At a poke from the other dwarves, Bilbo crept forward to scout ahead, glimpsing the skin changer Beorn and Azog's orcs from a distance. Once he determined their relative positions, he scurried back to the company to report. Of course, Gandalf knew about Beorn, too, and they made for his home beyond the Misty Mountains at the edge of Mirkwood.

They bedded down for the night inside the home, waiting for their host to join them in his more amicable form. That night, Bilbo pulled out the Ring to turn it over in his hand. It seemed such an innocent piece of jewelry, but he could hear it whispering to him, pulling at his mind.

"One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them."

"In Mordor where the Shadows lie," the hobbit mumbled, before shoving the Ring into his pocket and forcing himself to sleep. He had a strong will, but even the strongest of wills could be broken if given enough time. Bilbo wished for nothing more than to magically transport himself to the slopes of Mount Doom so he could correct Isildur's mistake and throw the Ring into the fire. Even if it meant he couldn't come back, he would do it with a glad heart.

He drifted off to sleep, trying to plot a path from Erebor to Mordor, but as he had not seen many maps of the whole of Middle-earth, he couldn't figure out much beyond, "Get there, destroy the Ring."

Bilbo was woken by a very large bumblebee crawling on his nose. He blinked at it, and it wiggled its antennae at him before taking off and buzzing toward the kitchen. The rest of the company were already there, thanking their host for breakfast. The hobbit settled in to join them, accepting a plate of toast, bacon, and eggs from the skin changer with a grateful nod and a smile. He listened in silence as Beorn told them a little of his history with Azog the Defiler, noting the unmistakable wear of his skin under the manacles clamped tight around his wrists. The ex-soldier inside him recognized the marks of torture, while the doctor saw infection and broken bones. It was times like these that he hated John picking up bits of Sherlock's observational skills; he could clearly visualize what had been done to Beorn under Azog's "care."

"A darkness lies upon that forest," the skin changer was saying, referring to Mirkwood, "Fell things creep beneath those trees. There is an alliance between the Orcs of Moria and the Necromancer at Dol Guldur. I would not venture there except in great need."

"We will take the Elven Road," said the wizard, "That path is still safe."

"Safe?" Beorn snorted derisively, "The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They are less wise, and more dangerous. But it matters not."

"What do you mean?" Thorin asked, adding his two pence.

"These lands are crawling with orcs," the other responded, "Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive." He stood up, picking up a small white mouse that had been scampering around on the table. "I don't like dwarves. They're greedy and blind, blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own." After a pregnant pause, he continued, "But orcs I hate more. What do you need?"


They reached the edge of Mirkwood ahead of the orcs. While the dwarves set to removing their gear from the ponies, Bilbo and Gandalf took a few steps down the Elven Path to examine a statue beyond a vine-covered archway. "The Elven Gate," said the Istari, "Here lies our path through Mirkwood." Then leaning in and lowering his voice, "Bilbo, I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"I know you said you had need of the Ring to complete this quest and retake the Mountain, but I want you to promise me that if you can avoid using it, you will. That if you can get by without it, you won't hesitate to do so."

"I promise," he answered, right before Gandalf was contacted by Galadriel.

The wizard was silent for a long moment, then murmured, "The High Fells. So be it."

"The Ringwraiths are free."

He turned back to the hobbit. "You're sure? You remember this from your Before?"

Bilbo nodded. "It's coming back, slowly though. The Necromancer Beorn spoke of in Dull-something?"

"Dol Guldur?"

"Yes, that. It's actually Sauron, I think. What's so special about that place?"

"It was established after the fall of Númenor, almost two thousand years ago," the wizard told the hobbit as they headed back out into the light, "by Sauron. If we leave him be and let him recover his power, he will be capable of great evil."

"Yeah, I'll pretend I know what Númenor is."

"A once-great kingdom of Men," the wizard told him, "which Eru sank the bottom of the sea when Sauron turned the hearts of its inhabitants to darkness. Not my horse!" he called to the dwarves, "I need it!"

"Wha – wait – you can't go up against Sauron on your own! It's suicide!"

"I must confront him, and at least delay whatever fell plans he has made, force him to show his hand." The wizard swung back up onto his horse. "I'll be waiting for you at the Overlook, before the slopes of Mount Erebor. Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter the mountain without me." Gandalf shot a hard look at Thorin. "This is not the Greenwood of old," he warned, "The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray."

"No kidding," Bilbo muttered to himself.

"You must stay on the path – do not leave it! If you do, you'll never find it again." He wheeled his horse around and began galloping away. "No matter what may come, stay on the path!"

"Come on!" said Thorin, turning to enter the forest, "We must reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin's Day."

As one, the company entered Mirkwood. The further in they got, the more Bilbo realized that Gandalf had not been exaggerating about it. The air of the forest was warped and strange, and felt heavy on his skin and in his lungs. He closed his eyes and focused on the feel of the stones beneath his feet, listened to the mutters of the dwarves. Because he was not relying on sight alone, he was able to warn them when the forest tried to trick them away.

But after two such incidents, leaving the path became unavoidable. Untended, it had fallen away where it bridged the forest river, forcing them to try and find a way around. They never did – the moment they tried to cross, the forest ensnared their senses and led them further astray.

The company tired fast after that, and paused briefly to take a rest under some trees with a strange whiteness wrapped around them. Bilbo noticed Bofur messing around with the white stuff, pretending he was playing an instrument. The hobbit wanted to scold him for doing so, but couldn't remember why it mattered. He looked up, and caught a glimpse of sunlight filtering through the canopy.

'The sun,' he thought suddenly, already beginning to climb, 'Maybe if we can see the sun, we'll be able to tell if we're headed in the right direction.'

Breaking the canopy was a literal breath of fresh air. He let out an enormous sigh of relief now that he was free of Mirkwood's oppressive weight. When he opened his eyes, he immediately spotted the forest river, which joined up with the Long Lake near the foot of the Lonely Mountain. They were closer to all three than he expected, probably because he'd kept them on the path longer than expected, too.

Then he saw the trees shifting, rocking, moving their way, and remembered the spiders. Massive, awful things they had been, standing out clearly amongst his other memories. Bilbo was careful to keep his footing on his climb down, but it didn't matter. A spider charged him from the trees and bound him up in its silk. He squirmed as it dragged him away, groping for Sting.

