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Millions of gold coins, goblets, crowns, and precious gems shifted dully beneath the colossal beast, giving rise to an ominous, dry rustle. Bilbo shrank behind a massive pillar, feeling his heart pounding somewhere in his throat. His gaze locked onto a huge, glowing stone. From its luminescence alone, it was instantly clear—this was it. While the dragon remained silent, the hobbit decided it was time to at least try and make a move.
The gold chimed softly beneath his cautious steps. A short distance away, echoing the rhythm of his movements, a matching clink resonated from under the serpent’s heavy tail. This quiet, rhythmic sound was already driving him mad, burning itself into his subconscious. It seemed to Bilbo that Smaug could hear absolutely everything. Not just his steps. He could hear the blood thundering through the veins of poor little Mr. Baggins.
"So, it is Oakenshield..." the dragon’s voice rumbled, its vibration echoing painfully somewhere in Bilbo's ribs and throat. "That arrogant dwarf-usurper. He sent you to fetch the Arkenstone, did he not?"
"No, no," Bilbo stammered at once, desperately trying to swallow and forcing his voice to sound as steady as possible. "I have no idea what you are talking about."
"There is no point in denying it. I saw through his miserable little plot long ago," Smaug exhaled heavily, and a wave of hot, sulfur-scented air hit the hobbit square in the face. His nose and eyes stung. "That coward Oakenshield weighed the value of your life and decided it was worth nothing."
"No, no, no. That’s not true," the hobbit protested again. It was nervous, but somehow too sharp. A hint of offense crept into his voice. Bilbo himself didn't quite understand what exactly stung more: the fact that, inherently, those words could be true? Or the fact that the dragon so casually, in passing, tarnished the honor of the King? And besides... since when was Thorin a coward? The hobbit felt heat rush to his cheeks.
Smaug fell silent. The massive, scaled head slowly turned toward the pillar. The serpent had caught that fleeting change in intonation. Too sharp, too heated. Far too genuine for a mere hired burglar.
The dragon let out a low, guttural laugh. The sound was like a scraping grind. Mr. Baggins’s ears twitched, and he felt a strange ache deep inside his ear canal—a tickling sound that made him want to clench his teeth so hard his jaw throbbed.
"O-o-oh... how curious," Smaug drawled. He had been bored, sleeping on gold for centuries, and this slight hesitation suddenly made the game far more interesting. The serpent’s voice turned syrupy, almost mockingly tender. "What is this... You defend him? What touching loyalty for one who was sent to the slaughter. The mysterious Barrel-rider, leaping into the jaws of death for... for what? For a handful of coin?"
"I am not here for gold," slipped from Bilbo’s lips before he could bite his tongue. The tips of his ears burned with heat.
"Not for gold?" Smaug drew closer, inhaling the air just a few feet from the hobbit's face, washing him in heat. "Dwarves know no language other than gold. Their king least of all. If he did not buy you, then... what did he entice you with, little thief? What price does Thorin Oakenshield pay for such devotion?"
Bilbo swallowed invisibly. The air was becoming suffocatingly hot; every breath scorched his nostrils. He needed to steer the conversation back to riddles, to barrels... dear God, to anything but Thorin.
Smaug lowered his head, sending a fresh wave of heat rolling over Bilbo.
"You, a pathetic creature smelling of dry grass and cheap tobacco," the dragon narrowed his eyes. "So fiercely throwing yourself into the defense of a dwarf who left you here to be torn to pieces. Why?"
"He is my friend," Bilbo forced out, trying to keep his voice from trembling. "And he is no coward."
Mr. Baggins would have liked to add that his tobacco was not cheap at all, but the thought vanished the moment it appeared, shifting his focus to a sudden wave of nausea.
"A friend?" Smaug scoffed, scalding the hobbit with hot air. "Do not make me laugh. Dwarves know nothing of friendship when gold is involved."
"That is not true," Bilbo hissed through his teeth.
The dragon slowly circled the pillar, forcing Bilbo to shift from foot to foot to avoid the sweeping mass of the giant tail. Then he stopped, staring down at the tiny hobbit with a long, predatory gaze.
