Whilst men and dwarves conversed together, I took the opportunity to speak to the Nazgûl, thinking they might have some insights of their own regarding all this. Since Angmar had been banished back to his tomb, there had been no other trouble from any of them, and perhaps a little more respect. But then I had never had the impression even before that they particularly minded the change in their masters. I thought their loyalty to Mairon, or the Necromancer, or whatever he was currently calling himself, must not have been very great.

"Do you think this elf Legolas will try something?" I asked them, gathered on the wide balcony that looked out on vast depths and grand statues of dwarves of old.

They traded looks between themselves, and it was Khamûl who answered me. "He is an elf. They are a proud folk, carrying long grudges, and quick to war against that which they call evil." It was much as the Ring had said.

"Which is both you and I," I said, sighing. "So it will come to war. Damn it! I don't want to see yet more of their blood spilt! Their king paid for his misdeeds, and that was all I wanted. That was fair. This will not be!"

"If they choose to come, they choose to die," Hoarmurath said.

"Smaug asked me what way I would choose to exert my will over Middle-Earth, and I told him that I wanted to end wars fought over petty grudges and old hurts. I won't deny that we killed many elves that day in their stronghold, but it was nothing they did not have coming to them for what they'd done to Thorin's people! What comes now is exactly what I swore I would act to stop!"

"You made no mention of such a plan before," Uvatha pointed out. Indeed, on hearing it, all the Wraiths looked at me with renewed interest.

"Well," I said, feeling a little embarrassed. "It was only that Smaug rather goaded me on to committing to it, and made it sort of my part in this treaty."

"The power of Mairon's Ring was made to be used," said Khamûl. "And whatever we all were in life, that has become our purpose also now in death."

I could feel the approval radiating from all of them, and from the Ring itself, quiet on my finger. "That's all very well," I said. "But now isn't the time for it. Not with these elves. If only I can speak to their King when they come, perhaps I can do something to prevail upon him that this is useless and futile."

"You should take care," Akhorahil told me. "Though you slew his father, this time he will be better prepared. Their elite will have weapons fit to hurt the dead, and even as we are, we cannot kill a thousand elves easily. If Smaug lends his breath, then yes, they shall fall, but he has refused to leave the mountain before."

These were all good points. Before we'd had the advantage of surprise. Still, I reckoned Smaug would leave his hoard for them, if only because if they did slay all of us, the Company included, I doubted they would stop there with a dragon so near.

There are others you could call upon, the Ring suggested. Orcs and Goblins and Wargs are all easy enough to sway to your service, if you would but call.

And make into slaves, you mean, I replied. As I can't imagine they'd do it by choice. You should know by now that I'm not willing to do that.

"However it all turns out, it will soon enough be done," Khamûl. "And thereafter it were best you tell us of your plans, that we might serve you in the ways that best match your ends."

"Yes, in future I will," I replied. They were right of course, I should have told them sooner, but I was not yet quite used to having servants in this way. It had been all very well directing them to tasks that benefited Thorin's goals, but I had not really thought on my own yet save that brief conversation with Smaug.

It was not much longer after that when Bard and Thorin and Balin finished discussing matters, and ventured back out into the great space of the halls, and we escorted the party of Lakemen back to the outer gate. As Bard began to set off down the ruins of the old highway, a sudden urge of curiosity came to me. I had a desire to see for myself the councils of the Master of the Lake and the Captain Tauriel, to hear what she said of me and mine.

Turning then to Thorin, I told him of my plan, and although he hesitated, he said, "You are hardly mine to command Bilbo. Nor can I say that this will not be of benefit to us. You need not speak to me of the treacheries of elves."

So it was that I slipped out of the gate and followed Bard at a short distance, slipping easily enough into the world-beyond and out of the perceptions of mortal sight.

The Master's house was easy enough for me to sneak into once we reached Laketown. It was much as I remembered it from that feast weeks ago now, as was the person of the Master himself, who held court on a raised dais, with various advisors ranged around him. Seated next to him was an elf with chestnut hair done up in braids that looped around behind her head, a serious face, though one not without warmth, and form-fitting leather armour just visible beneath her green tunic. A long-bow and quiver of arrows were propped against her chair.

Bard was shown in immediately, and nodded to both of them, if somewhat grudgingly to the Master.

"Well?" the Master demanded. "What of the mountain? What of the dwarves? What of the gold?"

"It was as they said. The dragon lives. I saw him with my own eyes."

A murmur went around the room, for I was hardly the only one with an interest in what would be said here. All the notable individuals of the Esgaroth region were gathered here, all the merchants and landowners and such nobility as they had. It was not only the lives of elves and dwarves that were potentially at stake through the troubles brewing here, but those of all these people as well.

The Master's face fell. "Bad tidings," he said. "Very bad tidings. What do they mean to do now? Live in the shadow of that creature?"

"So they say," Bard replied, his face grim. "But also they speak of the link between Men and Dwarves of old, and of trade, and of rebuilding their kingdom. Leave the dragon his hoard, they say, and he shall not bother us."

He sounded rather sceptical of all this, and I could not really blame him. We must have seemed optimistic fools, or quite out of our minds, to be content to live so close to Smaug. Dragons were not known for their ability to make treaties. Yet the Master lightened at these tidings, and I saw that his eyes glinted with what could only be greed.

