Chapter Eight
The Trollshaws
It was pitch dark in the forest, the half-moon offering limited light through the thick canopy as Saf crept through the trees, the trunks barely silhouetted as she picked her way silently over roots and underbrush.
She traveled northeast, into the deepest part of the forest, her gut goading her on with that same warning feeling she got back at the farmhouse. She knew the dwarves had gone into the forest, and that it was because of something dangerous, potentially life-threatening. She only hoped that she would find them and that they would be unharmed when she did.
After several more minutes of slinking through the trees, occasionally dropping to her knees and scouring the ground for dwarf tracks or spotting broken twigs and branches, the forest seemed to get the tiniest bit brighter, and Saf squinted her eyes, making out the dull glow of what she presumed to be a fire about a hundred more yards into the trees.
Gripping her dagger more securely, Saf dashed through the trees, toward the source of the light. She vaulted over an uprooted tree, an event that had happened quite recently, she deducted, since the earth that had once held the roots was still soft and scattered about in clumps too purposeful to be the work of nature.
Now she could hear the crackling of the flames, proving her theory of fire correct, and above that, she could detect a voice, though the words were muffled to her since she was still on the outskirts of what she supposed was a clearing.
What she needed was a vantage point, and after looking around, she spotted a large boulder to her left, which would have to make due; the trees here were too thin and offered little protection for her to safely perch in one, so she quickly scampered over to the boulder and began to climb it, keeping her body low as she did so.
She crept slowly to the top, instinctively tensing when she heard a new voice floating on the air, one that was unfamiliar and spoke with a revolting accent that made her nose wrinkle. She cautiously peeked over the top of the boulder and felt the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up at what she saw.
It seemed she had found the Company, all luckily unharmed; though she doubted they would be safe for long, considering half of them were currently roasting on a spit above an enormous fire, and the other half was stuffed into sacks on the far edge of the clearing, wriggling about and cursing at their captors.
"Oh, disgusting," Saf whispered to herself as her eyes switched to the three fat, ugly trolls milling about the clearing, two of them turning the spit and the third looking down at something on the ground, and it took a few moments for Saf to pick out the tiny figure of Bilbo standing in a sack before the troll, looking quite like a doll compared to its girth.
" – you are making a terrible mistake!" the hobbit was saying, his voice coming out a tad higher than usual as Saf watched, half of her attention focused on what was happening and the other calculating her best chances for getting them out of this mess.
Only half-listening to Bilbo's protests, she cast her gaze about the clearing, looking for anything that would help her achieve her goal of saving the Company.
Fighting the trolls was out of the question; taking on three fully-grown mountain-trolls was practically suicide, especially for someone as out of practice as she was. It was then that she noticed Gandalf was nowhere to be found, and she cursed the Grey Wizard's absence, suddenly realizing she would have to play this by ear, and either succeed or wait for the wizard to find her remains amongst the Company's.
Her free hand roamed agitatedly over the rock she was perched upon, racking her brain on any information she could recall of mountain-trolls. Unfortunately, there wasn't much, considering she had never encountered them before, but the only important thing she remembered was that their one weakness was sunlight.
Excellent, she thought sarcastically. Because there's plenty of that around right now.
She gritted her teeth in frustration, her brain working overtime as it became clear Bilbo was digging himself deeper with the trolls. Her fingers rubbed against a crack in the rock beneath her, her nails digging into the worn crevice, before she suddenly froze, an idea popping into her head like one of Gandalf's fireworks.
She whirled her head around, looking to the east, and very faintly on the horizon, she could make out the tiniest sliver of light, the first layer of night peeling back to reveal the dawn as she looked back down to the crack beneath her. The fault went all the way down the rock and appeared to be on its last leg, barely able to keep the stone together, and she started to map out her plan.
The idea was set; now all she needed were a few items, and then she could get to work.
She shimmied down the rock quietly, vaguely listening as the dwarves began to rant about something Bilbo had just said, and then set about creeping along the outskirts of the clearing, keeping her body hunched as she darted among the underbrush, glad for her dark ensemble as she picked her way toward where the dwarves in the sacks lay on the other side.
Saf had to thank Bilbo for his continuous intervention with the trolls, even if it was unbeknownst to him that he was helping divert their attention away from anything else, such as spotting her slinking around their camp as she finally made it to the sacked dwarves.
She squatted behind a bush, trying to make out those lying before her and choosing which ones would be best for her plan. Directly in front of her was Thorin Oakenshield, and she tried not to snort at the sight of him chewing on the ropes tying his sack together, keeping him in mind as she made out the rest to be Fíli, Kíli, Óin, Balin, Bombur, and Bilbo.
Four was all she would need, hopefully; it would be risky, taking so many with her out from under the trolls' noses, but she prayed that the creatures were as daft as they looked and wouldn't notice.
