It was time. The only reason they'd brought Bilbo along. He took a deep breath, readying himself for it as he followed the dwarves into the mountain, awaiting them, a cave, decorated meticulously with carvings of the dwarven kingdom at its height. This was it.

Everything was on him.

Here I go.

"You can do it, laddie." Bofur whispered from behind him with an encouraging pat. Bilbo nodded. He could do it; it just wouldn't be easy.

Thorin nodded to him, placing a hand on his back and began going down the hall with him. The moment they were out of hearing range of the other dwarves, the king spoke.

"Bilbo," he began uncertainly, "I want to say that I'm sorry."

"About?"

Thorin rolled his eyes. "Look, I know that what I did was inappropriate. I shouldn't have left after kissing you, but I... I was confused like never before. You're a mystery to me, Bilbo Baggins, and if you'll allow me, I would like to solve you." Bilbo glanced at him, stopping completely and studying him. There was such intense honesty in his eyes, in his posture. And Bilbo responded with such, his eyes glistening with something his mother would have been proud of. The dwarf paused and turned to face him. An invitation to speak.

"I'm glad you got that off your chest." The hobbit said, his words clipped. "And if I survive this, you have every permission to solve my mystery."

Thorin smiled, and that was enough to melt away Bilbo's steel facade, the hobbit smiling back. "Would it be inappropriate for me to kiss you now?"

A second, two, before Bilbo finally nodded, and Thorin moved forward, kissing him briefly. Bilbo took a step back, closer to the treasury.

The two stood in silence for a moment, before the king bid adieu and turned, moving to join the others.

With yet another deep breath, Bilbo turned toward the treasury, and went forward to meet the dragon.

...

Erebor was huge. It probably didn't help that he was a hobbit, and therefore, shorter than most dwarves, but Erebor was still larger than life around him. The walls embellished with carvings of some words in Khuzdul, painted green and grey and gold. Bilbo was entranced.

There was, however, absolutely no time to enjoy the sights because of a certain dragon that he had to deal with.

When he finally inched his way to the stairs of the treasury, Bilbo began to wonder just how he was going to manage being stealthy while walking through the gold, even with the Ring on, with no dragon to be seen at all. He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself as he took the first step, complete with the clattering of gold coins falling against each other (one of the cons of big feet). At this rate, Smaug would hear him in his sleep.

Bilbo knew what he had to find, and so he slipped on his magical ring. He had to find Smaug.

It didn't take long, just a couple glances around, for Bilbo to realize that there were only piles and piles of gold around him, as far as his keen hobbit-y eyes could see.

He sighed and sat down on one of the piles, picking up a goblet and examining it. He didn't have anything like this in the Shire. He didn't need anything this fancy, especially not to be sitting around.

It was when he shook the gold out of the goblet, gently into the pile, that he heard a rumbling behind him, and his heart skipped a beat.

Yes, Smaug was still alive, and right behind him.

Bilbo froze, waiting silently and letting the goblet back onto the pile, not daring anything even when he heard the loud exhalation of breath behind him.

"Well, now, thief." A deep baritone vibrated through the hall. "Show yourself." Bilbo shook his head, standing slowly from his set, and carefully, as to not make any noise, moved away from the dragon.

Once at a safe distance, he took in a breath and began.

"O Smaug the Magnificent." He said. "As you can see, I am no thief. I have not stolen from you."

The dragon rose up, its red scales reflecting the golden coins. Its massive head swiveled toward Bilbo's voice.

"Maybe not a thief, but you are still in my mountain. Why are you here?"

"I only wished to see if the stories and tales were true. Surely, the songs fall short of your true brilliance, Smaug the Greatest of Calamities." Bilbo's heart sped, his breathing shallower.

"You seem very familiar with my name, but I have never smelt your kind before. Who are you, thief?"

Now his father's lessons were useful. The moral of one of them being to never tell your name to a dragon, as they could use it against you.

"I am the cousin. Chosen for the lucky number. I am he who takes my prize from the grasp of those long dead. I am the stinging fly. He who bargains with kings and reminds them of their place. I am of parsley and basil. I am he who creeps in the darkness and lies to leaders. I come from under a hill and under the hills and over the hills my path has led."

The dragon set its head on its claws. "Brilliant titles, but you shouldn't let yourself get a big head." His tail swished, sweeping aside some coins, and from the corner of his eye, Bilbo saw a glowing blue stone tumble along. "Now, what are you doing here, king tamer?"

"As I said before, I came to see you. To see if the stories are true."

Properly complimented, the dragon made something of a humming sound. He then rolled to the side. "Then what do you think of this, my mighty breast plate?"

Bilbo had never before felt anything like the wave of relief that rushed over him then. His eyes were drawn to the chink, where Smaug would be most vulnerable.

"Absolutely brilliant. Every part of you seems to be indestructible."

Smaug righted himself again. "Now that you've had your fill, stinging fly. I suggest you leave now before I find you."

With a satisfied grin, that was thankfully hidden from the one who's account it was on, Bilbo turned from Smaug and hurried away from the treasury.

Nothing could keep them from reclaiming Erebor now.