A/N: Hello again! Thank you for following/favourite-ing this story! To Bloody Gale Reaper, Pielover515, Wraven, Mjoern and that one unknown Guest, thank you for the reviews! Since it's my first story, your support is very encouraging!
I've copied quite a fair bit of conversation from the actual movie. The story-plot will be more similar to the movie's, but I may borrow some stuff from the book.
DISCLAIMER: The characters and the Hobbit universe belongs to J.R.R Tolkien (and the movie company) and does not belong to me. (And it never will)
4/9/15: Fixed some minor errors.
Chapter 2
When the Dragonkin fell, no aide was offered. Those who had survived were soon enslaved by Morgoth, minds tainted and wills bent. The younglings were in captive, as hostages, should the elder dragons dare retaliate. Those who willingly chose to serve Morgoth were gifted with great power-enhanced size, better fire-breath, and stronger, almost impenetrable scales. Yet it came at a terrible price. The Corrupted Ones, Morgoth's Servants, were fiercer, more brutal, and had an insatiable thirst for gold and all things sparkly. This was, of course, a simple method created by Morgoth to ensure the dragon's loyalty through gold, and to spread havoc more quickly.
As the dragons became more evil, their scales began turning darker in colour, until those of Morgoth's were marked with black scales. It was not easily recognizable as some dragons originally had dark scales, so differentiating those with naturally dark brown scales and those with black, tainted scales were difficult. As such, anyone with dark scales were often brutally mauled to death, regardless of good or evil.
Morgoth's Servants (Wyrms, the Dragonkin called them, and refused to recognize them as one of their own) were led by Ancalagon the Great, the first among the dragons to serve Morgoth. He was huge, even for a dragon, and terrifying, and no dragon could escape under his watchful gaze. It was only until the final battle, during the War of Wrath, when Ancalagon finally left and the Dragonkin seized their chance to escape.
As Morgoth fell and Ancalagon perished, the Dragonkin fought their way out, broke their chains, and flung themselves into the air, away from the bloody battlefield.
Armies on both sides saw the fleeing dragons, and aimed their arrows at it. Morgoth's, to slay the Dragonkin who refused to submit to him, and the elves and humans, as they did not know better and thought that all dragons must die.
Many fell that day, both good and evil, but a few managed to get away. A few of Morgoth's Servants had realised it was a losing battle, and slipped away during the chaos to fly to safety.
The elves, upon realising the truth, felt guilty for being unable to help the dragons and swore to do anything within their power to assist the dragonkin from that day onward. The Dragonkin (and only the Dragonkin - not the wyrms, for they were banished) were gifted with the power to take another race's form, enabling them to blend in and avoid being hunted down. With that, the remaining dragons split up into smaller groups and went their separate ways.
The dragons hid themselves from the world, and for a long time, they were thought to be extinct.
-Excerpt, from "The Forgotten Tales of the Dragonkin".
The 16 of them dined together in partial silence. Thorin scrutinised the oddity that was Bilbo Baggins. He had unique eyes: bright blue, ringed with gold, that looked as though it had seen many years, but was still sharp and intelligent, with all the spirit of a youth. His brown hair was curly, and long, reaching the nape of his neck. From what Thorin could discern from under the green clothes, the hobbit was on the lean side. Despite the ridiculous comment about conkers he made earlier, he seemed to know how to fight, and could probably hold his own during a battle, if that concealed dagger tucked at his waistband was any indication. Thorin realised that this hobbit was more than he let on, and his respect for him slightly increased. The hobbit moved with a natural grace that resembled the elves', and not once did he stumble or cower, not even when addressing him. In fact, the hobbit's attitude towards Thorin could be said to be casual, or even dismissive. It was... refreshing. This hobbit also recognised his name, which was unexpected. He had initially assumed that the hobbit would be ignorant about the history of dwarves, especially from the way he acted around Thorin. Yet he did know about Erebor. How intriguing.
"You've heard of me," Mister Oakenshield stated. Really, Bilbo felt a bit insulted. "Anyone who reads would know of your tale, Mister Oakenshield, and the fall of Erebor," Bilbo replied dryly. "I believe that is where the group of you dwarves are heading? To reclaim your home?"
Mister Oakenshield had that far-away misty look in his eyes again, as he poked at his food absently. "Aye." Bilbo leaned forward, ready to coax a tale(and answers) out of Mister Oakenshield, when-
"Enough enough, the serious talks can wait!" Gandalf interceded suddenly. Bilbo jerked and scowled. He stood up, and gathered the used plates and dishes.
"I need to wash up anyways," he said sourly. It was always Gandalf who ruined his plans. Always.
"Gandalf, I expect the chair to be fixed by tonight," Bilbo added, looking meaningfully at the exceptionally round dwarf before walking to the basin.
"We can help with the washing," Balin offered, and the dwarves chorused their consent. Bilbo froze, and hugged the pile of dirty dishes tightly. He refused to risk it, not now, not ever.
"No, thank you," he said very firmly, "why don't all of you just sit down quietly, it won't take too long. Preferably, don't touch anything." He did not care if they thought him rude, he would maim them if they ruined another of his hoard. There was a sudden silence, broken by Gandalf's sigh.
"I think it would be wise to listen to Mister Bilbo. Meanwhile, let me fix that chair," Gandalf said softly.
Plates washed and kept safely, Bilbo rejoined the dwarves, sitting a safe distance away from them. To his greatest pleasure, Bungo's chair had been fixed and was currently placed in a corner of the room, far away from the dwarves. Bilbo sighed happily, half listening to the discussion between the dwarves.