"Trade you say," he mused. "And what has Erebor to trade except for gold, and jewels, and fine armour and finer weapons? Things that made Dale great once, and we might have all of that again!"

"Caution, Master of the Lake!" the elf said sharply, speaking for the first time. "You would be foolish to ignore the evil that even now grows beneath that mountain. This is very grave news indeed. Haven't you heard stories about the One Ring? Sauron's Ring? That it has been found should send a shudder through every being in Middle-Earth!" She turned to Bard. "What of the other creature, the one wearing the form of something strange and small?"

Well, small, yes I could hardly deny that, but strange? Elves were ones to talk! Throwing innocent people in prison, not helping their friends, what could be stranger than that?

Bard began to answer, but before he got very far the Master was interrupting him. "I do appreciate what you have told us Lady Tauriel," he said, with an obsequiousness that seemed so ridiculous that it could only be feigned. "Believe me, after years near the dragon, we are quite aware of the terrors of evil."

"At least the dragon is something we know, as terrible as it is!" Tauriel replied with heat. "The one who has found the Ring, and worse, seems to be putting it to use, is an unknown force. We have no idea of his strength or abilities, except that he slaughtered many of my people, and that is something that has not happened since the days of the Last Alliance against Sauron himself! This evil must be stopped, now, lest another age of darkness blackens the land entirely. Strength no longer remains in the armies of Men and Elves to defeat another Sauron at the height of his power."

I was very much tempted at that moment to let myself be seen, to come forward and explain myself, that darkness and evil were nothing I intended, only peace, but I was sure that the reaction would be at first confusion, swiftly followed by fear and even violence, after such crimes were laid against me. No, this would call for careful diplomacy at some later date. At the moment I could be only a silent observer.

"My Lady, what would you have us do?" the Master asked.

At this she looked disquieted, as well she might if she were thinking of strength of arms. Laketown was not Dale. It had a few guards, yes, and no doubt a levy might be raised from it and the lands surrounding, but it had no standing army, no martial tradition, no great years of training as had the elves. "I am sworn to return with this news to Legolas Thranduilion," she said. "And I cannot but think that he will call up our army to meet this threat whilst it still can be met by one realm. If we are unlucky, that point will already be passed, but it is the duty of all Eldar to fight evil as best we can."

"Lady Tauriel, I have seen the dragon," Bard said. "He is old, and vast, and I do not think even an elven bow would pierce him. The last wind-lance of the dwarves sits atop this very building..." Here he hesitated, and his eyes went to the Master, and he seemed to decide it wiser not to continue.

"It is true the wind-lances of the dwarves are powerful weapons against a dragon," Tauriel said, smiling. "But do not forget the age of my people. Many of them are those that fought even in the Last Alliance itself, and there were fire-drakes there, although few in number. We have weapons of our own."

This was not good news. I had no wish that Smaug would be forced to risk his life by their anger, and although I had no doubt that we could hold the mountain indefinitely with force of arms if it came to a siege, that still raised the problem of food. I had no idea how long what we had got from the storerooms would hold out, and elves were certainly patient enough to wait us out for months or years if necessary. So what then was to be done? It seemed again that I would have to resort to words as my weapons, rather than iron and steel and fire. Perhaps my tongue was not all that slick, but I had persuaded a dragon, which was no mean feat. If I could convince Smaug, surely I could convince an elf... if he stood still long enough for me to actually speak to him. Even with the Ring, I was hardly invincible, and would surely bleed like any other creature.

I had heard quite enough. I had seen their passions in a way that a Raven's report would not allow, and perhaps I understood a little more now. As Tauriel began to question Bard about me in more detail, I crept away, though still listening as my path wound between the tall bodies of men and women.

"Strange indeed," Bard said of me. "The dead men, Nazgûl as you called them, felt of evil enough to chill. It was frightful just to look upon them. But the one with the Ring... he was well-mannered. Friendly. He spoke to me of you, though I know not how he became aware of your presence."

Whatever Tauriel's reply to that I did not hear, for I had spied an open window and was even then wriggling through it, dropping down to the wharfs of Laketown and making my way back towards the shore, and thence for the mountain. I did not know how long we would have before the elvish army arrived, but there was much to be done. We had to be as prepared as possible.

When I finally returned to the mountain I found the whole of the Company waiting for me, having been told the approximate time of my arrival by the ever-helpful Ravens. I quickly filled them in on all that I had seen, causing Thorin to swear in Khudzul and mutter something unpleasant about elves.

"What is there to be done except what we've been doing already?" I said, since with regard to weapons we were well supplied, and there did not appear to be any way to increase our stocks of food by foraging in the surrounding areas, since the desolation of Smaug had suppressed the growth of plants and bushes that might have borne fruit.

"Dwarves know siege-craft laddie," Dwalin told me. "There are fall-backs and baffles we can build, deeper in. This part of Erebor was not designed with defence in mind if the gates were breached, but other halls are. In greatest need, there are always the mines."

"We shall send further messages to our kin," Thorin said. "Dain in the Iron Hills is closest – doubtless he will have already received our first tidings, but he is not given to hasty action. None of his folk will have set out yet. There is time to ask for aid."