"O-o-oh..." the dragon purred, and instead of fury, a sickening, sated triumph suddenly cut through his voice.
"I... I keep my word, O Smaug the Tremendous," the little Mr. Baggins began to quietly justify himself for some reason. "The hobbits of the Shire do not break contracts. I promised to help them reclaim their home."
"Home?" Smaug snorted, puffing out a small cloud of smoke. "What business does a creature from blooming holes have with a cold rock? Oh, no, no. You tremble with fear, your manners are impeccable, and your heart... your heart beats so... loudly."
Bilbo took a cautious step back; the gold beneath his feet clinked again. Each coin felt like a distinct, simultaneously burning and chilling touch.
The dragon's tail instantly blocked his path of retreat, lowering softly but unyieldingly behind the hobbit.
"Let us play a game, Clue-finder," a syrupy, even more predatory cadence entered Smaug's voice. "You like riddles and questions, don't you? Talk to me. Answer me, O Luck-wearer... Why are you here? For a share of this treasure? For the rush? Adventure? Just who is it that you like so much?"
Bilbo’s breath caught. He flinched and blinked rapidly.
"I like my pipe and my tobacco. I like my books. I like flow—"
"No, no. Not what," the dragon tossed his head, his scales rustling with a sound like a thousand knives sharpening against granite. "Who, little insect."
The little Mr. Baggins wrinkled his nose in a funny way. Though, whether it was actually funny, no one could truly say. A foul sensation and a creeping realization began to take root in his mind.
"Well... I like Bofur. Sometimes he babbles a bit too much and out of turn, but he is a good friend and supported me well from the very beginning. I enjoy his company. I like Balin; he is wise and calm, a pillar of support, and I can ask him anything without worrying that he will think me a fool. I like Fili and Kili; despite some of their... eccentricities, they are fine lads," Bilbo listed the names of the entire company feverishly, breathlessly, trying to hide his name behind the backs of the others. It was a pathetic, transparent attempt to play dumb.
The dragon's nostrils flared wider, and he exhaled hot air once more, shifting from paw to paw, doing so almost gracefully, albeit lazily.
"Barrel-rider... so foolish and naive..."
The hobbit took another step, and the coins began to slide as if caught in a current, causing him to nearly lose his footing. It was so stifling here, and Bilbo desperately did not want to be in this place.
"Are you not in love, thief? Such a foolish, hopeless notion! What binds you to this fallen king without a kingdom? What catches you? His fury? His pride? His despair? Dwarves are blind moles; they cannot see what is right beneath their noses. But I am no dwarf. I can feel it in your shallow breaths and your heartbeat. Even in your scent."
"I do not know what you mean, O Sma—"
"You know exactly what I mean," Smaug interrupted, his massive pupil narrowing into a razor-sharp slit. "Do not take me for a fool!" the dragon roared, a flash of crimson flame erupting from his jaws, making the hobbit’s knees buckle. "A mercenary's loyalty comes from gold and a contract. A servant's loyalty comes from servility. But your loyalty seems to be mere stupidity. This spark... it is nearly an obsession."
The dragon’s tail brushed against some precious stones, sending them cascading down, striking a pair of glittering vases and a suit of armor. Bilbo was breathing heavily, sweating profusely, but he tried not to tear his eyes away from the largest, most radiant gem.
"What a magnificent, what a delicious stupidity!" Smaug rumbled with mockery dripping from his voice, his words echoing through the arches of Erebor. "A hobbit who has given his heart to a dwarf who is already wedded to his gold!.."
Bilbo swallowed, trying—honestly and desperately trying—not to pay attention to anything but the stone. It’s nonsense, it’s a game, it’s just deliberate psychological pressure, he told himself. It is something to be ignored. Just words. Words mean nothing until you give them power. He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds and sharply sucked in air, biting the edge of his tongue.
"But tell me, Barrel-rider... does your King under the Mountain know that his faithful burglar is scuttling around down here for something other than a share of the treasure? Is your little, worthless madness reciprocated? Or does he see you merely as a compliant tool, so easily sent to his death?"
