Gandalf stormed off in a huff once his argument with Thorin concluded. He shouted about the stubbornness of Dwarves, and the merit of his own company. Bilbo appeared very perturbed by the wizard's departure– the Company, less so.
Andrea just continued to help make the fire, her mind blazing as she tried to think of what she would or wouldn't do to prevent the trolls from kidnapping them all. Except, did she really have to prevent it? Bilbo and Gandalf had it well in hand, she knew that.
Those thoughts went around and around in her head for the next couple hours, with absolutely no conclusion in sight.
That was her problem, had been since she was a child. She hated making decisions– at least, ones that mattered. She could never decide if she really wanted to go swimming in the pool, or if she really wanted those shoes, or if she really wanted to spend her money on a bag of sweet marshmallows. Did she really want to go to university? Did she really want to put the effort into getting a job she would enjoy? Did she really want to try to write a story that might end up going nowhere?
She'd always chosen inaction over action. It was easier. Andrea was a dedicated worker, she knew, but a very lazy person.
It seemed things were going to play out as they always did in her life.
Andrea stood by the fire, helping Bombur make the stew. The rotund Dwarf was an eager teacher, revealing the art of making delicious food with such meager ingredients.
"I'd like to let you meet my wife someday," he said. "She's an even better cook than I am– but I'm sure you've guessed that." He patted his plump belly and laughed.
"Well, if she's better than you then she must be one of the best." Andrea smiled.
Bombur nodded. "Oh, she is, believe me."
He went on to describe his wife, whose boisterous personality had filtered well into their three perfect children. Talk of children had Andrea asking whether Dwarves grew beards when they were young, and was told that yes, every Dwarf was born with thick hair on their head and at least a wisp of hair on their chin.
"My oldest is only forty-eight, but he's got a strong beard growing," Bombur said proudly.
Gloin spoke up to praise his own son. "My Gimli's got a great beard already, and he's pushing seventy."
How old had Gimli been when he died? Andrea thought, stirring the large pot of stew. He'd been lord of some fancy caves, Aglarond or something. The Glittering Caves, right? And then Legolas had taken Gimli with him when he left for the West, when Gimli was rather old.
Andrea wondered how Legolas had coped –would cope?– with the loss of his closest companion.
"There we have it, I think it's done." Bombur took the ladle from Andrea and took a small sip. "Yes, good. Grab the bowls, miss?"
From the edge of camp came the Hobbit, wearing a disconcerted expression. "He's been a long time," said Bilbo as Andrea helped Bombur ladle soup into the plain bowls.
"Gandalf?" Andrea glanced up. "He'll be back, don't worry."
She glanced about the Company, counting heads. Bombur handed her another bowl just as she remembered that Kili and Fili were watching the ponies. "Could you take these to our princes?" Andrea asked, holding the bowls out to Bilbo. He took them, and she stuck a rough-hewn spoon into each bowl.
Bilbo darted off, holding the hot bowls carefully. Andrea turned back to Bombur, handing out bowls to the rest of the Company as they wandered over to the fire.
Andrea took the last two bowls once almost everyone had received their share, stepping around the fire and walking towards the leader of the Company.
Thorin was brooding as usual, towards the edge of the camp. He looked at the crumbling homestead, brow furrowed. Andrea sat down beside him.
"Your dinner, Master Dwarf," she said, holding out one of the two bowls. Thorin took it with a grunt that may have been the word thanks. With an answering hum that roughly translated to 'you're welcome', Andrea ate a bit of her soup. It was good, as all Bombur's food was.
They sat in silence for a few moments. Andrea followed Thorin's gaze to the homestead. "What do you think happened to them?" she asked.
Thorin glanced aside at her, surprise flashing in his eyes– and with good reason. Andrea had fallen into the habit of giving Thorin his dinner, mainly because he never actually came over to get it and that one time Balin had asked Andrea to give Thorin his dinner had made it part of her nightly routine. But she hardly ever spoke to the Dwarf king, besides getting his attention.
"Raiders are not uncommon," Thorin replied after a few long moments.
Andrea wondered if it had been the trolls that killed the family. She couldn't remember if their fates had ever been given.
Silence fell between them, stiff but not quite uncomfortable. Andrea ate her food quickly, more out of habit than anything else. 'An efficient eater' her mother had called her once, when Andrea complained that she ate like a starving man. Back home, Andrea always ate faster than everyone else. Current company, however, was very practiced at eating quickly– they'd all had hungry days, Andrea could see it in them.
Thought of home and her mom sent a pang of homesickness through her. Or maybe it was a pang of period cramps.
Andrea was more than half-finished with her soup when Fili and Kili came racing out of the woods. They weren't holding their bowls, she noticed. Their tense expressions were more worrisome.
Thorin stood up, setting aside his bowl. Tension rippled through the Company.