It seemed quick for the Raven to have got that far, but when I actually tallied up the days since we had gained the treaty with Smaug I realised it had been nearly two weeks, though we had been so busy that I had scarce noticed it. Even so, without knowing how long it would take the Elves to gather their army it would be unwise to count on any outside aid. And at that, what of Gandalf? He had promised to return to us once his business was done, whatever it was. As a wizard, surely he would have the skill with words to avert this bloodshed. But then, would he approve of what I had been doing with the Ring? He had been sympathetic to the plight of the dwarves and how the elves had wronged them, but equally he had been friendly with Elrond, although Rivendell was not Mirkwood, and the two peoples hardly the same. Exactly whose side would he take when he eventually arrived? And with this realisation I had just given myself something else to worry about.

I would not trust to the good will of the Istari, the Ring whispered to me, being no comfort at all.

"Loath as any of us would be to destroy the works of our forefathers," Balin was saying. "It may be necessary to sunder some of the walkways to cut off their routes of attack. We can always make repairs, but hopefully it will not come to that."

"Perhaps we can lure them in front of Smaug's throat," Kili suggested, gesturing a torrent of fire with his hands.

"And what if they don't come in?" Fili pointed out. "If they just sit out there and wait for us to starve?"

"We deal with that as it comes," Thorin said. "For now, we follow Dwalin's expertise."

As jobs began to then be parcelled out, and Balin left for the watchtower and the Ravens, Hoarmurath approached from the shadows. "Little Master," he greeted me, with a respectful bow of his head. "The dragon has been asking for you."

"Then I'd better go see what he wants," I replied, and set off following him forthwith.

The main treasury doors had been shut up once more, but there were other small gates easier to open. Passing through, I was struck by an unexpected heat. Of course the room had always been warm with the combined natural heat of the mountain and Smaug himself, but this was noticeably greater than it had been. As I ascended a flight of stairs to a better viewpoint I saw the dragon, again half-buried beneath gold, but also seeming to possess a rather unusual glow, a soft ruddy warmth that magnified the red of his scales. Indeed his long throat and chest were glowing dully with his inner fires, a more sedate version of what could be seen when he let loose his deadly breath. His eyes slitted open to watch me as I approached.

"Are you alright?" I asked him. "You seem... feverish."

"That is one way to say it," he replied. "I am not ill. But I am... heated."

I frowned. "Heated? In what way?"

He stretched his head out languidly towards me, huffing out a hot burst of air that ruffled my hair. "I admit it unanticipated," he said. "But it seems intent is not necessary for the One to awaken this."

"So this is something I'm causing," I replied, looking down quizzically at the plain band on my finger, sending it a mental query. "Well I'm very sorry to have been causing you discomfort without meaning to. I'll stop straight away as soon as I know how."

"Oh, there's no need for that," the dragon purred before the Ring could make any answer. "No, I think I quite like the opportunity this has given me. And you, in holding to our bargain."

Awakening into my awareness, the first thing the Ring did was laugh at me. Wonderful, it whispered, stretching itself out to skate just above Smaug's scales like someone feeling the heat of a candle with their palm. Oh, such a song I shall teach you to sing for this!

"Will the both of you stop being quite so cryptic and give a straight answer for once," I said, getting somewhat exasperated. Smaug chuckled, such that I felt it reverberate in my chest.

"How much do you know of dragons?" he asked me.

"Evidently not enough," I replied.

"For all the power you have won, your lack of knowledge is the greatest danger you pose to yourself," Smaug told me. "Well, then what of those the younger races call gods? Of the Ainur; the Valar and the Maiar?"

"Hobbits don't really have much truck with religion," I explained. It embarrassed me to admit my ignorance, but equally there was a kind of defiance, an anger or irritation that I should be shamed at all. Knowledge was no measure of the worth of a being, yet that was the impression I had from creatures like Smaug and elves. A creature's character made a better judge of such things, if you asked me. "Still, I have come across a few elvish legends in my time, which speak of such beings. And there is the one the dwarves call Mahal."

"So much to learn," the dragon said. "You should take lessons with the One more often. The Ainur are those which existed before this world was sung into being. Some elected to come down to reside within it in the earliest of days, when the idea of days was new. Spirits of varying natures and strengths. All had been one people in the time before, but soon rough groupings began to form. Divisions."

I noted the significant look he gave me at that point, and I was having none of it. "Don't go trying to test me by saying that war and hate is the natural state of things," I told him. "People will dislike other people, I know. There will always be conflict, and I'm not saying I want to stamp that out. But it can certainly be settled by means other than violence! All these massive armies... Why, and I will wager half of those who fight on each side had no grievance with each other beforehand, and would never have had one if their irresponsible Thain-equivalent hadn't dragged them into it!"

"Ah, I have angered you," Smaug said, smiling. "Good. You will need that strength when you go out to stamp your mark on Arda. But I spoke of gods. There are the Valar, who are greatest in strength. And there are very many Maiar, those of air, those of earth, those of water, those of fire, and others besides. The one you know as Gandalf is such a being, a Maiar of knowledge, who was named first Olórin."

"So dragons are one of these peoples of the Maiar then," I said, seeing where this must be going. "But I thought you said something about hatching from an egg."

"Patience," Smaug told me, a little snappish at the interruption. The fires of his throat glowed a little stronger for a moment. I reached out for the power of the earth-blood merely as a precaution, noting though how quickly it came to my grasp now, after repeated use. "All will be revealed in time. Yes. I am a Maiar, residing in this physical shell." He settled himself a little more comfortably, returning to his lecturer mode. "Of the fire Maiar there were three tribes. The Valaraukar are shadow and flame, named Balrogs by the elves, most favoured of Melkor. The Urulóki are the blood of the earth, and we are dragons. The others had no name to themselves, for they were disparate individuals, though many apprenticed themselves to Aüle and were the Ururauta. Mairon was one such.

