When Bilbo had entered the Lonely Mountain, stiff with fear after hearing all those stories about the murderous, gigantic beast living there, he had not expected things would go quite so easily. Carefully, he had made his way through the gold and jewels, hearing Balin's gasps behind him, any moment expecting flames or long sharp teeth piercing his body. Yet nothing happened. He had almost become convinced that the dragon was out, or had not existed at all, when he accidentally stepped on its tail and caused an angry squeak. Two little black eyes had been glaring up at him. Smaug had been slightly smaller than he was usually described in the stories.

Now, the deadly beast lay curled up on the second pillow, to the left of Bilbo's head, dark smoke circling out of its nostrils with every soft snore.

Bilbo knew the act. When Smaug really was sleeping, he would seldom smoke. But Bilbo didn't mind playing along and he stretched out his hand, gently running a fingertip over the tiny paw next to Smaug's head. Immediately, the dragon snapped at his finger, deliberately missing.

"I am fire!" Smaug said with an air of indignation. His voice slipped a little over the tones. Not been awake for long, then. "I am death! You know how dangerous it is to attack me in my sleep."

Bilbo chuckled and folded both hands around the dragon to put him on his chest. For someone who didn't like to be attacked, he was nuzzling his thumb quite a lot.

"Pray tell me, oh Smaug the Magnificent, what do you say about some breakfast?"