Chapter 24: Impossible—Absolutely Impossible!
Rivendell. The High Terrace.
"Gandalf," Smaug said first, noticing him turn around. His tone was relaxed, almost casual. "You were thinking so deeply you didn't even notice me arrive. That's dangerous."
"True enough," Gandalf replied with a faint smile, accepting the point as he walked over and sat by the stone table.
"Let me guess," Smaug continued. "You're mainly wondering what to do with this expedition."
"And do you have any suggestions?" Gandalf asked lightly.
A dragon and a wizard, chatting like old friends—it was absurd, in its own way.
"I do," Smaug said. "I suggest the expedition continues."
"Oh?" Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "If it does, what awaits Thorin Oakenshield and his company?"
"More or less what you originally wanted," Smaug replied bluntly.
"Thorin acquires the Arkenstone, unites the Dwarves. The difference is this—Erebor is off the table. That mountain is mine."
Gandalf froze for a fraction of a second.
What did that mean?
"You're saying… you're willing to give up the Arkenstone?" he asked carefully.
The idea stunned him. He had planned to negotiate, to pay some price in exchange for the gem—something he could use to justify ending the expedition honorably.
He had never expected Smaug to say this.
"I dislike the word give back," Smaug corrected calmly.
"In this world, survival favors the strong. I defeated the Dwarves and claimed Erebor. Everything there is mine by right."
"…," Gandalf chose not to argue. Frankly, there wasn't much he could argue.
"To answer your question," Smaug continued, "I don't care about that stone. When the time comes, I can hand it to Thorin."
"For real?" Gandalf asked at once.
Smaug nodded. "For real."
Gandalf silently exhaled. After a moment, he raised his pipe and took two slow draws, then couldn't help asking:
"Why? From what I've seen, you seem to detest Thorin Oakenshield."
Smaug smiled.
"Your observation is correct. I do despise the current Thorin—arrogant, foolish, loud, and utterly lacking in courtesy."
"I'm hoping the remainder of this journey will change him."
Then Smaug spoke plainly.
"When you reach the Lonely Mountain, I can give him the Arkenstone and let him fulfill his dream—unite the Dwarven people."
"But if afterward he remains just as arrogant and stupid…"
"The things I give," Smaug said softly,
"I can also take back."
"No one will stop me."
"…" Gandalf's brow lifted slightly. The words were audacious—dangerously so.
"You sound very confident."
Smaug raised a claw and scratched his chin.
"If I understand correctly, one dragon like me already gives all of Middle-earth a headache."
"So what if there were two?"
Thud.
Gandalf's heart dropped. His expression changed instantly.
"What do you mean?" he asked, though he already knew—and desperately wished he didn't.
Smaug smiled.
"You're wise, Gandalf. You know exactly what I mean."
"But that's impossible…" Gandalf whispered.
One Smaug was already enough to terrify a Middle-earth that had long since lost its unity.
Another one?
Two dragons of that magnitude…
If that were true—who was the greater threat now?
Sauron?
Or these two dragons?
Gandalf's mind reeled.
And then—
Clarity struck.
Smaug founding a kingdom beneath the Lonely Mountain had never been a whim.
Everyone believed a single dragon couldn't sustain a "Dragon Kingdom."
They were wrong.
There were two.
That realization explained one mystery—
and immediately illuminated another, far more dangerous one.
Why had Smaug come here?
Why negotiate with Galadriel at all?
Boom.
Gandalf's mind shook.
Like Sauron, Smaug wanted Middle-earth.
More precisely—
Smaug wanted to replace the Elves.
Two dragons could never conquer the entirety of Middle-earth outright.
But through leverage, fear, and carefully chosen alliances…
Achieving a position above all others?
That was no fantasy at all.
This was far too significant to ignore.
Gandalf did not hesitate. He asked directly,
"You intend to replace the Elves as the ruling power of Middle-earth?"
"Gandalf, you truly are wise," Smaug replied calmly. Since he had been seen through, he no longer bothered to conceal it.
"Yes. That is indeed my ultimate goal."
"But don't rush to reject it—or panic," Smaug continued.
"As I said before, rule founded on brute force never lasts. I am not Sauron, nor will I become something like him."
"…."
Gandalf was utterly speechless.
Smaug and Sauron—who was truly worse?
Who could say?
At the very least, Sauron could still be reasoned with, however barely.
Smaug, on the other hand, was a dragon. He killed when he pleased, burned cities on a whim, lusted for gold, and ruled by instinct and wrath.
Weighing the two, an absurd and deeply unsettling thought crept into Gandalf's mind:
Perhaps Sauron might actually be the lesser evil.
No.
Absolutely not.
Gandalf crushed the thought at once.
He made his decision instantly—Smaug had to be stopped.
"Forgive me," Gandalf said at last, his voice steady, "but I cannot trust you."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Smaug replied evenly.
"There's a saying among Men: time reveals the heart. When you reach the Lonely Mountain next year, perhaps you'll see me differently."
"And in closing—believe this much, at least," Smaug added.
"I am not your enemy."
With that, Smaug turned and walked away.
Gandalf did not move. He drew deeply on his pipe again and again before finally heading off to find Galadriel.
The situation had grown far beyond his ability to handle alone.
Only Galadriel could coordinate a response at this level.
Not even Elrond would suffice.
In fact, Gandalf decided that—for now—Elrond and Saruman must not be told.
Especially Saruman.
Everything would have to wait until Galadriel reached a conclusion.
---
Time passed swiftly.
Inside Galadriel's chambers, Gandalf wasted no words. He explained everything in one uninterrupted account.
After listening, Galadriel frowned deeply and remained silent for a long moment.
"Smaug's objective," she said at last, "was something I had already anticipated."
"Having founded a dragon kingdom, what it desires is naturally dominion over Middle-earth."
"That is also the primary reason it refused to ally with Sauron."
She paused, then continued slowly,
"What I did not expect… was the existence of a second dragon."
"That should be impossible."
"Dragons were creatures twisted into being by Morgoth through dark power."
"There should be only one left in Middle-earth—Smaug himself."
Galadriel was genuinely perplexed.
Morgoth's physical form had been destroyed, his spirit cast into the Void.
Sauron, too, had lost his body and existed only as a spirit—and even if he regained form, he lacked the power to create dragons.
So what, then, was the truth?
How could this be possible?