A/N So, I've only got one or two more chapters planned to finish this out, and then probably a one-chapter sequel just for what happened afterwards. Afterwards, I'll probably focus more fully on the Bilbo/Thranduil fic I just started posting.
I almost thought it was strange, how Smaug was able to act the next morning as though nothing at all had happened, his stare when he looked at the dwarves as blank and careless as ever. Then, of course, I remembered again what, precisely, he was; I was sure that he'd engaged in activities far more dangerous and surreptitious than this at some point in his long life.
Still, I could never say I didn't appreciate what he'd done, considering everything; this would… Thorin would be well enough to rule, at least, and that was what mattered more than anything. I nodded to myself, offering Smaug a smile as we worked, and his face lightened in response. The dwarves looked only faintly suspicious, but apparently far too busy to be able to actually ask me about anything, thankfully enough.
My fingers ached with the work even still; the stones cut the tips of them and scraped my palms fiercely. I got more than one offer to let another dwarf take over my part, but I couldn't stand the thought of feeling so useless again so late in the quest. We were at least able to finish by the end of the day, though, and when we settled by a small fire that night, I felt deep pride for what I'd done, though it was, admittedly, much less than what Smaug and the dwarves had managed.
Apparently the dwarves shared in my pride, in any case, because they and I broke into a loud, happy song whose words I didn't know the meaning of, but that I could sing well enough by memory. Smaug didn't join in, obviously, but he seemed amused nonetheless, body warm where pressed beside mine. When the song settled, though, I felt a collection of heavy eyes on me, and, finally, Thorin spoke what everyone was apparently thinking.
"Bilbo, I would ask that…," he sighed, apparently unsure of how to continue, and that was enough to shock me into staring. Thorin was never unsure. "I know how fiercely you miss your Shire, and for that I do not blame you; if ever there was a home for a creature such as yourself, it is there, and I pray that you must never suffer losing it. Not holding that into consideration, however, I, and I imagine the rest of the company, would ask that you… stay here, for a time. At least until we've slain the orcs and restored Erebor to its former splendor. You are… one of my, our, finest friends. I would like you to see what it is that you have fought so hard for us to regain." The words hit me like falling stone, and though I'd been considering staying, having the offer presented to me so… I hadn't expected it, in any case. If anything, I'd almost thought they'd be half-eager to have me gone so they didn't have to worry over me any longer.
I suppose I sat too long in silence, mulling over what had been said, because Fili set to pouting and punched his uncle's arm in what I'm sure he considered a familial manner, although my own arm ached just watching it.
"Uncle, didn't you say we shouldn't be so obvious about it? Now you've gone and made him uncomfortable," he said, apparently trying to whisper and doing a very poor job of it. I fought to prevent smiling while Smaug rolled his eyes, snorting and sending twin streams of smoke into the air. Funny; that looked a lot strange when he was in the shape of a man. I found myself half-seeking a pipe that I knew wouldn't be there, and he settled one hand over my thigh, squeezing softly and thoughtlessly. Uncle and nephew traded a few more over-obvious whispers, Thorin looking so shamed and scolded that I couldn't help the faint thought that the real Thorin had been snatched and taken away to be replaced by this new, softer version of him. Eventually not even I could stand letting it go on, and so I spoke up.
"I would be honored, Thorin, and I'm… I'm very grateful that you would offer me that. I think I should like to see the home you remember, and I would, of course, be glad to help you make this place into that memory as best I can." Another moment of silence passed and I was, very suddenly, on my back, Fili and Kili having lunged forward and tackled me, the both of them grinning like loons while the older and the more respectable dwarves chuckled and smiled and nodded, Thorin's shamed look wiped away like it had never been there to be replaced with pride.
Smaug himself looked almost as surprised as I felt, I assume because his hand was very thoroughly pinned where it had been settled on my leg, held down by Fili's weight, although I was sure the dragon could've pulled free if he really felt the need to. Honestly I thought he was handling it very well and being far more mature than I'd come to expect, at least until the two boys peppered playful kisses over my cheeks and my hair between their words of thanks, as if I'd given them the greatest gift they'd ever received and more. That, obviously, was worthy of the two of them being flicked off of me like bugs whilst my person was lifted easily and plopped onto his lap. The laughter and giggling quieted as the brothers alternated between staring incredulously at each other, me, and Smaug. I couldn't see the dragon's face, but I was almost sure he had that haughty look on his face again, brow raised and chin lifted.
"Bilbo claims to be his own still, not mine, but I will not let two little pups snatch him away." I wondered if Smaug would even feel it if I hit him, decided it didn't matter if he did or didn't, and then hit him on mere principle. I assumed he didn't notice because I felt literally no reaction. "In any case, I will let him stay with you all, at least for a time. I will need a period to prepare my former mountain for him anyway; by now it is certainly barren, which I simply cannot allow. You all can at least be trusted to keep him from harm in that interval until I can fetch him." The room filled with very pointed coughing, but no one seemed able to decide quite what the person who was coughing wanted them to say. Even I wasn't entirely certain on how to respond to what Smaug had said, though eventually I decided on a heaving sigh.
"You know, Smaug, you've a poor habit of deciding what will be done without asking others for input." The dragon laughed, low and kind, hand stroking through my hair expertly, moving to my neck and massaging with clever fingers until I was all but putty in his hands and the dwarves were glaring very angrily indeed.
