'He did it to himself,' Bilbo Baggins muttered as he trudged out of the large treasure chamber and back to the surface of the mountain. Outside, thirteen dwarves waited for him to emerge with the Arkenstone — or, more likely, for an enraged dragon to emerge, billowing fire and gloating about the tasty snack that had wandered into his lair. 'No, they'll never believe that, even though it's true.'
Bilbo was no soldier, nor was he even a burglar. Not a real one, anyway, with an eye for valuable treasure and a swath of strange devices to pick whatever locks stood in his way. If it weren't for his friendship with Gandalf, he would have been content to stay in Hobbiton his whole life, safe from the world of dwarves and trolls and dragons.
Therefore, when he'd worked up the nerve to poke Smaug's body and the creature hadn't even flinched, he'd found himself rather flummoxed and unsure of what to do. Especially since, in the moments before the dragon crashed to the ground, he'd caught sight of a small, glittering stone losing its sheen as the shadow dwarfed then eventually squashed it.
Bilbo knew Thorin would have expected him to retrieve the Arkenstone despite the giant scaled barrier. However, his run-in with the dragon had gone on quite long enough, in his opinion. If the dwarves wanted the stone so badly, they could find a way to move the corpse.
Rubbing his jaw, he decided to try again. 'Smaug is dead, and that's all there is to it. You may enter now and retrieve your stone, and I will thank you for leaving me out of it.' He nodded sharply. 'Yes, that will do nicely.'
Satisfied with his solution, he trotted up the pathway out of the mountain. Before long, a cool breeze wafted into the tunnel and he sidled through the doorway, gulping in breaths of fresh air and relishing the sudden cold. The moon hung high overhead, and thousands of stars twinkled in the sky, illuminating thirteen sets of astonished eyes. The dwarves all idled around the entrance, some sitting while others stilled mid-step as if they had been pacing.
'Bilbo?' Dwalin asked. 'Thorin, Balin, our burglar has returned!'
Under the weight of their attention, all of Bilbo's rehearsing faded like smoke-rings in the morning grey. He adjusted his shirt self-consciously and cleared his throat. 'Hello.'
A burst of laughter was his only warning before Kili rushed forward and clapped him on the back. 'I am so glad to see your face. We were beginning to fear the worst.'
Behind him, Fili beamed, his eyes sparkling with merriment. 'We knew you wouldn't survive if Smaug woke up. Balin suggested a rescue mission, but we were afraid that we would stir the dragon and make the danger worse.'
'It appears we worried for nothing,' Thorin said, a rare glimmer of pride in his features. 'You completed the mission on your own merits, just as Gandalf said you would.'
Annoyance flared in Bilbo's chest. Yes, he'd been brave, but in the end, it all came down to luck. If Smaug's tail hadn't broken a pillar and sent an avalanche of rocks crashing onto his own neck, his next strike would have speared into Bilbo's chest. 'I would have appreciated the help while the dragon was breathing fire and clawing at me.'
Thorin grimaced, and Balin and Oin dropped their gazes in shame.
Sighing, Bilbo relented and patted his chest and legs in demonstration. 'Fortunately, it was unnecessary. I am in one piece, as you can see, and without a scratch or singe on me.'
Guilt still lurked in the dwarves' eyes, but Thorin said warmly, 'You succeeded where most would have failed, and you are a testament to the resourcefulness and resilience of your kind. Who would have thought that the orderly, proper hobbit who reluctantly hosted us several moons ago would be able to keep his wits together against the most feared dragon in the land?'
Certainly not Bilbo, and he doubted that any of his friends back home would believe his tale either. Despite himself, his heart swelled at the praise.
Thorin cleared his throat and surveyed Bilbo through narrowed eyes. 'But your mission was not to sneak in and out like a child's game. What of the Arkenstone? Is it hidden in one of your many pockets, or perhaps tucked away behind your ear like a magician's trick?'
'Er… no, I'm afraid it isn't.' Now that the initial joy of his safe return had passed, a dark cloud of malcontent settled over the company. To them, reclaiming the mountain was worth one death or even thirty. 'I do not have the Arkenstone, but the danger has lifted, and you are now free to stroll in and reclaim what is yours. I have slain the dragon.'
His words caused what Bilbo could only describe as a stir. Dori exhaled sharply while Nori let out a long, impressed whistle. Ori spluttered so violently that Oin whacked him on the back. Fili and Kili burst into excited chatter, each appearing determined to outspeak the other. Dwalin and Balin tried to speak directly to Bilbo, but the cacophony drowned out their words.
'Enough!' Bilbo exclaimed, his words falling on deaf ears. 'That is quite enough!'
'Silence,' Thorin commanded. All noise ceased instantly except for Ori's coughs, although that too quickly died down. 'Would you have me believe that a hobbit armed only with a short-sword was able to fell the dragon of Erebor?'
'I didn't use my sword.' Realising how ineffectual it would be, he had never even drawn it. He sighed. 'But he is dead, yes. He tried to strike me with his tail and instead toppled a column, which caused part of the roof to cave in. I was able to wiggle away through cracks that were too small for Smaug. He could not get free and his neck was crushed by the rocks.'
'Then Erebor is ours.' Thorin's eyes glinted in triumph and satisfaction. His shoulders drew back and he puffed his chest out, speaking with the weight and authority of a king addressing his armies. He seemed not to care that his armies consisted of twelve freezing dwarves and an exhausted hobbit. 'We can stride in and reclaim it.
