"Ori, Nori, get a fire going," Thorin stated, making his away across the soon-to-be camp to take a look from the nearby overhanging cliff – below them, the dark emerald woods merely emanated treachery to the dwarven prince. "Fili and Kili, take care of the ponies; we leave at first light tomorrow."
Bailey felt lost the moment she had stepped off her pony and it had been taken away by the twins; the dwarves were bustling about with things to do though only four had been given commands. Gandalf had left to some other places; dwindling how comfortable she felt in her current surroundings dramatically. What does one do when camp is being made and they've no skill in that particular area whatsoever?
"Baggins," Thorin's gruff voice reached her ears and she jerked her head in surprise he had even addressed her, though she hoped how oblivious she felt wouldn't show up on her face.
Thorin met her eyes with his icy gaze before nodding toward Ori and Nori expertly tossing some kindling into a pile and preparing to light it. "My men are hungry; make yourself useful."
Astonished by the unnecessary rudeness of the request, it took every bit of Bailey's willpower to prevent steaming like a boiling kettle. Only able to nod in response, Bailey lightened her stalking footsteps to avoid giving the prince the satisfaction of her exasperation. It also seemed apparent Thorin was unaware of Ori's secret…or he had simply included her among his men. Bailey didn't know their customs to having females on adventures – obviously, he didn't care that she was there to be his cook. Really, she was too frustrated to contemplate it anymore anyway, so she quickly dropped the subject, full-knowing it would only make her angrier.
Her second command involved taking a bowl of her food – which turned out delicious, as nobody had yet commented – to both Kili and Fili, who had been assigned to watch the ponies. To her surprise, they were far away from the camp, both standing stiff side by side when she approached from behind. "Fili, Kili?" she called out, her teeth gritted with an agitated tone – she may have been comfortable enough to vent to the younger, friendlier ones of the dwarven company. There was no response, they were whispering among themselves alone and never even paid her a sideways glance – either they had seen a ghost or they were intentionally ignoring her. "It's, uh...it's dinnertime," she continued until she had come up right behind the middle of them. Surely they, too, wouldn't ignore her! But if they did, it would practically confirm that she was the unnoticeable and useless little beetle that she was beginning to feel like.
"Bailey," Kili was the first to answer, turning toward her – to her relief - setting an arm on the back of her shoulders and pulling her in between them. The usual amusement and sparkle in his auburn eyes had dimmed with concern.
"Whatever's the matter?" she half-whispered, abruptly intrigued and all but forgetting her previous aggravation.
Fili nodded solemnly toward the group of horses to which they'd been tending. "Thorin assigned us to take care of the ponies...to watch them..."
"Yes, and?" Bailey inquired anxiously, their worry both exciting and scaring her.
"We are missing two of them..." Kili finished, taking a deep breath in and out.
Bailey's jaw dropped, chestnut eyes narrowing as she counted them for herself. Sure enough, both a white and a brown were missing from the collective ponies; she recalled Bofur to be mounted on the brown and Balin on the white. "A-And, you didn't hear anything?" the halfling asked, moving to set the bowls of stew in each of their hands nonetheless, then stepping further among the moonlit trees to take a look around.
Kili shrugged in all openness for ideas. "Nope, not the smallest noise. Should we tell Thorin-?"
"Shh!" his brother interrupted with a jerk of his hand, eyes squinting as though they would lend some aid to his hearing.
Bailey froze like a statue, rewarded by the distant noise of...laughter? Low, deep-voiced laughter...it was a brief, boisterous chuckle somewhere further east from their campsite. "Don't suppose they're...horse thieves?" Bailey whispered, wide eyes glancing between the two compatriots. Trolls, they were called: three tan masses of bones, muscle and an extra helping of fat, with brains supposedly the size of a gnat, and – evidently – an appetite for dwarf-ridden ponies. Lazed about a campfire large enough for a dozen kings, one was quietly stirring liquid in an iron pot, another grumbling to himself but loudly, and the last sniffling as though he'd caught a nasty cold.
"Alright..." Fili whispered, squinting past surrounding leaves and branches to get a focused look, but they would have to move closer to see where their ponies were being held. "There are only three; how do ya feel about practicing some burgling, Bailey?"
The halfling swallowed, her gaze intent upon his. "You're serious..." she half-whispered glancing quickly and several times between her compatriot and their foes in the distance.
Fili's half-smile faded upon receiving her answer. "Well, I...I don't have to be." He glanced toward his twin brother a bit unsurely, who only shrugged in agreement.
