Before dawn.
Tens of thousands of Goblins finally swarmed to the foothills of the Lonely Mountain. Gollum, who had been sleeping behind the Great Gate like a faithful (if miserable) watchdog, scrambled down into the deeps once more to rouse the dragon.
"Master Smaug! Master Smaug! The filth-kin are here! They is at the gate!"
Smaug woke with a massive yawn. He considered letting Gollum handle the orientation, but then he remembered his plan to use these wretches as cannon fodder in the future. Respect must be given to the tools, he thought. He triggered his skill and shifted into his Eagle form.
"Great Goblin, welcome to the Mountain," Smaug said politely as he landed before the bloated monarch.
"Exalted Smaug, you are too kind," the Great Goblin replied, having waddled off his litter. He squinted at the horizon. "The sun is rising. Where have you prepared our halls?"
This was indeed a challenge. Smaug couldn't build an underground city overnight, so he had decided to stow the Goblins in the absolute deepest shafts of the Mountain—the lightless pits where the Dwarves of old had dug for centuries. These tunnels were vast, labyrinthine, and far below the royal hoard.
"The Dwarves dug deep, King. My Mountain has roots that touch the heart of the world. You shall rest there for now," Smaug explained. "In time, you will find a suitable site nearby to hew out your own city."
"Ample! Perfect!" the Great Goblin agreed. He had expected to have to work for his keep eventually.
The procession was a chaotic tide of filth flowing through the ancient halls of Erebor. As they passed through the levels where the gold and jewels lay in shimmering piles, a collective hiss of greed rippled through the Goblin ranks.
"By the darkness!"
"Is this heaven?"
"Gold... so much gold..."
The Great Goblin swallowed hard, his own greed warring with his common sense. But he remembered the stories—Smaug knew every coin. If one went missing, the whole kingdom would burn.
"Shut your traps, you maggots! Don't embarrass me!" the King roared, swatting his nearest guards. "Anyone who touches a single coin will be fed to the Wargs! Hands to yourselves!"
The commotion died instantly. The King turned back to the Eagle. "Exalted Smaug, you have my word. We do not touch your treasures."
Smaug chuckled. "I told you, King, a portion of this wealth is yours. Once your own city is hewn and the defenses are set, you shall have your share of the bounty."
The Great Goblin's jaw hung open in a jagged grin. "Good... very good!"
A full month passed. The summer heat began to fade into the crisp air of early autumn.
Smaug spent most of this time in a deep sleep, recovering his strength. Outside, the "Monster Kingdom" was a hive of activity. Under the Great Goblin's lash, the new subterranean city was being carved into the hills east of the Mountain.
Dale and Mirkwood were kept busy supplying the materials. Thranduil sent lumber by the boatload, and Bard's workers organized the logistics. It was a bizarre, strained cooperation, but under Smaug's shadow, it worked.
When Smaug finally woke, he stretched his massive limbs, the gold coins clattering like bells. He lumbered up to the Great Hall to find a very haggard-looking Gollum.
"Master Smaug! Let us see the Precious!" Gollum wailed, scurrying over on all fours. "We is dying! Please, we must see it!"
Smaug looked down at the creature. He knew Gollum wasn't actually dying—the creature had lived for decades without the Ring after Bilbo took it in the original timeline. But the sadness in those pale eyes was pathetic.
"Fine," Smaug sighed. He reached into his system storage and pulled out the One Ring. He held it in his massive claw, opening his palm so Gollum could see the glint of gold.
Gollum's entire frame began to tremble. Tears spilled down his face, and for the first time in weeks, he looked genuinely happy.
"My Precious!" he hissed, his hand reaching out instinctively.
"Ah, looking only. No touching," Smaug warned.
Gollum's hand froze. He looked up at Smaug, his eyes brimming with tears. "Master Smaug... just a touch. One little touch. Please..."
Smaug hesitated. The creature was so miserable it was beginning to ruin the vibe of the hall. "Fine. Just one touch."
"Thank you, Master! Thank you!"
Gollum's small, spindly fingers brushed against the gold band. "Oh, my Precious... I found you again. We won't ever be apart..."
At that exact moment, leagues away in the dark land of Mordor.
BOOM.
The spirit of Sauron felt a violent, agonizing jolt. The heart that did not exist hammered against the void. For a split second, a psychic link flared across Middle-earth like a beacon in the night.
Sauron's gaze swung North, fixing with terrifying precision on the Lonely Mountain.
"MY RING!"
The sense of its presence was weak, but it was undeniable. After centuries of searching the rivers and the fields, his soul-fragment had reappeared within the halls of his enemy.
There was no more time for games. No more diplomatic feelers.
The Shadow of Sauron projected itself instantly toward the ruins of Dol Guldur. He would muster his strength. He would take back his soul, even if he had to tear the Lonely Mountain out of the earth with his bare hands.