The hobbit cut himself free the moment he laid hands on the blade. The spider felt its burden grow lighter and whipped around, hissing, but the ex-soldier was already on top of it, stabbing it between the eyes. It spat at him, then died, all of its legs curling up under it.

The spider had dragged him close enough to the nest to hear the hisses of the other creatures and the muffled shouts of the captive dwarrows. Bilbo gritted his teeth and dug in his pocket for the One Ring, slipping it on. The spiders' hisses became clear as day for him, but he ignored their cries of "Feast! Feast!" in favor of finding a way to distract them from the dwarvish meal. As in the movie he remembered, he tossed a hunk of wood to make a noise and lure most of the spiders from the nest. Also as in the movie, one stayed behind and tried to get an early snack in, rearing up to bite Bombur. The hobbit darted between its legs and stabbed it through its thorax before it could administer a fatal injection of venom.

Its body fell to the forest floor below, but Bilbo didn't see, having already turned to cut the dwarves free. "Come on!" he hissed, pushing them to move, "They're gone, but not for long!"

There was a faint rustle in the trees, making all the dwarrows panic. The spiders were returning, but they were closely followed by the sylvan elves. In the ensuing chaos, Bilbo slipped the Ring back on again and followed them all to the fortress of the Elf King Thranduil. He tailed the majority of the dwarves to the dungeon to learn where they were taken, then shadowed an elf he recognized as Legolas back out into the king's main hall. The elf had, in turn, been following Tauriel, an auburn-haired elf, but after speaking with Thranduil, he retreated to another part of the fortress.

"I thought," the king said to Tauriel, "I ordered that nest to be destroyed not two moons past."

"We cleared the forest as ordered, my lord," she responded a little nervously, "but more spiders keep coming up from the south. They are spawning in the ruins of Dol Guldur. If we could kill them at their source-"

"That fortress lies beyond our borders, and we have not the might to take it," Thranduil interrupted coolly. There was something unpleasantly familiar about the cadence of his speech. "Keep our lands clear of those foul creatures; that is your task."

'You're probably in a heap of trouble right now, Gandalf,' thought Bilbo, 'Please, hold on.'

"And when we drive them off, what then? Will they not spread to other lands? Mr. Holmes-"

"We have not the might to aid them, Molly," Thranduil – Mycroft – growled, "They cannot be our concern-"

Before he could second guess himself, Bilbo slipped off the Ring and stepped out of his hiding place, saying, "Molly? Mycroft?"

Both of them whirled on him, weapons drawn. He quickly backed up, hands in the air, saying, "It's me, John Watson! Sherlock's flat mate!"

Tauriel lowered her daggers right away, but Thranduil was less trusting. "Prove it," said the Elf King, brandishing his sword in the hobbit's direction, "How did we first meet?"

"You called me on a pay phone," the doctor answered, "and had your assistant and driver take me out to a warehouse in the middle of nowhere to – um, 'avoid the attention of Sherlock Holmes,' I think it was? You tried to bribe me to spy on him."

At last, Thranduil lowered his sword. "And what manner of creature are you supposed to be?" he asked, "I don't recall you being this short."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. "Did you never read The Lord of the Rings series? I'm Bilbo Baggins."

Tauriel turned to Thranduil. "I told you!"

The Elf King scowled. "Yes, so you did, but it's far too late for that now. Why don't you both bring me up to speed, then?" So they did, with Bilbo doing most of the talking. When he reached the end of his summary of events in Middle-earth, Thranduil asked, "Have you found Sherlock?"

The hobbit shook his head. "I haven't met anyone else from London until now," he said, "I thought I was crazy."

"Have you told anyone?"

"I warned Elrond, Galadriel, and Gandalf about what I could remember at the time. It's been slowly coming back. I remembered Saruman's betrayal, though, so I didn't say anything to him."

Thranduil hummed in acknowledgement. Tauriel beamed at the hobbit, and stepped in and knelt to hug him. He squeezed her back. "You intend to help the dwarves to their mountain no matter what," the Elven King observed, returning his sword to its sheath.

"Yeah. Will you at least let me get them out? Cause that would be great."

Thranduil assessed all of his information. Then he said, "That does seem to be the best course of action. I will gather our best warriors and meet you in Dale once the dragon is dead." He looked at Tauriel. "You know what to do. Make sure it gets done."

Hobbit and elf grinned.


Bilbo took the dwarves out by way of the river, leading them down to the cellar of the fortress where the guardsmen were sleeping off their intoxication. When he told the dwarves to get in the barrels, there were instant hissed protests, but they all clambered in when Thorin growled, "Do as he says!" The hobbit pulled the lever and sent them all into the water, jumping in after them.

The water was ice cold, and drove the breath from his lungs. He burst back to the surface, gasping for air, and clung to the nearest barrel.

"Well done, Master Baggins," said Thorin from where he was holding on to others' barrels. They, in turn, were clinging to the rock banks on either side of the river, preventing the company from moving on. The hobbit sputtered and waved for them to continue, and the prince let go, turning in his barrel to start paddling ahead.

They emerged from Thranduil's fortress and plunged down a short waterfall before being pulled along by the rapids. They were almost to the guard outpost when Bilbo heard the horn sounded to close the gate. An elf pulled the lever to close the sluice gates just as they rounded the bend, stopping all of the barrels against the steel.

The hobbit knew what was coming, and drew his sword as the elves did the same. A black arrow whizzed seemingly from nowhere to slam into the back of one of the elves. He tumbled into the river as orcs began swarming the outpost, attacking the elves. Bilbo couldn't remember which ones he killed, so he simply stabbed every one that came in range and tried to make sure that the dwarves received their weapons.

Kíli leaped from his barrel, aiming for the lever to open the sluice gates. Dwalin tossed him a weapon to fight the orcs with, and Fíli threw a blade into an orc that was trying to sneak up on his brother from behind. The brunette dwarf was almost to the lever, and –

-a Morgul arrow slammed home into his thigh. He grimaced and fell back. Another orc crawled over the battlements to kill him, intending to take advantage of his inability to move – but an elvish arrow pierced its throat and killed it.

It was Tauriel, joining the battle at last. She slew another orc with her bow before drawing her short swords for close combat. More elves came with her, slaying the orcs that had attacked the outpost. The sight of her was enough to make Kíli gather his strength and pull the lever despite the pain, then roll off the stone platform back into his barrel.

