Dwarves. That's all they could possibly be, though Sylven had never seen one in her life. They were short and thick and harry, and they cried out words in a tongue entirely foreign to her. And yet they moved like water, unstoppable and never truly separating. It was as if each half man knew what the others would do long before they did it, and it made their fighting more like a performance than a battle. The trolls turned and swatted and snarled and screamed, but like a hive of bees the fighters were impossible to guard against. Whenever a troll grabbed hold of a dwarf, there was another ready to cut their comrade free.

Sylven worked madly against the ropes on her wrists, the bone making a slow and mangled work of the bindings. She thought of calling out for help, but even if one of the warriors heard her it might open up an opportunity for one of the trolls. The best she could do was keep to a corner out of range of the ponies who thrashed and kicked and stomped angrily.

That was when Bilbo appeared, and held clasped in his miniature hands was the massive claw like weapon of Tom. Sylven grinned, rushing over and holding her arms out. "Get them off me – I can climb out."

Carefully he wedged the blade between her arms and began pumping it back and forth. Where the bone had simply made gaps between the fibres the sharpened edge began to slice. There was a snap, and Bilbo dropped the knife and reached forward, pulling the rope out and beginning to unwind it from her arms. It loosened, and finally she wiggled free, dropping the rope onto the ground. She was surprised by the pain that shot up her arms, and looked down to realize they were littered in cuts from the coarse material of the ropes. She tried not to let Bilbo see them as she hissed, "Start on the gate – we better get the ponies free."

He began again at the other ropes as she grabbed the wood beams of the pen, hoisting herself up and swinging a leg over. She fell unceremoniously onto the ground of the other side, yelping and scrambling up as she realized she'd fallen into the bones of the farmer and his wife. She turned to look towards the battle, and that was when she saw William staring back at her, advancing with massive strides.

The ropes snapped and Bilbo shoved the gate wide, the ponies rushing out in a flood of their own, with no obvious intention of ever stopping.

"Bilbo!" Sylven warned, turning and dodging into the brush of the trees. Her dress caught and snagged and trapped her, but behind the cover of trees she was covered compared to Bilbo. He tried to run but again William's quick snatch found him crushed in a fist. He swept past, and Sylven struggled furiously to free herself as William went tromping back with his prize. With a loud rip she came loose, and ran forward into the fray shouting, "Help him! He's got Bilbo!"

She grunted as one of the half men rammed into her, knocking her onto her back. He turned to look at her, blinking as if she was the strangest thing he'd seen that day. She pushed herself up to sitting position, pushing her hair out of the way and looking up to find the very first of the company she'd seen – the dwarf with the long hair.

"What are you doing?" He cried, rushing forward and hoisting her up. The dwarves had begun to fight their way back, moving into a bundle, so he dragged her towards them. "You need to get away!"

"They have him!" is all she got out before she was shoved to the back of the pack of warriors, and then all turned to face as the trolls gathered on the other side of the fire.

Sylven followed all eyes, unable to look away even as the dwarf she'd run into cried out, "Bilbo!" and tried to run to the aid of the little burglar. The dwarf beside him held him back, grunting, "No."

Sylven was with the one she'd run into, however. Bilbo looked petrified, suspended in the air as Bert and William each held an arm and a leg. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he'd tried to save her when he did have to, or the way he'd tried to comfort her, but Sylven could not bear to turn and slip into the woods she found herself pressed against. She couldn't go now, and never know what came of him.

"Lay down your arms," William warned. "Or we'll wip his off!"

The dwarves all looked to one, the same who had held back the run-in dwarf. From where she stood Sylven could make out little apart from the black mane of hair and pale fur draped over his shoulders, but the way the others waited for his response marked him as the leader.

After a moment, the leader drove his sword point into the earth. The warriors waited only a little longer, then angrily and reluctantly dropped their weapons to the ground. She should have run then, when she wouldn't have been missed. But the opportunity came and went, and Sylven found herself immobile. It seemed Bilbo Baggins was a liar after all.

Tom dropped an armful of logs onto the fire, the flames swelling to snap eagerly at the dwarves rotating on a thin tree trunk fashioned into a spit. There were several of them on there, all facing outward in a single squirming, complaining mass. Sylven had been forced to help put the dwarves into sack's that had been taken from the farmer's house, and with some rope tie them up into little pouches. Bilbo hadn't been able to look her in the eye, and she kept muttering apologies to the dwarves as she laced them up. The run-in dwarf gave her a crooked smile, but that seemed more like him trying to be brave than him trying to alert her to this being part of the rescue.

After the sack dwarves were secured, her hands were bound again and Bert hung her by the ropes from a tree branch. Within minutes all the muscles of her arms and sides were burning. Still, it beat having actual flames applied, she supposed.

"Don't bother cookin' em!" Tom advised. "Let's just sit on em' and squash em' into jelly!"

"They shall be sautéed," Bert snorted. "and grilled, with a sprinkle of sage."

"Oh, that does sound quite nice." Tom admitted, smacking his lips.