"Youuu could just keep an eye on them...just, uh, be our scout then," Kili suggested, the lack of amusement on his face at least assuring Bailey he wasn't mocking her inability.
"Oh, okay, um...yep, what are you going to do?" Bailey asked quietly, shifting her weight against the crunchy, fallen leaves layering the damp ground beneath her.
"Uhh," Kili opened his mouth to answer, glancing toward the distant trolls, but his brother spoke up for him.
"We should get Thorin, come to think of it. There may only be three, but they're big...better safe than sorry," Fili answered, jaw tightening in seriousness.
A sudden burst of determination flickered in Bailey's eyes: perhaps something they had said or did. Either way, she found herself speaking up before she could stop herself. "You know what? You two go ahead and find your leader, I'm going to see if I can't free the ponies," Bailey whispered back, climbing to her feet from behind their hiding place, pursing her lips in preparation.
"What?" the twins asked in half-shock with timing less than a second apart from one another.
"Bailey, really, you don't have to do that..." Fili submitted with a chuckle, but the statement only made her more determined.
"Well, I'm..." the halfling swallowed, thinking it over for a moment. "I'm the burglar, it's what I do," she concluded with a ready nod, soon to wish she hadn't just said that.
A brief moment of silence passed before the two shrugged cooperatively. "Alright, well, we'll be back soon then," Fili stated, paying their foe one last wary glance before standing to back away.
"And don't try too hard to burgle, Bailey; someone might get hurt," Kili commented with a mirthful wink, as though the situation wasn't actually to be taken too seriously.
Bailey longed for as much confidence as he had. She couldn't even begin to explain what had possessed her into taking on this challenge. Maybe she wanted to prove she wasn't useless to the company...well, completely useless...or maybe Gandalf had been right about the Took blood coursing through her; maybe she'd always had this desire, dusty and pushed far back in the deep attic of her heart.
Getting closer to the trolls was no trouble; even if she hadn't been light on her feet, they were utterly oblivious to the crickets chirping, let alone a Halfling sneakily approaching. Even so when mere yards away, Bailey took every step with bated breath. Finally, her eyes spotted the ponies, their reins each tied in knots against a burly rope stretched between two trees. As the cautious Halfling dashed from one shadow to the next in their direction, the ponies stirred subtly, expressing a need for a soothing whisper to say it was alright. They were well-trained to believe her even when they had only just been hauled away and tied up by three large, hungry trolls.
"Don't tell me this is the same ol' broth from last night – we brought you 'orses to cook with this time; be a bit creative, will ya, Bill?" the grumpy, grumbling troll expressed, slapping his bulky knee for demanding emphasis.
The resulting thunderous sound merely veiled better the small hobbit's whimpering as she struggled with all her might to undo the knots of the ponies' reins.
"Well, I don't 'ave any new spices just 'cause you brought me a couple 'orses, Ted!" The troll who was stirring the aromatic liquid had also a gruff voice, though not as deep as Ted's, and scoffed as a mother would to a complaining child. "'Least we got a few chunks to add this time."
"Not really the meat I've been dreamin' o-o-O-O!" the sniffling troll was about to be a sneezing one, leaving his two companions merely to groan on his behalf, bracing for the burst.
Having given up on her hands, Bailey took advantage of the extensive poof of the sick troll's sneeze to dart behind him, narrowly dodging the tree-like arm as it swiped the handkerchief from within the belt on its back flank. Right next to the handkerchief's previous position, Bailey had spotted a dagger – well, a long sword for her. It crossed her mind she had no tool to cut the ropes with, so she would have to steal one of theirs.
"I've suddenly lost my appetite for soup...not that it took much," the grouch, Ted, muttered – his friend must have sneezed right in the pot, or at least come dangerously close. "Forget the broth, I'm starving – I'll just cook one of them beasts right over the fire."
Bailey froze, peering around from behind the sick troll to check on the ponies. Ted had yet to approach them or even climb to his feet yet, thankfully. She nearly forgot to duck when the sick troll whipped his arm back around to put away the handkerchief.
"Why don't ya make yourself useful, Ted," Bill stated, tossing a handful of green leaves into the pot, "Get to skinnin' and choppin' the beasts..."
Bailey gasped softly, pulling harder at the dagger's hilt. "Please just come out!" she whispered in misery. The weapon seemed jammed, its carved bronze hilt caught against the tough leather belt.