The shaft of the Morgul arrow snapped off and went spinning past Bilbo' head into the water. The dwarves fought their way down to the edge of Long Lake, moving ahead of their orcish pursuit with the strong current of the forest river. The air was warm, especially for that time of year, preventing them from feeling chilled when they finally climbed from the river.

Bilbo wrung out his clothes and peered around, looking for Bard. He spotted the man's shadow before the man himself and turned to face him, managing to keep his hand from going for Sting when he saw the man's bow. 'Well, he is called "Bard the Bowman" in the book, isn't he?' he thought, as Balin persuaded the man to talk rather than shoot.

"What makes you think I will help you?" the man asked, wrestling the barrels onto his boat.

"Those boots have seen better days," the dwarf pointed out, "as has that coat. No doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed. How many bairns?"

"A boy and two girls," was the reply.

"And your wife, I'd imagine she's a beauty."

"Aye. She was." Then, so low that Bilbo was sure he wasn't meant to hear, "And a lot more faithful than the last one, too."

In English.

"You speak English," Bilbo asked in the same tongue, lifting his hands and jerking back a little when Bard whipped around, an arrow strung, "And faithful – Greg? Is that you? It's me, John Watson, Sherlock's flat mate!"

The man relaxed, lowering his bow. "My God, man," he said, "It's good to see you. Nice to know I'm not the only one here."

"I bet it is," the hobbit responded, "But we aren't alone either. Molly, Sherlock's lab assistant, she's Tauriel, and Mycroft is Thranduil."

"Mycroft…"

"Sherlock's brother, the one with the brolly fetish."

"Ah, him! Ugh, he's the Elf King? What about Anderson and the others?"

"Dunno. Haven't met anyone else."

The hobbit was about to add more, but Dwalin had apparently had enough of the foreign-tongued chit-chat. "Oh, come on, come on!" he hissed at Thorin, "Enough with the niceties."

The Londoners exchanged glances. "What's your hurry?" Bard asked, switching back to Westron, Middle-earth's common tongue.

"What's it to you?" the dwarf demanded defensively.

"I would like to know what you are doing in these lands."

"We are simple merchants," Balin interjected, his tone innocent, "from the Blue Mountains, journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills."

The man's expression made it clear he didn't believe a word of it. "Simple merchants, you say?"

"We need food, supplies, weapons," Thorin said, stepping forward, "Can you help us?"

The ex-DI glanced over at the barrels the company had come downstream in. He rubbed one of the many scrapes and scratches they had received on the journey. "I know where these barrels came from."

"What of it?"

"I don't know what business you had with the elves, but I don't think it ended well." The bowman looked back up at them. "No one enters Laketown but by leave of the Master. All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He will see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil." He began anchoring the barrels to the deck of his barge, exchanging subtle glances with the hobbit, who was blinking Morse code.

"I'll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen," said Balin.

"Aye," Bard answered, "but for that, you will need a smuggler."

"For which we will pay," the dwarrow responded, "Double."

Bard was clearly conflicted, knowing what he and Bilbo did about Laketown's near future, but he was also desperate. In the end, he took their money, and the dwarves climbed aboard. Bilbo hung back to talk quietly with the man as they sailed for Esgaroth.

"You think it's worth it?" the hobbit asked, helping where he could as the man steered the barge across the lake, "Mycroft said that he would come to Dale when the dragon was dead, but…"

"I do have the Black Arrow," said the ex-DI, "and there is a wind lance atop one of the towers in Laketown, but… I'll only have one shot, with outrageous odds stacked against me, even if the stories about the broken scale or whatever are true. And hitting a moving target's hard enough when it's not airborne – or breathing fire. It'd be like… jumping out of a car going a hundred and twenty, off London Bridge, and into a shot glass."

"If Sherlock was here, I bet he could give us the odds," Bilbo said sadly, holding taut a rope that the man handed him.

"Aye," the other replied, "Never thought I'd say it, but I wish he were here. He'd deduce everyone in a heartbeat and know exactly what was needed to get the job done." Bard steered the boat expertly through the ruins on the lake, then into Laketown itself after the dwarves and hobbit were concealed in the barrels with fish atop them.

Neither Bilbo nor Bard were surprised when the man's son Bain ran up to them to warn them that the Master had spies watching their house. "The back way it is," the hobbit muttered, and followed the ex-DI's instructions to come up into the family's house via their toilet.

"Da, why are there dwarves climbing out of our toilet?" Sigrid asked, baffled.

"Will they bring us luck?" Tilda added eagerly, making her father grimace.

'Not the kind we're looking for,' he thought, exchanging yet another look with his fellow Londoner, who had just climbed out of the water with considerably more speed and skill than the dwarves before or after him. Bard waited until all the dwarves had gone up before heading up himself.

Tilda was handing out blankets to the company, who were stripping out of their wet clothes. Bard slipped over to Bilbo. "You said that Mycroft would meet us in Dale?"

"Yes," the hobbit answered, watching the dwarrows shift and mutter about the wind lance, "but Molly and Legolas'll probably get here first, if they follow the movie timeline." He shivered under the blanket, and pulled it tighter around him. "But beyond that, I don't know. Mycroft never saw the movies, so I hope Molly will instruct him before she comes, and Gandalf doesn't return until the Battle of Five Armies, if I remember right."

"You do." Bard was silent at his son told the dwarves about the loosened scale. "Do you think it's really there?"

"I don't know, but I guess we'll be finding out soon enough."

Thought they tried their best, they were still caught by the Master's servants and dragged before the entirety of Laketown. But once he'd learned who they were and why they'd come, the Master's greed asserted itself, and he gleefully welcomed the King Under the Mountain despite Bard's protests.

The people of Laketown celebrated all night, and gathered to see them off the next morning. People cheered and played music while the dwarves loaded the boat. As in the movie, Fíli, Kíli, Óin, and Bofur were left behind, but before the others' departure, Bilbo pulled them aside and told them to go straight to Bard and wait for Tauriel. "She's coming," he said to Fíli, "She'll help you."

Then the remainder of Thorin's company set off across the Long Lake, and made it to the Overlook before noon on Durin's Day. Across a small valley were the ruins of Dale. Finally looking upon the devastated city with his own eyes, it hit home that they were about to face off against an enemy that was entire orders of magnitude greater than anything he had ever endured before. Even Moriarty was nothing next to a live, fire-breathing dragon with a mind keener than a razor's edge.

