The hobbit and his dragon spent a month in the Shire, more to indulge Smaug's curiosity than any real need. He poked and prodded and investigated the whole of the four districts, deducing the usual mind-boggling amount about the citizens who lived there. Yet it seemed he had learned something of diplomacy – or perhaps mere tact – during his time as the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities, because he kept his deductions to himself until he and Bilbo were alone.

Of course, given the almost universal lack of crime and scandal in the Shire, it mostly consisted of guessing everyone's ancestry while Bilbo sat in his chair with a stack of genealogy books and an amused expression.

"-can say with a 94% accuracy that this Rorimac Brandybuck is actually a Took, based on his behavior and the shape of his nose-"

"His mother's a Took."

"That solves that, then. Now, from whose line is Rudibert Bolger-"

But at last, Bilbo closed up his house again, and they left on their return journey to the Lonely Mountain. Their horses – or rather, Smaug's horse and Bilbo's pony – carried them to Bree, then along the southernmost edge of the Midgewater Marshes and past Weathertop, Amon Sûl. As they rode past it, Bilbo stared up at the watchtower, knowing that in a few decades, Frodo would be there and would receive his wound from the Witch-King.

When the ruined tower passed away behind them, he stared down at his pony's mane, thinking intently. "Smaug," he said before he could second-guess himself.

Though the dragon said nothing, the hobbit was instantly the center of his attention, golden eyes taking in everything about him as if seeing it all for the first time.

"We need to try. One more time."

He didn't need to say anything more than that. The former consulting detective nodded in agreement, and they continued riding.

The elves had been watching for them, it seemed, for when they reached the Trollshaws, a detachment of soldiers met them on the road and escorted them past the dark forest. Both of them could understand why – Elrond dared not take any chances with the One Ring and its current Bearer.

When he heard Bilbo's intent to try to enter Mordor one more time before they concealed the Ring inside Erebor, he nodded in approval. "If I could send an army with you to make sure that you got through this time, I would not hesitate," he said while they sat in council together with Galadriel, "But at this point, it is too far, and too much. Some of our allies believe, but not enough. Not enough to muster the kind of forces needed to see that you reach Mount Doom unopposed."

"And Saruman?" Bilbo asked, "Does he suspect…?"

"He does not, as near as we can tell," the half-elven lord answered, looking to the Lady of Light for confirmation, "He has returned to Isengard and holed himself up inside, as he usually does. But his spies whisper to him always."

"I still do not understand," Galadriel admitted, "Though I have long distrusted him for reasons even I do not wholly understand, Saruman has so long worked with us to oppose the Enemy. Why does he now betray us?"

Smaug hummed. "If I recall correctly – and I usually do – he learned that the Shipwright – Círdan, is it? – had given Narya to Gandalf and became jealous of him, fearing – possibly rightly – that Gandalf would replace him as leader of the wizards who came to Middle-earth. I do not know his mind, but it's possible he seeks the means to hold on to that position. Originally, he studied the powers and knowledge of Sauron for a way to turn it against him and defeat him to protect Middle-earth. Now he does so because he is envious, and wishes to supplant him."

Galadriel sighed sadly and shook her head.

Bilbo gazed at the dragon in amusement. "And exactly how much reading did you do outside of the four main books? Because I'm pretty sure you lied to me."

"I only read The Silmarillion."

"…"

"…And The Children of Húrin and Unfinished Tales. I never imagined that what I learned would have any use, but I never could bring myself to delete it."

"It's a good thing you didn't."

"If you wish, I can carry you home to Lothlórien, Lady Galadriel."

Bilbo glanced back to where Smaug was talking to the elf woman. She was fully recovered from the fight at Dol Guldur and was also preparing to depart, same as them. The only difference was that it was going to take her several more days to start her journey home, as she went to the Hill with only Elrond and Saruman. The elf lord insisted that she take a guard with her on her way back, and it was going to take several days for them to be ready, armed and armored and provisioned.

"Are you sure? I've no wish to slow you down."

Bilbo straightened from where he'd been checking the harness they'd left with the elves, and walked over. "It'd be no trouble, my lady," he said, "It'd be an honor. Smaug is no Ancalagon, but he's big enough, relatively speaking, to carry us both."

"Then it would be an honor to fly with you."

