A/N Hey guys, I know this chapter is kind of insubstantial, but I just wanted to get something up this week, so this is what I managed. Next week I should have something longer with a little more plot development!
The company found clothes that would fit the dragon with blessed speed, and led him just as quickly from the treasury and into a destroyed entryway that had surely once been grand. Smaug went without protest, though he did roll his eyes at the heavy hands pushing against his back, as if he really would've let them move him if he didn't wish to let them. I followed after them though, unsure as to the reason for his terms but unwilling to ask for fear that they might be revoked. I supposed that I could only hope that my home would yet be standing after another two months, although I doubted that Lobelia had let it sit quietly empty for so long. If anything my silver would probably be gone when I returned, and it'd take ages to get it back. I sighed quietly as the Dwarves shoved Smaug into a corner, and though the dragon did growl, it sounded far less threatening from the throat of a man than that of a beast. His teeth still seemed to have a deadly point to them, though.
"I'm meant to stay here, then?" he asked, brows raised, and Thorin grunted.
"For now. We will find a better place after a cursory search of the treasury." Smaug laughed, tilting his head back against the wall and staring at the ruined ceiling. I glanced at it too, marking the places where flame or tooth or claw had caught, the faint nicks of arrows that had flown towards him in his single-minded flight. For the first time I realized how easily the same devastation could have befallen my Shire and shuddered.
"Oh, yes, your Arkenstone. I had nearly forgotten the taste you Dwarves had for that pretty little stone. You know it will drive you mad, don't you?" Thorin snarled and took a half step forward, with only Dwalin's hand on his arm to hold him back.
"I am not my grandfather." Smaug only smiled, dark, bitter mirth swirling in the gold of his eyes, and though I believed more in Thorin's strength than I'd ever believed in anything, the look on his face still planted the smallest seed of doubt in my heart.
"Have you need of the hobbit in your search? If you don't, I should like it if he kept me company."
"If he is willing to stay then he may." It had been a long time since I'd heard Thorin's voice so cold, but at least, I supposed, it was not directed at me any longer. Still it worried me, though, and judging by the faces of my friends, I doubted that I was the only one. I struggled to swallow; my throat was tight and my mouth dry. When I spoke, the words had to be forced.
"I imagine I won't be of much help to you in looking; I can move less than you all at my strongest, and I'm quite tired. I'll join you after I've rested some." They nodded, turning slowly, forever unwillingly, back towards the treasury. Smaug stretched leisurely and gestured for me to sit beside him, which I did, though I admit to squirming some. Shape of a man or not, he still had the presence of a dragon, and I doubted that anything would ever change that. I coughed. He stared at me, eyes burning into my skin like brands.
"Seems a funny thing for you to request, staying here with me when they'd surely have let you have nearly anything to get you out." I almost couldn't believe how calm, how matter-of-fact, I sounded, and was only able to be glad that Smaug only seemed amused by the things I said rather than angry. After all, I didn't think he was any less able to kill me as a human than he'd been as a dragon.
"It's not so strange, really. You're interesting, more so than treasures and mountains and dwarves. I have met many in my life, but never one quite like you." He spoke quietly and calmly and sounded not at all how I'd have once expected a dragon to sound, but it was a pleasant surprise in the end. I clasped my hands and stared down at them, wishing for something to turn around my fingers.
"I'm only a hobbit, and a simple one at that." He settled a hand on my chin and tilted my face up, had my eyes meet his and I wanted nothing more than to look away from the blaze, too bright to be confined in so small a space. He had changed since that night in the Shire. I supposed that I had as well.
"Somehow I think that that is what makes you special, Bilbo Baggins. You were not afraid of me that night, Bilbo, and you stayed at my side all night though I could've killed you easily. Your parents were afraid. They helped me because you wished it, because you thought that I was worthy of help despite what I was. I know of not one other who would have done what you did so fearlessly." I laughed, nervous and too loud and desperate to stop when it went on a moment too long, but entirely unable to do it.
"I was afraid, just as I am afraid now. I am not so good as you'd like to believe, Smaug." He didn't let go of my chin, but his eyes softened and I felt suddenly able to breathe again.
"Better than you believe, and that makes you greater still. Good enough, obviously, that I was willing to give away a mountain of treasures for two months spent getting to know you." I snorted.
"I'm sure flattery has gotten you much, Smaug, but it's of little use to me. You asked for two months here with me, yes, but you had another price as well that's yet to be spoken." He let me go, shrugging, sharp teeth flashing in the hall's lowlight as he grinned.
"You cannot fault me for trying, oh hobbit. Even still, my other price relates to you as well, but no matter the wide, sweet eyes you turn to me, I will not tell it to you yet either, for fear that you will betray my evil plots to your Dwarven king." I crossed my arms, brows raising, and shook my head.
"Evil plots, you say? Well, I expect I'll have to tell him now, even if I don't know the details!"
"Ah, how could I have let such a detail slip? You've bested me, clever beast!" He pressed the back of one hand against his forehead, as if he were feeling faint, and I laughed, loud and true.
It felt good; it had been a long time since I'd been able to laugh so openly. In a way it made me feel as if our quest were really over, that we'd really been successful, though still I didn't forget that Smaug was hiding things, that he was deceitful and deadly ancient. Gandalf would probably curse every last one of us for making a deal with him, but I saw no way around it. This way, at least, there would be no more bloodshed, and though Smaug predicted madness, without a fight we could best that as well. We would be alright. "You look worried, dear hobbit."
"No. No, Smaug, I am sick of being worried. Instead I've decided to be hopeful," I murmured, and felt his heavy hand settle on my head, fingers running lightly through my hair before he pulled away.
"I have never been a fan of hope myself, but I would be glad if yours were not misplaced. Now, I would like to talk of the Shire some, if you don't mind. How is the garden I landed upon? Have you gotten rid of those dreadfully sharp rocks?" I grinned. Yes, there was certainly reason to hope, now, and I would not let it go.