"Ah, but why ask when I know you will agree?" I could think of many things to call him for that, but for whatever reason, I only managed a quiet hum and then a far more well-considered response.
"I'd still appreciate the courtesy being offered when the next big decisions arrive." He snorted.
"Yes, yes, little dear." More pointed coughing, and it was finally Fili who managed to speak.
"Bilbo, are you certain you're alright with this?" he asked, and I smiled.
"I'm glad for all of your concern, you know; I never thought I'd have such wonderful friends. But, yes, I am. I'm very… happy, actually, no matter the surprise in that. This is what I want," I said, and after a few more moments of quiet, I received only nods of affirmation.
"We're with you to the end, Bilbo Baggins; at your service," Thorin said, a faint smile curling his lips, and I realized suddenly that, though the others had said something similar upon being introduced to me, that was the first time Thorin had said it. I laughed to myself and nodded, but really there was nothing more to say and I think everyone knew it.
We sang a few more songs together, that night, myself settled comfortably on Smaug's lap where I hadn't bothered to move and joy filled our hearts more than I'd ever imagined. I'd always thought, before, that home was a comfy hole in the ground with soft, broken in furniture and good food and a warm fire. Now, though… now I was beginning to expect that home had, for me, changed into something else, changed into wherever these people were. Faintly I still missed my things, in a way; there was a sentimentality to them that I couldn't help but want back. I didn't think I could have ever been fully happy among them and only them again, though; I'd had a taste of this sort of world-changing friendship, and I didn't expect I could go on without it again. I tilted my head back and smiled up at Smaug, and he returned it. With that, I had no doubt that soon, this would all be over, and I didn't expect I'd need reassurance of as much ever again.
Perhaps a week passed in that way, with the exception of Gandalf's return with a small army of men being led by Bard, until Thorin's cousin Dain arrived with another army of dwarves. In the distance, we could see the signs of the orcs coming, their march fast and deadly, and though that worried me some, I couldn't say I was truly afraid. We'd faced small armies of orcs with only we few; with armies at our backs, we would emerge victorious, of that I had no doubt.
I watched my friends swarm through the mountain, the night Dain and his army arrived, all of them outfitting themselves in fine armor, and I stood away from the fray, knowing I'd be better served in another role rather than on the battlefield. I'd learned to fight a little over the course of the journey, yes, but in this… well, I'd be more a hindrance with the Company and Smaug all focusing on protecting me rather than really fighting. Besides, I knew much about medicine and it seemed we'd be short on healers, so I'd almost certainly be the most help in the small medical tent we had arranged right at the lip of Erebor's entrance so the wounded could be taken from the battlefield whenever possible during and after the upcoming battle.
As such, I wasn't expecting it when Thorin found me, leading me to a quieter area with soft hands, and I was expecting it even less when he handed me a gleaming mail coat that looked as if it were made of mithril. I stared at it, and he smiled, chuckling softly.
"It is for you, Bilbo; my forebears called it mithril. It will turn any blade from you no matter its sharpness. I know you have no plans to involve yourself in the battle, but should an orc try to involve you, I would feel far safer in the knowledge that you were protected in our absence if you would take this." I'd heard of the value of mithril even in the Shire; there were many tales told of how wealthy a good mithril vein could make a dwarf. Now, I'd not know precisely how valuable that coat was for many, many years, but I was under no illusions then that it was of no value.
"Thorin, this is…," I tried, but he only sighed, shaking his head.
"I would not offer it if I didn't want you to have it." With that, I couldn't really refuse without seeming rude, and so, I shrugged off my coat, slipping the mail over my head and marveling at the lightness of it. I grinned up at him, putting my coat back on over it and plucking at the thin rings softly.
"I look absolutely ridiculous," I said, and he bit back laughter.
"Perhaps a bit, but at least after all this time you've finally agreed to put on a bit of armor," he responded, clapping a hand on my shoulder as if I were a fellow soldier, and I would've said something else in response had I not felt a sudden set of eyes on us, had Smaug not swept up as suddenly as if he'd always been there. From experience, I thought he'd toss Thorin's hand off of me and whisk me off somewhere, but I suppose I should never think I know a thing about the thoughts of dragons, because again he managed to surprise me.
At that moment, in a shadowy hallway deep within the mountain of Erebor, a dragon bowed to a dwarven king of his own will, simple and quick, but a bow nonetheless. And then, that very same dragon thanked the king, heartfelt and low, and when he left, didn't even drag me with him. Thorin looked almost as bemused as me, until at last he seemed to come to some understanding I didn't have, squeezed my shoulder one last time, wished me well, and went to supervise the choosing of armor and weapons once more.
We waited by Erebor's gates, none of us able to sleep, and waited for the inevitable call to battle. It came with dawn's light, a loud elven horn that rang through the mountain so loudly that my ears throbbed. Dwarven war cries rang out the moment that the horn fell silent, and my dwarves charged forward and out, weapons raised and pride in every step they took.
Smaug moved more slowly, body changing as he moved, becoming dragon once more, and I felt myself grin, sharp and wild and more dwarf than I ever would've admitted to before I stumbled into this adventure. The orcs had expected a nearly empty mountain inhabited only by a few weakened, injured, hungry dwarves, not a war, and certainly not my dragon who zipped into the air on recently healed wings, fire pluming from his mouth to smite them where they stood. The dwarves had told me before that they should never be underestimated; perhaps someone should've given the orcs the same lesson.