Bilbo: Adventuring

Bilbo grips Sting in his hand, watching the cold blade for a blue glow as he creeps forward down the tunnel to the dragon’s lair. His heart pounds loudly in his ears, and in this narrow dark passage, even his near-silent footsteps seem to shout and echo down the tunnel toward his destination. His nerves rattle through him, shakes him to his very core, and as he nears the lair he is so tightly wound that he nearly jumps straight up and through the ceiling when something taps him on the shoulder.

“Aaaahhh!” he shouts in a high-pitched squawk, his heart now pounding in his throat, making it difficult to breath. He spins around to find Frodo standing sheepishly behind him. “Frodo!” he hisses in hushed, urgent tones. “What are you doing? You don’t sneak up while burglarizing a dragon!”

“Sorry Bilbo, but you did tell me not to be late,” Frodo says, making no effort to keep his voice down. He pulls some chestnuts from his pocket and proceeds to crack them open with an eagle beak nutcracker, making a terrible riot.

“Considering that we’re standing just ten feet from the dragon, I’d say that you are very late indeed,” Bilbo whispers. Frodo shrugs and cracks another nut, and Bilbo yanks both the nuts and the nutcracker from Frodo’s hands. “And will you please stop making such a racket. You’re going to wake the dragon.”

“But he wakes up anyway,” Frodo points out.

“Not right now, he doesn’t!” Bilbo says, still keeping his voice low for all that their surprise attack is now hopelessly foiled. “Am I invisible? Am I wearing the ring? No, I’m not, which means this is my first time through. I steal the cup and Smaug remains asleep – or he’s supposed to.”

Frodo’s eyes widen with abashment and guilt. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t realize about the ring.”

Bilbo impatiently waves his hand for silence and motions for Frodo to fall in behind him, then he uses his forefinger and middle finger of his left hand to pantomime how they are going to sneak up on the dragon. Frodo nods along, munching away on a chestnut that Bilbo hadn’t managed to take, and Bilbo repositions himself to spring into the lair. He steadies his grasp on Sting and creeps forward along the wall with hobbit stealth, as Frodo walks casually behind him. Bilbo pauses at the entrance to the lair, braces himself for the confrontation that is about to come, and slips into the dragon’s den.

Frodo follows after and looks about the vast and looming – and empty – inner cave. “Wow!” he exclaims out loud, his voice echoing off the high walls. “It’s so big! But, there’s nothing here. Where are the dragon and the treasure?”

Bilbo lowers his sword and looks around the den, duped by its emptiness. He scratches his head and turns all around but there is nothing there but him and Frodo. “Well, this isn’t right,” Bilbo says. “There should be a big pile of gold and jewels, just here, and on top of it, a dragon, red-scaled and filling the cave from floor to ceiling.”

“Maybe it’s the wrong cave,” Frodo suggests.

“No. No, this is the right cave, I’m certain of it. This is what it looked like, well enough. It’s just empty,” Bilbo says as he sheaths his wooden sword.

“Empty?” hisses a voice from the far corner. Yellow eyes appear in the deepest of the shadows and peer at the hobbits with venom. “Nothing? So you think yourself safe? You think your task is complete?” The eyes narrow at them and a menacing laugh creeps through the air toward them. Bilbo draws his sword again and stands between Frodo and the voice, blocking the lad even as Frodo stands on tiptoe to try to see around him. “You think you’ll walk out of here alive, do you?”

Frodo lights a torch and hands it to Bilbo, who holds it high to cast its light into the shadows, revealing there a common garden lizard no more than ten inches in length, with wings of parchment glued to its back. The lizard lays upon a small pile of gold-painted rocks and transparent marbles. It speaks again, and this time the voice is high-pitched and excited, reminding them of Pippin when he eats too many sweets.

“You do not comprehend the extent of my power! I will hold you helpless in my gaze and strip you of everything you know!” it boasts. “You have not seen evil yet! Oh no, not yet!”

Bilbo and Frodo share a quick and dubious glance before going to stand over the lizard. The lizard looks back at them, flicking its tongue in a way that can only be described as adorable, for all that it was glaring at them. Frodo tries hard to keep from laughing as he kneels down and looks it in the eyes.

The lizard jeers triumphantly, and now they’re reminded of Pippin when he is tickled. “That’s right, young one. Look into my eyes and I will break you to my will.”

Frodo giggles. “So you’re Smaug, and this is your treasure?” He reaches out to toy with a marble that has rolled away from the rest of the nest.