'I'll burn the heart of you,' drifted through his mind, and for an instant Bilbo wanted Sherlock with him so badly that he could scarcely breathe.

The company passed through Dale and continued on to the base of the Mountain itself. Bilbo circled around to entrance along the main path, searching for the hidden door-

-but the pathway up was scarred with claw marks and scorched with dragonfire. Smaug knew about the secret door, or had at least found the carved dwarf suspicious and made an effort to destroy it. Either way, it was going to be a difficult climb. But they made their way up just the same, hugging the rock face and making use of every hand- and foothold available to them. At last, they all stood on the now considerable narrower ledge with the door concealed somewhere in the wall in front of them. The climb had been long, and the last of the daylight was fading fast. As the dwarves began tapping on and hacking at the wall, Bilbo took a seat and pulled out a bit of food. He forced himself to eat and drink despite his stomach twisting itself into knots, anxious over what awaited him inside the mountain.

'Stand by the grey stone,' he remembered the moon runes saying, 'when the thrush knocks and the setting sun, and the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole.' The dwarrows were beginning to despair as the sun dipped closer and closer to the horizon. When all the sunlight was gone, the company turned morosely away one by one, but Bilbo simply held out his hand and said, "Key." Thorin gave it to him, though the dwarf looked as if he would rather have thrown it as his head.

Then the hobbit scooted closer to the wall, and waited. The dwarves all stared at him, clearly expecting something extraordinary, but he didn't move until he finally heard the flutter of wings. His keen eyes followed the thrush as it flew to the grey stone and began knocking its snail against the rock.

And then the thick clouds that had been rolling in parted, just long enough for a single shaft of silvery light to lance through the darkness and illuminate the keyhole on the mountainside. The hobbit did not crow his victory, or berate the dwarves for their impatience and lack of faith. He simply stood up, fitted the key into the lock and turned it, and then pushed open the door.

The air inside the mountain was still and stale, and smelled powerfully of metal – the gold of the dragon's hoard. For a moment, everyone stood together in the antechamber in silent reverence, simply enjoying the fact that they had made it so far. Then something occurred to Thorin. "How did you know?" he asked Bilbo, "How did you know that 'the last light of Durin's Day' meant the moonlight?"

"I am… a spirit re-embodied," he said, looking down into the mountain, "with memories from another world." The hobbit turned back to the dwarrows. "And in that world, the tale of this quest – from the moment Gandalf knocked on my door until sometime after now – was nothing but a book, a story. It was later make into a picture that moved and spoke as if by magic, and I went to see it. And Tauriel the elf and Bard from Laketown – they are also re-embodied like me. I knew them – we were friends. Thranduil a bit less so – he was the brother of one of my other friends, but they are all we've got right now."

"If you know about our quest," said Dwalin, taking a step closer, "then surely, you must know how it ends?"

Bilbo heaved a great sigh. He had known that question was coming. "If we stick to what I remember, then… yes," he answered, "I do. But I felt that you all would not appreciate me saying that you," referring to Thorin, "and Fíli and Kíli would not survive." He allowed for a moment of silence to let that sink in, then continued with, "Since we seem to be going by what the picture dictated, rather than the book, I will tell you of that. I accidentally woke Smaug while searching for the Arkenstone. I caught sight of it, but not hold of it when he chased me through the hoard," he lied, remembering Thorin's madness, "You all came to my aid, and we lured him down to the forges. We hurt him. It was nothing substantial, but it was enough to drive him from the mountain, and he took his revenge on Laketown. Though Bard slew him with a Black Arrow, the entire town burned first.

"A great battle followed – dragon sickness. Elves from Mirkwood, dwarves from the Iron Hills, the survivors of Laketown, and Eagles from the Misty Mountains against orcs and other Beasts under the command of Azog the Defiler. He and Bolg killed Fíli and Kíli, and you died killing Azog while the Elf Legolas slew Bolg." He looked back toward the secret door.

"But the path up here was supposed to be unmarred, not scarred with claw marks and dragonfire. I wasn't supposed to know Tauriel and Thranduil and Bard. And know, I don't know how this will end." Bilbo looked back and Thorin. "What would you have me do, Thorin? If you order me to go, I will, but I won't be held responsible for what follows."

The prince was silent for a long moment. "You said that Smaug was slain? That we retook the mountain?" When the hobbit nodded, he said, "Then it is worth it, in my mind, even if it costs my life. Go, Bilbo."

The ex-soldier nodded, turned, and went. Balin followed him down a little ways. "You know what you're looking for?" he asked when they paused.

"A large jewel that glows from within, with a white aura."

"Ah, that's it," said the dwarf, "Those mages of yours must have been good."

'He means the filmmakers,' Bilbo realized. "Yes, they were."

The dwarf nodded. "Good luck, Bilbo."

"Thank you." The hobbit sneaked down into the main hall of Erebor. It was even grander than he'd imagined, and filled with more treasure than the movie had shown. Buried somewhere in the heaps and heaps of gold was the Arkenstone that the dwarrows so prized – but also the dragon Smaug. Bilbo gave the pile a cursory scan, searching for the glowing gem, with its pale blue and violet nebulous core and white aura, but it was nowhere to be found. He made a face, then creeped further into the hoard, Ring at the ready.

The movies and books had failed to encompass the full scale of exactly how much gold the dragon had taken from the dwarves. Most of it had been fake, computer-generated, or out of sight, away from the camera angle. Bilbo padded carefully through and on the heaps of gold – until he slipped on a patch of coins that was not as stable as it looked. It unloaded a deluge of gold that exposed the dragon's closed eye.

'Shit,' though Bilbo, already beginning to back away. Then he added, 'Double shit,' when Smaug shifted under the treasure, pushing towards him. He ducked into cover, mentally going through all of the colorful language he knew as he scrambled for the Ring. Good thing, too, because Smaug woke and emerged from the gold less than a minute later.

The dragon was even grander up close than on the screen, though by virtue of proximity, he was also far more dangerous. The gold and jewels that had become embedded in his scales glittered in the low light, accenting his red color, a gradient that went from blood orange to nearly black on various parts of his body.