Taking a deep breath, Saf crept forward until she was directly behind Thorin, and then latched her hand around his mouth. She dragged him back into the bushes, ignoring his grunt of surprise and anger and his struggles as she tilted his head back, widening her eyes in warning until he finally realized who she was and stopped trying to wriggle away from her.
She watched his eyes turn into slits of fury before settling into a glare of icy anger and bewilderment. She let go of his mouth, and he immediately spat out, "What are you doing here?"
Saf rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm just here to sell some home-baked goods to these lovely trolls. My apologies for trying to save your life in the meantime, though."
Thorin scowled, his features dark with distrust, but when Saf raised her dagger and gestured to the sack, he grunted and looked away. Taking that as a yes, Saf sliced open the ropes holding the sack together and sat back on her heels as Thorin kicked his way out of the rough, rotten-smelling material.
"So, do you have a plan, or was this as far ahead as you hoped to get?" he said.
"Yes, I have a plan," she retorted. "But first I need you, your nephews, and preferably Bombur before we can set it in motion."
She flipped her dagger and held it out to him, pommel-first. He hesitated before taking it, and she arched a brow before he finally dropped her gaze and crept back through the bushes to free the other three they needed.
Saf waited in the bushes, her fingers tapping anxiously on her knee as she set up the next stage of the plan in her head. She would need something heavy from the trolls' camp; fortunately, she already had the item in mind. The only problem would be trying to steal it away without detection. But they would cross that bridge when they got to it. Right now, all she could do was wait for Thorin to free the dwarves, and she peered back through the bushes, silently willing him to hurry up as she tuned back into Bilbo's conversation with the trolls, alert for any sign that something was about to go wrong as she listened.
"Wha' a load o' rubbish!" one of the spit-turning trolls was protesting, glaring at the hobbit with stupid, beady eyes as Bilbo shifted nervously in his sack. "I've eaten plenty o' dwarves with they skins on; scoff 'em, I say, boots and all!"
"Now that w-would not be healthy at all," Bilbo stammered just as the bushes next to Saf rustled. She whirled around only to see Fíli crawling out of the foliage, the blond dwarf grinning and throwing her a wink as he joined her.
"I mean, just think of what all that skin and hair would do to your digestive tracts," the hobbit was rambling, and Saf hoped he could keep this up for a few more minutes until she could execute her plan. Though judging by the disdainful looks the trolls were giving him, she decided that maybe they would have to work a bit faster if they wanted their burglar to live.
"No, no, I get wha' yer sayin', Bert," the other spit-turning troll said, and Saf had to wonder how this one survived past infancy as she took in his lazy eyes and slavering mouth, exchanging a look with Fíli that clearly read They have names?
"There's nothin' wrong with a bit o' raw Dwarf!" Instantly their humor vanished as the troll marched over to the sacked Company, and Saf saw Thorin throw himself into Fíli's vacated sack, hiding the dagger within the folds as the troll picked up a squirming Bombur, the ginger dwarf spitting curses Saf was quite shocked to hear coming from someone usually so quiet and genial.
"Nice an' crunchy…" the troll said, lowering Bombur closer to his mouth before Bilbo piped up, his voice nearly squeaking as he cried, "No, not that one! He-he's infected!"
Immediately the troll gagged and backed away, tossing Bombur back onto the pile as all three turned to stare at Bilbo with varying expressions of disgust and suspicion.
Saf released the breath she had been holding, watching Thorin take advantage of the trolls' distraction once more and crawl over to Bombur, speaking to the fat dwarf in a low voice before cutting his bonds and sending him back into the bushes with Saf and Fíli.
"You all right, Bombur?" Fíli asked, clapping him on the shoulder as he pulled himself through the bushes, and he nodded, though he still looked quite pale in the face as he caught sight of Saf and did a double-take.
"Hello," she greeted, giving the ginger dwarf what she hoped was a reassuring smile as he still stared in confusion. "No time for questions at the moment, I'm afraid, but if we all survive this, I'll do my best to explain."
He still looked extremely confused, but after searching her face with wide hazel eyes, he finally nodded, and all three turned back to the conversation.
"You wha'?" the troll talking to Bilbo exclaimed, and the hobbit nodded vigorously as the rest of the dwarves looked on with scandalized expressions.
"Yeah, he's got…worms in his…tubes," Bilbo said desperately. "In-in fact they all have! They're infested with parasites; it's a nasty business. Personally, I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."
"Did he say 'parasites?'" Óin questioned in offense.
"I don't have parasites, you have parasites!" Kíli shouted, and Saf had to refrain from smacking a hand to her forehead.
"Honestly," she sighed. "Do they not understand that Bilbo is trying to save their skins?"
Fíli winced. "Well, dwarves aren't exactly known for their wisdom, are they?"
"This isn't even wisdom!" Saf groaned. "It's common sense!"
Fíli didn't have a reply to this, for suddenly they saw Thorin cutting Kíli's bonds and whispering something in the younger prince's ear that made his arguments stop and look to his uncle in puzzlement before Óin shouted, "I've got parasites as big as me arm!"
