The Dragonet's Burglar

Inside the vortex, the lone hobbit was tossed around with the force of an angry river, throwing him this way and that with no reason or concern for his well-being. The disorienting colors spinning around his head caused his vision and reasoning to be mucked up like an overcooked fish on the stove. It was as if there were multiple forces working against each other in their combined goal of giving poor Bilbo Baggins the headache of a lifetime; perhaps even two lifetimes.

Suddenly, the blue circulating colors of the vortex gave way to a stark blinding light of white, brighter than the sun on a joyous day. Bilbo shut his eyes, hoping that the seeing darkness would give the landing less of a painful impact.

In practice, the thought caused the opposite to happen.

The ringing ambiance of the vortex dropped away into nothingness, replaced with a small body being thumped around on soft terrain, with lots of painful grunts thrown into the mix. As sudden as it came, so did it stop, thanks to the hard bark of what Bilbo assumed to be yet another giant tree towering above his head.

That would possibly be the case, had he not been suffering from extreme lightheadedness and disorientation from the extremity of the flight. Indeed, he managed to grapple with the fact that somehow, the powers that be of the vortex had been pulling him along in flight. It was not like flying on the back of an Eagle, that much was certain: it was more chaotic and made his stomach churn upwards and downwards in all sorts of directions he never thought possible before; a ride in that nonsense could possibly kill an Eagle.

When he opened his eyes, he realized that he had landed sprawled up against a tree. Groaning and cursing his luck, he let his little body slump over into blackness. The flight had taken quite a lot more out of him than he had previously realized. Thankfully he was able to rest his head against the soft and comforting grass; a Hobbit can only take so much of a thrashing before he requires rest, unlike Dwarves, Elves, among other beings.

"Curse my…Tookishness," he drearily mumbled.

If the dwarves could see me now, he thought, likewise drearily. Oh, how they would laugh and laugh. They don't even know that I'm missing; most likely, they are still coveting their treasure hoard with all their hearts.

Oh, Thorin, I hope that you see reason, or that Balin can help you. If you truly value the loyalty of your kin…you would go a long way as a King.

It was a long shot, one that Bilbo had no faith in ever happening.

Curiously, a great stomping noise came from some unnamed direction up to his current position. Still in a daze, Bilbo did not attempt to make his presence known to the stranger. Rather, he made a sound yelp as he was hoisted off the ground, his entire body ensnared in the clutches of a great beast. The blinding sun made the beast's face obscured from the hobbit's vision, so instead he heard a male voice.

"Woah, what do we have here?" The speaker was gruff and heavy, with a hint of malice that Bilbo caught, much to his dread. "This has got to be the strangest looking Scavenger I have ever seen."

Scavenger?! Bilbo's frozen state of fear kept him from squeaking out in terror. Does he not have manners?!

"Hey, Alpine!" a second voice called. "Where are you?!"

"I'm over here, Pipestone!" Bilbo's captor replied.

What came bounding out from behind the brush and the trees caused the poor hobbit to shrink and become paralyzed. The creature known as "Pipestone" was very large, about taller than that of the Mirkwood trees. His scales were burning red with a large wingspan smudged with orange on top of yellow, his four-taloned feet scratched and dug into the surface of the ground with each step he took, a pair of gnarled horns atop his sharp head, and his tail hung limp, looking dead to the common eye. His great sharp fangs protruded out from his jawline with a hideous underbite, as if waiting to eat his own snout.

"Alpine", Bilbo's now named captor, had shifted to block out the sunbeams at the entrance of Pipestone. Like his companion, his scales were also burning red, but had a hint of orange splotches across his underbelly and up to his neck. His wings also matched the same orange and yellow pattern, though his tail was more lively, and his claws less sharpened, as if they had been cared for by their owner on a regular basis. His jawline was straight as an arrow without the hideous underbite. He also had the same pair of gnarled horns atop his head.

The little burglarizing hobbit had been captured by a pair of dragons, ones that he could have mistaken for Smaug at a distance.

Curse my luck for being so slow! he grumbled to himself. Why must I always be the one to find these predicaments?!

"Whatcha got there?" Pipestone asked.

"I found this Scavenger just sleeping against a tree," Alpine shrugged in reply. "Somehow, it didn't hear me coming."

"That is the weirdest looking scavenger I have ever seen."

"I said the exact same thing! And look, its legs don't dangle out of my claws like usual."

"Well, regardless of how weird it looks, we better hurry back." Pipestone looked up to the sky, reading the position of the sun. "Queen Scarlet's about to start another match."

"If we hurry, we'll actually be able to watch!"

