Author's Notes: It was a hard chapter to write (and a long one) but I think I managed quite well despite of using the book for several (okay a lot) lines and loopes. I wanted to depict Smaug as a dark-red dragon with a golden hue to it, for I don't ship the traditional bright red that he is, but left most of it to your guy's own imagination for the time being since Ayne hasn't actually 'seen' the dragon yet.

I have decided that my next fanfic is going to be about North & South. I am watching the series piece by piece and start getting acquianted by the way people dressed and acted in the 19th century because I enjoy doing research and like to have my facts right!

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and see you next time!

PS. Sorry for calling Balin an old goat, but I have always wanted to type that. Also I was to lazy to throw a grammar check over the document, so forgive any errors. Blame my laziness.


Chapter 28: Smaug

"Balin, care to walk ahead?"

"Why do you ask, lass?"

"Because maybe –just maybe- your magical white beard can illuminate the way in front of us. I can't see shit except your face warmer."

If it wasn't for the joyful tone in your voice and the good and healthy relationship between you and everyone else, Bilbo would have thought that you mocked the old dwarf and offence his beard (that was a dwarf's pride mind you) for being a simple face warmer. Balin laughed and walked ahead, earning a small chuckle from you.

"Better, girlie?"

"Much. Thanks, old goat."

There was a silence drifting in the air as the three of you ventured deeper and deeper in the dark, secret tunnel that led to Erebor that was only very dimly lit by precious minerals and gems that were radiating a strange kind of light. It was pulsing like a heartbeat, but didn't feel organic. It felt more like magic in your opinion; strange, unbound magic. Why no torches, you say? Why, the company had no time to produce any makeshift torches according to Thorin. Cheap bastard.

You and Balin had volunteered to keep Bilbo company as long as they could, because poor Bilbo had turned as white as a ghost when he was sentenced to venture into the mountain on his own. He needed a little mental support, and you didn't blame him, he was facing the giant dragon Smaug after all and you felt obligated to grant him that support for everything he had done for you and the company and moreover; because he was your friend.

Speaking of the hobbit; he was shuffling right next to you with his small and petite shoulder bumping into you on the occasion. You could almost hear his heartbeat that was ramming against his ribcage like a hammer on an anvil. Though you could barely see him, his whole aura screamed nervousness and fear.

Suddenly, Balin stopped and you followed suit, knowing that if the two of you ventured any further the dragon would smell the two of you and all would be for nothing. Balin turned, his eyes twinkling in the faint blueish hue that was embedded in the rock and made his white beard even whiter [1].

"I am sorry, Mister Baggings, but we can't go any further."

"I- I see," Bilbo softly whispered with a trembling voice. The little fellow looked down at his large and hairy feet. One of his hands were fidgeting with the edge of his wine red jacket as the other was fumbling with the pocket that held his magical ring. He looked up when you placed a hand on his head and messed with his ginger curls a bit.

"Don't worry Bilbo, I know you can do it." You pulled him in a hug with your hand placed on the back of his head. It felt wrong to send someone so friendly and merry to such incredible danger. "Stay safe. Now go," you whispered and gently pushed him away the moment he wanted to return the gesture.

Without looking over his shoulder the hobbit walked on, his fists clutched and back straight. You know that the hug had given him a sense of duty and your words have given him courage. The hobbit would turn out to be alright, you hoped. Balin placed a hand on your own shoulder as the hobbit ventured deeper and deeper into the tunnel and eventually vanished as he rounded a corner.

"His fate is in his own hands now. The hobbit is clever, Ayne. And much more cunning than all of us combined."

You chuckled at the old dwarf's words and slammed on his shoulder when the two of you turned around and walked back to meet up with the rest of the company. "He sure is. But let's just hope he is also more cunning than Smaug."

The wait for the Bilbo's return seemed to take on forever. Time was creeping by on a snail's pace, aggravating not only you, but also the rest of the dwarves. You were pacing back and forth with your hands folded on your back, sharing some worried glances with some dwarves now and then. It was well past midnight when the echoes of bare feet came from the tunnel.

Bilbo ran out of the tunnel, his forehead sweaty and his breathing heavy. He held something in his hand that he waved back and forth that was awfully familiar and heaved; "I- I'm back! Here's.. here's proof!"

The hobbit pressed a goblet made of the finest dwarven gold –fit for royalty- into Thorin's hands just before he was scooped up by you and pulled into a firm embrace as you laughed delighted and praised him like he was a Valar himself. Bofur and several other's joined you as the cup passed from hand to hand and new hope started to ignite in the hearts of the dwarrow.