"Mine are the biggest, by Mahal they're huge," Kíli quickly added as he shed his sack and dove into the bushes where they were, the other dwarves continuing to shout about how big their parasites were as Thorin quickly joined them in the underbrush.
"All right," Saf said once they were all gathered and Thorin had handed back her dagger, which she sheathed with a nod of thanks. "So, um, long time, no see, eh?"
When all she got were blank looks, she nodded and moved on, saying, "Right, then. Look to the east."
They obeyed, seeing the horizon stained with pink as the sun fought its way to the surface.
"We have roughly a half-hour until the sun rises," she continued when they all looked back at her. "This helps us because sunlight is mountain-trolls' one weakness; if they're trapped outside in daylight, they'll turn to stone. But, we can help speed up this process by breaking that rock" - here she pointed to the boulder she had previously occupied -– "and allowing the sunlight to enter the clearing several minutes earlier than waiting for it to clear the tree line first, in which time, all of you would probably be eaten."
"How do you expect us to break that rock?" Kíli asked, his brows furrowed. "I mean, we may be dwarves, but not even we can command stone to break with our bare hands."
"That's why we need to get that giant ladle over there." Saf pointed, and the rest followed her finger, their eyes coming to rest on the stone spoon that had to be twice the size of her body. "Fíli and Kíli, you're in charge of that. Once we have the ladle, there's a fissure in the rock that we can use to our advantage. I'll scale the tree that's hanging over it with Thorin, and then you'll pass the ladle up to us. We'll drop it into the fissure, and then Bombur is going to twist it until the crack widens and the rock finally breaks, letting in the sunlight, and then we're golden – no pun intended."
It was silent for a few moments, and Saf looked around at them, seeing their thoughtful and skeptical expressions as they tried to work through the plan in their heads.
Finally, Kíli was the first to speak up, a grin splitting his features as he said, "It's mad, but I think it could work. Let's do it."
Fíli and Bombur nodded in agreement, and then they all looked to Thorin, whose scowl was as deep as ever and his brows contracted low over his eyes, making them look almost black.
"There is a small chance of this actually succeeding," he said, shaking his head. "It will be a miracle if we can pull this off."
Saf shrugged. "Unless you have a better idea, this is all that we have," she said, and Thorin closed his eyes, exhaling heavily from his long nose.
"Very well," he finally agreed. "Let's get to work."
As Fíli and Kíli dashed off to retrieve the stone ladle, Saf led Bombur and Thorin around the outskirts of the clearing, wincing at how loud they were moving through the underbrush, though with the sounds of conversation and the roaring fire in the clearing, she wasn't extremely worried over being heard. Being seen though was another matter entirely.
"Will you stay down?" she hissed at Thorin when his dark head bobbed above the bushes once again.
"These creatures are too daft to notice the difference between a head and a bush," he retorted, though Saf saw him grudgingly duck down lower until he was nearly crawling along the ground such as she.
"Doesn't hurt to be cautious," she replied, sorely wanting to point out that she was several inches taller than him, and he didn't see her trying to blow their cover. She decided that would be very childish and immature, however, so she kept her comments to herself as they made their way to the rock.
A few seconds later they had reached the boulder, and Saf gestured that it was safe to stand as Thorin and Bombur moved closer to listen to what she had to say.
"All right," she began. "Bombur, I need you to stay at the base of the rock and wait for Fíli and Kíli. When they get here and pass the ladle up to Thorin and me, then you'll wait for us to drop it before doing your part." The ginger dwarf nodded, his soft features looking uncharacteristically serious, before Saf turned to Thorin.
"We're going to climb that tree over the boulder," she said, pointing to the tree dangling above the rock, and she prayed that it would be strong enough to hold both of them, plus the weight of the ladle, as she continued. "I'll go up first, and then you'll follow me. When we get the ladle, we have to drop it handle-first into the fissure, or else Bombur won't be able to get the leverage he needs to break apart the rock. Are we clear on what we have to do?"
The two dwarves nodded, though Saf noticed how sullen Thorin looked over being directed by someone other than himself. She didn't have time to dwell on that, however, for just then Fíli and Kíli came bursting out of the bushes, both panting from the exertion of running with such a heavy object between them.
Saf swallowed nervously, having underestimated just how big the ladle really was, but it was worth a shot. Steeling her nerves, she nodded for the dwarves to get in their positions before beckoning Thorin after her as they sprinted to the tree.
Saf grabbed hold of a gnarled knob jutting out of the trunk and hauled herself up, reaching her other hand out to grab onto a low-hanging branch as she hurriedly scaled the tree. She tossed a glance over her shoulder and saw the horizon becoming gradually lighter, but not fast enough; she could hear Bilbo floundering in his bid for time down below, and she knew they wouldn't have long to get this to work before the trolls finally got fed up and started eating the rest of the Company.