Once Elrond was informed of the change of plans, he came out to see them off, and also to see Smaug transform. It was a fascinating thing to watch, the air around him charged with energy. His wings were the beginning, fingers spreading and lengthening as the webbing appeared between them, red-black scales pushing through human skin. He braced himself against the ground with his wrist joint, and then the rest of the transformation traveled down his body in a ripple. His face started lengthening and morphing into his familiar draconian maw, neck extending and back arching as his spines lengthened, chest expanding and shifting into a more streamlined shape. Then his tail seemed to uncurl from under his body, and his legs changed configuration, his feet changing to scaled paws with razor sharp talons. It was only when he was almost completely a dragon again that he started to grow back to his usual size. He shook his great form, making sure all of him was settled into shape, then crouched to allow the elves to put on his harness.

When Smaug took flight, leaping into the air and beating his wings powerfully, Bilbo heard Galadriel gasp behind him, her hands white-knuckling the harness. Yet as they passed through the Misty Mountains, her tension eased. The hobbit glanced back, then grinned when he saw her gazing around in wonder. With as high as Smaug was flying to clear the mountains, even the tallest of trees looked like twigs, and creatures below them were invisible, at least to his sight.

Some of the Great Eagles spotted them and came to fly alongside them, shrieking in greeting, before returning to whatever they did with their times.

The mountains fell away, and Smaug turned them south, flying over the streams and plains between the mountains and the Anduin. Even Bilbo had to admit that he was awed by the beauty of Middle-earth from dragonback. Everything seemed so far away and peaceful, like looking down into another world where there was no darkness.

The sun was just beginning its descent from high noon toward the horizon when they landed outside the forest of Lórien. Elves emerged from the trees almost immediately, bows and swords drawn – and almost dropped them when Galadriel slipped down from Smaug's back and bowed to him. "I thank you both for bringing me home," she said, smiling at them, "That was most enjoyable."

"It was an honor to have you, my lady," Bilbo replied for them, bowing back as best he could while still seated.

"And I wish you better luck this time than the last."

"Thank you. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm sure we'll need it."

The elf woman turned and walked over to the other elves at the edge of the forest, then turned back and lifted a hand in farewell as the dragon took flight again.

From the edge of Lórien, they flew south to Fangorn Forest, and there concealed themselves for the rest of the day, only resuming flight after the sun had set. They were passing through Rohan, and brave though the horse lords were, the people there would panic if they saw a dragon flying overhead.

Another night, longest at that time of year, saw them almost to Minas Tirith, right on the edge of the Ered Dúath, the Mountains of Shadow, and the westernmost border of Mordor. Beyond the high mountains, there seemed to be a lot of activity, now that Sauron had returned; the whole land seemed to be aglow with a ruddy light visible even during the day.

The activity did not cease even after sunset. Smaug flew as high as he dared with the hobbit, skimming right underneath the ashy clouds that perpetually shrouded the land from the sun and following the inner edge of the mountain range to avoid exposure on the open plains beyond.

The Plateau of Gogoroth had become home to all the Orcs that had fled the Battle of Five Armies. Admittedly, there were not as many as there had been beforehand, or even at the end of the movie, but there were still enough to make Bilbo swallow thickly when he saw their masses. They were moving supplies about, already mining deep under the mountains to bring up iron for siege engines. Some artillery pieces had already been built.

But then there was an ear-splitting shriek from overhead, and one of the Nazgûl came barreling down out of the clouds, heading right for them. "Hold on, Bilbo!" Smaug roared, and rolled in midair, belching out a gout of dragon-fire that sent the Fell beast spinning away to avoid it. It crashed into one of the peaks and shrieked in pain, but it had done its job. Their cover was blown. The other Nazgûl were headed right for them, screaming battle cries and dropping out of the clouds.

Smaug rolled back upright as he dropped and pulled in his wings to sharpen their descent, letting gravity increase their speed as he turned them away from the blackened plains. They shot over the Black Gate before any of the Orcs manning it could stop them, then swung north again with all haste. The Ringwraiths pursued them, one of them streaking well ahead of the others to nip at Smaug's tail. The dragon twisted in midair and bit deep into its neck, the crunching audible to the hobbit even over the rushing of the wind, the beast's spine pulverized by the dragon's powerful jaws. The Fell beast died instantly and plummeted towards the ground when he released it, its Ringwraith falling with it.

The others harried them to the edge of the mountains, throwing spells that hit the dragon and broke apart without damage, but there they broke off and turned back. From Udûn, where the Ash Mountains met the Mountains of Shadow, it was almost a straight shot to the southeast edge of Mirkwood. Only when the trees came into sight in the barest light of dawn did Bilbo allow himself to relax.

Smaug descended and pushed his way into the trees, the foliage already beginning to recover from its decay under Sauron's might, though snow was thick on the ground. There was a small hollow where a tree had fallen and freed up some room, so the dragon swept the ground clean with his tail and settled into the space. The hobbit quickly checked their gear and assured himself that nothing had fallen from their packs during the aerial acrobatics, then began preparing dinner for himself.

