Chapter 7: I'll Never Be Your Beast of Burden

The next few days passed uneventfully, as Doĵa and Vili fell into a routine and got to know each other better under the seemingly disinterested eyes of Smaug. During the first half of the day, the halfling and dwarf chattered like a flock of grackles and tinkered with projects around the cell. While he pretended slumber beneath his treasure, he heard more about his little captive's family and life before he had taken her than she had disclosed to him in the decade she had been with him.

Not that the ancient dragon cared. No, he certainly did not. A king didn't care about the history of the diamonds in his crown. A scholar did not give a thought about the tree that was downed to make the pages of his books. A hungry child did not want to know about the family of the pork chop he was eating.

A twinkling peal of laugher echoed through the great hall. At least the stubborn dwarf was entertaining her. Making her happy. Less lonely. Which was good. Her songs of late had become morose along with her demeanor. Even when he coaxed her into singing something happy, she still managed to give it an edge of sorrow. For that, he could endure the presence of the dwarf in his lair.

When Doĵa's high-pitched shriek followed by the deep, booming laugh of said dwarf pierced his thoughts, Smaug surged up from his resting place and crossed the great hall to the cell before he realized what he was doing.

His sullen gaze fell upon his Doĵa balanced precariously on the dwarf's shoulders as she tried and failed to reach something high on the wall. The dwarf's large hands were wrapped around her legs under her skirts as he attempted to hold her steady. He watched as Doĵa stretched as high as she could, apparently reaching for a stub of pipe protruding from the wall, then swayed alarmingly, making Vili take a step to keep his balance. They were outside the cell and dangerously close to the edge and that step took them within inches of the drop-off.

Angry that Doĵa was thoughtlessly being put in danger, he growled, "what is the meaning of this?"

How the pair had failed to hear his approach was beyond him, but both visibly jumped at his question, losing their balance in the process. Vili fought to keep the halfling balanced as she flailed wildly, but to no avail. They tumbled to the ground and Doĵa rolled to the edge. Only Smaug's claw kept her from going over.

Her eyes wide with fright and her chest heaving, Doĵa looked up at him, "did you have to sneak up like that?"

"Sneak?" he drew back in distain. "I do NOT sneak. I am a dragon. Destruction and doom are my harbingers. My shadow is darker than the darkest night. My breath shames the fires of Hell. A single stroke of my wings quails the mightiest storm. The swipe of my tail…,"

"Yeah, yeah," Doĵa interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We get it. Oh, great and dreaded dragon," she intoned, "will you lift me up to that pipe?"

"Lift you up?" he snorted. "I am not a beast of burden to be used as such!"

She put her hands on her hips and stomped her bare foot, "are you kidding me? You lift me up and down from this edge all the time. Are you saying, you're too good now?"

"I lift you up at my pleasure. Not yours," he smirked, tuning away from her to return to his nest.

"I'll sing two songs for you tonight," she offered.

Now she expected to barter with him?

Smaug whipped his head around quickly and snarled, "you will sing two songs for me anyway, if I tell you to."

"If you don't help me," she looked up at him, unaffected, "we will just keep trying. What happens if I fall over the edge? What then?"

Furious that she had a point, but not willing to concede, Smaug huffed a hot, sulfurous breath on them, forcing them back towards the cell. With a claw, he shoved the king's throne against the wall so that she might use it to reach the pipe. Then he returned to his nest, burying himself once again.

He tried to ignore the two and resume to his slumber, but every time Doĵa's laugh reached him, he fumed. The fire in his chest burning hotter and hotter until the gold he lay upon melted and formed into his shape.

"You really do not fear him, do you?" Vili asked in wonder.

"Not anymore."

"Don't you fear that you might push him too far one day?"

"Not really," Doĵa replied, climbing up onto the throne. "If he was going to eat me, he would have done so long ago. Give me a hand here?"

Vili joined her on the throne and held her steady as she clambered up the back to reach the pipe.

"It's really odd, don't you think?"

"What's odd? Give me the pipe."

He held up the pipe he had bent and cut to the right measurements. Doĵa took it and screwed it into the stub.

"I mean, why would a dragon want a halfling as a prisoner? Why would he be interested in anything other than treasure."

She didn't answer while she climbed down from the throne, then she turned to face him.

"All this treasure is pretty, if you like that kind of stuff," she sniffed, "but it doesn't do anything. It's kind of boring if you ask me. Maybe he was bored and wanted company?"

As she walked away, Vili followed.

"But he's a dragon, he's not people like you and me. They don't get bored with their treasure."

Inside the cell, Doĵa dragged a chair to where the pipe segment stuck through the bars. Pulling a tapestry aside, she positioned it until it suited her.

"Okay, I'm ready for the next piece."

Vili grabbed it and took it over to her, watching as she attached it.

As her nimble fingers threaded the two together, she frowned, "that's stupid. How would you know what a dragon is like? Have you ever had a conversation with one?"

Affronted by her dismissal of his comment, he snorted, "I don't need to have a conversation with one to know. Everybody knows that dragons only care about one thing: treasure."

Getting from the chair, she spun around, "then explain why I'm here!"

Frustrated, Vili threw his hands into the air, "that's why it's so strange!"

Doĵa stared at him for a moment, the corner of her left eye visibly twitching before she blew out a breath.

"Are you sure Smaug didn't drop you on your head?"

"No. What does that have to do with anything?" Vili asked, confused.

"Never mind."