"What is it?" Thorin demanded, his back to Andrea.
"Trolls, took the ponies," Kili said between quick pants.
"Sent the burglar. He got caught," Fili finished, rubbing his chest and taking carefully measured breaths.
Thorin didn't even pause. "Get your weapons," he ordered.
The Company leapt into action, taking up arms and dousing the fire. Thorin picked up his scabbard, belting it about his waist. His gaze fell on Andrea.
Andrea looked back up at him. Something like fear writhed in her chest. The shrieks of Orcs in the Lone Lands had been bad enough, but being this close to actual trolls was absolutely terrifying.
Thorin considered her for a moment, a frown on his face. He took a step forward, pulling something out of his belt. It turned out to be a dagger when he held it out to her. "Go into the woods that way," he said, nodding to the woods opposite where Kili and Fili had come from. "Don't go far. Stay hidden."
Andrea took the dagger from him, her fingers brushing uncomfortably against his rough palm. She couldn't think of anything to say, so she just nodded. Thorin gave a curt nod in response, turning to his Company. He made a quick gesture, and then they were off– a horde of stampeding, four foot ten bears.
Andrea stared at the rustling underbrush that closed behind them. The dagger was heavy in her hand.
What if something went wrong? What if one of her actions in the past few weeks had changed things? What if the brief delay Thorin had taken had caused Bilbo to be killed! Too many possibilities, but Andrea was paralyzed.
She had to make a decision, right here, right now.
It felt like she was tearing at something inside of herself. Pulling at invisible bonds. It felt like trying to move while in the clutches of sleep paralysis.
She had to choose, had to choose, had to make a choice, right now, right now. Time was running out, she'd spent too long just sitting here already. She had to choose, had to–
With a gasp, like a drowning man breaching the surface of water, Andrea leapt to her feet and ran into the woods after the Company. Her feet crushed leaves, bushes and ferns brushed against her clothes. Her heart beat loud in her chest.
The sight of fire through the trees snapped her from her panic. Ducking down, she crept forward as quietly as she could. Voices filtered through the trees– the grunts and protests of the Company, the dialogue of the trolls.
Pressing herself against the rough bark of a tree, Andrea peeked around the broad trunk.
One of the trolls held a wriggling Bilbo, two fingers pinching the Hobbit's head threateningly. The other two trolls were dealing with the Company, one of them wrestling Dwarves into sacks, the other tying several to a spit over the fire.
The troll in charge of putting the Company into sacks tossed the last one down. Judging by the roar of anger, it was Dwalin. "Almost done there, Tom?" the troll said to the one in charge of the spit.
"Yep. Put the burrahobbit in a sack, would ya, William? 'E looks pretty soft, better save 'im for dessert," said Tom.
"Wouldn't be more'n a mouthful for each of us," said William, obliging to put poor Bilbo in a sack.
"A soft mouthful, though. Like a Man-kidling, you know? Sweet and chewy." The last troll (Bert, said some seven-year old voice from the depths of Andrea's memory) pressed his fingers together like a connoisseur. "Always nice to finish a good meal off with something chewy– good for the jaw."
"Ain't nothin' good with my jaw," said Tom, rubbing his face. "One of them Dwarves knocked some teeth out! I'll never chew the same again!"
"And good riddance to ya!" yelled Gloin from the pile of Dwarves on the ground.
William slammed a fist on the ground so hard that the ground beneath Andrea's feet shuddered. "Shut yer yaps! I've a mind to sit on you all and be done with it! Too much trouble to roast a Dwarf, I say– skin's too hardy."
"None of that talk! We're gonna roast 'em nice and fine, make a good meal of it," said Bert, turning the spit and feeding the fire. The Dwarves on the spit shouted and swore, and one or two of them were much in danger of having their long beards caught on fire.
"I say we mince them!" said Tom. "Nothing better than minced Dwarf!"
The three trolls argued about the best way to prepare a Dwarf while the Company struggled and Andrea looked on in silent terror.
The trolls talked for some minutes, and finally settled on roasting, since it would be far too much effort to take the Dwarves off the spit now. And still, nothing.
When was Bilbo going to speak up? Or would Gandalf come and fool the trolls into arguing until the sun came up?
Wait. They hadn't mentioned the sun at all, and hadn't that been what had clued Bilbo into distracting them? But then where was Gandalf? Still off in a huff?
"Go on then and get those flames higher, these Dwarves won't roast fast with a heat like that!" declared William.
"Haven't you ever heard of the right way to prepare Dwarf?"
Andrea didn't realize she'd even spoken until the words were out of her mouth, her tongue curling into as best an imitation of the trolls' accents as she could get– that is, a very good imitation.
Everything went quiet. Even the crackling of the fire seemed to pause.
"Was that your mum calling from the grave?" said Tom to William.