Thorin's eyes watched how the cup passed the dwarves around and eventually landed into your own gentle grasp. You twirled the goblet and held it up, looking at it with hope and nostalgic twinkling in your eyes. Thorin felt his lips tuck upwards when your merry eyes met his own; they were so very close.

But before anyone could ask Bilbo of how it was inside the mountain a large and terrifying growl erupted from deep within. The rock seemed to tremble of fear beneath their very feet and all eyes settled on the deep entrance to Smaug's lair in a moment's notice. You swallowed thickly and glanced at Bofur, who was standing beside you. His chocolate eyes were fixed at the darkness, but all that was merry had drained out of their depths and were replaced by pure and utter terror.

"He is awake," Dwalin whispered weakly, and for the very first time you heard fear coat his voice. "He knows the goblet is gone!"

Dragons were known for their greed for gold and treasure, such was the reason Smaug had taken control of Erebor in the first place, for he longed for those riches with in an almost unnatural way. According to legends, Dragons also knew every single piece of gold and artefacts of the treasure they had taken for their own –Smaug was no exception-, hence why the mountain was now shaking like it was going to erupt like a volcano.

A terrifying roar shook the hearts of the dwarves as Smaug, a giant dark-red dragon with a golden hue coating his dark scales, burst out of the front gates and rose up in the sky like a giant fireball, only to settle on one of the many peaks. His smoking nostrils flared as his eyes –that were as bright as the sun with pupils similar to those of a cat- scanned around looking for traces of the thief that robbed a piece of his treasure.

"Thief! Murder! Where are you, you little worm? I will find you and burn you to charcoal!"

The voice of the dragon was unlike you have ever heard in your life. It was like a thousand avalanches rolling down at once. A thousand thunderstorms roaring and clashing in the sky and yet it was as suave, but also as sharp, as the wind that was cutting in the faces of the dwarrow. Everyone pressed themselves against the rockface in fear of the dragon spotting them and roasting them on the spot.

"Quickly, quickly! The door! The tunnel! We need to leave, now!" Bofur cried out, pulling you along and effectively gaining attention of the other dwarves as everyone quickly jumped on their feet and ran for the tunnel. A red light gleamed on the rocks and a terrifying flap of wings made their hearts quiver. The dragon was coming.

The dwarves fell inside the tunnel and the door barely closed when soaring flames of Smaug's fury licked the stone on the other side, warming it scorching heat and burning the weed, that had dared to grow on that small platform, to a crisp. You felt the door grow warm on the touch and the mountain shook again when a terrifying roar erupted from the dragon outside. Then the sound of wings and wind surges indicated that Smaug started to search elsewhere for the thief that had dared to steal some of his treasure; not knowing that they were right under his nose.

"Well, that must mean the end of our ponies. Poor things," Dori shook his head whilst he wiped some sweat from his brow and dusted some dirt from his grey beard.

"It also means that we have no chance of escaping now, we must wait until everything seems safe," Bombur whined, his stomach growling in the process and his spirits were effectively failing. To top it off, the dwarves could hear the dragon still raging and flying around the mountain with a fury that made his blood boil.

That night, none of the dwarves sleep in the blueish pulsating, dim tunnel, for they were far too scared and alert to catch any type of shut-eye. When dawn finally arrived the dragon seemed to have grown tired and his anger seemed to dwindle, because they couldn't hear it flying around and about anymore. Smaug had seemingly settled back in its golden littered lair to preserve some of his strength. He could afford it to wait and revenge would be ever so sweet; for him at least.

"We can't stay here forever. We need to get rid of Smaug," Nori muttered after the light of dawn seeped through the crack of the door and threw bright ray inside the tunnel, illuminating and warming it up a bit.

"He must have a weakness, everyone has," you slowly whispered with your hand running through your messy locks. You had made yourself a bit comfortable with your back against the stone as you snuggled in your coat. Bofur, next to you, snorted in a cynical laugh.

"Sure! Everyone has! But not everyone is a bloody dragon that can melt the flesh of your bones in a blink of an eye!"

Some dwarves agreed with him silently.

Your eyes settled on Bilbo, who was squished between Oin and Ori and stared back at you with a dreadful face. "I'm sorry.. Bilbo, but we have to depend on you once again." The voice that rolled over your lips was filled with dread and guilt, but despite the horrid idea of facing the dragon the hobbit stood up and dusted off his jacket.

"I know, I know. Guess it can't be helped right? First we need a plan; I guess that it's quite safe during the day to get a whiff of fresh air. We also have enough supplies with us to survive a couple of days, so that won't be a problem now either. And as you, Ayne, stated like my father in the good old days; everyone has a weakness."

