The smutty version of this story is on AO3, under the same username and title as this one. However, I stop at the end of Smaug's POV, because it was too much for an M rating.

The Hobbit is not mine and I make no money from this.

Smaug, the last Great Fire Drake of the North, snuffled as he shifted position. He took a breath and caught the scent of something he did not recognise. He breathed in again; it was still there. There was movement nearby, he could hear the ringing of his hoard as something that was not supposed to be here searched his treasure.

The movement in itself would not be unusual. There were animals shifting around in here all the time, small things, but Smaug allowed them their lives because they did not desire his gold. Something was panting though, the scent of fear permeating the air. Animals did not generally fear him. This was something else.

Opening his eyes, he could spot nothing. He sniffed; that scent was strong and Smaug turned his head in the direction of it.

"Well, thief." He began, using the most common tongue he had heard during his many years; hoping that the unknown creature would speak it too. "I smell you."

It was a delicious smell. Earthy, with a hint of spice. It was not a dwarf, for theirs' was always tainted with the gold sickness of their kind. Dwarves reeked around treasure, it was vile. There was a hint of gold to this creature's smell, it carried something, though Smaug did not know what. It had a call to it, similar to the gold sickness and yet in many ways so much more alluring. Smaug loved his hoard, but unlike the dwarves, he did not go digging for more, he was not obsessed. This thing… He would capture this creature and see what it was that called in a manner more beguiling than anything else.

"I hear your breath." He warned the intruder. "I feel your air."

The air that so often sat stale, unmoved now had a hint of the freshness of the breeze on it. It was similar to a normal animal making its way into the halls, but Smaug knew the difference. That earthy smell with a hint of breeze, of pollen was easy to spot in a hall that had not had a draft blowing through in some time.

"Where are you?" He asked, moving his head towards the scent of fear, towards the desperate panting. "Where are you?"

The creature's fear apparently hit a peak, for it ran noisily down through the treasure. Smaug followed. He kept his body as close to the hoard as he could, trying to follow the scent accurately. All the movement in the air made the smell more difficult to follow, but the creature was now panting loudly, letting out little whimpers.

"Come, now. Don't be shy. Step into the light." He coaxed, desperate to catch a glimpse of this creature. Elves were good at hiding, he recalled, but this was no elf; it didn't smell like them. They had a much lighter smell, one that spoke of their life surrounded by both fauna and flora. He wanted to see this unusual creature that hid so well.

"Hmm… There is something about you. Something you carry; something made of gold, but far more precious."

Smaug knew the smell of gold. He knew of gold sickness, though he did not succumb to it in the same way other sentient creatures did. He wanted this though; the creature and the item in its possession.

A moment later, the creature was revealed to him. It was a little person, smaller than a dwarf with curly hair and a gold ring grasped between its fingers.

"There you are, Thief in the Shadows." He said, looking the creature up and down. Was it male or female? Smaug sniffed, curious to find out. It made no real difference, but he liked to gather knowledge almost as much as he liked to gather treasure.

"I did not come to steal from you, O Smaug, the Unassessably Wealthy. I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence. To see if you really were as great as the old tales say. I did not believe them." It whimpered.

"And do you know?" asked Smaug, drawing himself up to full height. He wanted to be impressive to this ring bearer. He was a Great Fire Drake. He wanted this creature on its knees in awe.

"Truly, the tales and songs fall utterly short of your enormity, O Smaug the Stupendous."

"Do you think flattery will keep you alive?" Smaug was amused. He could tell the creature was using fancy words and a quick tongue to try and save its own life, but he did not approve of thieves. This was doubly true when he could scent dwarves on the creature. It was not immediately obvious, it was likely he had travelled with them. In any other setting, Smaug would not have noticed, but no sentient creature came in here. The dwarves had locked their mountain halls up and this creature could not be in here without their help.

"No, no."

"No, indeed. You seem familiar with my name, but I don't remember smelling your kind before. Who are you, and where do you come from, may I ask?" He advanced on the creature. The scent of fear freshened again as he got close.

"I come from under the hill." It said, eyes locking onto something in the hoard. Smaug was more interested in gaining knowledge though. This creature would not be stealing anything, Smaug was far more powerful than it could ever hope to be.

"Underhill?"

"And under hills and over hills my path has led." It grinned, though its every action was still tainted with fear. "And- And through the air. I am he who walks unseen."

"Impressive." There was no hint of a lie in its words… No, his words. The creature had unknowingly confessed to being male. "What else do you claim to be?"

"I am Luck-wearer; riddle-maker."

"Lovely titles. Go on." He was enjoying watching this creature stutter. He might keep it; this was more entertaining than anything Smaug had done recently.

"Barrel-rider."

"Barrels? Now, that is interesting. And what about your little dwarf friends? Where are they hiding?" He did not want to claim this riddle-maker and have to deal with infatuated dwarves; for how could they not be infatuated with him. He was delicious.

"D-dwarves? No. No, no. No dwarves here. You've got that all wrong." Curious, the thought of the dwarves had given the creature courage.

"Oh, I don't think so, Barrel-rider. They sent you in here to do their dirty work while they skulk about outside." He did not approve. This creature ought to be fully adored, not sent in to do the work dwarves dare not attempt.

"Truly, you are mistaken, O Smaug Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities." The creature grovelled. Smaug liked this.

"You have nice manners, for a thief and a liar. I know the smell and taste of dwarf. You are mine. They cannot have you." He turned and stared straight at his creature, pinned as he was against the stone.

"Y-Yours?" he squeaked, but he stared back into Smaug's eyes, unblinking.

"You are mine." The Drake breathed, his gaze locked on the small thing.

The creature slowly relaxed and slumped down into the treasure. Smaug was pleased. It was something rare. He would keep it safe. Dwarves could not be trusted with this task.

He would keep it happy, this creature. The Barrel-rider was a creature of flesh. There was one sure way to keep such things happy.

"Remove your coverings." He commanded. This would keep Smaug happy too. He liked to see his treasure in all its glory, not covered up with the ugly fabrics of bipedal creatures.

One by one, the coverings fell onto the piles of treasure. Smaug did not care that it was covering his gold. Gold was common in this hall. There was only one riddle-maker though. He leaned in and licked it.