"Once there were many of my kind in Arda," Smaug continued. "In the early ages we swam without form in the great sea of fire that lies far beneath the earth. Perhaps some still do, but nothing has been heard from them in an Age. After a time a number of us arose to discover what was passing in the world above. We made forms for ourselves, and ranged forth in the cold of the far north where Arda bleeds and none ventures to quiet its glory. It was Glaurung who went first to Melkor's stronghold Angband for news from the south."

I still did not see what any of this had to do with his strange feverishness, or eggs, or anything of that ilk, but I did not want to be so rude as to interrupt him again. Besides, we were not wanting for time. Dwarvish skill would serve the Company's efforts better than whatever aid I might be bringing.

"Melkor told him many things," Smaug said, then sneering; "but to spare your mortal patience I shall speak of them another time. Suffice only that Glaurung then went forth against advice to see the new-born races of Elves and Dwarves and Men for himself, for he was young and curious. But he was also Fire, and Elves have no love for Fire that lives, unbound by hearth and stone. They drove him off, back to Melkor's protection, and hearing thus many of us swore ourselves to Melkor's cause.

"After that many years passed without incident, an account that meant little to we immortals. Melkor had no use for war at that time, and the other races were content with what they thought their siege, and so it would have remained if not for Thrangorodrim. For at the southern gate of Angband there rose three mountains with great fires beneath them that were given this name, and Melkor was long occupied in calming their rage. Yet the power of the earth cannot be denied forever. One day ash and fire and fury came forth, darkening the skies, and the blood of the earth swept over the plains of Ard-Galen, destroying the old and bestowing new life in the years to come. Once that bounteous land had belonged to the uruch, orc-tribes and allies of Morgoth, but not sworn to him. Their own feuds with the Elves had led to their slaughter when the Noldor came from over the sea. It was not only his own ills that Glaurung went out to avenge, heralded by the roar of Thangorodrim, but theirs also, and those of every creature named dark by the children of the stars."

Smaug became more roused with this part, and his throat glowed fully, and fire could be seen behind his teeth, yet not spilling out.

"War came then, and it was glorious, with many great and fell deeds done on either side, and the blood ran red and black like water. Chaos came to the ordered lands of the Elves! The treasons and treacheries that ever periled their hearts were made plain to each other, though they blamed it all on Melkor's doing, as was their wont. But once the plains of Ard-Galen and the passes that led to it were retaken Melkor tired of the bloodshed, for his plans had not been thus, and sent forth envoys suing for peace. Ever Elves and Men turned them away, but nor could they win aught back, and so the war turned slow and cold."

I could not deny that this was all very interesting, since I had a passion for old stories and legends, but having asked for a succinct explanation, although this was not exactly succinct I could see that more was being missed out. I now realised that there were many details and events here that I knew nothing of, and meanings that must be escaping me. Still, for all that names of places sometimes confused me, Smaug told tales well, and his vast, low, rumbling voice was easy to listen to.

"This un-peace held," the dragon continued, "until it came to pass that one of the Silmarils, most cursed of all jewels, was stolen from Melkor's safe-keeping; and of those we must speak again in the days to come! But the taking of this gem bore up the hearts of Melkor's enemies, and gathering their forces they marched forth again to war, and the fifth great battle of that Age. There Glaurung fought again, and many others of my kind, and amongst the great host were a phalanx of dwarves from Belegost with armour they had made to resist flame. It was their King, Azaghâl, who first taught us that our bodies might be slain, when he wounded Glaurung with his fierce axe, smiting his belly where he was soft.

"Death is a curious thing," Smaug mused. "It differs between each race. Men leave Arda forever and go none know where. The spirits of Elves go to Valinor and the Halls of Mandos, and rarely may be given new bodies and return, as did Glorfindel of Imladris. Dwarves are taken to the halls of their ancestors, the location of which only Aüle knows. And we go not quite beyond Arda, yet not quite of it either. After the wounding of Glaurung we spoke amongst ourselves and resolved that we had no wish to be trapped there, so with the aid of Melkor, whose songs were powerful, and Mairon, whose smithcraft was great, we forged spells to draw our kin back into eggs that we would lay.

"For myself, I died first in the war that came later against the forces of the Valar, and Mairon and Turcosú of the Uruloki sang me back to rebirth at the ending of the Second Age. I would have fought there at the battle of the Last Alliance, save that I hatched too late. And now, with that kin-power so close, and so many of my fellows perished, the need to lay has come upon me."

I looked at him with astonishment. Admittedly his words had made me think something of that sort as he went on, but it was still something of a surprise to hear it said aloud.

"So do both male and female dragons lay eggs then?" I asked.

"If you want to apply such terms," Smaug replied. "But yes, we though it more convenient."

"Well... congratulations," I said, as one might to any expectant parent. "Do you know yet how many new little dragons will be running around the mountain...?"

"That depends on you."

"Me?"

"Yes," the dragon purred. "You don't imagine I will be singing my kin back alone do you?"

"Oh! Yes. Well. Of course I'll help," I said, feeling rather out of my depth and not sure what to do about it. This is all your fault, I told the Ring. It projected smugness back to me.