"Assuming we're not stuck with being 'Scavenger Sentries' again." Pipestone shook his long snake-like tongue in disgust. "I don't know how anyone can stand the taste, let alone the smell."

"It's a very good taste," Alpine argued, "especially with a sprinkling of peppercorn to get the tastebuds tingling."

Without a second more to ponder at the horrifying notion that was dropped from the ship's anchor, the two giant red dragons spread their enormous wingspan and shot up into the air with the ferocity of a pair of thunderstorms. Once again, Bilbo was dangerously held right over an ever shrinking landscape, only this time as a captive against his will instead of a grateful rescuing against his will; he always held the Eagles in high regard ever since that fiery evening.

Fire…that reminded him of cooking fire, which in turn caused him to remember that these dragons had the intent of cooking him alive and eating his cooked and seasoned body. And they had said he…was the weirdest "scavenger" they had ever seen. That was certainly an odd choice of wording, but what could it be applied to?

So, they did not kill him on sight because he would make good food for…their Queen? Since when did dragons ever have a succession or loyalty to royalty? Gandalf nor the dwarves ever once mentioned a royal line of dragons, only that dragons were made famous for their acts of might and destruction. For whomever this Scarlet was, she must have done something so great and destructive that it warranted her becoming a queen of an entire…dragon kingdom?

Is it even possible for dragons to have their own kingdoms? Bilbo worried immensely, not counting Smaug's boasting, of course.

Somehow, the thought of a dragon king and queen of other dragons had become one of the most terrifying thoughts to have ever crossed the hobbit's mind in his entire life, and yet somehow the comparison of that thought to Smaug's boasting was non-existence.

As he flew over the land, he got to see just exactly what the land surrounding him was. He had landed from his flight through the vortex into a large sprawling forest, which appeared more alive and green than Mirkwood was. The natural green of the land was very beautiful to the hobbit's eyes, not that he would ever deny such a notion. Sprawled across the tops of the trees were other dragons, except they were covered in more vibrant colors instead of darkened shades of malice. And they were all…sleeping in the sunlight? As if content with living a life of comfort.

Above him, Alpine snorted. "Lazy RainWings."

"How can they stand the taste of pineapples?" Pipestone added, making a gagging sound, which the pair chuckled.

How rude of them, Bilbo frowned. He looked back to the sleeping "RainWings". They look so peaceful, and yet it's difficult to imagine a dragon as anything but.

It felt so much easier to assume that the RainWings were just lying around waiting to spring out of hiding for their prey, yet Bilbo was left conflicted.

Just up ahead was an entire region that was rugged, large, and covered in brown muck. The dragons that inhabited said region were by extension rugged, large, and covered in brown muck; some quite literally, staining their muddy colored scales. None were on their own, that is to say that each of the…muddy dragons were all huddled in a group of three or more. They reminded him of the dwarves in a sense, especially since one of the muddy dragons in particular was much bigger than the rest; like a leader of a merry band of…a merry band.

Based on the RainWings, would these dragons be called..."MudWings?" Bilbo pondered. Maybe because of their murky environment? And yet they appear content because…I honestly don't know anymore.

As the captors flew away from the MudWings, they caught themselves in a draft that took them very close to a large mountain range. It was unlike the Misty Mountains that Bilbo encountered and bravely fought through; though that was only because of the stubborn resolve of dwarves despite the odds of everything. And was that snow covering the peaks of the mountains themselves? Despite it all, the mountain range appeared very imposing on the little burglar, which was countered by how his captors appeared to be very much at home flying around the range.

He heard Alpine take a deep breath. "Aah," he sighed. "There's nothing like the smell of the high peaks."

"That fresh mountain air," Pipestone agreed. "What would any other dragon give to feel like this?"

"I can imagine quite a bit," Alpine smirked, smugly. "Greatest wingspan, best fliers, most powerful queen with her own firescales monsters…what dragon would not want to be a SkyWing?"

SkyWings…no wonder they call themselves that.

"The end is in sight, brother!" Pipestone called out above the wind. "The SkyWing palace is dead ahead!"

"Can you please stop saying it like that?" Alpine groaned.

"Why not? It's fun!"

They passed beyond a particular peak of the mountain range, and Bilbo beheld the final destination of his captors—who were apparently brothers. Constructed right on top of a mountain peak was a stunningly built palace. One stone staircase led straight down the mountainside while the main entry path led up to the main building, a hub of many towers trying to outcompete the other for the tallest one of the bunch, all beaten by the central one, each side containing a pair of windows looking out into the distance from all directions.