"Not till ya promise you ain't gonna toss 'em into that second-rate soup o' yours," Ted heaved a stubborn sigh.
"Oh, will you just go skin 'em, Te-e-E-E-" the sniffling troll approached again an impending sneeze.
"Ha!" Bailey gasped softly, finally successful in twisting and yanking the dagger out from behind the busy monster's belt. She started to dash back to the captured ponies, but as though a massive log being swiped through the air, Bailey's stomach was rammed by the sick troll's hand and he jerked her back around in front of him, her flailing legs tangled in his dirty handkerchief. She kicked and scraped with all limbs to escape his clutches, but he was gripping too tightly as he whipped the bundle up to his bulging nose and blasted all the snot from within only partially on the cloth, the rest all along the victim hobbit.
Bailey's entire body went stiff...drenched with the yellow slime...her mouth hung open, seeking some oxygen from the toxic blast and her eyes shut tight to still block out the horrors even after it was over. By the time she had recovered from disgust enough to peer out through her eyelids, she stared up into the big, confused, and ugly face of her accidental captor.
"Look!" he cried in his high-pitched voice, leaping to his feet in bewilderment. "Look what I made from mah nosers!"
Breathing heavily, eyes wide with panic, Bailey shifted her gaze rapidly between the three monsters as she was lifted before their eyes. She squirmed between his massive fingers but his grip had already tightened as a snare to its prey.
"What are you, a little bug?" Bill asked, itching to poke at her tiny body in his surprise. In reality, she was just small enough to still fit in the trolls' hands and far too large to be any bug sheknew of, but she wasn't about to correct him on that.
"Uhh," she gasped for breath, growing paler if possible. "No, I-I'm not a bug, heh..." She tried to smile, fidgeting with her snot-ridden skirt. Stealth was no potential method now, relying on strength didn't even have a chance, so diplomacy would be her next resort. "I am a wandering burglar-er, hobbit! Nothing of interest."
"A burglar-'obbit?" the troll with the cold echoed in surprise.
"Are there more of ya nearby?" Ted asked, tilting his head with a seemingly clueless expression rather than the usual grumpy one.
Bailey opened her mouth, hesitating upon noticing the hungry gleam in the troll's eye. Well, truthfully, there were no halflings but 13 dwarves nearby...13 very capable dwarves, far as she could guess, and she sort of wished they were in her shoes right now – at least they would have a ridiculous weapon! She had only juststolen one and ended up dropping it the moment she was grabbed anyway! "No. No, it is just me." She sucked in her lips to prevent them from quivering with her fearful lie.
"Oh," the sneezing one expressed in disappointment, but Bill merely chuckled gruesomely.
"Oh, I think it be lyin', boys...I think it's got friends to eat too...it looks tender..."
"Looks sweet," Ted added with a toothy grin.
"No! I'm," Bailey shrugged, tilting her head back and forth in an attempt to keep their attention, "I'm a sort of loner, I travel alone...I was just dropping by because of my curiosity; for which I blame this unwelcome visit, so-"
"Shut it up, will ya? It'll alert its friends if it's allowed to talk," Bill stated, leaning down to hoist up a wooden mace from beside his seat.
"No, you're not listening! I have no friends-!" Bailey struggled, her ribs threatening to crumble while she twisted in the sick troll's slippery handkerchief to keep her eyes on the smarter of the three.
But her statement was contradicted when – in a silent instant - all of the dwarves at once suddenly darted out from the darkness in a wave of war cries and shouts, leaping straight into the fray with blades already slicing at the legs and guts of the flabbergasted monsters.
Bellowing in bewilderment, the trolls snatched their weapons up from the ground to retaliate, the sick troll throwing Bailey roughly by the campfire to free his hand for the fight.
Whimpering and cringing upon impact, the weakened halfling scrambled to her feet, dashing just...away...somewhere...to hide. She could feel tears welling up within her from the burst of pain but forced them back with several difficult blinks. She knew attempting to run to her allies would only result in her getting in the way or getting squashed by the ensuing chaos, so she slipped behind the nearest large stone produced from the caves nearby and scrunched behind it, watching the battle with wide, terrified eyes.
The dwarves seemed to be winning, she was relieved to observe, but Bailey grew more and more impressed as the warriors wove in and out with each other, working as though it were a dance they'd rehearsed. She may have seen them maneuver about to dangerously hurl her precious china throughout Bagend hall, but she felt a warm rush of awe against her rapid beating heart as they tore between the legs of the trolls, gradually cutting them down with patient techniques yet incredible strength.
