Lost by LittleApril - Chapter Nine

The pain subsided after a short moment. I was able to stand, waving away the hand that was trying to steady me. My breathing was heavy, and I refused to look the heir of Durin in the eye. What was going on? Why did it hurt to think of the book? It was inevitable. The Battle of Five Armies would happen, and the three would perish. There was nothing I could do. It wasn't as though anything I did in this world would have much effect. Who was I to mess with Tolkein's world? With their world?

Kili released his grip on my arm a second later, satisfied. "Are you ill?"

I shook my head. "It's Bilbo we have to worry about. Not me."

The dwarf nodded and he crept forward, peering through the thick bracken. "Fili will have gathered the others." His eyes swept around the clearing where the trolls had made camp. "We'll wait for their lead."

I had already seen all of this before, of course, and knew that, soon, Bilbo, covered in snot and grime, would be pulled from his hiding place and nearly torn to shreds by the three bumbling creatures.

"Kili," I had muttered, watching as the first troll began to hold back a sneeze, "I don't think we have time to wait for them-"

And I was right. Less than a second later, the troll reached behind him and snatched his handkerchief, blowing his nose into the cloth and unknowingly onto the hobbit nestled between the layers of cloth. The troll jolted back in surprise and cried out something unintelligible.

"Blimey! Look!" shouted the troll. "Look what's come out of my hooter! It's got arms and legs and everything!"

The other trolls peered down at the terrified hobbit, and I watched as Kili unsheathed his sword and gripped it tightly in his hands. So much for waiting for Thorin. "Han," murmured Kili, not bothering to turn to look at me. His eyes were trained on Bilbo. "You stay hidden. Wait for the others."

"You must be joking," I muttered back, knowing that if I stayed put I would most likely be squashed beneath a stampede of clumsily trolls. "Kili, no-"

The dwarf said nothing, but he shot me a look that told me to, quite simply, stay put. In turn, I glared at him.

"What is it?" grunted one of the trolls, his voice gravelly and low.

"I dunno!" replied the first troll, voice shaky. "But I don't like the way it wriggles around!"

And with that, Bilbo was dropped unceremoniously onto the wet forest ground.

"What are you, then? An over-sized squirrel?"

Bilbo's answer came out as a stutter. "I'm… I'm a burglar! A hobbit!" He corrected, quickly.

"A burglar'obbit?"

"Can we cook him?"

"We can try!"

Bilbo raced from side to side, in and out behind the legs of the trolls, past the fat and thick fingers that tried to snatch him up.

"He wouldn't make more than a mouthful! Not when he's skinned and boned!"

"Are there any more burglar'obbits around these parts? Might be enough for a pie!"

"It's too quick!"

"Gotcha!"

The second troll had caught the frightened hobbit, holding him aloft with two fingers. I tuned out the rest of the conversation, too busy trying to pull Kili back from rushing forward. Maybe if we waited just a moment or two, the rest of the company would appear and we wouldn't land ourselves in empty potato sacks, ready to be spit-roasted by the trolls. "You can't go in there alone," I hissed to the dwarf, knowing that his recklessness would, eventually, get him killed.

But Kili paid me no attention, and with a battle-cry he cut and hacked his way through the bracken, pushing himself into the clearing, leaving me hiding behind the bushes watching the scene unfold.

The dwarf brandished his sword, and ordered, "Drop him!"

"You what?"

"I said," repeated Kili, wielding his weaponry, "drop him!"

The shouts and cries of the rest of the company filled my ears, and I turned to look behind me as the dwarfs came running forward, waving their swords and axes, Thorin in the lead, Fili not close behind, each member of the legendary company eager to defeat the trolls and rescue their burglar. The group ran in front of me and I made to follow, but a second dwarf pushed me back.

"Stay behind," instructed Fili, shaking his head as I opened my mouth to protest. "This is no place for a girl." But then he, like his brother and the other dwarves, had gone off into battle.

This is absolutely stupid, I raged in my mind, biting my lip to shout obscene things at the company. Were all dwarves this bloody sexist? Sighing, I folded my arms across my chest, knowing that, soon, the group would need me. Someone had to remind them that having parasites is a good thing - it stops you from being killed.