The brothers targeted one of the second-tallest buildings, swooping down to avoid clipping against the curved roofing. Instead of going up, they took the descending staircase that spiraled around the inside of the tower, and the further they went down the more the torchlight beheld against the ever increasing darkness. With each passing pair of stomping dragon-feet, the more Bilbo's chest grew heavier and heavier, each passing second dreading his doom.

Eventually, the dragons reached the bottom of the staircase, where another SkyWing dragon was waiting patiently at the bottom. Though he was red, it was more of a lighter color compared to the burnt shading of the brothers.

The guard spoke in a gruff commanding voice. "Where have you two been?" he ordered.

"You know, it's a lot harder to hunt for scavengers than you think," Alpine sniped back. "We've been in the Rainforest all day and we hadn't found a single one aside from this one right here—," he waved Bilbo around in his clenched clawed-fist, "who was just sleeping against a tree out in the middle of a clearing."

"And what, pray tell, gives you the right to speak to your superior in such an insolent manner?" the guard retorted, standing up to his full height. Not as tall as Smaug, but the entire palace was clearly built to be dragon-sized.

"What, my hot-headed brother means to say is," Pipestone quickly intervened, "is that we were only successful in finding one scavenger out in the Rainforest and that we have been tired and hungry and exhausted all day." He listed off their grievances by counting on his claw.

The guard looked down on the pair, snarling with beady condescending eyes. Bilbo recognized the look from many faces, notably Smaug and…Thorin.

But mostly Smaug.

"Well, you better get used to being tired and hungry and exhausted," the guard snorted, "because you will be put on Scavenger Sentry duty for the remainder of the Match, and then after that you two will be both preparing and cooking Queen Scarlet's meal for tonight."

Both dragons grumbled at the order. "Seriously, Dad?!" Pipestone whined. "But we've been working so hard all morning!"

"No arguing! And you will refer to me as Captain Asbestos while I am on duty, is that understood, you lazy RainWings?!"

"Yes, Captain," the dragon brothers relented, sighing and meekly saluting.

"Good," Captain Asbestos nodded, still scowling. "Now get going; you have your orders."

With that, the dragon brothers slumped out of sight from their apparent overbearing and extremely strict—not to mention degrading and scowling—father. The whole exchange disgusted Bilbo to his core. What right did parents have telling off their children in such a manner, not caring for their love?

I have certainly gone farther than I would have ever imagined, Bilbo pondered, and here I am on my way to be cooked for a queen. What would the other hobbits say about me now?

Would have the dwarves charged in, weapons drawn, and screaming war cries for his sake, despite the multitude of dragons at hand? Perhaps, but that time has most likely been long past. Instead, in the present moment, he was stuck with a pair of grumbling brothers who hated any sort of work they were given.

"Is he serious?!" Pipestone whined loudly. "He has no idea! We were busting our tails off all morning in that Rainforest! He doesn't give us any respect whatsoever!"

"And I was so looking forward to today's match!" Alpine added. "The Dragonets of Destiny we're going to be in the Ring and everything!"

"Do you seriously believe that rumor?" his brother retorted. "That stupid prophecy is just a myth and everything around it."

"I honestly don't care, but I overheard some of the other guys chatting about it, and they were really excited to watch."

"Good for them, they can all go suck an egg."

Such abhorrent behavior! Not even the dwarves would stand for…actually, they would; nevermind.

Alpine took a big sniff. "Mmm, I can smell that food already."

Pipestone shared his brother's action, he immediately covered his nose. "Do they even clean after the scavengers?!"

Presently, yet another giant-sized and intimidating SkyWing guard approached the pair.

"Hup too, maggots!" he barked. His crimson red scales were complimented by his stark-red scars all across his body and face. "You!" he pointed to Alpine. "Take your scavenger and prepare the Queen's meal!" He then pointed to Pipestone. "You! Stand guard!"

"Why do I have to stand guard?" Pipestone whined. "They're just scavengers—"

"JUST SCAVENGERS?!" the guard roared. "WOULD QUEEN OASIS HAVE BEEN KILLED BY 'JUST SCAVENGERS?!'"

Whatever the guard had roared at his captors, it had certainly spooked them. Apparently slaying dragons were not uncommon here either, and a queen dragon had been slain?

The crimson guard leered over Pipestone. "YOU BETTER WATCH YOUR TAIL, MAGGOT, BECAUSE THE MOMENT THAT HAPPENS, YOU'RE DEAD BEFORE YOU REALIZED YOU HAD AN ACCIDENT!"