As she released short, preparing breaths, Bailey's eyes paced about the battle for some opportunity to slip past the enemies: surely it would be simple enough to get by undetected in the middle of such a chaotic scene. The war cries, both from the dwarves and trolls, deafened the helpless hobbit as she sought some small opening. She could no longer tell who was winning in the midst of flailing arms and weapons and it wasn't until one of the dwarves shouted on the other side of the field, "Thorin, the ponies are free!" that she knew they were going to retreat and that she was on the wrong side.
Desperate and panicked – too panicked to observe only two of the three trolls lie ahead of her position and where she needed to run – the halfling darted across the monsters' camp in hopes of catching up with the dwarven warriors in no time but she hadn't counted on an attack from behind, fingers the size of branches wrapping about her torso with a steel grip and yanking her from the ground like a wingless, weightless sparrow. She would have screamed in a terrified reaction but her lungs were crushed and all oxygen knocked out of her in the same violent motion by Bill, the third troll whom she'd failed to see.
The dwarves had jogged back toward the cover of the woods in a rough line formation, ready to retreat, when a troll's thunderous and gruesomely scratchy voice bellowed after them words to freeze them in their tracks. "Wait! Or we tear it apart; limb by limb!"
The nightmare merely kept unfolding for Bailey as she caught sight of the anger in each of her companions' faces, looking up toward her helplessly dangling body. Kili's eyes widened in horror and he jerked forward to, somehow, aid her, shouting her name, but Thorin held him back. Ori, prepared her sling in an instant, a massive stone readied toward the massive opponents. But none took further action for fear of the sight.
Two of the trolls – Bill and Ted, as it were – each grasped one of her arms within their hands, letting the rest of her body hang by them as though she were a rag doll. In that instant, she had nowhere to look for comfort, no apology she could muster, and nothing courageous to shout out to them even if she could manage to breathe: all she could do was prevent collapsing right then and there in an explosion of tears, panic, guilt, and defeat.
It had seemed like hours they held her up there, but only mere seconds had passed before Bill continued his demands. "Surrender or we rip all its limbs right off!"
Each of the dwarves warily glanced toward Thorin, their fingers twitching on the handles of their weapons as their gazes shifted between the trolls and their hostage. Thorin's jaw tightened, sky blue eyes flashing with frustration. But he dropped his broad sword to the ground in silent surrender. Reluctantly, the others followed in suit. Defeated.
With a satisfied grin, Bill chuckled, he and Ted dropping their victim to the ground as per the negotiation. Wincing when she landed on her arm, the shock of the fall jolting up the bone, Bailey whimpered, taking a moment of shame and misery before she was even going to try to climb to her feet.
"That's right, keep it turnin' nice and easy, Bert," Ted expressed with an eager chuckle.
Even with his sniffling through his cold, Bert grinned in agreement. "Oh, these are a delicacy – better cook 'em just right; brown on all sides."
In a wave of malice and glee, the three trolls laughed heartily with odious breath upon their victims.
Seven of the dwarves were squirming and struggling within a mass of ropes, binding them all to a large spit as they hovered, slowly being turned in circles above the crimson flames of the campfire. The other half, along with Bailey, merely got to watch, bound in sacks just tall enough to close tightly around their shoulders.
Over and over, Bailey tested the rope tightening her sack, tried to reach her teeth low enough to bite at them, but it seemed she and the other six dwarves had merely been tossed into a defenseless pile. Exhausted by her pointless attempts to turn things around, Bailey dropped her head back against the shoulder or knee – she wasn't certain – of whatever dwarf she'd been set against, biting her lip hard enough to sting considerably: she had done this. This was all her fault.
"Well, don't be takin' too long, Bert," Bill interjected with a weary scoff. "I would like to have time to enjoy this meal: don't fancy the sun comin' up in the middle of it."
Bailey's gaze perked up toward him the moment he finished his statement, eyes lightening with hope, or at least an idea. So, they didn't like the sun? Maybe that alone could save her companions! Pursing her lips determinedly, the halfling struggled to her feet, pushing with her elbows onto her knees.
"What're you doing, young halfling?" Bofur, the dark-haired, open and honest one of the group – as she'd come to know him – whispered in her direction, heavy eyebrows knit in confusion.
"Shh, I have an idea," Bailey whispered back amidst strained grunts to climb to her feet.
The other dwarves remained silent except for a few indistinct mutters, but Bofur shrugged cooperatively.