The fire drake watched him work. "Do you want to try again tomorrow night, or would you rather head back to the Mountain?"

"You're a part of this, too."

"I am not the Ring Bearer."

"Then advise the one who is." Bilbo sat down in front of the dragon, rubbing a salve that Elrond had given him into his skin. Riding a dragon was like, and yet entirely unlike riding a pony, and he had new sores to show for it.

"I do not know enough about Sauron to be 100% certain, but he may be expecting us to try again. Of course, he may also be expecting us to return to Erebor or the Shire – or wherever he thinks we're hiding the Ring, if indeed he knows we have it."

"Oh, he knows."

Smaug's tail curled slowly like a cat's, his eyes flicking this way and that as he analyzed all available data. At last, while Bilbo ate, he said, "I believe we should make for the Mountain. Lord Elrond indicated that Gandalf had not left yet. Perhaps he will have some power or wisdom for us. Of course, we could always make for that Stair, the one Frodo and Sam took – will take? But I cannot say I advise that so soon after our last failed attempt. Minas Morgul will be guarded."

"Fair enough. But I don't think we should give up either," the hobbit replied, "I don't want to have to pass the Ring on to Frodo and Sam. They're both good, kind hobbits – they don't deserve to suffer like that."

"'Many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life.'"

"Don't you quote Gandalf at me!"

Another night's flight brought them back to Erebor just as the sun came up over the Misty Mountains in the west. The gates to the mountain were completely repaired, and Dale looked to be in much better shape as well – from the air and from a distance, at least. For a moment, Bilbo was concerned. Thorin had had time, a lot of time, to reconsider his deal with Smaug and prepare to do battle to hold the mountain against the dragon, to forge more Black Arrows and bring in more warriors. Would he make an attempt to destroy the creature who had brought his family so much grief?

Yet it seemed that he need not have worried. When they passed over Esgaroth, horns sounded and echoed all the way to Dale and the Mountain. Even just the scant few minutes it took the dragon to cross the Long Lake would have been enough for Dale to prepare to attack, yet they flew over it unchallenged.

The gates of Erebor were already grinding open as Smaug descended and landed in front of the main entrance, Gandalf and Tauriel walking out to greet them. "Elrond sent word ahead that you were on your way back," said the wizard, offering a hand to the hobbit as he swung down from the dragon's back.

"Of course he did," Bilbo grunted, finally kicking himself free of the harness and making Smaug snort in amusement, "Couldn't just let it be a surprise, could he?"

"It's probably best not to try and surprise this lot," said Tauriel, "especially where dragons are concerned. Welcome back, Sher-Smaug."

"Thank you, Molly. Or would you prefer Tauriel?"

"I think it would be best if we left our past lives behind us. That world is gone now; we should do our best to live in this one."

"Wise words." He shifted back to his human shape as the other members of Thorin's company started emerging from the Mountain, coming to welcome them all back, even the dragon.

"You were not successful, I take it," said Gandalf.

Bilbo shook his head. "No. We delayed too long, and both times we tried, Mordor was too heavily guarded. The Orcs under Azog had already reached it, and the Ringwraiths were there, too, on Fell beasts."

"'Mordor?'" Thorin repeated, unable to help but overhear, "Why were you trying to enter Mordor?!"

Gandalf and Bilbo exchanged glances, then the hobbit dug into his pocket and pulled the Ring out. It appeared to be an ordinary band, until Smaug plucked it from his hand, breathed a short stream of blue-white dragonfire over it, and put it back. Then the Words began to glow around the edge of the band.

Some of the dwarrows looked confused, but Thorin and Balin instantly took several steps back. "Durin's beard!" the elderly dwarf gasped, "The One Ring!"

That brought similar reactions from the rest of the dwarves.

"I need your help hiding it," said Bilbo, "Things are – well, not wrong, exactly, but they're sure as hell not right. And it's going to be a while before everything falls into place for the Ring to be destroyed. I don't want to carry it around with me all the time – it would… do things to me. And Erebor is safer than the Shire."

"What are your thoughts, then?" Thorin asked him, attentive, ready to help the hobbit how had helped retake his kingdom and brought them a powerful ally.

"Simple, hopefully. I'm still getting my fourteenth share of the treasure, right?"

"Of course!"

"Then combine that with whatever Smaug is getting, and put it all somewhere where it can't be easily reached without help. We can hide the Ring in that."

Balin frowned. "Will you be able to find it again?"

"As I told Bilbo," said Smaug, "I know every cup and coin and carat in the Hoard Under the Mountain. I will not lose the One Ring, not even amongst countless exact likenesses."