The company had by now developed quite the admiration for the little hobbit. He had not only become appreciated, but has also risen to the rank of leader of the company by forming his own plans and mapping out his own ideas. He started to grow in personality and courage and it was a pleasant thing to see such a shy guy show his true potential and colours. That afternoon Bilbo dared to venture down once more in the belly of the mountain, ready to face the dragon and discover his weakness.

Ori had offered to go in his place instead, but Smaug knew the smell of Dwarf, as for Hobbit was unknown to him; thus Bilbo declined his offer kindly and had set off in the darkness once again. Leaving you and the company alone one again with troubled minds and worry for the horrid outcome that was approaching with rapid speed.

As the afternoon turned in to dusk the little hobbit returned, scorched and steaming with bits blisters on his feet and in his neck. The poor Bilbo missed some of his hair –that would take a long time to grow- and told bits and pieces of his conversation of Smaug whilst you and some of the other dwarves tended to his wounds.

"So he has a weak spoke on his left chest? A spot that has no scales?" Gloin growled as he handed you some wet towels, that you placed on Bilbo's burned feet in return. The hobbit seethed through his teeth at the sudden touch but then instantly relaxed because it felt so heavenly good.

"He has," the hobbit muttered and glanced to a thrush that was looking at the company, cocking its little head. He didn't like how the thrush was looking at him. Its dark eyes were twinkling with mystery and almost intelligence if Bilbo didn't know any better, but instead of focusing on the thrush that cocked his head every time someone spoke; he focused on Thorin that stood before him, his arms crossed and wearing a worried frown.

"I am pretty sure that he knew that we came from Laketown and had help there. I have also the awful feeling that his next step is going to be in that direction," Bilbo shook his head with a guilty look in his eyes. "I just wish I had said nothing about being a barrel-rider; it would even set a blind rabbit on the trail of Laketown!"

"There is nothing you can do about it, Bilbo. It's hard not to be tempted whilst engaging conversation with a dragon, at least so I have heard," said Balin who wanted to reassure the hobbit.

"You have at least come out alive. Who else can say that they have spoken to a dragon and lived? Let alone know about a weak spot in its armour?"

Night now rolled over the lands and engulfed the company in darkness. They decided to stay here on the ridge and go inside occasionally. Because they feared that the door wouldn't be able to open from the inside, they kept a rock between the door to keep it open; just in case. Conversations of history, dragon slaughters and treasures kept everyone awake and dreaming. Also, everyone wondered what kind of treasures Smaug guarded. Was it guarding royal armour? Impenetrable shields decorated with gold and other gems? There was one thing they knew for sure that was lying there; a big pure white jewel that emanated a strange kind of warm light, that seemed to seep into your very soul the moment you laid your eyes one it. It was the Heart of the Mountain; the Arkenstone.

"The Arkenstone," Thorin mumbled, his eyes distant and his brow furrowed in concentration. "A pure white stone that almost seems transparent. It glitters like silver in the presence of flames, as water in the sun, as snow under the stars and as rain in the silver light as the moon."

You were leaning against the prince as his baritone voice spoke of it with a longing that made worry pierce your heart, but you did not say a thing. Your eyes merely found that of Balin and knew that he silently agreed with your worries by the mere, sorrowful look that he gave you.

The conversations of treasures dispersed and silence ensued. It was an uncomfortable silence that made you, and some other members of the company, peak their eyes at the tiniest of sounds. Finally Fili was the one that dared to break the silence and his uncle's thoughts.

"Come, let's close the door. Before it's too late. I don't like this one bit."

There was something about the young golden haired dwarf that made Thorin nod at Dwalin, who merely kicked the stone out of the way and pushed the door shut. There was no key hole on this side of the door; they were trapped and with no moment too soon.

For the second that they had closed the door the mountain started to shake and trembled around them. Small rocks rained down on top of them; causing the dwarves to stand up and run deeper into the mountain to seek for cover, happy to be alive and inside the mountain; for the roaring of Smaug's fury echoed against the mountain and was carried away by the howling winds of the outside world. Smaug had tried to sneak out of the mountain as silently as he could, only to catch the thief and dwarves off-guard. He was furious of course when he didn't see a thing and after the dragon had cooled down after his little tantrum, he swore to have more vengeance. His words made the dwarves quake and dread in its wake.

"Barrel-rider!" Smaug roared.

"I do not know your smell, but I do know that you have waded through water and water is what I shall meet. If you are not one of the people of the Lake, than you are helped by them. They shall see me and remember who is the real King under the Mountain!" With those words the dragon rose up in flames and headed south to unleash his fury on Laketown.