Outside the gates of Dale.
Gollum stood with a puffed-out chest, his large eyes bulging with satisfaction as he monitored the work of the Dwarves. Every time Thorin Oakenshield paused to wipe sweat from his brow, Gollum would hiss a reminder about "Master's orders" and "shiny stones."
The Dwarves, including Thorin, were simmering with a rage so potent it threatened to set the wheat fields on fire. They wanted to throttle the creature, but they knew the cost. To strike the dog is to challenge the Master. So, Thorin ground his teeth and kept cutting.
The Forge of Gundabad
Leagues away, in the ancient Orc stronghold of Gundabad, the air was thick with the soot of a thousand forges.
Sauron knew the Company had reached the Mountain. He knew the prophecy of the "Birds of Yore." To the Dark Lord, prophecies weren't just stories; they were echoes of the divine will of the Valar. If the prophecy held, Thorin would reclaim the Mountain and unite the Dwarves, creating a massive military obstacle for Mordor.
He had to strike now. The window of opportunity was closing. He no longer cared about "buying" Smaug; he would simply break the mountain and everyone in it.
"Azog!" Sauron's voice thundered through the shadow-realm. "Go to Gundabad. You are the Commander of this host. I want the Dwarves extinguished, and I want Smaug's head on a spike!"
"And remember—the One Ring is there. Smaug knows its location. Bring it to me, and you shall rule the North as my shadow."
The Defiler raised his mace, his pale face twisted in a murderous grin. "I will leave no stone unturned. The Mountain will flow with red blood and gold."
The Harvest Ends
In the Dragon's Kingdom, the days blurred into a rhythm of manual labor. Despite his royal lineage, Thorin helped finish the harvest. When the grain was stored and a few days still remained before Durin's Day, Smaug's "Overseer" forced them to plow the fields for the next season.
It was a brilliant bit of psychological torture. Smaug had specifically forbidden Gandalf or Bilbo from helping; if the Wizard or the Hobbit lifted a finger, the deal for the Arkenstone was void.
Gandalf used the time to observe. He spoke with the farmers of Dale, finding them surprisingly loyal to the new status quo. He visited Beorn, chatted with the Goblins in the lower pits, and shared a final glass of wine with Thranduil. The consensus was clear: nobody wanted the old days back.
Sunset at the Gate
Finally, the sun began its descent on Durin's Day.
"Only a few hours left!" Thorin hissed, throwing down his hoe with a ferocity that suggested he never wanted to see another vegetable as long as he lived.
"It's over! Finally over!" Fili echoed, his back aching from days in the sun.
As the sky turned to a bruised purple and orange, the Company moved toward the Great Gate. Gandalf and Bilbo stayed back at a respectful distance, per the Dragon's instructions.
"This is as far as we go, Thorin," Gandalf said, his voice grave. "The rest is between you and the King Under the Mountain."
Thorin didn't look back. He marched toward the massive stone arches of the entrance, standing tall and defiant. Gollum was already there, perched on a rock, waiting.
High in the Watchtower of Dale, Bard stood with his children, watching the mountain. Throughout the city, the people paused their celebrations to look toward the peak. Across the valley, the Wood-elves and Thranduil did the same.
The world held its breath. Would Smaug keep his word?
Deep inside the Mountain, Smaug roused himself. He hadn't left his hoard in days, spending every moment with the hatchling.
"Alice, onto my back," Smaug commanded.
The little Ice Dragon tilted her head, then scrambled up his side. Because of the size difference—Smaug was a living fortress and Alice was the size of a large dog—she struggled to find a grip. Smaug chuckled, a sound like grinding stones, and used a massive claw to gently scoop her up and place her securely behind his neck.
"Hold on tight."
Smaug began the long walk up from the deeps. His footsteps vibrated through the stone, a rhythmic booming that announced his arrival long before he was seen.
He stepped out of the shadows of the Great Gate and into the fading light of the sun. He loomed over the tiny figure of Thorin Oakenshield, the Arkenstone held visibly in his palm.
But it wasn't the gem that stole the breath from Thorin's lungs. It was the snow-white creature perched upon the dragon's neck, its pale blue eyes staring down at him with an ancient, predatory curiosity.
Smaug grinned, his teeth reflecting the dying sun. "Welcome back to your mountain, Thorin Oakenshield. I believe you've met my 'refinement'... now, meet my legacy."