"Never mind the seasoning, we ain't got all night!" William snarled. "Dawn ain't far away, let's get a move on! I don't fancy being turned to stone."

Sylven's eyes widened and she looked to her right where a massive boulder blocked her view of the horizon. William was right, the sun she hadn't seen in the last three weeks had begun to brighten the heavens, stars giving way as the sky changed from navy to delicate yellow tinged blue. She looked to the sack dwarves, as sudden Bilbo cried out, "Wait! You are making a terrible mistake."

"You can't reason with them. They're half-wits!" Called a dwarf as he revolved around the fire.

"Half-wits, what does that make us?" Another grumbled.

Bilbo struggled and managed to get to his feet. He took a couple hops forward as the trolls eyed him skeptically. "I meant with the, with the seasoning."

"What about the seasoning?" Bert wanted to know, crouching down to frown at him.

"Well have you smelt them," Bilbo laughed. "You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up."

The dwarves began to struggle in their sacks, calling out complains and curses.

"What do you mean?"

"Traitor!"

"I don't smell!"

"What do you know about cooking dwarf?" William sneered.

"Shut up!" Bert snapped. "Let the uh… flurblaburglahobbit talk."

"Yes, the uh, the secret to cooking dwarf is…" Bilbo halted suddenly, eyes going wide.

"Yes?" Bert urged. "Come on, tell us the secret!"

Bilbo looked about frantically. "Yes, I'm trying! The secret is to, uh…"

It was the faulty signature of someone who didn't make a habit of lying. The inevitable inability to come up with something. Sylven could see Bert growing impatient – if he didn't get an answer soon, he'd eat Bilbo raw.

She heard herself shouting before she even thought to do so. "The secret to cooking dwarf is to skin them first!"

Bert pulled his head back, looking to her in surprise. There was a moment of silence amongst the dwarves, and then they erupted into protests and shouts.

"Tom, get me filleting knife!" Bert shouted.

"What a loud of wubbish!" William shook his head. "I've had plenty with their skins on! Stuff em' I say, boots and all."

Sylven wasn't sure what Bilbo was looking at in the woods, but she hoped it was the next part to his master plan.

Tom came over to the dwarfs, plucking up the fattest one. "He's right! Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf!" He lifted the half man over his mouth. "Nice and crunchy!"

"Not – not that one he's infected!" Bilbo squeaked.

Tom and the dwarf looked at him in unison. William stopped cranking the spit for a moment. "You wha'?"

Bilbo blurted on, "Yeah, he's got worms, in his… tubes."

"Ugh!" Tom recoiled in disgust, chucking the fat dwarf back amongst the others who groaned at the weight.

"In fact, they all have," Bilbo continued. "They're infest with parasites, I wouldn't risk it – I really wouldn't."

"Did he say parasites?"

"Yeah we don't have parasites!"

"You have parasites!"

Suddenly the leader shoved the run-in dwarf sharply. They all dropped silent, and you could almost hear the gears squeak from disuse as they thought about it for a minute. This time, they exploded into a very different tune.

"I have parasites as big as my arm!"

"Mine are the biggest parasites. I have huge parasites!"

"I'm riddled!"

"Yes, we're riddled!"

William moved away from the spit, crouching to glower at Bilbo. "What would you have us do then? Let em' all go?"

Sylven shook her head sharply, but he didn't see. The trolls might be numbskulls, but William was sharper and more suspicious than the rest.

"Well," Bilbo stuck out his lower lip as if contemplating it.

William shoved him sharply. "You think I don't know what your doin'?"

"You should eat me!"

The trolls looked to Sylven, who had to bleat out the rest to keep from freezing up. "Give them a few days, worms will be out of the tubes, they'll be prime for, uh, skinning. Let's face it, I've been lying to you boys for weeks, there isn't any treasure! I mean really," she found herself laughing nervously. "What are you? A bunch of smell, ugly, knuckle dragging illiterates? Humans don't put their treasure in holes! We're too busy spending it and showing it off!"

"WHAT?" Bert roared, swinging round and snatching her off the branch. He gripped her so tight she expected her head to come popping off. He began shaking her like a beggar's cup of change. "WHAT'YEAH MEAN THERE AIN'T NO TREASURE?"

"That little ferret has been taking us for fools!" William crowed triumphantly. "I towld you!"

Then up on the rock came a figure, tall and narrow and cloaked in a trim of brilliant blessed daylight. When he spoke, his voice echoed off the trees. "The dawn with take you all!"

"Who's that?" William groaned.

Bert stopped shaking to look at the man. "No idea."

Tom perked up. "Can we eat em' to?"

The man wielded a staff, and this he thrust into the ground, sidestepping as the rock cleaved in two, falling back to reveal a veil of the morning glow. The trolls shrieked and snorted and howled, and Bert dropped Sylven as he rushed to cover his eyes. As the monsters skin met sunlight it fizzled and cracked, turning a lifeless grey as flesh transformed to stone. Within seconds it was done, and the three behemoths stood hunched and snarling – three of the most terrifying statues Sylven had ever seen.

Everyone sat in stunned silence, and then the dwarves burst into laughter and cheers.