Bilbo heard the dragon sniff the air, then part his jaws in a rumbling growl. "Well," he breathed, "thief. I smell you." He was investigating the area where the hobbit crouched. "I hear your breath. I feel your air." He snaked over Bilbo's head, then back. "Where are you?"

This close to Smaug, the hobbit could understand why the filmmakers had chosen to have Bilbo panic. The dragon's teeth seemed sharp enough to cut air and were perfumed with the scent of old blood. He found himself automatically scrambling to get away, John's soldier's instinct demanding that he put distance between himself and the threat, but just because he was invisible, didn't mean the effects of his passage were, too. The gold clinked and scattered under his feet as he fled, and Smaug slithered after him, rumbling. Bilbo managed to scramble behind a pillar to hide.

"Come now," the dragon purred, "Don't be shy – step into the light." He said the "t" in "light" as if it was a syllable all its own, just like Sherlock. As Smaug snaked around the pillar, Bilbo suppressed a hysterical giggle at the thought of Sherlock throwing a fit about someone sharing his verbal tic. "Mmmm… There is… something about you," the dragon continued, "something you carry. Something made of gold… but far more precious…"

The word brought flashbacks of the goblin tunnels and a glimpse of Sauron's Eye, echoing in his mind, and the hobbit so acutely felt the pull of the Ring in that instant that he scrambled to tear it off.

Smaug's eye – gold, but with unusual hints of blue and green – focused on him. "There you are," he rumbled, "thief in the shadows."

Bilbo gulped. He felt like he was facing down Moriarty again, but this time without the promise of Sherlock coming to aid him. "I – I did not come to steal from you, O Smaug the Unassessably Wealthy," he managed, despite the instinctual prey-fear response that damn near froze him in place, "I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence." He pulled back against the pillar as the dragon edged a little closer. "To see if you really were as great as the old tales say. I – I did not believe them." His voice involuntarily skipped an octave higher on his last sentence.

The dragon's lips curled in wrath, baring his teeth, and he pulled back, pushing off another pillar to slip behind the one Bilbo had pressed himself against. He strode over and posed atop a platform nearby, flaring his wings to make himself bigger and more intimidating. "And do you now?!" he roared.

"Truly," said the hobbit, "the tales and songs fall utterly short of your enormity, O Smaug the Stupendous." There was no need for him to fake a breathless tone – even though the dragon could have burnt him to a crisp any day of the week, he was indeed a magnificent creature.

"Do you think flattery will keep you alive?" When Bilbo stuttered out a negative, he growled, "No indeed. You seem familiar with my name, but I don't remember smelling your kind before. Who are you, and where do you come from, may I ask?" He popped the "k" at the end of his question. As he spoke, he slithered down from the platform and prowled closer, hugging the gold with his body.

And then, as in the movie, Bilbo spotted the Arkenstone, half-hidden under a patch of gold. It had its own allure, its own pull, much like the Ring. 'Oh,' Bilbo thought, flinching as the dragon edged even closer, waiting. "I come from under the hill," he gasped.

"Under hill?" purred the dragon, edging closer still.

Bilbo nodded vigorously and shot another glance at the Arkenstone. "And under hills and over hills my path has led," he said with a tiny hint of a hysterical giggle at the end, "And – and through the air, I am he who walks unseen."

"Impressive." Smaug rumbled, snaking his bulk around to come even closer. He seemed to be filled with restless energy. "What else do you claim to be?"

"I – I am Luck-W-Wearer," said the hobbit, briefly waving his hand in front of his face to clear the air. The dragon's breath smelled powerfully of sulfur and phosphorous, and high-octane jet fuel under the blood, an acrid combination that reminded him of airports. How appropriate, given that dragons flew. "R-Riddle-maker…"

"Lovely titles," said Smaug, his tone indulgent and amused even as he thoroughly sniffed the hobbit, "Go on."

"Barrel-rider," said Bilbo, cupping his hands in front of him as if to mimic the shape.

"Barrels!" hissed the dragon, leaning a tad bit closer as he spoke before recoiling back and away, "Now that is interesting. And what about your little dwarf friends? Where are they hiding?"

The ex-soldier feigned confusion, drawing on John's military training and focusing on the conversation rather than the fear in his gut at being so closer to an actual dragon. "Dw-dwarves? No, no dwarves here. You've got that all wrong."

"Oh, I don't think so, Barrel-rider. They sent you in here to do their dirty work while they skulk about outside." Smaug briefly turned his head away, and the hobbit used the opportunity to inch his way closer to the Arkenstone.

"Truly," he insisted when the dragon's attention returned to him, "you are mistaken, O Smaug, Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities."

"You have nice manners," he rumbled, "for a thief and a LIAR! I know the smell and taste of dwarf – no one better!" As he continued to speak, Bilbo once again began moving toward the Arkenstone. "It is the gold," he growled, before his voice deepened in intensity, "They are drawn to treasure like flies to dead flesh." Smaug's forepaw slammed down atop the gold near the Arkenstone, upsetting it and causing the glowing stone to go bouncing down the mountain of treasure. Bilbo groaned and raced after it, the dragon on his heels.

"Did you think I did not know this day would come?!" he roared, sliding between pillars. The hobbit tripped over a short ledge and fell onto a pile of gold, only to have more coins spill down on top of him. Even over the clinking and clanking, he heard Smaug continue, "That a pack of canting dwarves would come crawling back to the mountain?!"

The ground shook under him, coupled with the sound of Smaug's not-inconsiderable bulk landing nearby. "The King Under the Mountain is dead!" When Smaug's claws landed on either side of him, he forced himself free of the pile and continued down the slope. "I took his throne. I ate his people like a wolf among sheep." Bilbo jumped off a short flight of stairs to avoid the dragon, but missed his footing and wound up tumbling down the slope of gold after the Arkenstone. "I kill where I wish, when I wish! My armor is iron!" Bilbo heard the fwap of the dragon's wings opening, the rush of air over them as Smaug glided down after him. The hobbit slid under a stone structure not unlike the one the dragon had posed on, right before said dragon landed on top of it and curled around it like a cat. "No blade can pierce me!" A low growl rumbled in his chest as he slipped off of it, returning to crouching over his treasure. "It's Oakenshield!" His tail cracked like a whip. "That filthy dwarvish usurper! He sent you in here for the Arkenstone, didn't he?"

