PART ONE: ANACHRONISM

Chapter LIV: Majesty With Wings

While I would not say no to a huge pile of gold, for all my flaws, I am not that greedy of a person. I don't think. Or maybe I am. In any case, when it's my life versus gold, I will always pick my life. So when I Skipped into the all-too-familiar halls of Erebor and found myself standing amongst the massive piles of dwarven gold, silver, and gemstones, my first thought was not—

What?

You want to know about my dad and Bree.

It's a cliffhanger, right? I mean., after all those years, after this massive (450 page) story, I finally learn my parents have known about my Skipping all along. How, you wonder, could I go on a tangent about dwarven gold and gems?

Well, guess what. After eighteen years of Skipping between two worlds, my dad had just revealed to me that he was originally from Middle Earth and then—bam!—I Skipped.

How did he come to Ohio? Why did he come? Why did he stay? Did he know how to get back? Did he Skip as well? Why do I Skip? Did he know how to make the Skipping stop? And why didn't my parents tell me sooner? Why did they wait until I told them my story first? How could they do that that me? Did they know what I'd been through over the last eighteen years? How could they let me go through that? How could they keep this from me? So many questions. So many things I wanted, needed, to know. I had to wait a damn good amount of time before I got any of the answers. So I'm going to make you wait too. Of course, you already know the answers…but I'm still going to make you wait.

And what was I feeling, you ask? I can't even describe all the emotions that were racing through me after that Skip. Shock, confusion, hurt, anger, frustration. Everything rang around in my head, too much for me to process, so I did what I always did, I pushed the feelings away and tried to pretend they didn't exist.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, I was standing in Erebor amongst the mountains of dwarven metals and gemstones. Again. (For a dragon-infested mountain, I sure spent a lot of time in Erebor.) The mountains of riches seemed like a world within themselves. A country landscape that crossed vast miles and reached towards the heavens in the most fantastical manner. It was a world unto itself. Unfortunately, I knew Erebor far too well to have time to appreciate the riches. Even if I couldn't see them, I knew large, yellow eyes were watching my every move.

I stood there for a moment, taking in the arched ceilings, the glittering mounds, the nearest exit… Then, calmly and stealthily, I ran towards the open stone doorway, screaming at the top of my lungs: "Don't kill me, mister dragon! I'm leaving right now and I'm not stealing anything, so please leave my flesh attached to my bones and all my limbs intact!"

Smaug was too quick for me. He was not sleeping under a pile of gold as he had been the last time I'd seen him—someone (or something) had woken him from his slumber. He slithered out from behind a pile of gold and slipped between the exit and me. I came to a screeching halt and stood on the stone path, steep mountains of gold and silver on either side of me, gawking at the massive red dragon.

Oh. My. Frig.

If there was something that was a cross between a lizard, a bat, a crocodile, and a demon and it was blow up to a thousand times its original size, then I think that would look something like Smaug. He had slitted black pupils that were almost lost in the yellow flames of his eyes. His scales were like gemstones in themselves, reflecting the burning flames that illuminated the hall, glittering even more brightly than most of the gold in Erebor. Even from far away, I could see the jagged yellow teeth in his jaw and the thick, curing claws attached to each hand. And, to make matters worse, he was massive. He could easily snatch me up in his mouth and swallow me whole without even having to think about chewing.

"Why are you so hasty to go? You have only just arrived. The amusement has just begun."

The. Dragon. Had. Just. Spoken. To. Me.

I had no idea dragons could speak. Did you know this? Did anybody know this? You would think that during my travels with the Company, one of them would have thought it an interesting tidbit of information, right? Yes, dragons can speak the common tongue. I mean, Smaug had just opened his great and terrible jaw—that has probably devoured hundreds if not thousands of dwarves and men—and spoke to me.

"Why are you so hasty to go? You have only just arrived. The amusement has just begun." He has a deep, rumbling voice that rolled through the hall. It seemed to fit perfectly with the mountains of treasure, something old and powerful.

Smaug waited for me to respond, his yellow eyes watching me with curiosity.

He had to wait awhile. I tried to say something, I really did. My mouth moved but no sound came out. I was still overwhelmed by the fact that the dragon was actually talking to me.

