Disclaimer: (Stubbornly) Smaug is not mine. I heartily apologise for trying to steal him from Mr Tolkein, and I accept full responsibility for any damage caused by my inappropriate attempt of dragon-napping. (Tolkein grudgingly accepts my humble apology and stalks away, a very scared Smaug limping after him.)

A/N: This chapter really deals with how a good winged creature like the Thrush copes with being friends with a bad winged creature like Smaug.

I know this one isn't quite so humorous as the last two chapters, but I'm thinking of leaving the fluffy aspect behind. No! Wait, before you flame me! Flame Pippin-Kun instead! For it was she who inspired me to carry this on until the dwarves do arrive back at Erebor. That's right! My random Smaug fic has evolved into a proper story! (Sort of). So that means a good many more chapters to come, amigos. And obviously it can't be fluffy and I Spy filled all the way through, but there will be a fair bit of silliness. Let me know what you think, cos I can just carry on with the silliness and I Spying, if you prefer. Anyhoo, back to the story!

18 years after the invasion.

"Thrush?" came the voice of Smaug, rumbling through the Lonely Mountain.

"What?" a small bird hopped into the cavern, unperturbed by the enormous dragon in front of him.

"Any dwarves yet?"

"Let me check." Said the Thrush irritably, flying off towards the front gate. Smaug really did like rubbing his beak in the fact that the dwarves were yet to return to the Lonely Mountain, thought the Thrush. Flying all the way around the mountain, from the Front Gate to Ravenhill, then to the grassy Doorstep, which hid the secret entrance to the mountain. If any dwarves were to come, the Thrush was sure they'd enter the mountain by the secret door.

But, no dwarves were to be seen. The Thrush sighed and sadly fluttered back to the suffocating warmth of the dragon's lair.

"No dwarves. Yet." The Thrush added in an undertone.

"By Morgoth, you're not still going on about that, are you? The dwarves aren't going to come back, Feathers. Accept, move on." Came the languid voice of the dragon.

The Thrush chirped sadly. Maybe Smaug was right. Maybe the dwarves would never return.

He was distracted when Carc the raven came wildly flying into the hall, crashing into a wall in his haste. Smaug and the Thrush confusedly stared at the excited raven, who was now circling the room at a dizzying speed like a crazed... raven. Which was quite a feat for a bird pushing two hundred.

Eventually Smaug swatted the raven out of the air from where he was flying around the dragon's head and Carc fell to the floor, leaping up again instantly.

"In the name of Manwë! What's wrong?" cried the Thrush.

"It'sgreatIcan'texplainohManwëit'sfantastic!!!" said Carc very quickly.

"Someone's had his Duracells souped up." Observed Smaug. "Chill your birdy beans, Carc! Take a deep breath, find the quiet place inside, or something."

Carc took several deep, shuddering breath and seemed to regain his usual composure.

"I've got a..." he began

"Ooh! I love guessing games!" interrupted Smaug. "Don't tell me! Don't tell me! You've got a... beak?"

Carc, still gasping for air, shook his dark head.

"A hernia?"

"No!"

"Alright! Let me think.... You've got a number one single?"

"NO! I've got a son!"

"Carc!" cried the Thrush. "That's fantastic!"

"I would've preferred a number one single, but still.... Congrats, and all." Said Smaug.

"This is wonderful... what are you calling him?" said the Thrush

"We haven't decided yet. I like Neville, though." Said Carc longingly.

Smaug and the Thrush exchanged glances.

"Ah, well, I'm sure you'll think of something." Said Smaug consolingly. "Eventually."

"Hopefully something other than Neville." Muttered the Thrush.

"One can but hope." Said Smaug. "Hey, do you think he'll be any good at I Spy?"

"Not if he takes after his father." Said the Thrush.

An amiable silence fell over the cavern, broken only by the ragged breathing of the old raven.

Eventually, Carc got his breath back, and flapped off back to Ravenhill to see to Newborn-Neville, leaving Smaug and the Thrush alone once more.

"We really have to get him to change that name." said Smaug wistfully. "I may be evil, but even I, Smaug the Golden, can't sit by and let a poor kid go through life with the name Neville. That's just cruel."

"I'm going to miss you, when the dwarves return and slay you, Smaug..." Said the Thrush unexpectedly.

"What? Oh Morgoth. You're not going to get mushy on me, are you?"

"Never. You didn't let me finish. I was going to say 'I'm going to regret it if I never incurred your wrath before the dwarves slay you.'" Said the Thrush haughtily.

"You're welcome." Giggled Smaug warmly (Mind you, not too difficult to say things warmly when you're a dragon, is it?).

"I don't know what on Taniquetil you mean." Said the Thrush.

Smaug lay back on the treasure reflectively.

"I'll miss you too, if the dwarves ever come back and slay me." He said, glancing at the Thrush. "Not that that's ever going to happen." He added.

The Thrush extended it's tiny wings, and soared towards the tunnel leading Front Gate. Suddenly, he wheeled around at the tunnel entrance and looked Smaug directly in the eyes.

"Not a word to the raven?" he said, almost pleadingly.

"Not one word." Grinned the dragon, and the Thrush flew silently from the hall.

A/N: = 18 is not some random number, amigos! I've done my research this time! Roäc (Carc's son. Thank god he changed it from Neville) says in the Hobbit: 'It is a hundred years and three and fifty since I came out of the egg', and Smaug resides in Erebor for 171 years (from 2770 TA to 2941 TA), meaning Smaug had lived in the Lonely Mountain 18 years by the time Roäc was born.

PS Sorry in previous chapters when I implied Thrain was the King under the Mountain. Of course it was Thror! Got my dwarves mixed up, precious. Ah well, happens to the best of us.

PPS A hearty bonjourno to my reviewers! Thanks for making me feel loved!