"...Dain... come...?"
"They will not come. They say this quest is ours, and ours alone."
The dwarves murmured their disappointment. Gandalf spread out a map on the table, and beckoned a dwarf to bring the light closer.
"Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak," he began.
"The Lonely Mountain. "
"Aye. Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time." the dwarf named Gloin interjected.
"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold: When the birds of old return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."
Bilbo was confused. Yet again, more questions than answers.
"Beast? What beast? I thought Erebor fell due to an orc army?"
The king looked up in disbelief. "Orc army? How insulting! We would not have been bested by those foul creatures! I thought you were knowledgeable, Mister Baggins, but it seems like I was wrong." Bilbo bristled at that offhand comment, but Thorin was already moving on. "No, we were chased out by a dragon."
Bilbo stilled. "A dragon," He repeated flatly.
"Yes, a dragon. Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals," Bofur said. The temperature of the room seemed to increase slightly, and the candle flame flickered.
"Smaug. As in, covered with black scales, evil dragon, Smaug " Bofur looked confused at the hobbit's reaction, and nodded hesitantly. The hobbit looked livid. His eyes narrowed dangerously, pupils looking more like slits. He curled his lips upwards, and hissed softly, revealing teeth that was slightly elongated and sharp-looking.
"Gandalf, a word, please." The dwarves shivered at the barely concealed rage in his voice, and unconsciously inched away from him. Without waiting for Gandalf's reply, he gripped the wizard's arm tightly and dragged him out.
Bilbo struggled to control his temper. Gandalf, at least, looked mildly regretful. "171 years. You knew where Smaug was, for the past 171 years. Yet you didn't tell me that Smaug was alive. Hiding. In a mountain. Why?"
"My dear boy-"
"I'm not your dear anything, thank you."
"-it was simply not the right time. You would have gone charging recklessly to fight smaug, and it would have not ended well, I'm afraid." There was a pause, and Bilbo was pained to admit that that was true.
"Why now? What changed?"
Gandalf smiled, "Living with the hobbits have mellowed down your infamous temper and hot-headed lust for revenge."
Bilbo hesitated. "And the books? How did you remove the fact about the dragons from the books I read?"
A guilty look crossed his face. "I may, ah, have spelled all the books beforehand to hide that bit?"
Bilbo stared at him in disbelief. "You, you... Argh!" He threw his hands up and stormed back into the hall, muttering about infuriating, meddling wizards.
The dwarves were watching him apprehensively when he returned to the kitchen. Bilbo sat down, and laced his fingers together. "Tell me more about your quest."
"We wish to reclaim our homeland from smaug."
"You forget: the front door is sealed. There is no way into the mountain."
"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." Gandalf said softly. Twiddling his fingers, he produces a dwarvish key, ornately wrought, from his pocket.
"How did you come by this?" Thorin asked in wonder.
"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now."
"If there is a key, there must be a door," Fili said. Gandalf nodded, and gestured to the map.
"Indeed, there is another way in. I'd we can find it. Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."
"That's why we need a burglar!" Ori exclaimed.
Bilbo cleared his throat. "This is all terribly exciting, but how does it concern me?" He drawled.
All the dwarves looked at him as though he was batty. "Why, you're the burglar, of course!"
For the first time in years, he was taken completely by surprised. He choked and sputtered, "Me? No, no, no. I'm not a burglar; well, not an actual one."
"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He's hardly burglar material."
"He'll do fine, Balin!"
"Nay, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves." Dwalin disagreed with Ori. The dwarves began arguing as Bilbo looked on dazedly. Him! A burglar! His parents must be rolling in their graves right now.
Gandalf stood up, slammed his hands on the table, and thundered,"Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is." The dwarves quietened immediately.
"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this." Bilbo snorted at this. More to him, indeed. Try dragon-in-disguise.
Bilbo was quickly handed a contract.
"It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth," Balin explained. Bilbo hummed and skimmed through the contract.
"It's all very good, except I don't want the gold," he said abruptly.
"What?" Balin asked, flabbergasted.
"I said, I don't want the gold. I don't have any need of it. Instead, I'm more interested in your books. Rumours claimed that Erebor had n of the greatest library of the world. Let me have the choice to have any amount of books, and any book I desire, for free."
"An odd request, but if that is what you want, so be it," Balin agreed slowly after Thorin had nodded.
"Just thought you would like to know. The dragon is probably still alive," Bilbo added.
Thorin sat up straight and narrowed his eyes at him. "How do you know?"
He smiled wryly, "Call it a gut feeling."
The dwarf king flicked his hand dismissively. "So be it. This does not change our decision."
Bilbo shrugged, and flipped through the contract once more.
"Plus, in case this has escaped your notice, it's a suicide mission you're embarking on."
"Hobbit, would you or would you not join us?" Thorin growled through gritted teeth.
Bilbo made a show of contemplating the offer. "There is obviously not much for me to consider. Would I want to run off with a bunch of ill-prepared dwarves, on a crazy and near-impossible quest, travel to the east, just to slay a dragon who happens to be Smaug the Terrible, all the while risking being stabbed or clawed or incinerated and all the other perils while travelling?" The hobbit shook his head disbelieving, and the dwarves tensed, ready for the rejection, when Bilbo grinned madly, with a feral smile.
"Of course. Count me in."
End of Chapter 2.
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-littlesparrowkeet