"My business here is done. They are free to go," Smaug whispered to Gandalf, having found the Wizard alone while he was still nursing a headache from Thorin's constant demands.
Gandalf let out a long, audible sigh of relief. He immediately sought out Thorin Oakenshield. "Enough, Thorin! Pack your gear. We depart."
Thorin cast a sharp, resentful glance at the Wizard but said nothing. He turned on his heel and began rallying the Dwarves. The twelve followed suit with a boisterous energy, eager to leave the "vegetable gardens" of the Elves behind.
Bilbo lingered for a moment, standing beside Gandalf as they watched the Dwarves prepare. He looked back at the cascading falls and the silver spires of the valley one last time. He couldn't help but recall Lord Elrond's quiet invitation from two nights prior: "If you wish, you may stay and live out your days here."
The Hobbit had to admit, the offer was intoxicating. But after a moment of heavy silence, he turned his gaze back to the trail.
Gandalf noticed the hesitation. "You have grown fond of this place, haven't you?"
Bilbo nodded. "It's... it's very peaceful."
In truth, with Smaug's promise to hand over the Arkenstone, Bilbo's role as a "burglar" was technically obsolete. Gandalf considered suggesting the Hobbit stay behind for his own safety, but the shifting tides of the world were unpredictable. He feared leaving Bilbo alone if the shadow of the dragon turned dark once more.
"When this quest is concluded," Gandalf said gently, "if you still wish to live here, I shall speak with Lord Elrond on your behalf. I suspect he would welcome a Hobbit's perspective."
It was a nice thought, though Bilbo didn't truly believe it. He had already accepted the possibility that he might never see the Shire again. "I'd like that," he lied softly.
The Company resumed their trek, but Smaug did not follow them this time.
After a brief, polite farewell to Elrond and Galadriel—further unsettling the Elven Lords with his "neighborly" manners—Smaug took to the skies in his Eagle form. He had been away from his mountain for long enough.
The flight back was long, but for a creature of his scale, it was a matter of days rather than weeks. He detoured through the high peaks of the Mury Mountains, searching for the specific terrain he remembered from his previous life's knowledge.
He found them. The Stone Giants.
One, two, three... five of them. During the daylight hours, they were indistinguishable from the jagged peaks themselves, their massive forms pressed against the mountainsides like ancient, sleeping carvings. To find them, one needed to know they existed and possess a very vivid imagination.
Smaug was fascinated. If I could relocate these guys to Erebor... he mused. If I set them up in an arc around the gates, no army in Middle-earth—Orc or Dwarf—could get within a mile. One tossed boulder could crush an entire battalion.
They were the ultimate "Gods of the State" for a growing Dragon Kingdom.
The problem was communication.
[Quest: Successfully recruit the Stone Giants for the Dragon Kingdom.]
[Reward: Silver Mystery Box.]
[Note: Reward granted for every two giants recruited, up to a maximum of three boxes.]
Three boxes? Smaug blinked. That means there must be at least six of them.
He took flight again, circling the peaks for another half hour until he spotted two more hidden forms. Seven giants in total.
He landed on the shoulder of the smallest one—a giant the size of a castle—and began to knock on the stone hide. "Knock, knock. Sorry to wake you. Are you home?"
No response. He tried every ancient tongue Smaug possessed, from the high speech of the First Age to the common tongue of Men. The giant remained as still as the mountain it mimicked.
This is going to be difficult, Smaug thought, scratching his head with a claw.
He looked toward the dark caves of the Goblin-town nearby. The Goblins were neighbors to these behemoths; they had to know something about how they tick. He decided to pay the Goblin King a visit eventually, but first, he had to check on his own hoard.
Days later, the Eagle landed in the plains before the house of Beorn.
The skin-changer was, as usual, splitting logs with a rhythmic violence. He looked up, squinting at the Eagle, and set down his ax with a surprising amount of calm. "You again."
"Beorn. A pleasure to see you in good health," Smaug said as he shifted back into his human-proportioned form.
Beorn grunted. "The polite talk doesn't suit you, dragon."
"My apologies. I've been vacationing in Rivendell. Elrond and Galadriel's influence is a bit contagious," Smaug replied flippantly.
Beorn's eyes widened. "They... they let you leave? They didn't try to slay you?"
"They thought about it," Smaug grinned. "But after we talked, they saw the value of a different perspective. We're practically friends now. Neighbors, at least."
Beorn stood in a stunned silence. The idea of the White Council and the Dragon of Erebor sharing a friendly chat was beyond absurd.
"I hope we can reach the same understanding," Smaug added. "Have you put any more thought into my offer?"
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