And what better way to inaugurate your new dominion, it said. You will certainly be needing the help.

As if things weren't complicated enough already.

I would have questioned Smaug more on exactly what was expected of me, but he dismissed me before I could ask, yawning hugely with a great show of teeth and citing tiredness. I thought over how much I should tell the others as I headed back towards where I had been assigned to work today, but still knowing only the basics I thought it better to wait. This would surely mean the treaty would need to be changed however, and that was likely to cause even more problems.

I would need to take some quiet moment to talk to the Ring and interrogate it on the matter, but such a moment was not due to come until the evening. In the meantime I occupied myself with fetching and carrying stone and heavy wood and various unfamiliar shapes of metal and tools for Dori, Ori and Nori, overseen by Dwalin, in the corridors linking the main halls with those less impressive and expansive further in.

Balin came back from the watchtower that evening with news from the Ravens. Tauriel had left for Mirkwood and they were following her now on her journey. They intended to venture their watch as far into the forest as they could, but did not know how successful they might be. The control this new king had over his domain was as yet unknown.

After our evening meal Thorin and I went to bed, and thence had a great deal of fun until we were both quite tired out. I still had something to do however, and once he had fallen asleep, I roused myself enough to begin my conversation with the Ring.

As I understand it, I said, for I'd had time to think about this, you were with Mairon still at the end of the Second Age. So you must have seen this whole process, yes?

It is so, it replied, seeming eager to talk to me. But ask your questions and I will answer, as fully as any might wish.

What exactly is it that will happen next? I asked. And what will my part in it be?

Dragon eggs are not like the eggs of birds or lizards, the Ring replied with a thoughtful air. They are shaped of crystal and stone. The last time this happened, materials were brought from the bowels of Orodruin, broken up so they were easy to swallow. It is likely this will be a request made of your dwarves.

Again, I repeat, not my dwarves, I replied, sighing internally. But that seems simple enough, though I'll not pretend to know how stone can become something alive.

Why, the Ring said, laughing, dwarves were stone once, or at least that was the base of them, since Aüle had not the gift for crafting in flesh that his wife Yavanna possessed.

I could not help but reflecting with this new surprise that all this talk of ancient days and creation and gods was very far from my life as it once had been; a simple gentle-hobbit of means. But it seemed that that life was far behind me now, and indeed I could barely conceive of going back to it. There was a certain sadness in that, in being so changed by my experiences, but the friends I had in the Company, and Thorin, and everything that the Ring had given me and that I intended to do with it was such that all these new joys entirely made up for my losses.

Well, I'm sure getting enough stone will not be a problem, I said. Does it have to be a particular sort?

Quartz, or chalcedony. But of course that is only the first step. After that comes the song. The duet.

I'll need your guidance for that.

My voice is yours, the Ring told me. I shall lead you in this as I have the other songs of magic you have learned. Have no fear that this shall be anything less than a success.

Then what? Once these Maiar souls have gone into the eggs, will they take very long to hatch?

Not particularly, the Ring replied. But they will need other materials for their bodies once they emerge. For Smaug, the orcs brought forth gold and copper, obsidian and charcoaled iron, and many hard gems also, and poured them into a great crucible over the mountain's fires, from which he forged himself to the plan of his own desiring.

If he expects that from the dwarves he'll have a hard time of it, I warned. We've not even got the mines open yet, much less started to pay their tithe to him.

An answer to that I cannot give, the Ring said.

Perhaps Smaug had finally found a use for that vast hoard of his then than simply sitting on it. He had said himself that he would not part with it for other races, taking it as the rightful property of his own kind, but since it would be more dragons he was making, or summoning, or whatever the correct word might be, he might let these newborns have some small amount of it. As to the iron, steel, obsidian and whatever else, we certainly had enough arms and armour sitting about unused. What better way than to armour potential new allies with them? I doubted there would be a problem there.

I would check on the details of all this tomorrow, I resolved, and tell the Company after. With that decision made, and feeling less uncertain of my role in all this, I finally allowed sleep to claim me, and sank down into the glorious warmth of Thorin's bed and his arms around me.

"You do not mean for us to surrender the works of our forefathers to the dragon!" Thorin said, angry and surprising me with his rage. It had all been going so well too. Smaug had been pleased that I had asked the Ring about what was to happen, and that he did not need to bestir his rest to tell me more stories. The egg-fever was making him particularly slothful. He had even agreed, with an easiness that seemed almost suspicious, that the precious materials for physical forms should come from the treasury. I had gone forthwith to tell the others, and ask about iron and other metals, and unfortunately this was the reaction that had ensued.

"No!" I exclaimed, "that's not it at all! Just some of the weapons and armour, nothing of high quality or sentimental value."

Thorin sighed, and I could see from the disapproving looks on the faces of Balin, Dwalin and the others that this must be some point of dwarvish culture that I was missing entirely. "Bilbo, there is no work of dwarven hands that has no meaning attached to it," he said. "Everything is of significance. Everything has meaning to the family of those who made it. All dwarves are craftsfolk; those who cannot make the thing they need barter like with like to acquire it. That is why gifts mean so much to us. The only things we make without meaning are those we sell to outsiders, serej, empty, and there is none of that here."

This did make things clearer. Nor could I criticise the strength with which they would hold on to such things, knowing now their meaning, not since Smaug had forced them to give up so much. I could find no argument against it either, not one that was not cruel.