"No, no, no," the doctor insisted, creeping toward the stone where it had settled on the gold, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't bother denying it! I guessed his foul purpose some time ago!" Bilbo scrambled back when Smaug's claws curled around a supporting pillar for the structure. "But it matters not." The dragon's great head dipped so that he could peer through the open side. "Oakenshield's 'quest' will fail. A darkness is coming. It will spread to every corner of the land."

'He doesn't sound very enthusiastic about it,' the hobbit thought as the dragon twisted himself around to point downslope rather than up.

"You are being used, thief in the shadows," rumbled the creature, ducking down close to the gold once more, "You were only ever a means to an end. The coward Oakenshield has weighed the value of your life and found it worth nothing."

"No," said Bilbo, despite knowing that Thorin would try to kill him over the treasure, "no, you're lying!"

"What did he promise you, a share of the treasure? As if it was his to give. I will not part with a single coin, not – one – piece of it!" When the hobbit made a break for the Arkenstone, Smaug lashed his tail through the gold, sending both hobbit and stone flying. "My teeth are swords," he roared as the ex-soldier tumbled to a stop against another pillar, "My claws are spears. My wings – are a hurricane!"

Bilbo looked up, eyes roving the dragon's chest for the broken scale. He finally lit on it on his left breast, just like Bain had said. "So it is true," he gasped, "The Black Arrow found its mark."

"What did you say?"

'Oh, right. He has ears, too.' "Uh, I was just saying your reputation precedes you, Smaug the – Tyrannical," he responded, scrambling to his feet and backing away, "Truly, you have no equal on this earth."

A white glow out of the corner of his eye. The Arkenstone. He looked down at it, breathless, then back up at the dragon.

"I am almost tempted to let you take it," Smaug rumbled, meeting his gaze, "if only to see Oakenshield suffer. Watch it destroy him, watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad." His tail lashed the air like a cat getting ready to pounce. "But I think not. I think our little game ends here. So tell me, thief," he said as he pulled back, his chest beginning to glow with the heat from his fire, "how do you choose to die?"

Smaug lunged as Bilbo jerked on the Ring, scooping up the Arkenstone and running for his life. He heard the dragon thrashing and screaming behind him, trying to find and incinerate him. The hobbit quickly wrapped the stone in a scrap of cloth to hide its light and tucked it into his clothing where it wouldn't fall out during all of the exertions that were soon to follow.

Thorin was where Bilbo expected him to be, and reacted as expected, as well. "You're alive!" he called.

"Not for much longer!"

"Did you find the Arkenstone?"

"It's here! But I told you I would see it but not be able grab it!" Bilbo shouted at him, "And neither of us will live to do so if we don't move! Smaug's coming!" He heard the thuds of the dragon's footsteps, saw him approaching over the gold, and paled.

The other dwarves came barreling out of the passageway, weapons drawn and battle cries on their lips, and moved between the prince and hobbit and the dragon. Smaug roared and charged them, chest glowing with heat. "You will burn!"

The company turned and jumped from the path, sliding down on the pile of gold into another passage. Bilbo saw the light of the fire the dragon breathed, felt the heat of it wash over him and was stunned by the intensity, only remembering that they needed to run when he was pulled along by the dwarves. 'I'm getting in touch with my inner Sherlock at the most inopportune times,' he thought, 'I want to study things that are trying to kill me!'

They all ducked into a side passage and waited until the echoes of Smaug's rage died to even consider emerging. There was no sign of him in the vicinity. Dori voiced what many of them were thinking. "We've given him the slip," he said in a voice a little above a whisper.

"No," Dwalin replied, "he's too cunning for that."

"We'll make for the western guardroom," said Thorin, "There may be a way out."

"It's too high," Balin responded, "There's no chance that way."

"And the exit was sealed by a rockfall," Bilbo whispered, "Your kin tried while Smaug was taking the mountain. Their bodies are entombed there."

Thorin turned to him. "Your magic picture told you this?" When Bilbo nodded, he asked, "Then where do we go?"

"Lure him to the forges," the hobbit responded, "Use his fire to relight them, melt the gold there, then get him to go to the Gallery of the Kings. We can break open the mold while the gold is still liquid, try to drown him in it. It won't kill him, but it will drive him from the mountain." Some of the dwarves muttered amongst themselves, but agreed to go along with it when the hobbit asked, "Do you have a better plan?"

Quietly, the group creeped across the bridge. As Bilbo remembered, a coin fell free from Smaug's underbelly, landed with seemingly deafening clangor in the silence of the mountain. When everyone looked at him, he pointed up to the dragon, then frantically gestured for everyone to keep moving. When he gave them another signal, they split up and gave up on stealth.

Smaug heard them and circled back around. "Flee, flee!" he growled, "Run for your lives! There is nowhere to hide."

He made to attack Bilbo, Thorin, and Balin, but he turned away at Dori, Ori, and Bombur's battle cries. They rushed on another bridge, yelling to distract the dragon from his original targets. The dragon lunged toward them, but the dwarves turned and ran again. Though slower than the dragon, they could fit in smaller spaces.

As Smaug chases the second group of dwarves, the first group continued across the bridge. Suddenly the third group, Dwalin and Nori, ran across yet another bridge and yelled to distract Smaug again, baiting him away. "Hey you!" Dwalin roared, "Here!"

Smaug turned and jumped at them, landing heavily on the bridge. The dwarves ran off the bridge and into a tunnel just before the dragon's clawed forelimb landed where they had been. The fourth group, Glóin and Bifur, used Dwalin and Nori's distraction as a chance to run across a bridge and round a corner, getting out of the direct line of fire. The dragon inhaled, chest heating, and breathed a great gout of flame after them that filled the space between the layers of stone. Even though it was not a direct shot, the sheer heat of the dragon fire caused the stone beneath the two dwarves to glow fiercely, cracking and groaning as it expanded, and made them jump from foot to foot to prevent themselves from being burned. They reached a cliff and leaped into the air, landing in and sliding down large ore troughs. They shot out of those and landed in the hanging buckets of the conveyor, previously used in conjunction with the troughs to get raw ore down to the forges for refinement.

Meanwhile, Balin, Thorin, and Bilbo sprinted through a large hallway. Balin and Bilbo turned into a side tunnel, but Thorin continued forward past it. "It's this way!" Balin called after the prince, "This way! Come on!"