“Stop it!” the lizard spits indignantly. It redoubles its efforts, opening its eyes wide. “Your will is mine!”

Frodo smiles at it as he would a bairn or a kitten. “Look Bilbo! He’s trying to draw me into a stupor and drive me mad! He’s so… so… precious! Yes, you’re such a precious little thing, yes you are!” He looks up at Bilbo expectantly. “Can I keep it? I’ve never had a pet.”

“I am NOT a pet!” Smaug huffs.

“No, we can’t keep it,” Bilbo says, thoroughly put out by the way this has all turned out. “It’s evil and we’re supposed to kill it, not adopt it. This isn’t how this is supposed to go.”

“I’m ruining it by being here, aren’t I?” Frodo asks, sobering immediately. “This is the sort of story best heard and not seen.”

“Hoi!” Smaug scolds. “Look at me when I’m hypnotizing you, young lad!”

Frodo ignores him, only concerned for Bilbo. “Should I go?” he asks, looking downcast but accepting of the inevitable answer.

“Yes lad, I think that would be for the best. Go on home. I’ll fetch the dwarves,” Bilbo says and watches as Frodo walks away with head bowed. When he’s sure Frodo is gone, he bends down and picks up the lizard by its fake wings. “You are not Smaug.”

“Are you so sure of that? All those embellishments over the years, one growing upon the other… Perhaps your little adventure wasn’t so adventurous after all.”

“You are not Smaug,” Bilbo says again. “That is not his treasure and this might look like the right cave, but it isn’t either. I’m going to find the real cave and then we’ll see.”

Bilbo turns and breezes back down the tunnel to the cave entrance with Smaug the Lizard on his shoulder. When he steps outside, he sees Thorin Oakenshield standing before the other twelve dwarves and himself as they stand around the chieftain and listen to him ramble on. Bilbo blinks at the sight, not having any way of explaining how he can be in two places at once, and Smaug laughs in his ear.

“You see,” Smaug says. “You haven’t even gone in yet.”

“So it appears,” Bilbo says. “But I will soon, I’m sure of it.”

“Shall we wait and see then?” Smaug suggests and Bilbo finds a notch in the rocks in which to hide and watch from a distance.

Thorin continues to drone on while slowly, one by one, all those listening nod off to sleep. Balin makes a valiant effort to remain awake, even going to such lengths as to hop about a bit and walk up and down the length of the alcove, but he too succumbs to sleep in the end. Even Bilbo finds himself having a hard time staying awake and Smaug snoozes lightly into his ear.

“…on this quite momentous occasion for which we have traveled through all of Arda, that being the land between the Sea and the East and including such memorable places as Bree, Combe, Archet, the Troll Shaw, Rivendell, the Gladden Fields…”

“Why, he didn’t even mention the Shire!” Bilbo says, insulted, and Smaug stirs lazily on his shoulder.

“…the Misty Mountains, the Silverlode, Mirkwood, which is also a haven for the most despicable and deplorable of all races, the so-called fair ones with their golden hair and bright eyes, yet not so bright personalities…”

Bilbo yawns and wavers a bit on his feet, then shakes his head to help keep himself awake. He looks up at the sky to find that the sun has set and twilight is upon them. “Now, I know his speech didn’t take this long!” he mutters to himself.

The stars are shining brightly when he awakens and finds himself slumped against the rocks. He straightens and stretches, remembering just in time the lizard on his shoulder and is careful not to knock the tiny beast to the ground as he works the knots out of his shoulders. He rubs his eyes and yawns, then peeks out from behind the rocks certain that by now his other self must have ventured into the cave, yet he finds that Thorin is still talking, not being at all concerned at the various snores that surround him.

“…if they had any sense of justice or hospitality, we would have been here much sooner than we have arrived and needless to say that they have delayed us terribly, an injustice that will not go unpunished once we succor our treasure from the worm, which brings me back to this most momentous of occasions…”

“Dear me, but he hasn’t broken that sentence even once, has he?” Bilbo says in horrified shock. “Well, this isn’t getting me anywhere. This is clearly the right cave, yet there is nothing significant inside. Perhaps Elrond would have a solution to this problem.”

So with that thought in mind, he pushes himself out of the crevice and tiptoes around the slumbering dwarves and his snoozing other self, and Thorin never even notices when Bilbo steals one of the pack ponies and rides away.