My heart was racing, and my palms were sweaty, while my breathing came in short, punctured pants. Panic mode was settling in. Run? Someone needed to distract the dragon. Where was Kíli when I needed him? Oh crap. Smaug was going to kill me. I needed to say something interesting!

"You have a pretty nice voice. Is that a baritone I hear? You know, I bet your voice would be absolutely lovely if you sang. You might even be able to rival Thorin's majestic voice." I was about to add that no one could rival Thorin's majestic voice, but then thought better of it. "All this adventuring and hoarding and avenging and fighting—it's really not necessary. All it does is distract you two you're your true potential—as Middle Earth's first boy band. I'm not kidding. You and Thorin should get together and form a band. You can be called the Archnemeses. This is going to be big. I can tell. And, yes, I'll be your manager—thanks for asking. We need to contact Thorin and get the contracts settled. Then I'll get you two into a recording studio, write a couple of songs, and then we'll begin the touring. Great idea, right? I'm glad you agree. Now that we're both on the same page, let's go convince Thorin."

I stopped talking and took a deep breath. What the hell had I just said? There was panic mode and trying to distract the dragon, and then there was the amount of bullshit that had just come from my mouth.

Smaug seemed just as confused as me (if a giant crocodile/lizard/bat/demon can be confused). His licked his cracked mouth with his forked tongue and asked, "Should I devour you whole and let you die slowly in my stomach or should I eat you in little bites? The second option might prove to be less painful for you. But so much less amusing for me."

I swear my heart stopped for a second there. A smart person would have abandoned the boy band approach to distracting Smaug, but my mind had gone blank, and I figured I had already committed myself, so I might as well give it my all.

"Actually, the Archnemeses would be a bad band name for you," I said, taking a step back from Smaug. "Now that I think about it, you and Thorin aren't really archnemeses. That's more like Thorin and Thranduil. Oh, can Thorin and Thranduil form a band together? That'd be awesome." The excitement vanished on the spot when I remembered that I was facing death in dragon fire. I coughed and cleared my throat. "Actually, Thranduil doesn't have a good voice. Not like you, oh great and mighty Smaug. Nope. It has to be a band of you and Thorin. Why don't we name you the Gold Troves? What do you think of that?"

Smaug paused to consider. "I prefer the first option, do you not too?"

I almost tripped over my own feet, I was so shocked. My bullshit distraction plan was starting to work. Smaug was actually getting invested in the creation of his and Thorin's boy band. Wow. I didn't see that one coming.

Before Smaug could register my shock, I quickly said, "I agree. The Gold Troves is a terrible name. I almost deserve to burn for that one—but not really!" I threw my arms in front of my face. "I want to be your band manager and make you the most famous duo in Middle Earth. You and Thorin will fly through the skies together making fangirls swoon with your majesty and your super sexy claws. Claws are coming back in style. But, anyway, you and Thorin, flying through the skies, singing with your majestic voices. It'll be like majesty with wings." I paused. "Majesty With Wings. Such a good band name. Copyright and trademark and all that—when can we start recording for our first album?"

I think, for one short moment, I managed to confuse the dragon.

He stared at me, his yellow crocodile-eyes blinking rapidly. Then, he leaned forward, extending his neck until his nostrils, flaring with every breath, were only a few feet away from me. "This little sheep speaks but does not speak sense."

"No one understands my vision." I huffed.

"I can devour you and then the other sheep in my stomach can come to understand your vision." I think Smaug might have been laughing at me when he said that.

"That's really not necessary. Kind of you, though." I forced myself to smile until my cheeks hurt.

Smaug pulled his head back. He lowered himself to the ground, his short scaly legs bending beneath him, and settled on the floor in a comfortable position to sleep. He reminded me a bit of a cat curled up in the sunlight.

"What brings you to the heart of my treasure trove?" asked Smaug.

"I'm just passing through," I said, pointing towards the exit, which was still located on the other side of Smaug and far out of my reach. "I really don't need any gold. If you'll just let me through, I'll be on my way and we need never speak of this again."

Smaug's gigantic eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I have seen you before."

I gulped. I couldn't see the point in lying to giant fire-breathing dragon after he'd recognized me. "Maybe once… maybe twice…"

He watched me with narrowed eyes. "You are the sheep that came to my lair before and tried to steal one of my treasures."

