Chapter Twenty

Bilbo could do nothing to stop the trolls tying Balin tightly in a sack, but he could at least warn the others. Slowly, quietly, started to make his way to the edge of the clearing. Trolls do not like dwarves one bit, not unless the dwarf in question has been skinned and cooked, and the three seemed to have forgotten Bilbo in their anger at Balin.

Dwalin came along next, long before Bilbo had made it to the shelter of the trees. The hobbit did not dare make any noise, in case he got them both caught, and anyway he expected Dwalin to show a little caution. It wasn't until Bilbo heard a scuffle that he realised he had been wrong. The trolls had tossed the sack containing Dwalin next to the one containing Balin. Horrified, Bilbo watched as the trolls retreated into the shadows, more sacks in their hands.

Trolls are not smart, but they have a low kind of cunning when it comes to finding food. Bilbo watched, still not daring to make a sound, as Fili and Kili stepped into the firelight next, and were taken. Oin and Gloin came after, and very soon there were six dwarves tied up in sacks.

By this time, Bilbo had reached the edge of the trees. Unfortunately, he was on the opposite side of the clearing to where he had started, and he had no way of warning the remaining dwarves not to enter it. His heart gave a painful thump in his chest at the thought of himself running, free, away from the place, leaving Thorin to be skinned and roasted over the trolls' cook fire, but instead of frightening him further, this made Bilbo more determined to outsmart the trolls.

In the shelter of the trees, Bilbo moved around the clearing. He had made it halfway round when Dori, Nori and Ori all together stepped into the light, and straight away they found themselves with sacks on their heads, too. The poor hobbit counted on his fingers, and came to the conclusion that there were now five left, including himself, to rescue the trapped dwarves.

No sooner had Bilbo thought this, than Bifur, Bofur and Bombur edged cautiously up to the fire. Their caution, though, wasn't enough. Although the three had swords and axes at the ready, these did nothing more than scratch the trolls, no matter how hard the dwarves fought. Desperate, Bilbo nearly ran to the place where the three had left the shelter of the trees, hoping to find Thorin there, safe and with a sensible plan.

For the first time in hours, Bilbo's luck was good. He heard a whisper through the darkness, and sighed in relief. "What's all this trouble?" Thorin asked, and Bilbo was too pleased to hear his voice to listen to anything else Thorin said.

"It's trolls," Bilbo told him. "They're hiding in the trees with sacks." He would have thought this obvious, given that the remaining dwarves were clearly visible, trussed up in their sacks, and that the clearing still smelled of troll, but then he knew the creatures were there, and the dwarves hadn't.

"Are they?" Thorin asked, and instead of creeping cautiously towards his companions, he ran. He snatched up a branch that had been laying half in the fire, and shoved the flaming end right into the eye of the first troll to appear.

Bilbo could not just stand there and do nothing. He followed Thorin, and grabbed hold of the leg of one of the two remaining trolls. The troll shook him off as easily as if he had been a fly, and Bilbo watched from where he had fallen, safe underneath a bush, as Thorin took on the trolls single-handed.

There was something exciting about the fight. Thorin worked the flaming branch like it weighed as much as an eating knife, keeping the trolls from getting too close. He thrust the fire into a large, gaping mouth, knocking out several teeth, and for a moment Bilbo thought Thorin had incapacitated a second troll. One to go. He felt like cheering, but he knew the last thing he should do was to get involved. As much as he wanted to save Thorin, or cheer him on, it would be smarter to use his brains than his fists.

The troll that Thorin had just struck gave a roar and kicked at the fire, sending sparks flying everywhere. Some of these shot up towards Thorin's face, and suddenly the fight didn't seem so exciting to Bilbo. He watched, now very cold, as the third troll, the one who Thorin had not yet touched, slipped a sack over the dwarf king's head.

The best that could be said for the situation was that the dwarves were not so close to the fire that they risked being burned by it. They could, however, do nothing to escape. The trolls, having captured the entire company (save for Bilbo) sat back down on the fallen tree trunks they were using as seats, and began arguing again.

"We should roast 'em," decided the biggest troll.

"But I want mine minced and boiled," the smallest said. They continued in this manner for several minutes, during which time Bilbo wondered how he could rescue the dwarves. There was no choice, he had to do it soon. Could he distract the trolls long enough for the dwarves to escape themselves? Unlikely. The sacks were so large that only their feet poked out of the bottom. They could not run, not without seeing where they were going, and they had no use of their arms.

Dare he try to sneak up to the pile of dwarves? If he could do so, he might be able to free several before the trolls saw him. The way they kept glancing over at the sacks, however, told him that he was unlikely to untie more than a couple. Unless he undid the sacks but told them to stay inside until he gave the order to throw them off and run?

Not at any point now did Bilbo think about sneaking away alone. He could not do so, not with Thorin trapped. He was just coming to the conclusion that his final idea was the dwarves' best chance of rescue when he became aware of a fourth voice partaking in the argument. A deep, raspy, precise voice that, despite being masked in an attempt to sound like a troll, Bilbo still recognised.