He reaches the river in quick time and looks at it in astonishment. He knows he never embellished about the river and always reported it as being exactly what it was: fast, strong and wide across. Yet this river is barely more than a trickle of water running down over the hillside and the pony, as if only to make the realization worse, walks directly over it, its left hooves on one side and its right hooves on the other, and follows the rivulet all the way to Lake Town, stopping only to take a drink when it gets thirsty.

Smaug keeps Bilbo company during the week-long ride, which is substantially longer than it should have been by rights, and Bilbo gets to know Smaug quite well. As it turns out, Smaug enjoys many of the same pastimes as Bilbo does and they swap many of their favorite cooking receipts during the long uneventful days. Smaug even gives Bilbo cooking tips and Bilbo repays him by demonstrating how to go about crocheting a sweater that will accommodate the lizard’s wings.

At long last they reach Lake Town and it is, thankfully, exactly as Bilbo remembers it. The lake is crystal blue, reflecting a cloudless sky, and the town rests upon its surface, balanced on stilts of thick wood. Bilbo urges the pony over one of many bridges and into the main thoroughfare of the town. Smaug looks about in awe, his eyes lighting on any trinket of gold, silver or jewel that they pass. He convinces Bilbo to linger in the marketplace, but every time he reaches out his tiny hands to grab upon an item, Bilbo walks away to inspect something else.

“I’m not going to increase my wealth if you keep doing that,” he complains.

Bilbo turns his head to scoff at the lizard as best he can. “I’m not here to help you, you know.”

“If you say so.”

“Look, that trip down the river took longer than it should have, even with no breaks. I need to replenish my stores,” Bilbo says. “That’s the only reason we’re here.”

They come to a booth selling cured meats, dried fruits and nuts. A customer is there already, grabbing handfuls of nuts with great enthusiasm. When the customer’s bag is full to bursting, the customer turns and beams happily at Bilbo.

“Look Bilbo!” he says and Bilbo realizes with a start that it is Frodo. “I’ve got more nuts, and these ones are already cracked. I’ve also got enough supplies to get us home.” He waves his hand to the left and Bilbo turns to see a cart piled with so many parcels and packages that they block out the sun. Frodo strolls to the cart and tosses the bag of nuts to the top of the pile, easy as you please. “Just let me pay for this,” he says and hands the merchant a marble. “These are really quite valuable, you know.”

“Frodo,” Bilbo starts. “I’m fairly certain I told you to go home.”

“And I am going home, but I can’t get there without food. You know how I’ve been going through these growth spurts,” Frodo says, hopping onto the coach seat and patting the space next to him. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Yes, yes, I suppose that would be for the best,” Bilbo says. “Just let me find Bard first so I can dispose of this lizard.”

“You would just get rid of me?!” Smaug exclaims, faux tears in his voice. “After all that we’ve shared? I even gave you my best receipt for hot cocoa.”

“Oh, Bilbo, look at him,” Frodo says and Bilbo looks to see that Smaug has worked up quite a few tears indeed. The other shoppers in the marketplace turn to look at Bilbo disdainfully. “Can’t we keep him? Please? I promise to look after him and feed him.” He lifts Smaug off Bilbo’s shoulders and rests the beast in his palm, the lizard’s tail curling around his slim wrist.

“You don’t want to do that, Frodo,” Bilbo warns. “I need to take him to Bard.”

Frodo fervently covers the lizards ears and gapes at Bilbo with horrified shock. “But Bard kills him!”

“Frodo! He is not a pet or a toy!” Bilbo exclaims, at the end of his tether. “He’s a dragon!”

“I thought you said he was just a lizard,” Frodo points out, releasing Smaug’s ears.

“A lizard who can teach you how to make s’mores,” Smaug says and bats his eyelids innocently.

“Ooh! S’mores! I heard those were good!” Frodo says, his face full of eagerness and determination. “Please Bilbo. I’ll take real good care of him. I won’t let him put me in his thrall. I’m not like you, and I know the warning signs: crankiness, grouchiness, tiredness, feeling like too much butter over not enough bread. Or is that the other way around?”

“Oh all right,” Bilbo gives in. “But he’s only coming as far as Mirkwood.” He climbs onto the coach next to Frodo. The lad brings a handkerchief from his coat pocket and makes a cushion for Smaug to curl up in while Bilbo takes the reins and steers them out of town.

The river is now a full-sized river, but instead of one, there are many coming from countless different directions, pouring into the delta at the western side of the town. Bilbo doesn’t recognize any of this and is uncertain which river to follow and he hesitates before making up his mind to follow what appears to be the widest of the rivers, for surely that must be the one he and the dwarves rode down on the barrels. After following the tributary for just a few minutes, they see many barrels coming down the current toward them but there is something about these barrels that is not right, and it is not long before they discover what. The first of the barrels reaches them and quite to their astonishment, there is an elf sitting tucked tightly inside it, his head and shoulders sticking out of its open top.