"Pure accident," I said, taking a step back and then another. "I didn't know it was yours. Really. A mistake anyone could make."

"I do not recall the second time."

"Actually, the time I actually tried to steal from you was the second time. The first time we met was when I was six. You tried to cook me. It was during the Sacking of the Lonely Mountain."

Smaug's eyes flitted from side to side, as though scanning through a slideshow of his memories. He must have found the right one, because finally, he said, his deep voice rolling through the hall of gold, "I think I can recall you, but I thought you had died in my fire." He sounded disappointed that I hadn't.

"I Skipped." I paused. This was not heading in a good direction. Smaug was beginning to open and close his mouth, like he was preparing to unleash his fire. I raised my hands in the air and tried to look innocent. "You know, we have a lot of history together, you and me. Rather than being Thorin's archnemesis, you're more like my archnemesis."

The edges of Smaug's mouth pulled back into some demonic twist that might have been a smile or at least a grimace. His forked tongue flicked against his yellow teeth. "I would prefer to be the archnemesis of Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain." His jaw pulled back and I think he might have been laughing at Thorin. "I am the only King Under this Mountain."

I bit back a comment that Thorin was more King Under the Mountain than Smaug would ever be. At times like this, my survival was more important than Thorin's majesty. I needed to focus. Smaug seemed to be invested in the conversation again. He wanted to be Thorin's archnemesis instead of mine. Well, I could work with that.

I put my hands on my hips and cried, "I'm not all that bad! I have a pretty awesome life story! It involves raging elf parties, drunken dwarves, clumsy balrogs, and talking trees. I mean, come on, you have to admit that I would make a pretty awesome archnemesis."

Smaug looked pretty unimpressed. "Thorin Oakenshield, King Without A Mountain, has fought in wars across this land. He removed the left hand of Azog the Defiler, he led the dwarven army to a great victory in the Battle of Azanulbizar, he fought in the Wars of the Iron Hills. He has been prophesized to be the bringer of my doom." Smaug let out a deep, rumbling laugh (this time I was certain it was a laugh).

"How do you know that?" I asked, unable to hold back the surprise in my voice. I'd always pictured Smaug as an isolated creature who spent all his time with his gold and cared nothing for the outside world, but apparently he knew a lot about Thorin.

"Every few years, a foolish young man thinking himself a hero enters this mountain, believing that he can slay me to obtain my treasure." Smaug looked almost fondly at the pile of gold nearest him. "Visitors to my mountain seem to think that I will not kill them if they keep the conversation interesting enough."

As his yellow eyes fixed on my again, I gulped. Smaug was much more clever than I'd initially given him credit for. I'd just been shocked that he spoke the common tongue, but I suppose one does not live for thousands of years and not learn many things.

"Seriously," I said, my voice trembling only a little, "I'd make a really good archnemesis. Much better than Thorin. I'm from another world. A world with flying machines! You have to admit that's pretty awesome. Though, actually, I recently just found out that my dad's from Bree. But I had to frigging Skip before he could explain anything. What kind of cruel torture is this? Do the Skips hate me? Do they get some kind of cruel enjoyment from messing with my life so much? I don't ask for much. I just want a house in the suburbs with a stable job and a normal husband. I just want to be normal. Is that really so hard to ask for?"

"I can just devour you whole, little sheep," offered Smaug, "then all your little problems will disappear."

And just like that, the conversation had returned to Smaug eating me. I just couldn't win. This dragon played this game far better than I did. He saw through all my bullshit and dragged the conversation back to me dying and him eating me. There was no winning.

"Running away never solved anyone's problems," I said, taking another step back.

He offered me another one of his demonic smiles. "I can think of an instance where running away is an acceptable solution."

"Huh?"

Smaug opened his jaws, revealing the forked tongue, the rotting bones caught between his teeth, and his pink throat. Actually, I'm making that up. I don't actually remember what the inside of his mouth looked like. All I remember was him opening his mouth, me thinking "Oh shit", me fleeing as fast as I could in the opposite direction, and Smaug releasing a torrent of flames.

I drove behind a pile of gold, screaming, "Skip me back! Skip me back! Skip me back!"