'We shall remove the taint of Smaug's darkness and feast in our ancestral halls once more, surrounded by the stones our fathers and grandfathers worked. Our songs will echo within its walls until they no longer remember the roar of the dragon. We will restore the mountain to its former glory and defend it from any future threats so that it shall never again be taken from us.'
The dwarves cheered and hollered, and even Bilbo applauded with enough fervour that his hobbit neighbours would have tutted and shaken their heads in disapproval. Thorin's conviction and passion had seeped down to his bones, washing away his earlier weariness.
Without any further ado, Thorin marched into the hull of the mountain, followed one by one by the rest of the company. Even though Bilbo had been so desperate to escape it mere minutes prior, he joined the procession without comment. After all, he knew how important home was, and what it felt like to miss it to his core after a long time away. A homecoming as long-awaited as this deserved proper respect.
-x-
Smaug lay prone on a hulking mound of glittering jewels and gold coins. His crimson scales had faded to a dull orange, as if the magic that ran through his bloodstream had abandoned him, and his once-hypnotic diamond eyes stared sightlessly into nothingness. A stone pillar lay smashed on the ground nearby, and rocks covered his neck and back and dotted the treasure around him.
Jewels clinked and shifted as Thorin clambered up the mound. Smaug's tail slipped, a streak of crimson darting straight for Bilbo.
The shrill whistle of his spiked tail whipping through the air assaulted Bilbo's ears. There was a terrifying crack — it had collided with something; the pillar — and he turned to escape the crashing rocks and cascading coins. He bumped into a hard wall and twisted, searching blindly for a way out. Two strong objects gripped him — Smaug's claws, surely, but lacking the bite he would have expected. He tried to shake them off but couldn't get free.
'Oi,' a deep voice said. 'What are you running into me for?'
Bilbo blinked, and the blank wall morphed into Gloin's unsmiling face. There was no danger. Smaug was dead, he'd already escaped the avalanche, and the dwarves were here.
He was safe.
'Sorry,' he said. 'I didn't see you.'
Gloin's gaze softened. 'That's alright. Intimidating, isn't he? I don't know how you managed last time.'
Sheer desperation and desire to survive, mostly, but Bilbo could hardly say that. Pivoting on his heel, he examined the body again. Even in death, Smaug towered over Bilbo, radiating majesty and demanding fear.
'He truly is dead,' Kili marvelled.
'We'll have to find a way to move him,' Balin said. 'We can't leave him to decay in the middle of our halls.'
'No,' Bilbo agreed, 'especially since I believe the Arkenstone is underneath him.'
Reaching the top of the mound, Thorin nudged Smaug, who didn't move an inch, although another handful of coins clattered to the ground. 'We won't get the purchase we need up here; we need a solid platform and leverage. Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, find materials for a raised platform. Dori and Nori, work out how we can slide him aside without damaging the treasure. The rest of us will explore the mountain to assess the condition that everything is in.'
-x-
The overwhelming stench of the cellar still tickled Bilbo's nose hours later as he reconvened with the rest of the company in the treasure room. At first, he'd been grateful to be tasked with checking the kitchens; as a hobbit, he knew food and utensils like the hair on his feet. But he hadn't considered how fresh meat and produce would rot over one and a half centuries. The overwhelming stench had been an affront to all principles of good hosting and housekeeping.
Above him, all thirteen dwarves stood in a line on the raised platform they had constructed. A complicated series of levers and pulleys connected the space between them and the dragon. Bilbo didn't understand how that was supposed to help, but then his people weren't known for complicated feats of engineering.
'Heave!' Thorin ordered, and as one, the dwarves pushed down on a large wooden control mechanism. Slowly, arduously, surely, the dragon's hulking weight lifted from the ground, inch by painful inch.
As the body moved, rays of light streamed onto the coins beneath it. Coins changed from dark grey to dull yellow to shining gold and jewels from pale specks of colour to sparkling rainbows. In the midst of them all, one stone glittered above the rest. It blazed like a diamond afire, and even though Bilbo had never seen the Arkenstone before, recognition through him. A jubilant cry from above confirmed his suspicions.
Bilbo didn't understand Thorin's obsession with this stone. Yes, even in a room filled to the brink with treasure, it drew the eye with ease. But what use was a shiny trinket outside of impressing visitors and flaunting wealth? A jewel on a mantelpiece couldn't create a warm hearth, filling food or interesting company.
His heart ached for home. This journey had been the adventure of a lifetime; he had travelled through mountains and forests, conversed with elves and skin-changers, and faced down all manner of deadly being. Trolls, giant spiders, goblins… a dragon… He was a changed hobbit, and he rather thought that was a good thing. However, changed or not, he was ready for some peace and quiet, surrounded by childhood friends with all his creature comforts.
The dwarves had reclaimed their ancestral home and, now, their most prized treasure. Bilbo would stay a few days to celebrate with them and help them rebuild. Then, it was time for him to reclaim his.
Bags End awaited.
A/N: Inspired by Writing and Junk's One Sentence Prompt: 'Fandom: The Hobbit. Bilbo Baggins accidentally kills Smaug and has to figure out how to go tell the dwarrow who are waiting for him to come back with that stupid stone.'