She reached the branch she had picked out from below, a long, somewhat thick beam that swayed over the boulder, and she hesitantly placed a foot on the branch. It bent and creaked under her weight, but thankfully held as she crept out more until she could make out the fissure in the rock below her.
The tree shook behind her as Thorin climbed up, and she had to stifle a snort as she heard him muttering Dwarven curses to himself as twigs snapped and leaves rustled as he fought his way to the branch she was perched on.
Finally he made it, and though the branch dipped lower and groaned terribly when he added his own weight, it still held, and she was glad he was rid of his armor and weapons, else they would've plunged to the ground as soon as he joined her.
When they were in place, Saf gave a thumbs-up to the dwarves below, and the two princes bustled over with the ladle, climbing midway up the boulder so they were high enough to reach the two in the tree.
Saf reached out and grasped the handle, nearly gasping at the weight of the utensil as she pulled with all her might, the spoon slowly inching its way up as she struggled with it, the two princes still pushing it from the bottom.
"Dammit," she muttered as her arms screamed a protest. Suddenly, Thorin's hands were there, and the weight was distributed evenly as they hauled the ladle up into their branch, the wood suffering greatly, but still continuing to hold.
After what felt like a century of playing tug-of-war with the ladle, it was finally settled in their branch, and Saf readjusted her grip on the giant cooking utensil, wiping sweat off her forehead as she did so.
It was then that she became aware of the heat pressed into her back, and she half-turned, starting when she realized how close Thorin Oakenshield had gotten during their struggle with the ladle.
His chest was unyielding against her back, burning quite like a furnace, and when she glanced down, her eyes met his, a deep sapphire laced with something lighter as the sky brightened, their faces mere inches apart in their proximity.
Saf jerked back as far as she was allowed on the branch, her skin prickling uncomfortably at the close contact, while Thorin merely stared at her indifferently, only a black brow arching slightly at her jumpy movement.
She shook her head, signaling nothing was wrong as she turned back to the clearing below, silently willing the sun to rise faster as she realized things had taken a turn for the worse.
"'E's lyin'!" the troll speaking to Bilbo spat, and Saf saw the hobbit's face pale as the dwarves fell silent, looking between the troll and their burglar in fear.
"You think I don' know what yer up to?" the troll continued, jabbing Bilbo in the chest with a thick finger. "This li'l ferret is takin' us fer fools!"
Bilbo spluttered out a protest, and Saf knew it was now or never if she wanted to save Bilbo's life. She glanced behind her once more and saw the sun clearing the horizon; two more minutes and those trolls would be statues.
"Bombur!" she called down as quietly as she could. "Get into position!"
The ginger dwarf complied, waddling up the boulder, and Saf turned back to Thorin, hoisting the ladle higher in her grip.
"Ready?" she asked, and he nodded solemnly, his jaw clenched as he lifted the ladle.
"On the count of three," she said. "One, two, thr—"
"Oi! You!" a rough voice snarled. Saf and Thorin whirled to see one of the spit-turning trolls glaring up at them in the tree, his salivating mouth pulled into a gruesome scowl.
"Now!" Saf cried, ignoring the trolls as they turned to stare at them in bewilderment, and she and Thorin released the ladle, the spoon landing handle-first with a dull thunk into the fissure.
Bombur grabbed hold of the ladle just as the trolls marched over to them, Bilbo and the other dwarves temporarily forgotten as Fíli and Kíli leaped onto the rock and helped Bombur twist the ladle, the rock groaning and shrieking as they did so.
The troll named Bert was about to reach out and grab them before Saf whipped off her bow and nocked an arrow, letting the projectile fly and glance off the troll's thick-skinned hand. She knew it would have no effect, but it was enough to stop the troll and turn its attention to her, gnashing its flat teeth together in a snarl as it stomped over to the tree.
"Stay where you are!" Saf roared, nocking another arrow and aiming it at the troll, and all three of them stopped momentarily at the venom in her voice.
Before the trolls could regain their senses, there was an earsplitting crack of stone, and they all looked to see the boulder crumbling in half, the fissure finally broken.
For one horrible moment, nothing happened; the clearing remained dark, and Saf's stomach dropped, realizing her calculations must have been dreadfully off as the trolls looked back and forth between her and the boulder, nasty smiles stretching across their faces as they realized her plan had failed.
Then, in one glorious moment, the clearing was suddenly flooded with golden light, and Saf had to turn away, her eyes watering, as the trolls gave sudden shrieks and began to fold in on themselves, their leathery skin turning grey and hard as their muscles convulsed and their voices silenced, turning into statues in less than a minute as the light continued to blaze.
For a few seconds, there was only silence. Saf opened her eyes, becoming accustomed to the sudden light, and turned to look at the clearing, the Company staring back at her with wide eyes.
Then they began to cheer, and Saf smiled as Bombur and the two princes rushed forward, off to free their friends from the spit and remove them from their sacks as they continued to cheer.
