Dragon Hunting

Night fell over the Lonely Mountain as the brave burglar Peregrin Took snuffed the candle out with his fingers.

"Pippin," hissed Frodo as he watched him from the corner of the cave. "Aunt Eglantine'll kill me if she sees you've burnt yourself again."

Peregrin ignored his cousin and continued to creep in careful silence towards the dragon and his hoard; he wasn't the one who had some great treasures to sneak out from under the nose of Smaug. Pippin's complaining fingers could be tended to later.

"Peregrin...." the dragon seemed to be calling him, as if it knew of his coming. But that was impossible, thought Pippin, after all, he did have Gollum's Ring. There was no way the dragon could see him. Yet as he crept closer, the voice called him again. It was not Frodo's, he was certain of that.

"Peregrin Took!" Pippin jolted back to reality and squinted through the dusty air at the figure in the entrance of the cave: it was his ma. "Peregrin Took, if you don't get out of your cousin's cellar this instant then you'll have none of Master Gamgee's best mushrooms at supper!"

Pippin took Frodo's waiting hand eagerly and scrambled up the dust coated steps of one of Bag End's cellars. Smaug could wait - some things were just more important.