Chapter 22 – The Noble Smaug
On the great terrace.
After exchanging formal courtesies—made warmer by long-standing friendship—Gandalf was the first to speak, smiling as he inclined his head.
"Queen Galadriel."
Galadriel had always been fond of Gandalf. She returned the smile with gentle warmth.
"Mithrandir. It has been far too long."
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the conversation swiftly turned to serious matters.
Saruman the White did not bother with subtlety. His dissatisfaction with the expedition was laid bare at once.
"Gandalf," he said coolly, "you have always had a talent for stirring trouble. Middle-earth has enjoyed peace for more than four centuries. Why choose now to provoke unrest?"
Gandalf had expected the rebuke. He gave a wry smile.
"I am only doing what I believe to be right—and events are already proving me correct, are they not?"
"Smaug has awakened," Gandalf continued, his voice firm. "Not only that—he has founded a kingdom of his own. Do you truly believe he will remain forever within the Lonely Mountain?"
"Is it not possible," he pressed, "that he will expand?"
For a time, voices overlapped.
Gandalf, Saruman, and Elrond spoke in turn—measured, intense, but not hostile. It was a debate rather than a quarrel, each weighing the future of Middle-earth from a different angle.
Galadriel paced slowly as she listened, silver light playing across her expression. Only after a while did she speak.
"Smaug's transformation cannot be ignored," she said calmly.
"If the dragon were still asleep, this expedition might indeed have been unwise."
She paused.
"But now… none of us can see what lies ahead."
That single statement was enough—it was support.
Gandalf immediately looked toward her, gratitude clear in his eyes.
Saruman, displeased, attempted to argue further, but his words no longer carried weight.
The course had shifted.
And somewhere within Rivendell, unseen and unheard, the dragon who had forced this council to convene listened in silence—already calculating his next move.
The discussion about the expedition soon came to an end.
Gandalf was quite satisfied with the outcome. Afraid the conversation might circle back to the expedition again, he swiftly shifted the topic.
"Now, about Dol Guldur…"
Another round of discussion followed.
The conclusion was straightforward: the mysterious Necromancer at Dol Guldur required close attention, and the Morgul blade had to be investigated thoroughly to uncover its origin and purpose.
"That leaves only one final matter," Gandalf said at last. "That raven—or squirrel. It possesses a mysterious art that allows it to change form at will. We must find it and determine exactly what it is."
The moment the words left his mouth, Galadriel smiled faintly.
"There is no need to look for it," she said calmly. "It is already nearby."
As she spoke, Galadriel turned her head toward a squirrel perched on a rock not far from the terrace and asked evenly,
"Would you care to come closer?"
"Well played, Lady of Light," Smaug replied with a laugh. "I thought I was hiding rather well."
With a series of quick movements, he scampered onto the great terrace and stopped atop the stone balustrade.
Galadriel did not respond at once. She simply stared at him.
Earlier, she had sensed that this squirrel was unusual, but since it neither moved nor spoke, she had been unable to discern its true nature.
Now—
One second.
Two seconds.
Three.
Galadriel's expression changed.
Clear astonishment appeared on her impossibly beautiful face.
Already on their feet, Gandalf, Saruman, and Elrond all noticed at once—and were stunned.
After all, Galadriel was the Lady of Light. There were very few things left in Middle-earth that could truly surprise her.
In the next instant, all three of their gazes locked onto Smaug.
---
Galadriel quickly composed herself, her voice returning to its usual calm.
"It is… unexpected to meet you again," she said. "Especially under such circumstances."
Smaug bared his teeth in a grin.
"In any other circumstance, I doubt I would have had the chance, Your Radiance."
Her words left no doubt—she had seen through his disguise.
Saruman could hold back no longer.
"Queen Galadriel," he demanded sharply, "what is it?"
Galadriel glanced at Saruman, then looked back at Smaug.
"You are our guest," she said. "Shall you speak for yourself, or shall I?"
"You may," Smaug replied casually.
"Very well," Galadriel said evenly.
"Allow me to introduce you to the noble Smaug."
The effect was immediate.
Gandalf, Saruman, and Elrond all recoiled several steps at once.
Saruman reacted most violently—his staff flew up, power gathering as if he were about to strike.
"Saruman. No," Galadriel said firmly.
Her reasoning was simple—and terrifyingly clear.
The original Smaug alone had already been a near-impossible foe.
This Smaug—one who had somehow mastered a dark art allowing him to assume countless forms—was something closer to a living nightmare.
If they struck and failed to kill him here…
If he escaped…
There would be no peace in Middle-earth ever again.
Saruman hesitated, then slowly lowered his staff.
After all… this was Smaug.
Gandalf did not move at all.
His thoughts were roaring.
Smaug?
Smaug?!
The dragon had been with them all along? Watching them? Traveling beside a group whose ultimate goal was to reclaim the Lonely Mountain—and slay Smaug himself?
Gandalf could not make sense of it.
Galadriel noticed his expression but said nothing. She turned back to Smaug.
"You waited here for us," she said calmly. "What is it you seek?"
"Elrond," Smaug said, glancing at him, "would you mind offering me a drink? I find myself rather thirsty."
Elrond nodded without hesitation and departed.
Moments later, he returned with a jug of wine and a goblet. As he poured, he spoke quietly.
"I must admit—no matter how much I imagined, I never thought it would be you."
Smaug chuckled.
"That's understandable. Who would expect the great dragon Smaug to be wandering about as a squirrel?"
He took several deep gulps and sighed contentedly.
"Elven wine truly is exquisite."
Seeing that all four of them continued to watch him intently, Smaug cleared his throat.
"Very well. Let us speak plainly."
"Queen Galadriel. Lord Elrond. I came here for only one reason—to change the way you see me. To remove the hostility you bear toward me."
"In my view, we are not enemies. Your enmity toward me has no true foundation."
Galadriel raised an eyebrow. Of all the possibilities she had considered, this was not one of them.
"Oh?" she said. "And how do you propose to do that?"
"If you are willing to abandon your hostility," Smaug replied, "or even regard me as a friend, then I will help you deal with the Dark Lord—Sauron himself."
He turned his gaze toward Gandalf.
"Mithrandir, the true purpose of your expedition is not so different from this. I am simply offering it outright."
Gandalf blinked, finally snapping back to himself. He looked at Smaug with an expression of deep conflict.
"And why," he asked slowly, "should we trust you?"
Smaug smiled.
"Because not long ago, Sauron himself came to me—seeking my alliance, offering me dominion over Middle-earth."
"I refused."
The terrace fell silent.