"What can I do, Bailey?" Ori whispered, her large scarf that usually veiled her mouth gradually loosening its grip and revealing pinkish lips pursed with readiness.
"Well," Bailey exhaled quietly, wishing for all the world there were holes in the sack where her feet could be – as it were, she was a mere blob of cloth, "You can help me up."
"Okay," Ori nodded quickly, merely paying Bofur a quick glance before squirming her way over to lean her upper back up against his ribcage. She was then positioned to brace her feet behind Bailey's back and push a jumpstart on the halfling with the strength of her legs.
Jerked to her feet with Ori and Bofur's boost, Bailey immediately went to work in trying to catch her balance on her cloth stubs for feet. Luckily, balance was something she was good at; maintaining her footing until she had gained a stable position.
"Think they're about ready?" Ted asked, attempting to look upside down at the flushed faces of the cooking dwarves, who still struggled with all their might to escape their fiery doom. "I'm about ready to just eat 'em raw, my tum's so growlin'."
"Well, I don't want mine strugglin' and squirmin' like worms while I'm tryin' to chew!"
"Just squash yours into jelly then," Bill suggested, "Won't be squirmin' if you've crushed their little beatin' hearts."
"Fiiine," Bert moaned, "I-I just wanted them to be browned right."
"That's very important!" Bailey expressed in a shout, trying to get their attention, and she did. All three of them looked toward her in at least vague surprise. Their eyes, clueless as they may have seemed, still intimidated her into a brief stammer, "Uh-uh to have them browned properly, I mean, because dwarves – that is what they are, of course – dwarves have a very...stringy texture and it detracts from the flavor unless you brown them...at least until their tops are golden." Wincing ever so subtly at the patched up instruction, Bailey made her best impression of a professional who knew exactly what she was talking about.
"See, that's what I've been tryin' to say, Bill!" Bert jumped at the opportunity for his point to be made.
"A-and the best way to eat a dwarf is to..." she paused in search of some possible ingredient to suggest that wouldn't seem too far-fetched, looking toward her companions on the ground who all stared at her with complete incomprehension. "Basil...a-and thyme...just a touch of parsley and, ooh! A slice of lemon, if at all possible, will make it utterly unforgettable!"
"I have those spices!" Bert exclaimed with a slight hop of pure delight and the largest, yellow-toothed grin Bailey had yet to see any of them make, but the response only made Bailey's smile disappear.
"You do?" she asked in hope of him exaggerating.
"Yeah! Well, I'm a bit of a cook meself and I take 'em with me always! And wolfsbane is for when they won't quit squirmin', right?" Tom explained gleefully in between sickened sniffs, uplifting a small leather pack of all his supplies as though it were a prized trophy.
"Weeeell, uh-right, but…that—er, that is wonderful, heh!" Bailey exclaimed in mock excitement, mind racing for other ideas, "So-so now you're ready to prepare your meal...you don't want to cook them like you are right now, you actually want to, er..." she looked toward her companions yet to be over the fire once again. They were all staring expectantly with mouths hanging open and eyes flickering unsurely. "Skin 'em!"
At this, all of their eyes widened to twice their original size. "What?" Kili cried from lying on his face beneath Ori's legs.
"Yup, absolutely, skin 'em," Bailey nodded in absolute certainty, wishing she had as much confidence as she pretended to have. Where was she going with this anyway? Was the sun ever going to come up?
"Oh, well, that makes sense," her ally in the discussion, Bert, submitted with an eager nod, while his two companions merely scoffed in their confusion, gazes moving between the two self-proclaimed chefs.
"So once you've skinned them-Oh!" Bailey forced a terrified gasp as though she had just remembered something, making Bert and most of the dwarves at least jump in surprise. "Oh, no..." she half-whispered to emphasize the importance.
"What?" Ted asked, now entering the conversation, perhaps, out of curiosity for why she'd panicked.
"You cannot eat these dwarves, thank goodness you haven't taken a bite yet!" she exclaimed, shaking her head as though relieved.
"Why?" Ted and Bert asked in practical unison, along with Bombur, and a few others among the dwarves.
"They..." she sucked in her lips, pausing the moment she could've sworn she saw a flicker of white and gray up on the hillside; something moving up there. Perhaps it had merely been a trick of the light...but at least the sun was rising! Just a little longer. Getting back on track, she winced at the supposed 'nasty thought of it' before she let it all out at once as though a difficult truth, "They have worms...nasty, thin...meal...worms, but big ones, huge in their…tubes, and eating these dwarves, dead or alive, it is said you're certain to get them yourselves!"