Saf sighed, suddenly exhausted. She turned to start down the branch but stopped when she realized Thorin Oakenshield was blocking her path, his arms crossed and his eyes icy as he glared up at her.
"Why are you here?" he demanded. "You swore you had no intentions of joining or following my Company."
"I did not follow you for the sake of going back on my word," she snapped, glaring right back at the dwarf as the branch swayed under their weight. "If you must know, I ended up here because I was nearly caught by a patrol of those bandits along the Great East Road. I came across that farmhouse, but when I got there, I found your camp empty. I went to investigate what had happened to you lot, and found you here, about to be eaten by trolls. And I don't hear much gratitude considering I was the one who got you out of this mess!"
Thorin scowled, but the look was so familiar it did not even faze Saf anymore, who merely sniffed and folded her arms, as well.
"We would not have needed saving if that amateur burglar would have done his job correctly," he growled under his breath, and Saf bristled at his accusation.
"I would have thought that a leader such as yourself would be loath to blame others for their mistakes," she said coldly, and she was glad to see a tiny glimmer of abashment in his eyes before she sidestepped him and shimmied back down the tree, her muscles taut and her teeth grinding against one another in anger.
Ungrateful bastard, she thought vehemently. Twice I've saved their skins now, and he still acts as if I mean to off them myself.
Hissing out a frustrated breath, Saf stomped around the clearing as the dwarves re-donned their armor and weapons, looking for the arrow she had shot at the troll as she blew off some steam from her confrontation with Thorin.
She whacked aside bushes and brambles in her search, cursing audibly until a voice said from behind her, "Looking for this?"
She turned and saw Kíli standing behind her, the dark-haired prince smiling cheekily as he held up her arrow, turning it deftly in his fingers as she forced a smile.
"Yes, thank you," she said, taking it from him and checking for any damage; the tip was nicked off, but it would be easily fixable if she found a forge sometime soon. She replaced it in her quiver, raising an eyebrow when Kíli still stood there.
"Thank you, by the way," he blurted, and Saf's brow raised higher in a silent question as he grinned. "For, you know, coming back, and helping us again. It's appreciated."
She blinked. The unexpected gratitude had caught her off guard, even if she had been hoping for it. Without quite knowing why, her face heated. "Er, you're welcome."
He gestured for her to follow as he led her back to the others, who were now all fully clothed once more and had taken to circling the troll statues, reenacting their words and actions much to their own hilarity.
"Say, Kíli," Saf said, a sudden thought occurring to her, and he hummed in response. "Where did Gandalf go?"
"Oh," Kíli said, his smile fading a bit as they drew closer to the Company. "Well, he and Thorin had a…disagreement. Gandalf wanted to move on, take us to this Elven place, but Thorin refused, so Gandalf said something about seeking company with himself since he was the only one with any sense, and then he just…left."
Saf frowned, turning Kíli's words over in her head. It wasn't surprising to hear that the wizard had taken off without a word of his whereabouts; Gandalf had a penchant for dramatic greetings and exits, but it was strange that he would be gone for so long now. He wouldn't have left the Company, this she was sure of; no matter his assurances that this quest was for the benefit of Thorin reclaiming his birthright and killing the dragon, Saf knew there was another reason for the wizard to be involved in this journey. But what was it?
She was broken out of her thoughts when there was a loud cheer, and she looked up from studying the ground to see the Company all smiling and clapping at her.
"Um…" Saf said uncertainly, gazing around in confusion as Bofur swept his hat off his head, bending to kiss her hand as she watched in bafflement.
"Fíli and Bombur told us how your plan helped save the day," he explained, and her face flushed when some of the others nodded in agreement. "You helped us again, lass, and I don't think any of us will be forgetting that anytime soon."
"Oh, well, uh, Kíli, and Thorin, they helped as well…" she tried to say, but she was largely ignored as the Company went back to bantering about the best moments of their capture, not sounding fazed at all by the fact that their lives had been in imminent danger, and Saf shook her head in wonder.
Her eyes drifted over the stone trolls, feeling a faint glow of satisfaction as she took in their petrified snarls and unmoving bodies, before her gaze landed on Bilbo standing a few feet away, on the outskirts of the laughing Company and facing the trees surrounding them.
Saf walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, pulling away quickly when the hobbit jumped and looked up at her with wide brown eyes.
"Sorry," she said hastily. "I was just, ah, making sure you were all right."
"No, no, you're fine," Bilbo assured, waving off her apology. "I'm just, a little jumpy, you could say, after…all that." He gestured to the trolls behind them, and she nodded thoughtfully, taking in his tired eyes and the way he worried at his lower lip.
"You were very brave, you know, Master Baggins," she said, and he looked to the ground at her praise, the pointed tips of his ears flushing red. "If you hadn't thought to play for time, that plan would never have worked, and we'd probably be digesting in a troll's stomach by now."
