Within Lady Galadriel's private quarters, the air was still.
Gandalf had no answer to the riddle of a second dragon. Every piece of lore he possessed whispered that Smaug was the last of his kind, a relic of a dying age. He stood in a heavy silence, waiting for the Lady of the Wood to speak.
"Perhaps we should have attempted to slay him when he first appeared... or at least contained him," Galadriel said, her voice melodic yet sharp with a rare regret. "We have missed our window, Mithrandir. Now, as I see it, we are the ones in a cage."
"In what way?" Gandalf asked.
"Two dragons are a nightmare, but they are not an insurmountable one. However, with the shadow of Sauron returning, we cannot afford to make an enemy of Smaug unless we can guarantee his immediate destruction. If we strike and fail, he will fly straight to Dol Guldur. And we cannot guarantee a killing blow against a creature who can wear a thousand faces."
She paused, her gaze distant. "Furthermore, if we did succeed in killing him... what then? Who would hold the Lonely Mountain against the Orc legions? Erebor is a vital shield for the North. Until the threat of the Necromancer is dealt with, our hands are tied."
Gandalf's heart sank. Cooperation with a Fire-drake... it felt like building a house on a foundation of embers.
"Mithrandir," Galadriel said softly, noticing his distress. "Will you take my counsel?"
"Always, Lady."
"Do not drown in the worries of next year today," she advised. "For now, help Thorin Oakenshield. Ensure he secures the Arkenstone and reunites the Dwarven people. Once the Khazâd are a nation once more, we will have options. We will have a secondary power to balance the scales."
Gandalf understood immediately. If Thorin commanded a unified army, they would have a force capable of garrisoning the North even if the dragon were removed from the equation. It gave them a tactical alternative.
"I see the path," Gandalf nodded.
In the days that followed, Gandalf found himself wandering the gardens of Rivendell, waiting for a particular squirrel to show its face.
When Keith finally emerged, perched atop a marble fountain, Gandalf didn't waste time. "The Company grows restless. When will you allow them to depart?"
"When I feel that Elrond and Galadriel have lost that murderous glint in their eyes when they look at me," Keith replied casually. "So you see, the timing isn't really in my hands. It's in theirs."
Gandalf could only sigh at the dragon's cheek. He turned back to the Company and delivered a modified version of the truth: the Elves supported the quest, but certain "logistics" required a few more days of patience.
Thorin was predictably furious. "I care nothing for Elven 'logistics'! Two days, Wizard! I give you two days more!"
Keith, meanwhile, made the most of his time. He spent the next forty-eight hours "socializing"—or as Elrond might call it, "relentlessly harassing" the Elven Lords. He dropped in on their private walks, engaged them in discussions on history and philosophy, and generally acted like a well-traveled, if eccentric, academic.
His strategy worked. Both Elrond and Galadriel had lived long enough to read a soul. They saw that this Smaug was fundamentally different from the engine of greed depicted in the songs. He was knowledgeable, oddly charming, and seemingly sincere in his desire for a stable neighborly relationship.
While they didn't trust him, their active hostility began to thaw.
By the fourth day, as Thorin reached his absolute limit, a familiar interface flickered in Keith's mind.
[Congratulations, Quest 1 is Complete.]
[Would you like to claim your reward now?]
[Note: Claiming now will forfeit the chance for Quest 2 and 3.]
Keith didn't hesitate. He knew that reaching "Zero Hostility" or "Friendship" would take months of diplomatic labor he wasn't prepared to give.
Claim.
[You have opened a Silver Mystery Box.]
[Reward: Forbidden Sorcery — Ancient Dragon Summoning (One-time use).]
[Summon: Scatha the Worm.]
[Warning: Use in conjunction with a Binding Contract. If not bound immediately, Scatha will not be under your command.]
Keith felt a surge of adrenaline. Another dragon!
If he could secure the Contract Art and summon Scatha... and then add the Frost Dragon once it hatched... he would command a trio of drakes that could level cities. Middle-earth wouldn't just be his neighbor; it would be his playground.
His thoughts raced with the possibilities. If the system could bring back Scatha—the long-dead worm of the Ered Mithrin—could it bring back others? Could he eventually call upon Glaurung the Deceiver? Or the mountain-crushing Ancalagon the Black?
With a toothy squirrel-grin, Keith realized the "Dragon Kingdom" was about to get much more literal.