dragon absently; a tendril of smoke emanated from each nostril and floated off past the treetops as the morning light spilled into the clearing. It sure wasn't Hobbiton, and it definitely wasn't the Shire, but maybe, Bilbo thought to himself, he could find a place out here to call home.

An hour later, the duo was packed up, rested up, and ready to pick up where they'd left off the night before. The day was as cold as the night before, and the rush of air from flying only added to the shivers that ran rampant through Bilbo's body. Smaug had to fly slower to try ease his master's chill, and the landscape below didn't whizz by nearly as fast as the day before. It only got colder and colder, and the sky began to darken and grey as the hours ticked past. By the time the rider and dragon reached the edge of Mirkwood, the air was unbearable, even for Smaug, and the grey clouds told a tale of a coming snow. "Let's get over Mirkwood, Smaug. We can find shelter on the other side until this storm blows over."

The leathery wings, though growing tired, continued with their steady flight, and Bilbo watched as the dark trees rushed by beneath him. They were almost to the other side of the expanse of forest, when a cloud of arrows sprung forth from under the trees. The attack caught Smaug off guard, and he clumsily swerved to avoid the flying weapons. Arrows sped past Bilbo's ears, missing him by only centimeters, as he encouraged and coaxed his dragon to get them out of their new predicament. They were almost completely over the forest when Smaug leaned too far to the left to avoid an arrow, and Bilbo went tumbling and rolling off his back and toward the treetops. Down through thin air he tumbled and spun, the wind roaring in his ears and a sad, sharp pain in his stomach. Just before he hit, however, strong reptilian claws grabbed him, and the dragon sped off as fast as his wings would carry him, still dodging the arrows of angry wood elves.

When they broke past the tree line, it was as if a rush of relief flew on the wind, and the duo were able to land on the other side. Smaug put Bilbo down gently, and landed carefully next to him, exhausted, but unharmed. The hobbit did not immediately acknowledge his friend, only laid down on the cold ground, a long arrow with a blue feathered end protruded obscenely from his stomach and was finding it harder to breathe. Smaug nuzzled closer, laying his head on his master's arm and whining softly; a noise Bilbo rarely heard from his proud pet. Crimson was slowly staining the ground underneath and the clouds above were ashen as they let their first few flakes fall. Bilbo put a hand on Smaug's nose and rubbed lightly. "It's ok, boy." He struggled for a breath. "I promise. It's all-" His hand went back to resting on the dirt.

The dragon looked to the sky, watching the storm move in past the forest. He whimpered again, trying to get his nose under Bilbo's hand again, urging him to get up and lead them to shelter for the night. But his master must have been too tired. He would just have to wait. Grey snow started to dance around them, much to Smaug's dismay, and the landscape was preparing itself for a furious storm. He nudged Bilbo again, whining even louder to get his attention, but to no avail. Finally, the young dragon resigned to curl up on the dead grass, as close to his master as he could get, and stretch a wing out to shelter the hobbit from the storm.

The snow continued to fall in thicker and thicker sheets, and the wind picked up speed, it's howling loud enough to cover the gentle pleas of a red-gold dragon and the silence that answered him. When morning came, as dismal and grey as the night before, the snow had settled heavily on the land. A white blanket of bleak and chill wrapped around trees and rocks, and buried two unlikely friends in shallow graves of cold and frost; immortalizing the loyalty of a red-gold dragon and laying an unexpected journey to rest.