"A lovely image, thank you," he said, wrinkling his nose before he exhaled a heavy breath. "But thank you, Miss Saf. I appreciate your words, even if they aren't exactly deserved."
"What do you mean?" she asked, tilting her head when he shuffled his feet anxiously.
"It was my fault that the trolls captured us," he said. "I was tasked to free the ponies, but I got caught, and they threatened to rip my arms off unless the dwarves surrendered." He shuddered at the memory while Saf watched carefully. "I should never have come," he muttered, mostly to himself. "I don't know what Gandalf was thinking…"
Saf hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder again, forcing the hobbit to meet her gaze as she took a deep breath; inspiration was not one of her strong suits, but she knew she had to try.
"Listen, Bilbo," she said, using his name in the hopes to break through his dejection. "Gandalf chose you for this quest for a specific reason; for what, exactly, I think only he knows. But he sees something in you, a certain brand of courage or loyalty or wisdom that he knows will help aid this quest to success. You may doubt yourself and your abilities along the way, and that is fine; everyone does. But you are meant to help these dwarves in a way that Gandalf sees only you doing, and you must remember that. You will find your courage, and when you do, you will realize that you are capable of doing great things. You just have to trust that you will find your way soon."
She hoped that had been enough to bolster the hobbit's confidence, and she visibly relaxed when he looked back up at her with a small smile.
"Thank you," he whispered, and she gave his shoulder a slight squeeze just as a figure emerged into the clearing.
"Gandalf!" Bilbo cried, and he pulled Saf along as the Company heeded the hobbit's shout and turned to see the wizard striding toward them, looking around with a serene smile on his face as if he hadn't even noticed the trolls.
"Where did you go, if I may ask?" Thorin said, striding to the front of the Company and crossing his arms.
"To look ahead," came Gandalf's airy reply, as he sidestepped the king-in-exile and began to examine the trolls curiously.
"And what brought you back?" Thorin pressed.
"Looking behind," he answered, and turned to give Thorin a sly smile that the dwarf accepted with a curt nod.
"Nasty business," Gandalf continued as he looked around at the Company. "But still you are all in one piece."
Suddenly his eyes alighted upon Saf, and she shifted awkwardly as his bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise, though the mischievous glint in his eyes said differently.
"Ah, what a surprise!" the wizard exclaimed as he swooped over to her. "Whatever are you doing back here, my dear girl?"
"I caught sight of a bandit patrol along the road," she said, giving the wizard a meaningful look, and his eyes narrowed as he understood her silent warning. "I came back, retraced my steps, and then found your camp, and the subsequent troll adventure afterward."
Gandalf nodded slowly, and as he turned away, Saf caught Thorin's eye, the dwarf glaring at her so intensely she wondered if she was about to catch fire before Gandalf spoke again.
"There is a troll hoard to the north of here," he announced. "I think it wise if some were to investigate it, while others pack up our camp so we can move on from here."
The Company nodded, and Thorin began to separate the dwarves into the two groups as Gandalf turned back to Saf, fixing her with a serious gaze as he said quietly, "There is also someone I would like you to meet."
Saf blinked, about to protest before he silenced her with a sharp look. "And I think you will be interested in what he has to say."
Twenty minutes later, the Company was ready to venture to the troll hoard, and Gandalf took the lead, Saf following a few steps behind with some trepidation.
She had no idea who Gandalf was talking about, and frankly, she wasn't too keen on meeting this stranger, though she lacked much say in the matter considering she had nowhere else to go for the time being.
So she trudged through the foliage, a rotten smell quite like that of raw meat and carrion beginning to permeate the air the farther they walked, and Saf had to pull her cloak over her nose and mouth to prevent herself from gagging.
Finally, they reached a cave set back amongst moss-covered stones, and the group assigned to search the hoard entered the opening with mutters and complaints, Gandalf leading the way with the tip of his staff alight as they descended into the hole.
The rest of the dwarves slumped to the ground, dropping their weapons and packs and grumbling about no sleep and rumbling bellies as food began to pass around.
Saf remained the only one standing, her nerves too wound up to even consider resting. Her body was still flooded with adrenaline from the preceding night, and her anxiety over this mysterious stranger plus the Watchers she knew to still be out there showed no signs of allowing her peace just yet.
She took to pacing in front of the troll hoard, her fingers clenching and unclenching with each step, and she only looked up when an apple was thrust in her face, a voice offering, "Here."
Fíli had stepped into the path of her pacing, and when she didn't immediately take the proffered apple, he held it out further.
"Healthy and delicious, right?" He smirked. "Eat it; you look dead on your feet."
"Thanks," she said dryly, but she took the fruit nonetheless and bit into it, not realizing how hungry she had been until then.
She munched on the apple thoughtfully, standing in contented silence with the elder prince as he in turn chewed on a hunk of grainy bread beside her. They didn't speak until Saf had chucked her apple core as far into the trees as she could, and Fíli snorted.