"Is there no other iron that hasn't yet been used?" I asked. "No ore not yet smelted, no ingots stockpiled?"

Thorin thought on this. "It has been so long," he said. "Nor were the base metal forges ever my responsibility. I suppose it is possible..."

"Supply and demand were ever well-matched," Balin said. "But aye, I would not rule it out."

"And there'll be whatever was in the system when it was shut down," Bofur chimed in. "Mind, I am of Ered Luin born and bred. These are not my mines, nor the forges I knew, but the principles are the same. I've had time enough to survey it here too. Ore is brought up by great waterwheels, and whoever had charge of this place had sense enough to pull the emergency stop before they left. It's all in good order, and the buckets have whatever was in them 'afore."

"That will have to do," I said.

"Still, having a load of dragons within these walls..." Gloin said. "I can't say it sits well."

"Indeed," Dori said. "We have no guarantee they will respect the treaty."

"And why should we supply any of this to Smaug?" Thorin said. "His crimes have been ignored for the sake of Erebor, but I see no reason we should do him any favours."

"A favour for a favour," I argued. "We may need him soon enough if the elves come, and what then if he delays out of spite?" For as much as he and I were getting along for the moment, I had no illusions as to his nature. "And as to the young ones, Smaug will be around to keep them straight," I reassured them all. "And who knows that they'll stay here once they get a little bigger? They might want to seek their own homes. Or... there are things I have to do, once all this is over. Not," I added hastily, seeing Thorin's face, "that I intend to leave Erebor, or at least not for long. But it was a promise I made to Smaug, and these other dragons may agree to help me keep it."

"I am not sure of the wisdom of this," Thorin said. "But we swore this oath; that Smaug should share our home, and no dwarf will break their word. He may do as he will in his part of it. As for stone... there are rose quartz statues in parts of the treasury, and if he can find them, he can have them. It will be hard to know he has destroyed them, but we have given them up to him already. The rest, iron and obsidian, we shall take that from the damn beast's tithe and let him sit a coward if it comes to battle!"

I sensed this was just about as good as I was going to get, so I let it lie and made no further argument. The power of my words had done so much more for the relationship between the dragon and the dwarves than ever might have been expected, and what right did I have for even more? So that seemed to be that, and I was glad we had found some solution, even if it was a compromise. The ores might even be more useful than that which had already been forged, having more possibilities in what might be made of it, although that much was only guesswork, and optimism.

With the outcome of this news, our schedule was repurposed, and soon the buckets were moving again to dump their loads at the forges. The hoard-stuff would be brought in with the eggs nearer the time, under Smaug's watchful eye, to be guarded there until they hatched. Apparently he trusted either the Nazgúl to be adequate guards on the rest in the meantime, or the eggs meant more to him than gold – which entirely made sense to me, since obviously family was much more important than useless, if pretty, metals.

The only thing to do now was work and wait. Wait for the eggs, and wait for the elves, and hope that no doom would come from all this.

"Glorious, are they not?" Smaug sounded very smug, and indeed he had a right to be.

"Ten!" I exclaimed, gazing upon the numerous orbs, each a rough sphere the height of a man, looking so much like rocks I would have been pressed to tell the difference had I not already known of it. "I hadn't expected..."

"Nor entirely did I until it happened," Smaug confessed. "But there are many of my kin trapped in that space between worlds, and no other of the Urulóki left to sing them free. Cold-drakes are all very well, as cousins, but they are not kin enough to do this."

"Yes," I said, still somewhat discombobulated. "The song, of course. When do you wish for that to happen?"

"Have you aught else you would rather be doing?" Smaug asked me, his voice silk over steel. As a matter of fact I had only come to see him in order to check how he was and if anything had changed, but he was right that nothing I had been intending to do could not be put off for a little while. The minor inconvenience of it was, perhaps, a small revenge for the price the Company was charging for his necessary materials.

"If you want to do it now, I suppose I have no objection," I replied, giving the Ring a little mental nudge to bring it to wakefulness. I felt the power of it stretch out beneath my skin.

"Yes, little mage-apprentice, now," the dragon said, and curled himself with a great ripple of scale and wing in a circle around the eggs, with myself inside. Already a low bass thrum was starting to come from the depths of his chest, and his eyes slitted half-closed as his head swayed like a serpent's.

What do I do? I asked the Ring, and as it had before it swept me up with itself, guiding my mind after its own with a light touch and a burst of wordless music that seemed to come from no instrument but the very vibration of the universe itself. I followed on, unresisting, trusting it as I never would have before I had had bested it and became its Master, before it had proved itself loyal to me.

We go to the edges of Arda, it told me. Not a matter of distance, but of stepping out, as you have stepped into the realm of the spirit many times before. Here, feel the Maiar beside you even now. And as it said it, I perceived. Smaug shone red and gold, a vast and liquid thing like a streamer of fire, like the truth behind the earth-blood echo that I had called upon those times. He moved through the substance of the place – for we were travelling, though I had scarce recognised it – as an eel through a river. The song of the mountain was around us, welling up from deep below, singing notes that I knew instinctively as gold and diamond and much else precious besides, with borrowed knowledge that would not fade. As we swam out, we swam down too, through rock that was at the same time fire and smoke and ash that rippled with memory, down to greater heats, to that which was molten in truth, slumbering beneath clogged and forgotten ways, unable to seek the surface.

