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Breathing echoed through the vast hall.
Slow, Heavy, Deep.
In the open chamber, it sounded like a bellows stoking a furnace.
Bilbo turned stiffly.
A massive shape shifted beneath the gold, half a colossal head emerging as coins slid away, one enormous eye twitching beneath a scaled lid, beginning to open.
Then something else moved.
Farther back, a tail stirred lazily, sweeping through treasure with a soft metallic roar.
Bilbo swallowed.
So big.
Smaug was far larger than any tale had prepared him for.
As the dragon's eye began to open, Bilbo fumbled for the ring and slipped it on.
The world twisted.
Light bent, Sound warped. Reality pulled thin around him.
---
Jimmy sat on the stone steps outside the chamber, eyes closed, every sense turned inward.
Something changed.
A presence that had been dormant suddenly flared, heat blooming like a forge brought to life, vast and ancient, its pulse rolling outward.
That had to be Smaug.
Another presence flickered faintly nearby, small, nervous, unmistakably Bilbo.
Then it faded.
Not gone, but blurred, like a shadow swallowed by deeper darkness.
Jimmy frowned.
When Bilbo wore the ring and focused on hiding, sensing him became difficult, not impossible, but unreliable.
Things without clear edges were always troublesome.
If it bled, it could be killed.
If it did not, that was another problem entirely.
He pushed the thought aside.
This was not about Sauron or shadows.
This was about a dragon.
---
Gold exploded upward.
Smaug woke.
His full form shifted beneath the hoard, massive wings unfolding slightly, red gold scales grinding against stone, claws flexing with a sound like splitting rock.
Bilbo's heart slammed against his ribs.
Even invisible, he felt exposed.
Smaug could not see him.
But the dragon could feel him.
That pounding heart, that sharp spike of fear, it rang in Smaug's senses like a drum.
"A thief." Smaug rumbled, voice filling the hall. "I smell dwarf on you."
The dragon's head lowered.
"No." he continued. "Not a dwarf, Something smaller. Something trembling."
His nostrils flared.
"I hear your heart, I taste your fear. Yet I do not see you."
Smaug turned slowly.
"Where are you hiding?"
His massive head loomed inches from Bilbo's position.
The voice shifted, soft, coaxing.
"You are here."
The ring slipped.
Not by force.
By persuasion.
Bilbo did not even realize he had removed it until the world snapped back into place.
Smaug smiled.
The dragon's voice was not just sound, it pressed into the mind, a subtle pull, a suggestion rather than a command.
"Well," Smaug said, amused. "There you are."
Bilbo froze.
"I am not a thief." he blurted desperately. "I am not a dwarf, I am just. I am just."
Smaug tilted his head.
"Just what?"
Words mattered.
They always did.
Smaug was not afraid.
Why should he be?
To him, Bilbo was not a threat, only a diversion, a curiosity, something to toy with before crushing.
So the dragon listened.
"Then speak," Smaug said. "Little thing, tell me who you are."
Bilbo swallowed hard.
"I am not a thief," he said again, voice shaking. "I am your admirer."
Silence.
Even the gold seemed to stop moving.
Smaug blinked once.
"An admirer."
That was unexpected.
A dragon as old and terrible as Smaug knew exactly what he was, feared, cursed, hated across the world.
An admirer.
Interesting.
"Very well," Smaug said slowly. "Admirer."
He leaned closer.
"Then give me your name, your titles. Where do you come from?"
Bilbo took a breath and spoke, words spilling out in a rush, half-truth, half-instinct.
"I come from far below the mountain. I crossed rivers and forests to reach you. I walk unseen. I travel with luck. I am a friend of elves."
Smaug's eye narrowed.
"Guest of the elves." Smaug rumbled. "Enough questions."
His patience vanished.
"When I am done with you, I will hunt down the dwarves who dare creep back to my mountain."
The chamber shook.
A massive pillar cracked as Smaug smashed through it, stone exploding outward, gold spraying like rain.
Bilbo was thrown through the air, tumbling helplessly, and with him flew a single gem, glowing as if it carried the night sky within it.
The Arkenstone.
It did not need an introduction.
One glance was enough.
Smaug inhaled deeply, chest expanding, fire gathering, but in that instant, Bilbo slipped the ring back on and vanished from sight.
The dragon's head snapped from side to side.
Gone.
Again.
"Where." Smaug hissed. "Where did you go?"
---
Above the chamber, dust fell from the ceiling.
Stone groaned.
Outside, Jimmy opened his eyes.
"He is awake."
The mountain itself seemed to confirm it.
"We cannot leave our burglar alone in there." Thorin Oakenshield said grimly. "Draw blades."
"Finally," Jimmy muttered, resting the heavy saber across his shoulder. "Let us pay him a visit."
He surged forward.
This Thorin was different from the one who had first set out, pride intact, spine unbent, unwilling to abandon anyone who walked beside him.
As they moved, Thorin spoke quickly.
"The forges may still work. If we are to kill Smaug, the furnaces are our only chance. We draw him toward the lower halls."
Jimmy nodded.
"I will keep him busy. Give me one dwarf who knows the tunnels. When you are ready, signal me."
Thorin met his eyes.
"Hold him if you can. And bring our burglar back."
Jimmy tapped his chest.
"If I am here, no one gets left behind."
Then he was gone.
---
The cube rested between his teeth, small and solid, the only way to keep it secure.
The heavy saber was stowed.
For this, the lighter blade was better.
Speed mattered.
Precision mattered.
Jimmy climbed, moving through stone and shadow until he saw the dragon below, Smaug prowling across the hoard, gold rolling beneath his claws like water.
Jimmy crouched atop a shattered pillar and waited.
Then he jumped.
The blade flashed.
He aimed for the base of the wing, exactly where power met bone.
Too slow.
The tail came first.
A wall of muscle slammed into him midair.
The impact launched Jimmy across the chamber faster than his leap had carried him in.
He hit stone hard.
Bones protested.
Then knit.
By the time he rolled to his feet, most of the damage was already fading.
Anyone else would have been shattered.
Smaug did not pause.
Fire surged.
Jimmy ducked behind a column as flame washed over it, heat biting into flesh, cooking skin, pain flaring sharp and immediate.
It hurt.
A lot.
But it did not stop him.
He moved again, climbing, flattening himself against the stone as Smaug searched, nostrils flaring.
"Thief," Smaug growled. "You smell of blood and steel, You cannot hide forever."
Jimmy dropped silently behind him.
The blade moved.
Carefully.
Not a killing blow.
Not yet.
Steel rang.
Scales burst outward in a spray of sparks and fragments.
Smaug roared, pain and surprise ripping through the sound, wings flexing violently.
But the scales held.
Jimmy had pulled the strike.
He needed the dragon angry, focused, reckless.
And most of all.
He needed Smaug grounded.
The real fight had just begun.
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