"That was almost as bad as Kíli's," he joked, and she made a face at him.
"As long as it was better than his, I'll take what I can get," she replied, and Fíli grinned.
It was silent between them for a few more moments until Fíli broke it again, his voice turning serious.
"I wanted to thank you," he said lowly. "For helping us out with the trolls, I mean. And before that, with helping us to get out of Archet."
Saf shrugged awkwardly. "It was nothing. Don't mention it."
Fíli opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, the group that had gone into the troll hoard emerged, coughing and gagging and carrying items she guessed had been of some value they had claimed for themselves in their hands.
Saf watched Gandalf stride over to Bilbo and hand him something – a dagger, she saw, but when the hobbit took it in his smaller hands, it looked quite like a sword, something he blanched at as Gandalf spoke lowly to him.
Her eyes snapped back, however, when she saw Thorin Oakenshield passing by, and her gaze was drawn to the new sword he held in his hands with interest.
"A new blade?" she asked before she could stop herself.
"Aye," he said, nodding, and Saf gestured to it.
"May I?" she asked, and though he hesitated at first, he held it out to her, watching her carefully as she took it in her hands.
It was solid but oddly light, with a smooth, polished hilt that quite resembled a tooth of some sort as she ran her hands over the fine leather sheath, rubbing off layers of dust and cobwebs as she did so.
She unsheathed the blade and admired the graceful curvature of the steel, and she noticed with some surprise that it was of Elvish make, if the slanted runes of the Tengwar were anything to go by as they glinted off the steel.
"This is a beautiful sword," she admired, before sheathing it and giving it back to him.
"Not as steadfast as a Dwarven sword, but a good blade nonetheless," he acquiesced.
"I hope it serves you well," she said, and he dipped his head before gesturing to her.
"And what of your weapons?" he said, and at his words, she touched her fingers to her daggers.
"These are Gimilzôr and Pharazôr," she said, indicating each blade before unsheathing her sword from her back. "And this is Adûnabel."
She handed over her sword much as he had done and watched him swish the blade around a few times, taking note of the leather and steel hilt and studying the slightly curved blade itself, tracing a thick finger over the imprints in the iron, depicting the waning of the moon starting from the bottom and then to the rising of the sun near the sword's tip.
"Good craftsmanship," he admitted as he returned it to her. "Forged by a smith of Man, I assume?"
Saf merely nodded, her pulse automatically quickening at the assumption. It was true that it was forged by a smith of Man, though the entire truth was that it had been she who had forged it. It was custom among the Dúnedain to forge their own swords when they came of age at their twenty-third winter, and Adûnabel was her pride and joy, her hope.
The memory sent a pang through her core as she sheathed the blade, but when she looked back up, it was to find Thorin staring at her with an almost triumphant gleam in his jewel-blue eyes.
"Yet I should think those names are not Westron in the slightest," he said nonchalantly, and Saf froze, her heart rate spiking as she realized her crucial mistake.
"Indeed they are not," she said evenly, lifting her chin haughtily and not betraying a single sign of panic as she stared him down. "They are simply derived from a tale of the ancient Númenóreans my father used to tell me when I was a child. He was always fascinated with the Men of the West, you see; and when he died, I named them something he would have appreciated."
They stared at each other for the longest of moments, the dwarf-lord still looking oddly triumphant and she as bored as possible, until help arrived in the form of Gandalf the Grey walking over to them and gesturing for Saf to follow him.
With one last gloating look of having caught her in a lie, Thorin went back to the rest of the Company while Saf followed Gandalf into the trees, trying to keep herself from vomiting at the sickening realization that she had almost revealed her identity to Thorin Oakenshield. But it was impossible for him to know exactly who she was, and if he accused her of anything, she had Gandalf on her side to cover for her. But still; she couldn't shake the faint feeling coming over her limbs as she stumbled after Gandalf deeper into the forest.
"Safavael Tinnuhiril," Gandalf said, breaking her out of her thoughts as they came to a stop several yards out of the Company's hearing range. "I would like to introduce you to a dear old friend of mine, Radagast the Brown."
Saf looked up and came face-to-face with one of the most bizarre-looking men she had ever seen in her life. His brown robes were patched and frayed, and quite frankly smelled of manure, though she wasn't that surprised, considering the man had bird excrement running down the side of his face and dripping into his wild and tangled grey beard. His eyes were frighteningly blue and very disoriented, though she could not doubt the aura of magic and power radiating from his being, nor the jewel-tipped staff he held clutched in his hands as she came to terms with who this man was.
"Radagast the Brown," she repeated, a far-off memory of her childhood lessons returning to her. "One of the five Istari, of the Order of Wizards."
"This one knows her lore, then," Radagast said, appraising her with his slightly crazed eyes as Gandalf placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Radagast, this is Safavael Tinnuhiril," Gandalf introduced.
"Just Saf," she said quickly, and though Gandalf looked vaguely irritated, he nodded in assent.