With their kinship upon Arda we will call them, the Ring told me. With the blood of Arda they share.

And even then, Smaug began to sing.

It was a bellow of unutterably complex sound, but that was only the beginning of the melody. As it went on, I perceived how strains of thought were picked up and blended in, like a conversation, like an argument, like a great treatise on the subject of all that the Urulóki were and might be expressed as. I recognised there the song of Erebor above, of the earth-fires below, of Smaug himself, and of the Ring and the kinds of power it knew. Then the Ring was prompting me, for the arrangement was only just begun, and I had my own part to play in it.

No mortal words set down here can convey the majesty of what was wrought beneath the mountain that day. Only song, only that song, was capable of expressing it. It could not be distilled, could not be compressed, could not be understood by anything less than what it was. It was the greatest work of magic that I had yet imagined, and never would I have thought myself capable of it were it not for the Ring guiding me, indeed, as much as working through me.

Particular themes began to make themselves known as the piece went on. I recognised them as the form of names, true names, as Maiar would have them, rather than the simple syllables of elf-wrought languages, as venerable as those might themselves have been. We called on creatures and powers that I truly did understand then as akin to gods, but also I knew that I had the soul of my own god buoying me up in Mairon's Ring. However had I managed to defeat such a thing, I wondered in that moment? That a mortal should make such a thing bow.

Yet it was but an idle question, a fleeting thought, when all else was taken up by the song. And here forth came the Maiar, the Urulóki, the dragons, and danced with us in that place not quite beyond the world, and slowly, so slowly, we brought them back with us as we returned.

When I became conscious again of the passage of time, and of the gleam of the hoard all around me, I felt true tiredness of the body as well as the mind again for perhaps the first time since I had become the true Master of the Ring. I stumbled where I stood, and sat down quite heavily upon a pile of gold. Before me lay the eggs, looking much as they had before we had departed. Yet I could feel the life that was now within them. Could hear, with senses other than my natural ones, the very slow beating of ten hearts, inside their shells of stone.

Momentarily the air shimmered, and very suddenly the huge bulk of Smaug had also returned to the hall, settling himself down without care, sending coins and jewels flying. A great breath left him with the sound of a high wind, and he stretched out one wing to shield the eggs lying close in to where he had let his body fall.

I let myself sit there, recovering my strength, as the dragon's breathing slowly evened out until it became clear that he was asleep. I wondered how long it had been that we were away. It was impossible to tell, although I hoped it had not been long enough to cause Thorin – or indeed any of the others of the Company – any worry.

A little while later, I saw one of the Nine coming towards me, picking his way over the tumbled fall of treasure. It was Dwar, I perceived as he neared. He hailed me once he was in range of voice.

"Master, welcome on your return," he called. "You have been gone these three days past."

"Three days!" I yelped, attempting to scramble to my feet, and only just succeeding. "Three days! How can it have been so long?"

"Your dwarf consort has been distressed," Dwar said. "We knew nothing that we could tell him."

Oh wonderful, I thought to myself. Something else that neither dragon nor Ring had seen fit to mention. More pettiness on Smaug's part? Or had he merely not thought of it as any cause for concern. What were a few days to one as long-lived as he?

"I had better go and tell Thorin what I've been up to," I said, descending the slope of the hoard towards the stairs with caution. "Has there been any news while I was away?"

"Ravens returned from Mirkwood and the Iron Hills," Dwar told me as we walked. "Dain Ironfoot is on his way with a force of five hundred. Although no spies have penetrated into the Halls of the Elvenking, many a messenger has been seen sallying forth with much speed, and it is certain a muster is being called."

"Everyone said it would be so," I sighed. "So much for my hope that the Elves would be sensible enough not to come."

It was not possible to tell by normal means whether it was night or day outside the walls of Erebor, but the senses the Ring had given me let me know that it was evening. Therefore we headed swiftly for the Royal Chambers where the Company took their meals.

As we passed through the arch into the eating hall, the light of the fire fell first on Dwar, and Thorin's head snapped up immediately, a look of wrath upon his face. "What news?" he snapped. "Where is he, you damned wraith?"

"Here, here," I said quickly, stepping forward. "I am so very sorry for worrying you..." I did not get a chance to continue, for he had risen from the bench with all haste, coming forward to throw his arms around me and crush me to him. I was very glad to realise that breathing was another need I no longer had; else I should have had some difficulties there.

"Umhad," he whispered to me, "uhfak, uzayang, I thought you lost! Fallen down some chasm, or spirited away by the wyrm, or slain in some dark place by the treachery of your so-called servants!" Saying which he drew away from me enough for me to see the dark look he cast towards Dwar, still standing by the entrance.

"I did not mean to worry you, truly," I said. "I had no idea what we were about would take so long."

"You and the dragon?" he asked me. I became aware of the various gazes of the Company, curious, or interested, or with that sort of half-look that said they marked our closeness and were trying to give an illusion of privacy. Well, I did not know if Thorin had made an announcement to them when I was not about, but since we had stopped trying to hide anything weeks ago if they had not already picked up on our relationship before they were certainly aware of it now.

"It was about the eggs," I said. "A business of magic, to call the souls of the dragons into them." It seemed the most succinct explanation of events. "Smaug and I passed into the world where I go to become invisible, but he neglected to mention it would take this time. I thought it would only be a few hours..."

