Hello! I'm so sorry for my absence, I can't believe it's been so many months! I was pretty much away from home for a long time, but I'm back now and I hope to update faster!

Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews, I'm really touched by your support and I hope you haven't given up on this story.

Thanks to the anonymous reviewers Guest1 (thanks! I have), Guest2 (don't worry, I will), anonymous (yes, I have a bad habit of doing that :D), MaskedNightingal (thanks, I hope the chapter doesn't disappoint!), nomnomfox (thanks!), Night Fury (aww, I'm glad Smaug is becoming a sympathetic character :) )

This chapter is a bit short, because it deals with emotion, more than action, but the next will be longer. I hope it pleases you :)

- 6 -

I note now, looking over these pages, how macabre it must sound that the moment I truly felt content Under the Mountain was when I was engulfed in flames at my Father's side.

But it is true.

For all the anxiety and worry I felt, I was at the same time reluctant to let go and become ordinary again. Flameless.

My Father-King's welfare, however, came first. I needed to stop him from going out and I needed to show myself before he did something reckless.

So, I tried to go deeper within the fire.

I closed my eyes, as I had done on many nights when sleep would not come and I lay awake under my eyelids, imagining stars and constellations dancing in the dark sky.

Now, under my eyelids there was more fire. But the fire was movement. It seemed to twist and turn, like a bird in the sun. The bird was flying along walls made of fire, into rooms made of fire. Cavernous and old. The Mountain. On fire.

I was chasing this bird made of fire, following it into openings that led nowhere.

My breath was shallow from the exercise. I kept going almost mechanically, because the bird was signalling me to follow. So I did.

And then, I got angry. Because she was laughing. Her chirping was strange and malevolent and she dove into great heights, guffawing as she went. She seemed to mock my futile chase.

I never realized I still had my small dagger on me. My hand crept over the blade and pulled it out.

"Stop it! Stop it!" I yelled, incensed.

Her fire was orange, almost crimson. She flew circles around me, making my eyes water.

I threw the dagger at her.

"Stop!"

The dagger fell at my feet. I picked it up and tried again, launching it with as much fury as possible. I had never felt so spiteful before.

She was dancing in the air, singing a song which unnerved me.

Little monster, little monster,

they took you outside the village

and slew you under the sky

so you would never fly again.

The Men embraced and rejoiced,

for the fires were dead.

"SHUT UP!" I screamed desperately. I threw the dagger a third time.

The bird fell in a heap. And with it, the fire was gone.

I wish I could say there was no harm done, but soon I realized what I had done. My Father-King had not made it very far. I saw him lying in the dark corridor, his body still aflame, but the fire only barely kindled. I was watching from above, yet I was watching from within. I felt a strange warmth as I looked at my hands, engulfed in flames.

There was blood on them.

Blood was pouring from his chest. And mine.

I had stabbed him, and myself.

I fell asleep. And I believed I would not wake up again.

Since that day, the wound has not healed. If you chance to look at the skin on his belly, where the missing scale should be, you will see a deep cut right in the middle, deeper than the rest of his scars. That was done by my own dagger. The same cut has remained etched in my own bosom.

We have twin scars, as they say.

I know what you might wonder; if we were one and the same body, could I be more than just a plain Man myself?

Sadly, I doubt it. I am confident my place was never there, among them, but I cannot deny my limitations. I am my Father's possession, but I do not possess anyone but myself. I have tried, ever since, to return to that state, to that feeling of belonging. I have tried to grow wings of fire, but I have remained Cinta. I believe now that it was my Father's magic which worked its wonders. Although, sometimes I have doubts –

But I forget my purpose. I must tell you what happened when I came out of my sleep. I could see little beyond a yellow haze. I was both feverish and cold. Candles flickered all around me. Only, they were not candles.

Chiefly, I was still alive and so was he. I know that, because someone was pressing two hands to my chest and I heard my Father's voice in the dark.

I was prepared to hear shouting and screaming. I was prepared for Smaug to chastise me harshly for being an awful, fiendish child. The most dreadful punishment would to be cast me out forever. I balked. What if he threw me out into the bad world?

What if he abandoned me, like the Men had?

I started wailing, fearing the worst was going to happen. What would I do without him? Why had I been so foolish?

But instead, he kept pressing his hands to my chest, whispering urgently:

"Stay alive now, little one. Stay with me. You've cost me once already. I won't allow it a second time!"

I wanted to obey him, to please him in some way by showing him that I could hear and understand what he was saying. I tried lifting my head. All I could see were golden shadows.

"No, no. Lie down," he beckoned gently, but firmly. "Don't exert yourself."

And then, after a moment's silence, he exclaimed in a passionate, but weary outburst:

"Oh, you accursed creature! Halfling of Man, yet part of me. Sometimes I wonder why I keep you. But I must, I cannot let you go. I cannot."

I could feel the flames in his hands, I could almost see them, pulsing life into my chest, but I could not see him. My Father remained elusive, a golden shadow.

Hours seemed to pass in this fashion, half-awake, half-asleep with his watchful eye over me. I shall remember their deathly slow passage every time I go to sleep.

I had given him a fright with the Heart of the Mountain. Now, I had done it again. Only this time it was worse.

"I – am – sorry – F-Father…" I mumbled in my delirious state. "Mountain – Heart – forgive – me."

He shushed me and bent forward, until I felt the flames tickling my face.

"Yes, you almost gave the heartless Mountain your heart."

"Yet…he may not be heartless, after all," he added with a trace of sadness that lingered in the air. I did not understand its meaning, and I did not attempt to.

"But – the game – I – I won," I pressed on in my madness.

Smaug laughed a hearty, frightful laugh, which sounded deep and thunderous.

"Is that what you care for?"

I nodded weakly.

"I have raised a thief and a cheat. You have gumption, little one. And pride. You will put up a good fight."

"Fight?" I asked tremulously.

"Don't get ideas. I won't let anyone find you, much less fight you."

"Then – why – teach – me?"

He sighed. "It doesn't mean they won't try."

I felt a surge of gratitude for his honesty, that despite his magnificence and absolute power, he was willing to allow the possibility of losing it. Woe be me, if he ever does. I will be powerless too.

"Together?" I mumbled. "Father? Under – the –Mountain?"

He did not answer, and for a painful moment, I grew so afraid that his silence meant refusal, that his silence meant banishment.

And then his warm breath touched my forehead. His lips descended on my brow. I felt a fiery little sting that cooled into a pleasant caress. Father had kissed me.

Now you know why I look for him as my caregiver, as the source of my happiness and misery. Every time I touch the scar on my bosom, I think of the scar on his. They have not faded, and they signify our bond. He saved me twice from near perdition. One day, I may return the favour.

I will tell you more of our years together, but presently, I must return to my chores.