William squinted towards the edge of the clearing. "No, something else." He stomped over to the trees, but Andrea had already run away.
She would never ever speak again after this whole ordeal, Andrea swore to herself. Not ever.
She came around to where half the Company was laid in sacks. Pressing herself flat to the ground, she crawled on her elbows to the Dwarf nearest to the bushes that lined the edge of the forest. That Dwarf turned out to be Thorin, which she discovered when she reached out to touch his shoulder.
Thorin's head whipped about, and he gave Andrea the most fearsome glare she'd ever seen. "What in Mahal's name are you doing?" he hissed, his eyes blazing with fury.
Andrea only lunged forward and shoved the knife he'd given her down the front of his sack. Her sleeve scraped against his beard and her knuckles bumped down his armor. She left it somewhere on his chest and hoped he'd get his hand on it while she crawled back into the relative safety of the trees.
"Have you found it, William?" asked Bert, still turning the spit.
"Haven't found squat," William grunted.
"Maybe it's an Elf! I've always wanted to try an Elf!" Tom said eagerly.
Andrea ducked behind a tree and called out in as ringing a voice as she could manage, "Elf? I've never been so insulted! Here I am giving you sound advice and you call me an Elf!"
William spun around, scanning the trees. Andrea ducked low, sliding to a new hiding place and thanking every star in the sky when her steps came silent.
"Well if you isn't an Elf, then what are you?" asked Tom.
"None of that," Bert said. "I want to know what it's got to say about cooking Dwarves!"
Andrea called out in reply. "Well for starters the fire won't do anything. Tough skins, they've got, and there's too little time to dawn!"
William grumbled to himself and rounded on Andrea's hiding place. "What're you called, not-Elf? Come out, or I'll pull you out."
"Does it matter what I'm called? I've got the know-how, and you want to eat, and you can't eat when the sun's got you turned to stone." Andrea left her place behind a clump of ferns, retreating into the dark as William came a little too close, peering out into the forest.
"Can't trust little voices what don't have faces," William grunted suspiciously.
"Come now, William, let it talk! I'm curious as to what it's got to say," said Bert. He'd stopped turning the spit, much to the discomfort of the Dwarves unfortunate enough to be on the bottom of it.
Andrea took her time making her way to a new spot, careful of William's glinting eyes. "I've got a lot to say," she said from the safety of a new spot. "Just ask your dinner! I've been plaguing them for weeks!" Her heart was in her throat, and her stomach had been replaced by a void. This was like the worst of public speaking.
"She- it's right!" said Bilbo, and thank god he was clever enough to catch on, even if he was a little late. "We've been hearing its voice every night now, it won't let us sleep!"
Some calls of agreement came from the Company. "Aye!" called Kili. "I haven't had a wink in ages!" said Nori. "Can hardly go a step without hearing it!" cried Bofur.
"But what is it?" Tom asked, looking very confused. "Is it a ghost? Oh, I don't know if I'd like that."
"Nothing of the sort! Only someone who knows how to prepare Dwarf." Andrea made her way around to the Company on the ground again. Thorin seemed to have gotten himself in the shadows of the trees, free of his sack. He grabbed her arm as she passed.
"Get out of here," he snapped in a low voice.
Andrea pulled out of his grasp and back into the trees.
"You haven't said squat about preparing Dwarves," said Bert. "What's it got to say, and don't go delayin'."
"The very best way, if you must know, is to boil them! Softens that toughness, gets it all gamey." Andrea could feel her time running out. She looked to the sky and despaired to see that it was barely a shade brighter than dark blue.
How much longer until dawn? Five minutes? Ten minutes? Too long, definitely.
"But it's too far to the well, and we haven't got a big enough pot!"
That was a new voice. Andrea didn't recognize it, and yet she did. It sounded like someone that she might have known, or perhaps a childhood friend. Something plain, something she knew.
"'E's right, ain't got a pot for it," said William.
"Well then what's we to do, then?" Tom asked. "I'm getting hungrier by the second!"
"Mince them, that's all that's good for."
"Shut your mouth, Tom, we've already said no to that one," Bert grumbled.
"I didn't say anything!" Tom turned an affronted glare on Bert. "You're going mad."
"It's you all who's going mad– can't even figure how to cook Dwarf," said the voice that may or may have not been anyone at all.
Tom and Bert rounded on William. "Can't cook Dwarf!" Bert exclaimed. "You nearly let the burrahobbit let off those ponies, who's the mad one now!"
"Oi, I didn't say nothing about bein' mad!" William defended himself.
Gandalf. It had to be Gandalf.
Andrea stayed where she'd last fled to, pressed tight against the rough bark of a tree. Her hair tangled about her face, and she sucked in cold lungfuls of early morning air. Relief flooded her entire being until she thought her legs might collapse beneath her.