"What?" Fili shouted from above the troll-sized campfire.
"I don't have any worms!" Kili exclaimed as though offended.
"What are you sayin'? We're not infected!" Dwalin boomed in his confusion, at which point most of the dwarves opened up in several different refutations.
Bailey's eyes rolled, opening her mouth to intervene but she could think of nothing to say that wouldn't blow her cover to the trolls.
Thorin stared silently, eyes pacing in thought for a moment. Within mere seconds of the arguing, he kicked Bofur's back hard to get his attention.
As Bofur cried out in a grunt of pain, the others went silent, their attention drawn to the sound. Thorin met eyes with Bofur, the nearest one, eyes widening meaningfully for a moment.
"I..." Oin suddenly turned his gaze back toward the trolls, who had been all watching in confusion and irritation. "I have lots o' parasites!"
"M-me, too!" Ori hurriedly caught on.
"Oh, I've got the biggest parasites; I've got huge worms!" Kili offered helpfully.
"Massive, the size of my arm!" Bombur loudly exaggerated.
Bailey felt a tiny grin itch its way on her face; now they were getting it.
But Bill's voice rose above all of theirs. "Enough!" he bellowed angrily. "You!" With that he pointed a gnarled finger straight down at Bailey, who froze immediately in silent terror, staring straight back with wide eyes. "Ya don't think I know what you're up to, little ferret?"
"I..." the halfling stuttered in fear, her confidence shattered by the angered thunderous voice. It was then she spotted it once more – the gray figure slipping about the trees just above the cave the camp was seated beside and the sky was lighting up behind it. Within a moment, she realized who it was. "I-I was merely trying to warn you..."
Bill opened his mouth and lifted a nasty, crooked blade from his belt, and Bailey felt her knees crumble; sure she was going to die right then and there. "I changed my mind...on which one I wanna eat first! It's takin' us for fools!"
"The sun will take you all!" the unmistakable voice of the gray wizard blasted into the campsite like a flash of lightning.
The trolls, though surprised, showed no fear for their impending doom. "Who's that?" grumpy Ted half-mumbled in irritation.
"Can we eat 'im, too?" Bert inquired, with a clueless tilt of the head.
Ramming the end of his wooden staff in a burst of light upon the stones atop the roof of the cave, Gandalf said not another word. Shattering into earthen shards, the boulder made way for golden rays of sunshine upon the three startled trolls.
Screams of terror emerged and though they scrambled for some redemption of shade, it was far too late for anything to be done. Within an unbelievably short moment, all three of them froze in place, coated with a dark gray color...their flesh replaced with cold and lifeless stone.
Bailey stared in amazement even as Gandalf climbed his way down to them as though it had all been in a day's work and began to free the company – those wrapped about the large spit first. It wasn't until someone's hands shook her by grasping the rope around her shoulders to cut it that she awoke from her daze.
The friendly and relieved expression of the bright-faced, red-haired Ori looked at her the same time Bailey turned to her, smiling almost proudly. "You alright?" she asked cheerily, easily sawing through the halfling's bonds.
"I-..." Bailey almost immediately answered but stopped in the middle, curling her lips inward to prevent the words from coming at first. "Now, yes..." clearing her throat, she finished with a bonus of assurance and a returned friendly smile as her previous cloth prison dropped to her feet, "Yes, right as rain."
"You have not lost your touch with your timing, my friend," Thorin exhaled, reaching immediately for his sword upon his bonds being cut. Gandalf chuckled, moving over to Bombur next. "Where did you run off to?" the dwarf prince continued, eyes narrowing inquisitively.
"I went to look ahead," the wizard sighed, standing once more as the freed Bombur scrambled to his feet.
"And what brought you back?" the dwarven prince crossed his arms, an apologetic trace narrowly shading his eyes.
"By looking behind…" Gandalf softly replied.
A spell of silence passed before Thorin nodded, leaving it at that with his icy gaze glancing over toward the group. "Seems we survived the night…no thanks to the burglar you gave us."
Gandalf smiled softly, eyes lowering to the ground. "Well, she had the mind to stall for time..." Upon meeting with the prince's questioning gaze, the wizard added to his statement. "None of you thought of that."
Thorin's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, looking over at the halfling as she followed behind Fili and Kili toward the trees to find their ponies, brushing in disgust her adulterated skirt. But he'd nothing more to say on the matter, whether or not he agreed.