"That fat slug," Thorin sneered, but he was clearly too glad to see me to put that much venom into it. "I should have words with him."

"It won't happen again," I reassured him. "I will speak with him, ask him to be more considerate. I know I ask a lot, but with the elves so near, I don't think we can afford to quarrel amongst ourselves."

Thorin's expression was one of distaste, but he did not. I suspect it was more because he was happy to see me again than any goodwill towards Smaug.

"It will not be a bother much longer," I said. "All that's to be done now is for the eggs to be moved to the forges, and the Nazgûl to transport the necessary gold and gems from the treasury with them. Then I suppose they will hatch when they hatch."

"This breeding of your dragon is causing more trouble than it's worth," Thorin said, half under his breath, then pulled me gently by the arm to join the others around the fire, whose smoke was being carried up by cunning means to a flue in the roof above and thence, I supposed, out of the mountain all together. I settled in close beside him on the bench, where Bombur thrust a bowl of cram and cave-plant soup into my hands happily, and listened with contentment to the buzz of conversation around me. Thorin was warm and reassuring against my side, and I almost forgot my worries about the days ahead.

It was our fifth week of our occupation of Erebor when Smaug summoned me again to speak with him. Great progress had by this point been made on the defences within the mountain, and the Ravens had brought further news from Mirkwood of the movement of companies of elves from the reaches of the forest towards the muster-point at Eryn Lasgalen. This was also, though I would not find out for some time yet, the week that Mairon was driven out of Dol Guldur by that alliance that called itself the White Council.

Smaug had ensconced himself comfortably in the iron-works, winding his great bulk around the huge crucibles lining that hall, as massive as any communal space of the dwarves. It was only in their personal rooms, I had noted, that they made places that were cosy to the sensibilities of a hobbit.

In ten of these crucibles, as I saw as I entered, the eggs had been placed, and around them heaped the materials from which they would construct their bodies. As of yet the fires had not been lit, for they would burn for only a short time with the fuel that remained, and so Smaug would ignite them only when the eggs were very close to hatching.

"It must be something important," I said when the dragon turned his head to look at me. "Otherwise I would expect to find you still sleeping."

"If all your power was not borrowed from the Ring, you would slumber too," he told me scornfully.

"I had noticed it was being quiet lately."

"However you are correct," Smaug continued. "it is indeed a matter of great importance. It concerns again the history of Arda, of the First Age, and those three jewels of utter doom that were named the Silmarils."

"You mentioned those before. That because one was stolen from Melkor, the war started again."

"They were made by an elf of great skill and power named Fëanor," Smaug said. "In Valinor when the world was young, and the sun and moon not yet forged. In them was caught the light of two great trees, Telperion and Laurelin, which lit the whole world by their radiance. But Yavanna, She of Growing Things who made them, considered not the creatures that Melkor had moulded in Middle-Earth, nor the natures of the Sindarin and Avari Elves who had known only twilight, or the Men yet to awaken, thinking them of the same nature as the Valar, needing not sleep nor the rest of darkness. Thus the trees were bright and merciless, and the light of them that Fëanor caged thus also.

"Fëanor was the most skilled craftsman of the Elves, and the most arrogant and prideful of their number that has ever walked Arda. Creating the Silmarils he put a part of himself into them, and thus they took on all his flaws. When Melkor struck to destroy the trees he knew he need take the jewels also, though they burned him in their rage at being parted from their maker. To get them back Fëanor slew his kin, and departed Valinor, and swore a foolish and terrible oath that he and his sons would not rest nor put aside any means until the Silmarils were his once again."

Here Smaug paused, and reached with his long claws to the place on his breast that had once been bare and was now stuffed with jewels. Digging in, he loosened until they fell free like rain, and from beneath, held close in to his skin, he plucked a single gem that shone from within like a star that had fallen to earth. With it came the rank smell of decay, and a gush of foul pus, and with a hiss he tossed it to the stone floor between us.

"You don't mean to say..." I said, staring at it.

"The Arkenstone," Smaug growled. "Or as others would know it, the Silmaril of Maedhros son of Fëanor, who tossed it and himself into a fiery chasm five thousand years past 'til the blood of Arda carried it here. If only you knew how much blood had been shed over this stone and its siblings, how many fell and evil deeds, the betrayals and lies, you would never again believe an Elf capable of good! It is the utmost poison, without mercy, possessed of utter malice! Only Fëanor's hand might have coaxed them back into slumber, but he is long dead and they hate any creature that is not him. This stone woke the gold-lust in Thrain's heart. For all your efforts it would do the same to Thorin if he laid eyes upon it."

I looked upon the gem with growing horror. And yet for all of Smaug's words the beauty of it still called to me. I still found it fair and good to look upon. I shuddered, and tore my gaze away, and closed my eyes. I focused on the sleeping presence of the Ring, as it softly whispered to itself in quiet Black Speech.

"It doesn't seem to affect you," I said quietly, not opening my eyes.

Smaug snorted, disdainful. I felt the heat of it in the air. "Not perhaps my mind," he said. "But doubtless you can smell the poison that has grown in my flesh. But I must keep it hence until I return to the hoard and can secrete it in some appropriate place where no dwarf can lay his sticky fingers upon it."

"Thank you," I said, wholeheartedly meaning it. "Thank you. Now please take it away again."