Oh, how simple and easy my life would have been if I had Skipped back home right then. I would have shown up in my apartment again, a little worse for wear but otherwise in one piece. I would've brushed away the singed hairs, sat down on the couch with my mother, ordered another pizza, and let my father tell his story. But, if I have learned anything, my life is not simple and easy.

I rolled out from behind the pile of gold and ran as fast as I could from Smaug and his flames. Through the piles of gold, down the pathway, my feet slamming on the stone floor. I couldn't find another exit. The only exit I knew of was the one located behind Smaug. But there was no way I could sneak around him and slip out that way. I lacked the stealth or coordination to do that. And I was too much of a coward.

Oh God, I thought, I was going to die. I was going to die in dragon fire, surrounded by dwarven gold. In a weird way, it was poetic. Erebor was the first place I Skipped to, it made sense that it would be the last. Still, I didn't want to die before hearing why my dad was from Bree.

It was by pure luck that I found the other exit. I'd been cowering behind some sort of intricately made dwarven armor when my foot landed on a fallen silver helmet. The helmet slid from beneath me, skidding across the floor with a grating noise, and my butt hit the stone floor, causing spasm of pain up my spine. I didn't have time to complain about the pain, because Smaug had definitely heard the clutter and was going to cook me alive, so I tried to get to my feet, but the pain in my butt was too much that I fell down again.

And then I saw the exit. It was in the stone wall behind me, hidden behind two suits of armor, little more than a hobbit-sized hole, but it was there. A black gap in the rough stone. I could hear Smaug approaching, the heat of his fire causing my skin to prickle.

Flames to my right. Flames to my left. There wasn't a whole lot of choice. I dove into that hole with all my might.

Ouch.

I landed, hands thrown out to catch me, on a not-particularly-nice rock. My hand might've started bleeding from the nasty gash it left. However, there wasn't time for that. With an aching tailbone and a bleeding hand, I got to my feet.

The passage was pitch black. I couldn't see anything. I could've been surrounded by spiders or ants or tiny little baby dragons. (I'm creeping myself out just thinking about it.) However, I couldn't let myself be freaked out by the possibility of spiders. I knew what was behind me, and when giving the choice between the possibility of spiders and certain death, I would face the possible spiders.

I placed one hand, the one that wasn't bleeding, on the rough stone wall and used it as a guide. Swinging my right foot out, I made sure there was nothing in front of me to trip over. Then, I took a step forward. I swung my left foot. Still nothing in front of me. Another step forward. Right foot, step, left foot, step, step by slowly, quaking step, I walked through the tunnel.

I suppose I could tell you what went through my mind while I walked for what might have been hour, but I would be lying if I did. I don't remember anything. I think there was just a sort of blank fear running through me. With every step, I expected something to jump out and try to eat me, or I expected the tunnel to lead me back to Smaug where I would be burnt to a crisp.

After all that, I suppose it's safe to say that the boy band Majesty With Wings was not going to be a thing. What a shame, they would have been great.

How long I walked through that passage, I couldn't tell you. It felt like days, though it was probably more like an hour. The passage was dark, I remember that. It was a wet, cold, bone-chilling dark that started where my fingers brushed against the damp stone and spread along my arms to my head and my toes. The tunnel was infested with the darkness. I think I came out of the tunnel sick with it.

The one thing I remember vividly was leaving the tunnel. I was fumbling around, my hand tracing the wall. I had begun wondering if the tunnel would ever end or if I would just walk for eternity until my legs gave out beneath me and a I died of thirst. Basically, my mind was starting to play tricks on me, making me believe that I would never escape, and then—bam—there was light.

At first, it was only a thin ray of dull, silver light. I stopped walking and squinted up the passage at the light. I took a trembling step forward, and the light expanded into a silver rectangle.

It was blinding. I remember thinking that maybe it was heaven. The light at the end of a tunnel or something like that. Or maybe it was hell. I personally don't think I was good enough to get into heaven. Their application process is probably pretty strict. But, you know, at that point, I didn't care if it was heaven or hell, I just wanted out of the damned tunnel.

I ran forward. My hands were stretched out in front of me, grappling, hoping for something to touch other than rock. My left foot struck a stone on the floor of the tunnel. I tripped. I screamed as I fell forward—crashing through the open door, into the silver light—right on top of a squishy hobbit.