"Can't…can't you just stomp them—"

"YOU CAN'T STOMP THEM IF THEY ARE RUNNING TAIL RIGHT BETWEEN YOUR LEGS, CAN YOU?!"

It was as if he could only speak in raging thunderstorms; all ordering bark and could possibly bite off their entire heads. From the shape of his jawline, he probably did not have the physicality to do anything besides sneer and leer down at the dragons beneath his gaze; his eyes were shining gold and yet froze his prey in place.

These dragons were just like Smaug: evil and uncaring.

"YOU BOTH ARE THE SORRIEST EXCUSES FOR DRAGONS THAT I HAVE EVER SEEN! YOU WANNA KISS MY SNOUT, PRINCESS?!"

"NO, SIR!" Alpine screamed in reply.

"KITCHEN, NOW!"

In one swift motion, Alpine bounded as fast as he could carry himself, huffing and puffing to carry his sorry tail out of sight from the screaming castle guard. Only when he entered the kitchen itself did he stop and calm down his erratic breathing.

What he did not realize was that at the same time, Bilbo, despite dreading his impending doom, had been quietly observing the behaviors of the two dragons. What he noticed was that they were very prideful of being SkyWings, wanted to watch or be a part of something exciting, and thus hated busywork and being given jobs.

There was also something he picked up about a prophecy relating to the "Dragonets of Destiny." What could that mean? Bilbo had very little—if at all—experience regarding prophecies, so the only comparison he could draw up was to that of the secret moon-runes hidden in Thorin's map. Was "dragonet" the name given for younger dragons, and what was it about the Dragonets of Destiny that made them special enough for them to be given their own prophecy?

All of this, every little thing that he had encountered just from being flung from the vortex had left the little hobbit's head spinning out of control, desperate to find reasoning where there was none. At the same time, he had discovered that by focusing on the mysteries surrounding him, he failed to realize that his captor had finally entered the kitchen area.

Once again, everything about the room was dragon-sized: the size, the cooking utensils, the tupperware, the plates, the cupboards, even the giant mixing pot off to the side. There was only one other dragon in the room: a bright orange SkyWing wearing an apron and large chef's hat. At the moment, he was intensely focused on stirring a giant wooden spoon into the mixing pot.

"Excuse me," Alpine greeted, interrupting the dragon-cook. The cook stopped stirring but did not look up. "I was ordered to come here and help cook."

The cook simply grunted in reply.

"I have a scavenger with me." He waved Bilbo like a small toy, very much giving the poor hobbit a greater headache than he already had. "What should I do with it?"

The cook grunted another reply, pointing a claw-less finger over to a set of knives over a large wooden cutting board. Bilbo went pale at the sight.

"Oh, okay," Alpine replied simply.

With each step, Bilbo felt the world slowing down and closing in on him. The large silver knives glistened and glowed in the sunlight, taunting him with unspoken and frozen intimidation. He could feel their jagged sharp edges jabbing into his body just at the sight of them. The clicks of the stomping claws were ticking down the final seconds before the untimely death of Burglar Baggins; his options were limited and the window was closing fast.

At that moment, his fingers shuffled back into his pocket and around the familiar metallic little trinket of his magic ring; without a second thought to spare, he slipped it over his finger and the entire world became hazy and unfocused. That did not stop the slow-paced onslaught of his captor inching ever so closer to the cutting board.

I put all my faith in this ring of mine, he prayed, that it may save me from certain death and protect me from harm.

In an instant, he felt an outside presence washing through his soul; it felt comforting and yet…at the same time, something about it made his stomach ill, as if he ate something that caused his body to churn in all directions.

Suddenly, the fisted claw gripping his body slammed down onto the wooden cutting board, and he heard the telltale sound of a knife being picked up and held aloft. He shut his eyes, hoping that the end would be swift…

But it never came. Instead, the scaly fist loosened entirely. Bilbo opened his eyes to see that his captor was standing stunned, and that he had unwittingly freed his captured prize.

"What the—where'd it go?"

The cook grunted, annoyed at being interrupted again.

"I had the scavenger right in my claw and it just…disappeared!"

Quickly, Bilbo rolled himself out of range of the claw, sliding over the edge of the countertop before grabbing onto the ledge. He used the momentum to swing himself towards another support underneath the table, and then he silently dropped down onto the hard stone floor, hoping that the sudden slap of his soles against stone had not alerted the dragons to his presence.

As he quietly slunk beneath the giant kitchen furniture, he prayed that his luck would keep the two dragons arguing and away from himself. He paused, noticing that the sunlight was shining against the gap in the doorway leading out of the kitchen. He watched carefully, making sure that the dragons were caught up in their argument, taking one small step at a time, even with the sun shining brightly on his face. Finally, he swiped around the edge of the giant door and out of line from the sunlight, shrouded once again in the familiarity of the shadows.