Bilbo froze, clenching his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, leaving deep marks.
"What do the feelings of mortals matter to you, O Great Serpent?" Bilbo suddenly asked defiantly, trying to force steel into his voice. "Dragons are surely above such things. You care only for gold."
"Oh, they matter not at all," Smaug bared rows of teeth as sharp as crags. "But it makes my game so much more amusing. How touching! A hobbit and a dwarven sovereign."
The dragon made a few lazy movements, causing various golden trinkets to scatter in all directions.
"Tell me, little thief, does your majestic king have any inkling of the way you look at him when he isn't watching? Does he know that you are willing to burn in my fire just so he can reclaim his cursed throne?"
Bilbo remained silent, tightening his fists even more.
"He does not know," Smaug stated with profound satisfaction. "Of course he does not. And even if he did, would it change a single thing? To him, you are merely an instrument. A convenient, unnoticeable, stealthy burglar. What did he promise you, hmm? A share of the wealth, was it? But he will never give you what you truly desire."
Bilbo pressed his lips together, still fighting to ignore every word. It’s a game, it’s madness. It’s not true.
Smaug, however, seemed to savor the uncovered secret like a rare, exquisite delicacy.
"And is it not precious?" The dragon let out a low, guttural growl, a sound dripping with absolute derision. "A thief in love with a king?"
Bilbo bit his lip until it bled, forcing himself to keep his eyes locked solely on the Arkenstone.
The dragon's tail flicked lazily, tossing a few coins into the air for a brief second.
"Or perhaps he does care, hmm? It would bring me great amusement and pleasure to know that Oakenshield sent something he might actually hold dear down here. One treasure for another? Oh, you delightful little thief... if I roast you right now like a piece of pork, will Thorin Oakenshield shed a single tear? Or will he simply bury your little charred corpse in a ditch, delivering some textbook speech without a shred of sincerity?"
The dragon turned slowly toward the hobbit once more, his voice now entirely saturated with mockery and arrogance. "'We bid farewell to our little friend...'"
"He... he is a noble dwarf," Bilbo spat out, feeling fury rising in his throat.
"Noble?" Smaug burst into a laugh that cut the ears. "Dwarves know no nobility or honor when it comes to gold! Is it not already obvious? He is sick, hobbit. His line is cursed. And you... you are in love with an already-dead. An insane who will trade your loyalty and your hide for a handful of coin the moment he crosses this threshold. He is already beyond saving. He will lose his mind and then he will rot, suffering the exact same fate as his grandfather."
"You know nothing about him!" Bilbo shouted, unable to hold back any longer, throwing the last remnants of caution to the wind. "He is fair and honorable!"
"Oh, please! He is a dwarf!" Smaug cut him off, his voice striking like thunder. It almost felt as if the dragon rolled his eyes. "Diminutive... stubborn... avaricious..."
Bilbo winced and frowned. Breathing was becoming harder, and while he didn't fully understand why just yet, he blamed it on the swelering heat in the air. The radiant stone was so close; all he had to do was reach out his hand and...
The dragon noticed.
"You know what?" the serpent’s intonation shifted again, a new note entering his voice—an interest bordering on almost childlike mischief. "Perhaps I should just give it to you. And watch Oakenshield suffer."
The dragon drew back, his massive wings unfurling with a dry rustle before folding against his spine once more.
"Go on, take it. Bring it to your king." Smaug lowered his head right to the pile of gold. "And then, we shall watch together..."
"Watch what?" Bilbo stammered quietly, paralyzed by a foul, sickening feeling.
"Watch how that stone destroys him," the dragon whispered, a manic fire igniting in his eyes. "How it corrupts his heart and drives him mad. How your beloved king will look at you with eyes full of hatred and suspicion. How the wealth he gains will devour everything human you love in him. Let us see if your foolish love can outweigh the curse of Erebor."
Smaug turned away with a sweep of his tail, sending hundreds of gold coins raining down upon Bilbo.
"Then again, perhaps not. It is time to end this game..."