“Hoi there!” Bilbo calls. “What is this?”

The elf sees them and nods his head in greeting. “Good day, Bilbo!” the elf says. “I told my father about your little escapade with the dwarves, and he agreed that it was a very inventive way to transport persons. So now we all get to ride down the river in barrels!” The elf and barrel zip past them, the barrel hitting a rock near the riverbed and spinning the elf back into the middle of the river. “Wheeee!” the elf exclaims.

Bilbo stares after the elf in disbelief, which is not helped by the innumerable other elves that closely follow the first. Frodo says nothing either and Smaug watches with a bored glaze over his eyes. When all the barrels have passed, Frodo turns to Bilbo, his expression quite unreadable and Bilbo waits to hear what the lad will say. Finally, Frodo says, “Can we do that too?” Then he looks down at Smaug, frowning. “It would too be fun,” he argues, as if Smaug had said something, but for all appearances, Smaug is nearly asleep with boredom.

“Frodo, I think it’s time you drive and let me mind the lizard,” Bilbo says but Frodo crosses his arms over Smaug and his frown deepens.

“He’s just fallen asleep,” Frodo says and shakes his head with disapproval, then looks up to watch the scenery as they ride along.

The flowers grow as big as trees and their fragrant blooms fill the air with their heady scent. The trees stand leafless, as if in slumber for the winter, and the shrubs grow fruit that upon closer inspection is actually uncut jewels of rubies, rhinestones, sapphires and emeralds. Smaug opens his eyes and flicks his tongue when they pass near a particularly laden bush and he gets Frodo to take a few of the jewels to add to his makeshift bed. “Just enough to make him comfortable,” Frodo reasons.

Before long, they pass into Mirkwood and skirt around the realm of the Woodland elves, even though they can hear the sounds of revelry and celebration much as they would hear in the Shire. They soon reach the dark heart of the forest and Smaug is awake and alert now, listening intently to the deadly silence that surrounds them. Frodo squirms uneasily in his seat and folds his arms around himself as he gazes cautiously up into the treetops.

“Isn’t there a Necromancer in these woods,” Frodo says.

“Gandalf should have expelled him by now,” Bilbo says.

Frodo is not comforted. He slips down into his seat and tries to hide from the forest. “I don’t like it in here,” he says.

“This is the only way to get to Rivendell,” Bilbo says. “Don’t be so silly. There is nothing dangerous here.”

“Nothing dangerous!” Frodo says. “There’s spiders! Giant spiders that come out of nowhere and wrap you up in webbing, and your sword is made of wood and not even the useful kind.”

“Sting serviced me quite successfully the first time through,” Bilbo says, trying not to voice his sense of insult, to little avail. “There is no reason to assume it won’t get us through it again.”

Frodo looks up at him uncertainly, then moves his gaze past Bilbo’s head to regard the forest with earnestness. “There are eyes everywhere.”

“There is no such thing,” Bilbo says. “Now, the first time, the dwarves and I got into trouble for letting our stomachs and imaginations run away from us. But now we’ve plenty of food and we’ll follow the path to the end.”

“What path? What food?” Frodo asks, and Bilbo pulls on the reins hard, stopping them with a jerk. He looks behind them and finds the cart bed empty but for a couple of blankets and a nearly empty bag of nuts. He turns to face forward again, and finds them in the middle of the forest with no sight of the path they were previously traveling upon. “I don’t like it here,” Frodo repeats and Smaug hisses in the lad’s ear reassuringly.

“We’ll be out in no time,” Bilbo promises and hopes fervently that he is correct.

“I don’t know,” Frodo says uncertainly. “Being lost in a haunted forest with no food and water is a bad thing. I’ve done that; it’s not fun.”

“This will be different,” Bilbo says. “I know how to get out.”

And out he gets them, in much less time than he had hoped, and Frodo almost seems disappointed that they avoid danger so easily. He sits up and looks behind them as the forest quickly recedes into the background, then he reaches over and tugs at Bilbo’s arm, pointing back to where they had existed the trees. “Look!”

Bilbo stops the cart and cranes his head back to see a bear standing at the edge of the woods. The bear is twirling rope and pulling spiders from the trees. “Is that Beorn?” Frodo asks.

“No,” Bilbo says. “But at least he kept the spiders off us.”