Back in the true battleground of a burglar.

Confidence having been restored, Bilbo slunk around the shading of the environment around him. He stuck mainly to the walls, and made sure to duck behind every hiding spot of furniture, or behind a pillar every time he heard the telltale sounds of oncoming dragons. The tedious part of the whole thing was that the steps were dragon-sized, and thus the hobbit in the shadows was climbing down a mountain range with the long spiral-staircase. Down the stairs, he had no objects to hide behind, instead counting on his invisibility and passing shadows to shroud him. It was by luck that no passing SkyWing dragon managed to capture him again.

At last, he managed to find a long hallway ahead of him, with an enticing light at the end of it. Except that hallway opened up to a four-way intersection; he paused, frozen stiff as an entourage of dragons came stomping past him. They were all SkyWings, but they were all dressed as guards surrounding one SkyWing in particular. The entourage stopped right at the intersection, flanking the dragon of honor.

The dragon's scales were scarlet-red, with hints of orange, and little jewels of diamonds and rubies dotted below her eyelids. A wispy trail of smoke perpetually emanated from the snout. Bilbo figured the dragon was female, judging by the proportions of her limbs compared to her body and how narrow her snout was compared to her male guards, who all had burly snouts.

She definitely carried herself as the most important dragon in the room: perhaps this was Queen Scarlet; it certainly matched her scales. It would explain the large golden choker, and was that a ruby in the middle of it?

"I'm feeling in the mood for some…excitement," she slithered.

The very sound of her voice sent shivers through the hobbit's body: it was smooth, calculating, and manipulative. She peered at her claws, shuffling her thumb through her talons in a bored manner.

And then he saw her eyes: soul-piercing and golden. The guards all remained stoic, with small very miniscule details in their behavior: it was clear they were intimidated, and yet remained loyal. The Queen looked at all of them with nothing but condescending glares.

It could have been a case of mistaken identity, or a distant relation…or, hopefully, nothing at all. Bilbo's mind was filled with memories of the Great Dragon that sacked Erebor.

"Bring out the Mad SeaWing on my command," she said. In Bilbo's hiding, he forgot that the queen had been lost in consideration.

He did notice that the guards subtly flinched. One dared to speak up. "The…Mad SeaWing, your majesty?"

Queen Scarlet caught onto this. "Oh, what's the matter? Is the little itty-bitty royal guard scared?" Her voice was sickeningly sweet, and obviously fake, but had the desired effect of buttering up the guard.

His relieved smile was replaced with terror when Scarlet gripped a claw on his neck, squeezing the life out of him. Instead of outright roaring in her face, her eyes glared and her smile dropped. Her voice was still as slithery, but nothing more. "Don't forget, I'm your queen, and you do as I say, or there will be consequences."

The young guard struggled to speak, barely even utter a sound from his closing neck; he was on the verge of tears just from staring into the piercing eyes of his queen. "Y-y-yes, m-my queen!"

She released the guard with a relaxed grin, dropping him onto his belly. Neither of the others helped him up.

"Release a few scavengers as an…appetizer," Scarlet continued. "That should get him agitated enough."

Two guards to her right nodded, and bowed in dismissal. Scarlet led the remaining guards away and out of sight, chuckling to herself, as if she had her own private joke to smile about.

This complicates things, Bilbo gulped.

Now there were two dragons blocking his exit, with a wide berth to run and hide in many different directions. Maybe this was not going to be as difficult, just less easy. But he had proven that dragons could not see through anything invisible.

Quickly, Bilbo ran across the hall, looking around him in case of oncoming unexpected dragons. When he reached across the hall, he ducked into a corner out of sight from the guards in his sight. He watched them, careful not to arouse any suspicions as he scampered quietly and quickly across the hall to another corner. He noticed, however, that his hiding spot was between two sets of metal bars: one had a bright white dragon sleeping, and the other had a yellow dragon awake and alert, watching the guards as well.

He then noticed that the two guards were stationed on either side of another cage, yet they were blocking his view of whatever was inside. Were these dragons in cages? Just what was going on here?

Bilbo decided not to ponder enough on the thought, as the large metal gate had been raised, creating the perfect opening to escape.

Sticking to the shadows and remaining as quiet as possible, he covered his eyes as he ran out into the warm embrace of the sunlight, finally thankful for the freedom.

He would soon be thankful that he had remained invisible the entire time.