Gandalf kept the trolls arguing for several minutes more, throwing his voice and making them believe that one of the three had insulted the other two. Andrea watched Thorin discreetly free Dwarf after Dwarf of those trapped in sacks, each one creeping into the shadows and about to where the trolls had stashed their weapons.
"Best to sit on them and get on with it," said the voice that absolutely had to be Gandalf. "But who to sit on first?"
"The last one we got," Bert decided. "Took out my eye, that one did."
"Don't go talking to yourself," William reprimanded. "But if you want to sit on 'im, find 'im. Can't tell these Dwarves apart."
"It was the one with the yellow stockings, wasn't it?" Tom speculated.
"Nonsense, 'e was the one with the grey stockings."
"No, I'm sure it was yellow."
"Yellow it was."
"Then what'd you call it grey for?"
"I didn't call anything grey, you're going batty!"
At this point Andrea couldn't tell who was speaking and who wasn't, and neither could the trolls. Over all their heads, the sky lightened and brightened, a shade of blue all too lovely to see.
Then, up on a high boulder, was Gandalf. "Dawn take you all, and be stone to you!" the wizard shouted, striking the stone with his staff. With a great crack, the boulder split down the middle, sending a bright ray of sunlight blazing down on the trolls.
With a groan and a rumble, the trolls turned to stone, stooped and still in the middle of arguing.
Andrea felt like crying.
"Gandalf!" Kili called out, stepping into the clearing with his bow and quiver in hand. "We nearly had them rousted, old man!"
Gandalf's laughed echoed down from the boulder. "I can see you were doing a quick job of it. Get your fellows down before they're properly roasted!"
The Dwarves set about helping their friends down. Those on the spit had been stripped of their armor, so that was returned to them. Weapons were retrieved and handed out. Spirits rose very quickly.
Quiet as a mouse, Andrea thought, taking a step out from behind her tree and into the clearing. Not stealthy enough to escape Thorin, it seemed.
"You! Woman!" The Dwarf King shouted, falling back on that habit he had to call Andrea 'woman' whenever he was annoyed with her. He seemed far more than annoyed now, though.
Thorin stormed up to Andrea, fully kitted out with his sword and his fur-lined coat and a very angry expression. He loomed over her despite being shorter. "Have you no sense in your head?" he growled. "You could have gotten yourself caught and killed! I told you to hide, not play in the forest like a wood spirit!"
Andrea found herself breaking her promise not to speak after all this was over, the remnants of boldness that pushed her to speak to the trolls in the first place now pushing again. "I did what I could!" she said tersely. "You all would have been troll-food by now if it weren't for me."
"I told you to hide in the woods." Thorin's hand clenched on the pommel of his sword.
"You can't tell me to do anything," Andrea hissed. Her nails bit into her palms as she clenched her fists. "I'm not even in your Company."
Thorin looked as though he might have something very opinionated to say on that fact. He didn't have the time to say it, however, because Gandalf quite literally put himself between them.
"It has been a trying night, Thorin," Gandalf said placatingly. "And while I agree that Miss Chen's actions were risky to her own person, she had the good sense to stall for time, which none of the rest of you considered."
Thorin made a discontented noise. His hand released his sword as he visibly restrained his temper. "And where were you, wizard?" he said after a few moments. "I doubted you'd return at all."
"I was looking ahead," Gandalf said primly.
Thorin raised a brow. "And what brought you back?"
"Looking behind."
The Dwarf king frowned. "Could you be more plain?"
"Indeed not," Gandalf replied cryptically. "But we have other matters to attend; these mountain trolls could not have traveled during the day. They must have dug a hole or cave in which to hide, and troll-holes are always full of treasures."
Thorin nodded curtly and retreated to his Company. He ordered them to spread out and search for the troll-hole, as well as retrieve all their belongings from camp, leaving Gandalf and Andrea forgotten.
Gandalf turned to face Andrea. His beard seemed to bristle as he said, "That was very foolish of you, Miss Chen."
Andrea crossed her arms defensively. "I did what I could until you got here."
Gandalf bristled for a few moments more before relaxing. He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Very foolish, but very clever as well. You'll make a good companion to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."
"An unwanted one," Andrea muttered, glancing at Thorin. The Dwarf king had just finished cuffing his nephews about the head, a gruff smile on his face.
Gandalf hummed. "Thorin worries for those he has taken as his responsibility."
Andrea glanced up at the wizard, frowning. "I'm not part of his Company."
"But you could be, I believe. If you asked."
"...I don't want to."
At this point, she couldn't be sure whether she was lying or not.
A/N: thank you to Midwinter's-Night-Dream-86, A5mia, and Jinx1223 for reviewing, it was very encouraging :) I took far more from the book than the movie in this chapter, and I definitely took a risk with that– I would love to know what my few but beloved readers think! even a few words in review is greatly appreciated :)
Thank you for reading!