Thorin seemed not to have heard, so Bilbo called out to him. "Thorin!"

Thorin turned at last and began to backtrack, but stopped suddenly. The hobbit and other dwarf whipped around to see Smaug at the end of the hallway. Thorin yelled to the hobbit, "Follow Balin!"

"Thorin!"

"Come on!" Balin tugged Bilbo into the side tunnel just as Smaug's chest began to glow with his internal fire. He unleashed the blaze, which came roaring down the hall toward them. Thorin saw it coming and ran the opposite direction, jumping into a deep pit to avoid the flames. He caught hold of a chain with a bucket at the end of it, and it began a much slower, controlled descent – just as Smaug leaped into the pit after him. The dragon clawed his way down the pit, smashing through a bridge and snapping at Thorin on the chain.

Dwalin sprinted up to the mouth of the pit and shouted for his prince. He smashed his axe into the pulley system for the chain and bucket Thorin was holding on to, and the bucket jerked to a stop, then reversed direction. Thorin nearly flew upward, narrowly missing the dragon's head and spiked. Smaug turned to follow and managed to grab the end of Thorin's chain with his teeth, stopping the dwarf's ascent. He pulled down, and unbeknownst to him, the machinery holding the chain broke free from the lip of the pit. His chain slackening, Thorin fell and landed right on the tip of Smaug's maw. He shifted to stand on the dragon's top lip when he growled and opened his mouth, fire rising up his neck and illuminating his throat. Smaug lunged to snap the prince up, but Thorin leaped to one side to grab hold of another elevator. The dragon turned for another attempt, but the falling machinery hit him then, stunning him briefly.

Nori, joining Dwalin at the top of the pit, hit another machine, and its gears spun rapidly with a whining grind, pulling Thorin's elevator rapidly upward. Smaug roared his fury and unleashed another blaze straight up the pit after the dwarf. Thorin managed to reach the top and grabbed Nori's outstretched hand, pulling himself away from the ledge just as the dragon's fire went billowing past them."Go!" the dwarf shouted, "Go!"

The two dwarves ran through the narrow slits in the metal grating separating them from the forges to join Bilbo and the other dwarves. The furnaces in front of them were still and silent, cold as the stone around them. The chill hung in the air; it was likely to Bilbo that the heat of them had previously been used to keep warm the whole of Erebor.

The dwarves all turned to Bilbo. "Bait him," said the hobbit, gesturing to the pit that the dragon was still climbing back out of, "Insult him, call him names. Get him to breathe his fire."

"With pleasure," said the prince, striding back to the grating to call to the dragon, "I did not look to see you so easily outwitted!"

Smaug's claws emerged on the far side of the pit, grabbing hold of the rock. His body followed them up, and Bilbo took a moment to admire the dragon's sleek profile. A honed weapon, a killing machine.

Meanwhile, Thorin continued taunting him, "You have grown slow, and fat, in your dotage." When the dragon turned to narrow his eyes at the dwarf prince, growling, he added, with a certain vicious glee, "Slug."

Smaug snarled and jumped to the near side of the pit, and Bilbo yelled for the others to take cover behind the pillars of the grating. They rushed to do so, just as the dragon unleashed his flame. The heat was incredible; Bilbo began dripping with sweat from that alone, and felt the fire lick at his arms. Fortunately, the fire blew past the pillars and reached all the way into the furnaces, which began to glow with renewed heat. One by one, they awoke and belched smoke and fire. Smaug growled in anger and confusion.

The dwarves and hobbit bolted away from the pillars as Smaug began slamming his bulk against them, fighting to get through to his prey. The metal was immensely strong, but it was not built to withstand a dragon. It began to bend under Smaug's tremendous weight and strength.

"Bombur!" Thorin yelled over the roaring fire and groaning metal, "Get those bellows working. Go!"

The fat dwarf ran and leaped onto a chain next to one of the forges. The chain was yanked down by his weight, turning a series of gears. The bellows compressed and sent a blast of air into the furnace, the fires turning briefly blue as they intensified.

Thorin turned away once he was sure Bombur had done as he asked, and saw the latticework continuing to bend under the dragon's assault. "Bilbo!" he called, but the hobbit was already moving into position at the top of the stairs, next to the lever. He waved a hand in signal, and received one in return, before running through the forges with the other dwarves as the grating began to give way. The prince moved to Balin. "Balin," he asked, trying to remain calm in the face of the madness the hobbit's plan brought them to, "can you still mix a flash-flame?"

"Aye," the elder dwarf responded, "It'll only take a jiffy." He grabbed some of the other dwarves to help him and raced for a side hall. "Come on!"

As they ran off, Dwalin looked to the grating, which was dangerously bent. "We don't have a jiffy," he hissed, hand tightening on his weapon.

Under the force of Smaug's onslaught, the latticework finally gave in and fell away, admitting the dragon to the forge. He paused and looked around, hissing, chest alight with unreleased flame. Bilbo wasn't sure if he'd been spotted, but the dragon began moving toward him anyway, scanning the room for the dwarves. Smaug continued forward, climbing past the smelters, then stopped abruptly and turned to look at Thorin standing there. Smaug let out a low, animal growl.

"Now!" the dwarf prince yelled, and Bilbo jumped for the handle on the lever, pulling as hard as he could just as Smaug lunged for Thorin. Huge jets of water burst forth from the carved faces in the wall behind Bilbo and slammed into the dragon, knocking him off balance and forcing him up against one of the smelters. The sheer volume of water quenched his fire, turning into clouds of superheated steam in the process. Roaring in rage and confusion, Smaug flapped into the air to try and evade. The jets of water slowed and began turning a watermill, making the conveyor system jerk to life. Some of the buckets were still filled with unused, unrefined ore.

Bombur was still working the bellows, keeping the fire superhot. Bilbo could see from his position that the solid impure gold had begun to melt once more inside the smelters.

Smaug recovered from his confusion, reoriented himself, and began making for the dwarf prince again. Above him, Glóin and Bifur arrived in the forges at last on the bucket conveyor. As Bilbo regained his feet, Smaug moved past his perch, and the hobbit had to look away as one of Balin's flash-flares exploded against the side of the dragon' head. However, Smaug did not seem to be at all phased by them and continued on his course. Above him, though, Glóin used his axe to sever the cable of the conveyor belt below, dropping tons of rock on the dragon and slamming him to the ground, roaring.