"Saf, as she prefers," he continued. "She is of the Dúnedain, a former Ranger of the North."
"So she knows of the threat?" Radagast said, eyeing Gandalf shrewdly, and Saf furrowed her brows.
"What threat?" she asked.
"She has been out of commission for a while, Radagast," the Grey Wizard said. "This is why I have brought her to speak with us; she deserves to know what lurks in the shadows."
"But why are you not telling the Company?" she demanded. "Why only me?"
Gandalf and Radagast exchanged a glance, and she felt a prickle of annoyance as she noticed the patronizing gleam in Radagast's eyes.
"They will know in time, when we have more answers," Gandalf assured her, and Saf frowned, not liking where this was going at all. "But you were once a Ranger, tasked with aiding and protecting the lands of the west, and you were once aware of every danger that roamed your domain. And here you shall be informed once again."
"There is a darkness growing in Dol Guldur," Radagast said, fixing her with a piercing gaze that made her skin crawl.
"Dol Guldur?" she repeated in bafflement. "That fortress has been abandoned for centuries."
"So I thought, as well," Gandalf said gravely. "Until Radagast ventured there, and brought back this."
He removed a clothed object from the interior of his robes, and Saf watched in intrigue as he removed the cover, and revealed a sword of black iron that reeked of blood and foul things, and Saf instinctively flinched away, her stomach churning at the feel of evil emanating from the blade.
"What is that?" she breathed, still staring as Gandalf replaced it back into his robes, his features as solemn as she had ever seen them.
"A Morgul blade," he said, and Saf shivered at the word, long since heard by her, but never forgotten. "A blade that should never have been seen on this earth again yet sits here in our midst."
"But…how?" she said, shaking her head. "What's the threat? I don't understand."
"Neither do we," Gandalf said, sharing another covert look with Radagast. "But we are to seek out answers, and I believe our best chance is to first travel to Rivendell and summon a meeting of the White Council."
"Which I will not take part in." Radagast sniffed, scratching at the dried bird poop on his cheek. "Not if Saruman is there."
Gandalf rolled his eyes, but Saf looked back and forth between the two wizards, still utterly confused.
"Hold on," she said. "You still haven't told me what this threat is. What could possibly have retrieved a Morgul blade from beyond the world of the living?"
There was a tense moment of silence as the two wizards glanced sidelong at each other again, and Saf was about to tell them to shove off until Radagast said in a low voice, "A Necromancer."
There was a heartbeat of silence, two, as Saf tried to register this information.
"A Necromancer?" she echoed. "That's not possible—"
She never got to finish her sentence, however, for just then there was a bone-chilling howl that tore through the still morning air, and the three froze as the Company came crashing through the undergrowth, weapons raised as they formed a perimeter, looking around for the source of the noise as Saf instinctively slipped into her guard, unsheathing Adûnabel from her back as she looked around warily.
"Was that – was that a wolf?" Bilbo asked, his voice wavering slightly. "Are there wolves out there?"
"That is not a wolf," Saf said slowly before a snarl cut off the rest of her sentence.
She spun to see a massive, black-furred creature charge out of the underbrush surrounding them, snarling as it leaped for Ori, paws outstretched before Kíli put an arrow down its maw and it crashed to the ground, dead, at Ori's feet.
Another one bounded for the Company soon after, this one with russet fur, but it didn't get far before Dwalin swung one of his giant axes and embedded it in the creature's neck, Saf wincing when she heard the crunch of bones breaking.
"Warg scouts!" Thorin yelled as he surveyed the clearing with thunderous eyes before his gaze landed on Saf.
"You," he snarled, and Saf took an automatic step back as he stalked toward her, his eyes ablaze. "You gutless, scheming rat. Who do you work for?"
"What are you talking about?" Saf demanded, gaping. "You think I did this?"
"First you show up in the dead of night, and now there's an orc pack on our tail," Thorin snarled. "So I'll ask again: who do you work for?"
"No one!" she said, aghast. "I helped you, remember?"
"You helped us until the time suited you to betray us!" he roared, but Saf did not flinch, not even when the tip of his axe found its way below her jaw.
"Thorin Oakenshield, enough with this madness!" Gandalf thundered. "You have been betrayed, yes, but not by Saf!"
"Then who?" he snarled, turning to face the wizard with more rage in his expression than a thunderstorm. "No one knows of this quest beyond my kin, and this woman! Who would betray me if not her?"
"There will be a time for accusations later!" Gandalf admonished. "Right now, you are being hunted."
This last part was reinforced by more howls punctuating the tension thick in the air, and Thorin finally snapped back to his senses, stepping away from Saf, but throwing her one last withering look.
"What are we to do?" Thorin demanded. "Our ponies bolted after last night, and we do not know their numbers."
"Then we have but one option," Gandalf said gravely, looking around at the tense Company with piercing eyes. "And that is to run as if the demons of the Void themselves were on our heels."