The battle raged on, Dwalin jabbing and hacking, Ori slingshotting the trolls away, Thorin slicing and stabbing, Fili carving and severing.

And Bilbo still trying to untie the bloody horses.

Before he was caught, that is.

"Bilbo!" yelled Kili, starting forward. Thorin pushed him back. And I watched as Fili turned to look at the bushes behind them, his eyes finding mine in the darkness, and he nodded. What is that supposed to mean?

"Lay down your arms! Or we'll whip his off!"

Thorin dug his sword into the ground, and the remaining dwarves followed suit. The group were eagerly snatched up in the grubby hands of the trolls and dumped, one by one, into the sacks, bound by thick rope. The trolls then picked five or six of the now bound dwarves and fastened them to the fire structure, roasting them with each turn.

By the bushes, I was having an internal struggle. Was I supposed to help them? What was I supposed to do? What was that look that Fili shot me? Was it a "stay hidden, you bumbling girl" or a plea for help?

If there is one thing you ought to know about me, it is that I get restless not doing anything. I like to help. I love to help. I was born to help. That is why I had always wanted to be a doctor. I liked helping people. I can't sit idly and watch people be hurt. I couldn't stand behind the bracken and not do anything. And I'll admit that what I did was rather foolish, and I still cringe to this day, and that the looks the would-be King of Durin sent me for the following few days were glares, but I had to do it.

I was compelled to do it.

And as Bilbo pleaded and tried to deceive the trolls, I searched the nearby forest floor for a rock large enough to throw into the group.

"With the seasoning!"

"What about the seasoning?"

"Well," said Bilbo, growing more and more confident with each word, "have you smelt them? You're going to need something larger than sage before you plate this lot up!"

And even from behind the bushes, I was still able to hear Kili's cry of "Traitor!"

Knowing what was to follow, I found a rock light enough to hold and I threw it into the clearing. It rolled and tumbled toward the group, but the sound of it falling and hitting the earth was lost in the chaos that was Bilbo Baggins and his ideas.

"What do you know about cooking dwarf?"

I began the search for a second stone.

"The, uh, the secret, to, uh, cooking dwarf is," began the hobbit, stumbling now. "It's, uh," continued Bilbo, ignoring the shouts of the dwarves, "is to… The secret is to… to skin them first!"

More cries of denial and rage. I had found four rocks, three quite large, one rather small. I hefted the small rock in my arm and threw it, like before, into the den. Nothing happened. It merely rolled to the side.

I really had to get better aim and height on those things.

Bombur had been pulled from the group, dangling dangerously close to the open mouth of the biggest troll.

"Not that one! He… He's infected! He's got worms… in his tubes!"

The trolls made a noise of disgust, and the heavy dwarf slipped from the grip of the troll and landed with a thump on top of his companions.

"In fact," announced Bilbo, "they all have. They're infested with parasites! It's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it. I really wouldn't."

"Parasites?" cried Oin. "Did he say we have parasites?"

"We don't have parasites!" shouted Kili, highly affronted. "You have parasites!"

And having heard enough, I hefted a third rock and lobbed it into the group, it landing, with a rather large thump, on Thorin Oakenshield's head.

Crap.

Thorin turned his head to stare into the trees and, though I was sure he couldn't see me, it felt as though his glare was directed to the exact spot upon which I stood. It did, however, work. He delivered a swift kick in his nephew's direction and soon the group were all complaining of being riddled with parasites and other ghastly creatures.

And that, everyone, is how I, Hannah Elizabeth Rogers, saved the group of dwarves from being eaten by a pack of lousy, smelly trolls.

With a little of Gandalf's help, of course.

And from them on, life in the group changed. There were no more glares from Fili, no questions asked of London or of my suspicious homeland.

Because what was it that J. K. Rowling had said?

There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

And the same rule applied in Middle-earth.

Apologies for the week long delay!

A lot has happened this week and this chapter was giving me a bit of trouble. On Monday, I found out that I have been accepted by the University I was hoping to go to do my postgrad studies in teaching and become a Primary (Elementary School) teacher, so I'm really pleased with that! Also... my MacBook has died, again, so this had to be written on my iPhone.

A huge thank you to everyone for your continued support - please continue to review, follow, and favourite!