Biwbo Fwuffkins in the lair of Smawg
~adapted from “Inside Information” Chapter 12 of “The Hobbit” by JRR Tolkien~
~written by Oculus and illustrated by Carpdime~
After a long journey from the Shire, through the forests of the Mirkwood, the dwarven company of Thorin Oakenshield had reached Erebor. In addition to the thirteen dwarves was their fourteenth member, Biwbo Fwuffkins. A humble fluffy pony of the Shire, Biwbo’s quiet and unassuming form was considered ideal for acts of burglary. Fluffies had been infamous for raiding the houses of Men for their foodstuffs and thus made for natural burglars. It was this reputation, as well as Biwbo’s ancestry from the great adventurous fluffy known as “Da Owd Took” that got Biwbo the job.
And indeed, Biwbo had helped the part many a time. Whether it was saving them from the spiders, rescuing them from capture by the wood elves and now, recovering a golden cup from the dragons hoard, which once belonged to Thorin’s clan. However, Smaug had been alerted to the presence of the dwarves and had torched the valley the party came from.
The company had debated long on what was to be done, but they could think of no way of getting rid of Smaug, which had always been a weak point in their plans. Then, as is customary of dwarves, they began to blame the fluffy, as it was Biwbo’s theft of the cup that stirred the dragon.
“It nu am fwuffy fawt! Fwuffy nu can huwtie dwagon, bu’ can onwy take shinies!”
“What then do you propose we should do, Mr Fwuffkins?”
“Fwuffy dunno. Fwuffy nu wike dwagon munstah, fwuffy wan gu home.”
“Never mind that for the moment! What are we to do now, to-day, master fluffy?”
For a moment, Biwbo was deep in thought. He then had an idea.
“Biwbo hab a smartie moment! Biwbo hab this shinie, and can go ghostie. Ib dwagon hab guud sweepies, fwuffy wiww see if dwagon can be huwtie. Daddeh sez aww munstahs can be huwtie, and fwuffy can find da huwtie pwace on dis munstah!”
Understanding the speech of the Shire-folk was impossible for most, but Thorin had a rough idea of what the fluffy was suggesting – finding a weak spot while the dragon was asleep.
~
Biwbo is now back in the lair of the dragon and is wearing his ring. As he tries to gingerly step through the hoard of the dwarven people, he sees the visage of a terrible eye, peering through the riches, and a deep voice bellowing throughout the vaults.
“Well, thief! I smell you and I feel your air. I hear your breath. Come along! Help yourself again, there is plenty and to spare!”
Biwbo, trying his best not to make a mess of himself, spoke out of genuine meekness.“It otay, mistah Smawg. Fwuffy am hewe onwy to wook at nice dwagon.”
“Do you now?” the dragon retorts at the fluffy’s response.
“O Smaug, biggest and smawtest o’ dwagons, aww da hummehs and ewf-fwens am scawedy of.”
“You seem familiar with my name, you simpleton! But I don’t seem to remember smelling you from before.”
“Fwuffy am from unda a hiww! An’ unda da how and ovah the hiww, and thru da aiw, fwuffy am a ghostie!”
“So it seems, but you have not really given a name.”
“Fwuffy am smawty, web-huwter, da sharpie huwtie!”
“Lovely titles, but I am still not impressed!”
“Fwuffy hab bear-fwens and birdie fwens! Fwuffy am wingbeawer and Barrew-widah!”
And Biwbo kept babbling, as this was the way to talk to dragons, if you don’t want to reveal your proper name (which is wise), and don’t want to infuriate them by a flat refusal (which is also very wise). For dragons too enjoy riddles and the babbling of their potential dinner.
“Very well, O Barrel-rider” said Smaug aloud. “You may be a ghost right now, but I have been on to you. I have torched the valley you have came in on, and I know full well about the company of dwarves with you!”
“Dwawfs!” said Biwbo in pretended surprise.
“You don’t fool me! I know the dwarves are with you, Barrel-rider. You’ll come to a bad end if you stick with such company. And there is that matter of the cup you had stolen from me.”
Biwbo was now beginning to feel really uncomfortable. Whenever Smaug’s roving eye, seeking for him in the shadows, flashed across him, he trembled, and an accountable desire seized hold of him to rush out and reveal himself and tell all the truth to Smaug, as well as make the big poopies.
But plucking up the courage, Biwbo spoke again.
“Smawg am a dummeh. Dwawfs nu wan onwy shinies. Fwens hab udda biznis wif dwagon.”
“Hah! So you are with the dwarves! And pray tell, what other business is this?”
“Wevenge.
O Smawg, so stwong and toughie, dwagon hab nu-fwens, nu-fwens who hate ‘uo and wiww huwt ‘ou untiw dwagon is foreba sweepies!”
Then Smaug did laugh. A devastating sound so terrifying that for a moment, Biwbo nearly did make a big mess on the floor, and even the dwarves, huddled together far away, imagined the worst had come to our brave fluffy.
“Revenge!” snorted Smayg, and the light of his eyes lit the hall from floor to ceiling like scarlet lightning. “Revenge! The King under the mountain is dead and where are his kin that dare seek revenge? When I killed him then, I was but young and tender. Now I am old and strong, strong, strong. Thief in the shadows!” he gloated. “My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, my wings a hurricane, and my breath, Death!”
“Fwuffy can see,” Said Bilbo in a frightened squeak, “that dwagon fwens hab wess scawies on chess-pwace.”
The dragon stopped short in his boasting. “Your knowledge is outdated,” he snapped, “I am armoured above and below with iron scales and hard gems! No blade can pierce me!”
“Fwuffy hab thot so. Twuwy nu munstah can huwtie Smawg!”
“Yes, it is rare and wonderful, indeed,” said Smaug, absurdly pleased. However, he was not aware that the fluffy had caught a glimpse of his peculiar under-covering on his previous visit and was itching for a closer view.
The dragon rolled over, and gloated, “Look! What do you say to that?”
“Pwetty! Pewfect! Fwawess! Supewb!” exclaimed Biwbo aloud, but what he really though was “Stuppeh dummeh! Dummeh dwagon nu hab wun scawe on leff chess pwace. Can be huwtie dere, dummeh!”
After he had seen that, Mr Fluffkins had only one plan – get away.
“Weww, mistah dwagon, fwuffy hab to go sweepies,” said Biwbo, as he darted back and fled up the tunnel.
It was an unfortunate remark, for the dragon spouted terrific flames after him. As fluffy was a particularly fat fluffy, he could only manage a waddle, and thus was scrambling frantically fr safety. But thankfully, and thanks to the ring on his hoof, Smaug was unable to see him, and the flames kept missing.
The afternoon was turning into evening when he reached the dwarves. Upon doing so, Biwbo stumbled and fell in a faint before them. In addition, and after holding in his scawedy poopies for so long, he relieved himself.