Balin nodded. Thorin appeared deep in thought, but then inspiration struck. "I know just the place."

"Dwarves have lived in Erebor for almost a thousand years," said the prince, leading them all down deep into the mountain, "The whole mountain is honeycombed with halls and tunnels, some of which haven't seen use since the day they were carved. However, there's one in particular that I think will be perfect for what you need.

"Erebor was a volcano before the First Age, but it has long since gone dormant. Yet the magma chamber remains. It's far enough down that it's nearly impossible to reach, especially if you don't know where you're going. We're in one of the old lava tubes now."

The walls of the tube had been worn smooth by dwarven workers in preparation for shaping, but the work had never been finished. "It was decided that work expanding into the deep tunnels would be put on hold until the rest of the mountain was completely full, which has not happened."

At last they emerged onto a ledge that jutted out into a pitch-black void deep inside the mountain, deeper even than the forges and the mines. The air was warm and stale, but there was a faint breeze coming from the lave tube behind them, and others that they couldn't see elsewhere in the massive cavern.

Smaug walked around the edges of the platform, his golden eyes piercing the darkness, yet the far walls of the chamber were too distant for even him to see. He inhaled, then spat a ball of fire up into the air. It flew out over the void beyond the edge of the platform, then exploded, sending miniature fireballs arcing throughout the chamber and revealing the whole thing for a handful of seconds.

The chamber was all of rough stone and solidified magma, matte black in the firelight, with ledges and lava tubes all over, most of them leading up and out. Its floor was fairly flat and easily several hundred meters below them, though there was one deep depression at the very bottom of the chamber, where the mantle plume had once pushed magma up into the chamber. The magma chamber itself was more than a mile in diameter, though there were signs that it had once been larger before the magma had solidified on the walls, shrinking the chamber but reinforcing and holding up the weight of the mountain above.

Smaug shifted shape and took off into the darkness. The company tracked his location by the beating of his wings, before he landed somewhere out of their sight. There was some scratching, the scraping of metal over stone, then he called, "There's a ledge over here, like that one, but bigger and shaped a bit more like a cup. With a little work it would be perfect."

He breathed a stream of fire over the stone, making it glow red hot as small pockets of fire skipped over the surface, letting them see. And as far as they could tell, he was right.

They kept the work for "the Dragon's Nest," as they started calling it, amongst themselves. Thorin and Fíli was still preparing for the former's coronation and the latter's confirmation as heir, but the rest of the company lent their skills to help shape the ledge into a suitable hold for Smaug's part of the hoard, widening and deepening the "cup" to make sure nothing would fall out and smoothing its sides to prevent damage. Even Gandalf lent his aid, adding spells of concealment and confusion to the tunnels leading to the magma chamber, and protection to the hoard itself when it was finally moved to the deep cavern.

At last it was done. The Nest was ready, and one of the lava tubes leading to the outside had been reopened to that Smaug could come quickly to the dwarves' aid if Erebor came under assault again while he was there.

One load at a time, the company carried Bilbo's fourteenth share along a temporary walkway built around the edge of the cavern, and dumped the gold and silver and gems and inordinate amount of gold rings into the hollow in the stone. During one of those trips, unbeknownst to anyone but himself, the dragon, and the wizard, Bilbo tucked the Ring into the basket of treasure he carried and emptied it into the piles already there. The dragon nuzzled him gently, and gave the hoard a stir with his tail to conceal it further, so not even the hobbit himself could see it.

Then Bilbo went back for more.

Then that was done, and the walkway was torn down. The Ring was hidden, and there was no way across without wings, for the walls on the outside of the Nest had been smoothed down, too, to prevent anyone from trying to climb to it. On the opposite ledge, stone basins were added and filled with dry wood, to be lit to get the dragon's attention and alert him that there was an emergency.

And at last, it was time for the coronation. All of the company stood on the dais raised before the gates, along with Dain, Thranduil, Tauriel, and Smaug, beaming with approval as Thorin knelt before Gandalf. The Istari placed the crown on the dwarf's bowed head, smiling, and then the king smiled back at him before rising.

Then it was Smaug's turn. He walked over to the dwarf, carrying a pillow draped in blue velvet. He inclined his head to the new king, who returned the gesture. Then he lifted the cloth off the pillow, revealing the Arkenstone, glowing serenely in the sunlight. Thorin picked it up and inclined his head to the dragon again, then turned to the crowd of elves, men, and dwarves gathered before the gates. He lifted the stone high so that all could see it, and everyone cheered so loudly they could be heard in Esgaroth.