Doĵa fought the urge to shake some sense into the dwarf. Briefly, she wondered if all dwarves were so dense. Probably.

Turning her attention back to the plumbing project, she helped Vili run the rest of the piping to her kitchen area and the basin she used to wash dishes and cutlery. The idea was to put an end to her having to haul water back and forth from the barrel. That would leave the water in the barrel for emergencies. Better still, now that Vili had fixed her drain from the toilet, they could tap into it to carry away her wastewater when she was done.

Under the table that held the basin and her working area, she held the pipe in place while he made the connections. Pressed against him in the small space, she wrinkled her nose at his body odor, then blushed, realizing she probably didn't smell any better. Neither of them had bathed since he had arrived nearly five days ago.

She must have made a sound because Vili paused and looked over at her, "what?"

"You stink," she blurted before she could stop herself.

"You don't exactly smell like a flower, you know," he retorted.

"I know," she admitted. "I think we need to remedy the problem when we're done with this."

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at her, "you wash my back and I'll wash yours."

Doĵa hid her blush by elbowing him in his ribs, "stop it. I didn't mean at the same time."

Shrugging as if he hadn't felt the blow, he turned his attention back to the pipe, "your loss."

Before they bathed, Vili insisted on connecting her bathtub to the drainage system. While they would still have to fill it from the barrel, at least they wouldn't have to drain it by hand. He also told her that he would build a system to heat the water before use. Now, the only way to heat water for her bath was on her wood burning stove, a lengthy process that she used only in the depths of winter. During the warmer months, she simply endured the lukewarm water. As they would both have to for now.

Insisting Vili go first because he smelled the worst, Doĵa vacated the cell. Before she reached the gate, though, she turned back to tell him partly in jest not to splash too much and get her carpets wet. The dwarf had already divested himself of his vest and shirt, leaving him bared from the waist up. Doĵa froze. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but she had assumed he would be built like her male halfling kin, even though he was much wider than any of them. His clothes hadn't hinted at what lay under them either, being utilitarian in design.

The back he presented to her was not like that of her kin. Broad, yes. But riddled with thick muscles with not a hint of excess flesh to be seen. The only thing soft about him was the blonde hair that covered the tops of his shoulders and upper back. The urge to run her hands over those muscles made her clench her fists tightly at her sides.

Vili must have sensed her presence and turned around to look at her inquiringly, "was there something else?"

Oh, ancestors, Doĵa thought. His chest was even more impressive than his back, with more of the wheat-colored hair across his chest and down the center of his stomach drawing her eyes down to the thick patch exposed by his open trousers.

Doĵa swallowed, her mouth dry, "nothing," she squeaked out. "Nothing."

Then she spun on her heels and hurried out of the cell to put the tapestries between them.

For the next half hour, she obstinately kept her back to the cell and hummed an old tune to distract herself.

The bath was a welcomed relief for he had been getting to the point where he couldn't stand the smell of himself. How Doĵa was able to put up with him for so long was a mystery. What he had said about her smelling also hadn't exactly been the truth. Yes, he could smell her, but she had been far from foul. In fact, it had become distracting. Worse, he found himself constantly comparing her to his intended bride, Dís, and the dwarf female was not coming out on top.

Not that there was anything wrong with Dís. Far from it. The sister of Thorin was everything a dwarf could want in a wife. Her dark hair was thick and curly, her beard was soft and full, her voice deep and sultry, her figure stout and strong. She was fierce, stubborn, and would make a wonderful mother for his children. He was a lucky dwarf that she had chosen him to be her husband.

How was it, then, that the beardless, soft, and argumentative halfling was such a distraction? The stunned look on her face when she saw him undressed was burned into his memory alongside his physical reaction to her eyes tracing the path down his body to his member mercifully still tucked into his breeches. Her maidenly blush had been adorable.

Rising from the tepid water, Vili dried off before reaching for his discarded clothes. Holding them up, he wrinkled his nose. They were too dirty and smelly to put back on after his bath. He dropped them back to the floor; he would wash them after Doĵa was done with her bath. Until then, he wrapped the cloth he had used to dry off with around his waist and went out to let her know it was her turn to use the tub.

She was sitting on the ledge, humming softly, her golden-fire hair shining in the last light of the day. Clearing his throat to alert her to his presence, he joined her.

"It's all yours," he told her.

Doĵa scooted back from the lip before standing.

"Thanks," she said as she turned to face him. Her eyes grew big on her face and her breath caught in her throat. "You're naked," she squeaked.

Part of him was pleased by her reaction, the other felt guilty for distressing her.

"I'm covered," he gestured to the cloth wrapped around him.

Her eyes darted down then back up and locked on his face as she flushed pink, a color that made the freckles across her nose stand out, "barely!"

"What would you have me do? My clothes are filthy and need washing before I put them back on."

Doĵa swallowed, looking up at him. She visibly shook herself and sighed.

"You're right. I'm sorry for overreacting." She looked back to the cell, her brows pulled together, "you only have one set. But there's a lot that was left when your people fled. Tomorrow, I'll ask Smaug if I can go find something for you."

"Do you think he will let me go with you?"

She shook her head quickly, "probably not. At least not yet."

Then she hurried past him without looking at him and disappeared behind the tapestries. Quietly pleased at her discomfort, he sat on the edge she had vacated and started humming to himself. Glancing down at the cloth covering his, he blanched. Damp from use, the thin cloth was practically see-through, leaving nothing under it to the imagination. No wonder she had been so distressed. Chuckling to himself, he went back to humming.

And plotting.