The gold in the smelters was completely melted. Thorin ran for the nearest one and pulled the chain to open the sluice gate, the molten gold flowing out and through troughs built into the ground. One after another, the rest of the smelters followed suit.

Tangled in the cables of the conveyor belt, Smaug thrashed about and lifted himself up off the floor in an attempt to get free, hitting the conveyor belt Glóin and Bifur are in, breaking the cable and knocking the second conveyor to the floor. The dwarves tucked and rolled, and landed on the ground bumped and bruised but otherwise unhurt. Beneath the dragon, rivers of molten gold flow through the troughs.

Thorin turned and began to run, shouting back at the other dwarves, "Lead him to the Gallery of the Kings!"

As Smaug fought with the cables, one of the heavy metal buckets tangled on him broke free and went flying toward Bilbo at the top of the stairs. The hobbit ducked under its arc, and the bucket missed him by an inch but took large chunks out of the wall behind him.

Thorin grabbed a wheelbarrow and pushed it in front of him as he ran, letting out a battle cry as he dodged the convulsing dragon. Smaug's tail smashed into the base of the tower, cracking it and making Bilbo wobble.

Thorin threw the wheelbarrow into a stream of gold and leaped into it. It stayed afloat on the gold and carried him along. At last, Smaug tore the cables free, and circled around to search for the dwarves once more. He spotted the dwarf prince just as his wheelbarrow passed through the junction where all the troughs joined up before leaving the forge. Before he could get to the dwarf, the prince went under the small arch, just as the tower over it collapsed. Bilbo fell and rolled as he hit the ground, minimizing damage, but the impact still stunned him.

"Keep going, Bilbo!" the prince shouted, "Run!"

Bilbo regained his feet and took off running with Smaug in pursuit, leaping onto a long stone ramp and using it as a slide before the dragon could grab him. Smaug fights to follow him, demolishing much of the machinery in his way. The hobbit managed to keep ahead of the dragon and sprinted through a doorway, entering a massive hall adorned with banners hundreds of feet tall.

The Gallery of the Kings.

Smaug burst through the pillars overhead, the tapestries falling away as he roared. Bilbo ran to evade the falling stone, but was caught beneath the cloth of a falling banner and knocked to the floor. He heard the clangs of the crossbars hitting the ground and was grateful he hadn't been crushed by one.

Smaug glided to the floor and turned back to shout, "You think you could deceive me, Barrel-rider?!"

Bilbo peeked out from the edge of the banner, as Smaug lifted his tail to whip it back, turning more fully to face him.

"You have come from Laketown," the dragon hissed, "This is some sordid scheme hatched between these filthy dwarves and those miserable tub-trading Lakemen! Those sniveling cowards with their longbows and Black Arrows!" Smaug was talking to himself, and his voice broke in both anger and fear at the last two words but rapidly regained its ferocity. "Perhaps it is time I paid them a visit." The dragon turned to go.

"Oh, no," Bilbo gasped, and scrambled out from under the banner to yell at the dragon's retreating back, "This isn't their fault! Wait! You cannot go to Laketown."

Hearing that, Smaug paused, humming, then turned back toward Bilbo once again, who had run after him. "You care about them, do you?" he asked, snaking in close, "Good. Then you can watch them die." Smaug turned once again and headed off down the hall, aiming for the doorway to the mountain.

"Here!" Thorin bellowed when he caught sight of the dragon, "you witless worm!" He was standing atop the massive mold into which the gold had poured.

Smaug stopped in his tracks, growling low and narrowing his eyes in anger. He twisted back to look at the dwarf prince. "You."

"I am taking back what you stole."

"You will take nothing from me, Dwarf," said the dragon, padding back along the hall toward him, voice echoing off the walls, "I laid low your warriors of old. I instilled terror in the hearts of men. I am King under the Mountain." He reached Thorin and lifted his head to the prince's level. Bilbo looked on from an adjoining hall, hovering close to one of the pillars dividing them.

"This is not your kingdom," the dwarf shot back, "These are dwarf lands, this is dwarf gold! And we will have our revenge."

Bilbo knew that, unseen by Smaug, there were chains attached to various points on the back of the stone mold Thorin was standing on, and the other dwarrows had taken them up, waiting for a signal from their leader. As the dwarf spoke, Smaug's chest and neck heated, and Thorin reached up toward a rope above him. He yelled something in Khuzdul, the signal the others had been waiting for. They pulled on the chains, and the pins in the mold jerked free of their slots, releasing the metal and chain bands that held the stone in place. Smaug reared back in confusion as the stone fell away, revealing a massive statue of a dwarf king, made entirely out of gold. Thorin swung away on a chain to escape the falling rocks. Smaug inched closer to the massive golden statue, even larger than him, in awe and desire, his jaws parting with greed.

Bilbo began backing away, just as the gold around the statue's eyes warped and then popped. The gold in the statue had not yet fully solidified, and the entire thing began collapsing. Smaug roared in anger and scrambled backward to escape the wave of gold. Not fast enough – the gold hit him, and the weight of it knocked him off his feet. As he roared his fury, he was entirely covered and drowned in the gold, which filled the section of the hall in a pool many feet deep.

The gold settled quickly, with no sign of Smaug emerging. The dwarves began to smile in joy, but suddenly, the surface of the golden lake exploded as Smaug forced himself out. The dragon was gilded with the still-liquid metal, and unbalanced by its weight. "Revenge?!" he roared, stumbling for the exit and trying to right himself, "Revenge?! I will show you REVENGE!" As the dwarves and Bilbo looked on in shock and horror, the dragon tore down the hallway to exit the mountain.

Night had fallen beyond Erebor. The mouth of the mountain had been blocked up with debris long ago, but the Smaug burst through it with ease, roaring and throwing all his weight behind it. He flapped his wings and barely managed to take off into the sky, spinning and causing the remaining gold on him to fall off in a rain of metal. Now unencumbered, he dropped into a glide, flapping over the remains of Dale and aiming for Laketown. "I am fire," he rumbled, "I am... death."

Bilbo looked on helplessly as the dragon shrank into the distance. "The moment of truth," he whispered to himself, "Now it's your turn, Lestrade. I hope you're ready."