Frodo nods but Smaug smiles malevolently. “This time,” he says, peering up at Frodo, who is still watching the bear.

“And as for you,” Bilbo says, liking the lizard even less now. “You’ve come as far as you’re going. You can take your leave now. We’re out of the forest, so he’ll be safe of any dangers,” he says to Frodo, who is starting to protest. He takes Smaug by the wings and drops him off the cart, then flicks the reins and urges the pony forward.

“You know, Bilbo,” Frodo says as he faces forward again, the lizard instantly forgotten, “this adventure of yours is turning out to be rather dull. I know you said you embellished a little, but I didn’t think you meant it in this way.”

“In what way?” Bilbo asks.

“In the way that you took little adventures and made them grand, rather than taking grand adventures and making them a little grander,” Frodo answers, crossing his arms before him and scowling. “Now that I think of it, I don’t think I want to go with you to Elrond’s after all. I’m just going to go on home.” And with that, he jumps down off the cart and stalks away.

Bilbo sighs with relief and continues on his way, glad to finally be at peace and alone. The world seems to come just a little bit more alive, the colors slightly more vibrant, the birds somewhat more musical, the breeze just a tad more gusty. He starts humming under his breath and so in that way passes the time between Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains. He comes to the High Pass and dismounts the cart, setting the pony free and taking on his back all that he can carry. He trudges up the pass to the back gate of the mountains and there he finds Frodo sitting on a rock and looking thoroughly bored.

“I wish you would make up your mind,” Frodo says and stands to join him. “Are we there yet?”

“This isn’t any more fun for me, you know,” Bilbo says.

“Then why do you go?”

Bilbo considers this for a moment but doesn’t answer. He finds the gate open and passes through it but Frodo makes no move to follow, and after waiting a moment or two, Bilbo continues on without him.

The Misty Mountains turn out to be more of a mole hill than a mountain, and Bilbo is through it and out the other side in just a few paces, having spied no evidence of goblins or gollums. Frodo is waiting for him on the other side, leaning against the rocky wall of the mountain. He pushes himself off the wall and follows Bilbo at a distance, and Bilbo can feel the lad’s contempt burning him even from that length. He endures it until they reach Rivendell and discover it to be no more than a shallow pit between two hills, the immortal waterfall actually part of an elaborate birdbath and the Last Homely House made of gingerbread and candy. Frodo peels a taffy piece off the wall and munches on it thoughtfully. He nods after a moment and announces, "Raspberry crumb cake," and  Bilbo finally loses his temper.

“This is just ridiculous!” he says. “Frodo! I didn’t ask you to stick around and make this journey a misery! This was real! This was a haven, a wonderful place to stay and rest! Not this… this… mockery of an elven home!”

“How is it my fault that it isn’t?” Frodo asks, losing his own temper. “I didn’t ask to come in the first place, but you said it would be so grand and you kept insisting that I follow after, and what do I get for it? Phony dragons, droning dwarves, floating elves and a forest full of nothing but trees. If the Great Eagles had shown up, they would have been stool pigeons! Well, I’m done following. I’m not your shadow.”

“I never wanted you to be.”

Frodo snorts at that, his opinion on that matter clear without having to utter a word.

“Well, if you’re so miserable, why don’t you leave?” Bilbo asks and waves his hand in the general direction of home.

“I will go!” Frodo says.

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“Then go then!”

“I’m going!”

“Wonderful!”

“Splendid!” Frodo stamps his foot, turns and stalks away, his arms crossed before him. “See you later!” he calls over his shoulder, somehow managing to sound both annoyed and uncertain.

“Yes you will!” Bilbo calls after him, somehow managing to sound both frustrated and reassuring. He turns and goes inside the Last Homely House in search of Elrond and answers.

What he finds instead is Gandalf lounging on a settle of marshmallows in the gingerbread library, smoking a pipe and sipping on a glass of wine, his grey robes for once clean and his beard for once combed and tidy. The wizard waves at Bilbo then goes back to smoking and drinking while Elrond stands behind an easel on the other side of the room, paintbrush in hand.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Bilbo exclaims. “You’re supposed to be fending off the Necromancer!”

“Oh, I just made that up,” Gandalf says nonchalantly. “Did you really think I’d want to wander through Mirkwood with a hobbit and thirteen dwarves until I was nearly starved to death? Pah! I’ll just hop a ride from Gwaihir when the time is right and all the danger has been averted already.”

