After a trek of nearly an hour and a half, led by Bard, the Company finally reached the gates of Dale.
Bard stopped and turned to face the weary travelers. His expression was stern. "I know why you are here, and I know the old prophecies. But hear this: Dale is our home now."
"Within these walls, you are guests. You may stay, but do not stir up trouble. We have worked too hard to let your old grudges burn our roofs again."
The warning was clearly aimed at the Dwarves. Thorin Oakenshield bristled immediately, his mouth opening to deliver a sharp retort.
Gandalf cut him off with a practiced smile. "We thank you for your hospitality, Lord Bard. I give you my word: no trouble shall come from us."
"Follow me. I have prepared a place for you to rest," Bard said, turning away without another word.
Dale was vast. Rebuilt on the ruins of the old city, there was more than enough room for the current population, meaning many buildings near the gates were empty. Bard led them to one of these stone houses. It was a strategic placement—near the exit, far from the civilian center, and easy for his guards to monitor.
"Food will be sent shortly," Bard stated. "I have matters to attend to." He paused at the door, looking back one last time. "This may be none of my business, but I will tell you this: Smaug is not the beast from the old stories. He did not show his full strength back then. You have no chance of winning."
Thorin couldn't help himself. He let out a cold, mocking laugh. "He is a beast, human. Do not mistake our resolve for your cowardice."
Bard's expression didn't change. He simply led his men away.
As soon as the humans were gone, Thorin turned to his kin, his voice dropping into an intense whisper. "We must act fast! The dragon knows we are here. Every minute we wait is a minute he uses to prepare!"
He turned his piercing gaze toward Bilbo Baggins. "Master Baggins, it is time. Our goal, the reclamation of Erebor, depends entirely on your ability to steal back the Arkenstone!"
Thorin's "master plan" was simple: steal the gem, use it to rally the seven Dwarven kingdoms, threaten Smaug with a massive army, find his father Thráin, and then slay the dragon. It was a plan built on a foundation of pure hope.
Bilbo blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "The dragon... is awake, Thorin. He's waiting for us. How exactly am I supposed to 'burgle' a stone from a dragon who knows I'm coming?"
"That is your task," Thorin said firmly. "Find a way."
"Gollum... Gollum... so you is come to steal things, is you?"
A raspy, wet voice dropped from above. The Company scrambled out of the house, drawing weapons. There, perched on the edge of the stone roof, was Gollum. He looked down at them with a terrifying, jagged smile.
"What are you, creature?" Thorin demanded, leveling his sword.
"I am Gollum. I lives in the Mountain. I will tell the Master what you is planning," the creature hissed.
"Kili! Kill him!" Thorin roared.
Kili drew his bow, but before the arrow could fly, two of Bard's guards rushed over. "Stop!" one bellowed. "Gollum is the Dragon's sentry! If you harm him, the Fire-drake will be over this city before the sun sets!"
Gollum didn't wait for a second invitation. He scurried across the rooftops with a ferocity that defied his thin limbs. "Stupid Dwarveses! Trying to kill Gollum! Gollum will find you! Gollum will dry you in the sun!"
In a heartbeat, he was gone.
Inside the house, the Dwarves were shouting about "disrespect" and "lackeys of the worm." Gandalf ignored them, his head wreathed in a thick cloud of pipeweed smoke. He eventually signaled Bilbo to follow him out.
"Let's walk, Bilbo. I need to see this city for myself."
They walked through the paved streets of Dale. As they neared the center, the emptiness gave way to life. People were everywhere, busy with the harvest. Gandalf tipped his hat to them, asking quiet questions.
Two hours later, they sat on a stone bench overlooking a fountain.
"What do you see, Bilbo?" Gandalf asked.
"They look... happy," Bilbo said. "But they look at us like we're a storm cloud about to burst."
"They are right to be afraid," Gandalf sighed. "Smaug has ruled here for half a year. He hasn't brought fire; he's brought trade, spices, and better crops. He's actually governing."
"Is that a bad thing?" Bilbo asked.
"For Thorin? It's a catastrophe," Gandalf replied. "When the Dwarves ruled, they cared for nothing but the hoard and the deeps. They didn't care for the humans; they just wanted a market for their goods. They left the surface to rot while they dug for gems."
"And Smaug?"
"Smaug has given them a reason to stay. He has given them prosperity." Gandalf looked at the Mountain, his expression deeply troubled. "He isn't just a dragon anymore. He's a legend that provides. How do you convince a people to 'reclaim' a kingdom that was worse than the one they have now?"
Bilbo was silent for a long time. He thought of the angry, prideful Dwarves back in the house, then at the peaceful city around him.
"Gandalf... if Smaug is doing a good job... why are we trying to steal the Arkenstone? Are we the villains of this story?"
Gandalf let out a long, weary puff of smoke. "That, my dear Bilbo, is the question I've been asking myself since we left Rivendell."