“You’re having your portrait done?!” Bilbo storms over to Elrond’s side and stares agape at the painting, which depicts Gandalf as rather muscular and young for a wizard.

“Don’t you think it odd that I’m older than dirt and yet have no representations of myself?” Gandalf says. “I’m important, you know. People should be able to remember what I look like when I’m gone.”

“Then shouldn’t it look like you?” Bilbo asks, to which Gandalf and Elrond laugh.

“Of course not,” Elrond says. “What would be the point in that? People want a young, vibrant hero, not a washed-up old has-been who can't stop telling stories about his glory days.” Elrond sweeps his brush across the canvas, giving Gandalf thick, wavy blond hair.

Bilbo stamps his foot and storms over to Gandalf. “This is quite outrageous! I only came on this little adventure because of you, and here you sit doing nothing!”

“I sense that you are upset about something,” Gandalf says.

“Of course I am and it’s you I’m angry at, you old oaf!” Bilbo says and starts to pace back and forth, quite getting in Elrond’s way so that the elf lord has to stop and wait for the rant to end. “I was perfectly happy in the Shire until you came along to whisk me away on this malarkey of an adventure! Why, the dragon wasn’t even there! It was some lizard with delusions of grandeur and do you believe that Frodo wanted to keep it as a pet?”

“The dragon wasn’t there?” Gandalf says, sitting up and growing serious.

Elrond puts down his paintbrush and comes to lean over Bilbo, studying the hobbit intently. “Are you certain?” he asks.

“Of course I am,” Bilbo says. “The dragon was gone and so was the treasure, and there was only a lizard and Frodo and… what?”

Elrond smiles at him and Bilbo finds it most unsettling, though he cannot pinpoint why. The room melts away from around him, the candy and sweets of which it is made peeling away and running off down the sloped floor until there is nothing left but Elrond standing before him, smiling still, and around them is the lair, still empty, still large and echoing.

“A lizard, you say?” Elrond asks. “And now I suppose you’re going to tell me that you rode on the pony with the lizard on your shoulder, that Frodo was waiting for you at Lake Town and that you got through Mirkwood with nothing worse than an empty cart?”

“How did you know?” Bilbo asks, stepping away from the elf lord.

“Because that’s what I made you see,” Elrond answers and his smirk widens into a wicked grin and his eyes gleam. “You never saw me at all.” He laughs, a short, triumphant shout, then he throws his head back and roars with cocky mirth. As the eye contact breaks, Bilbo feels a sudden clearing of his mind, followed by a brief, blinding flash of pressure upon his head, and as Elrond continues to laugh, the pressure fades and with the headache goes the illusion that the dragon has placed upon him. Elrond is gone in a puff of smoke, and the smoke is steaming and hot and all around, the cave is bathed in the red light of dragon flame. Smaug looms over him, slinks his scaly tail around him and fills every space in the cave so that Bilbo has no way of escape.

“I was here the whole time,” Smaug says. “I never left or rather, I should say, you never left. You think you’ve lived these past sixty years? You think any of that was real? Warning Frodo not to fall into my thrall when it was you who was entrapped the whole while.”

Smaug opens his mouth, dives down and Bilbo feels the dragon’s hot breath surrounding him and he is certain that he is about to be finished for good, when they both hear a shrill voice rising up to halt the dragon.

“No Smaug! Bad dragon! Bad, bad boy!” Frodo exclaims, running up to swat the dragon upon its snout with a rolling pin. “How many times do I have to tell you: No. Eating. Relatives! Unless it’s Otho, Lotho or Lobelia. Now go to your corner!”

Smaug slumps at the shoulders and walks away, dragging his feet and looking apologetic. Bilbo watches in dazed surprise, his relief at finding himself not made into dragon fodder too fresh to be processed fully. “Frodo? How did you…?”

“You really shouldn’t have dumped him from the cart outside of Mirkwood, Bilbo,” Frodo says, hands on hips. “You need to apologize and make it sincere. Are you hungry? I made ginger snaps.”

Frodo turns about and walks into the kitchen and Bilbo turns around in surprise to find himself standing in the middle of the Bag End garden. “How did I get here?” he asks to himself, but Sam hears him and answers, “Same way you left, I expect.” Then Sam brushes off his breeches and goes to feed the dragon a cartload of chestnuts.

“Bilbo!” Frodo’s voice calls from inside. “The food’s not getting any hotter!”

Bilbo lingers in the doorway, not able to cross over the threshold. He’s had quite a bit more heat than he can take as it is anyway, or so he tells himself.

GF 3/18/06