Chapter Two: The Stone Trolls
The company had been riding for several days, stopping here and there to rest, mostly without incident. Bilbo and Mélanyë spent much of their time together, telling stories and enjoying each other's company. Bilbo learned quite a bit about life in Rivendell and in turn gave Mélanyë a taste of the Shire.
"I'd often dream of bright green hills with little round houses," she told him one night as they were resting under the starry sky. A few nights earlier Bilbo had taken it upon himself to teach his new niece the art of blowing smoke rings. He had been astonished to learn that she knew nothing of pipe-weed and the yields of Longbottom. 'Not right for a Hobbit,' he'd said, 'even if you were raised an Elf.' She wouldn't admit it to her new Uncle, but she didn't really care for the stuff herself. Even so, she was quite content to watch him play with the smoke rings, but she rarely dared try herself.
"I wonder how dear Frodo is doing. I do hate the thought of leaving him with such a mess of relatives, but it couldn't be helped. And I did leave them all a proper gift, which should raise their spirits, except, of course old Lobelia." He chuckled then. "I do wish I could see the look on her face when she opens those spoons!" He laughed to himself again. Mélanyë didn't quite understand who Lobelia was or the long feud between Bilbo, Frodo and the Sackville-Bagginses, but seeing Bilbo so merry gladdened her heart as well. "They're after the house, of course," he said for the third time, "They never forgave me for adopting Frodo as my heir. They'll never get Bag End now."
"How horrible for them," she said to him. "To have waited so long to get Bag End, only to have it passed on to a younger cousin." Even she had to laugh at this.
"Well, now," Bilbo exclaimed, standing and stretching his limbs. "I feel I should like to go for a walk!"
"But you've been walking!" laughed an elf who was reclining under a tree. "Hobbits are such strange creatures! When walking they want to sit, but when sitting they want to walk!"
"You'd better stop teasing him, Lindir, or he'll ask you to come along!" Mélanyë chided. The elf smiled at her and stood up to join them. He was tall, like most Elves, with silver hair more like the Elves of Mirkwood than of Rivendell. His eyes were as dark and shining as polished onyx. He stooped down in front of Bilbo.
"What do you say, elf-friend? Would you like some company?" Bilbo heartily agreed and soon the three were off into the woods.
It was a deep, clear night and the stars shone brightly on the three explorers. They found an elven path and were laughing and talking as they followed it. Lindir made sure, however, that in their fun they didn't stray too far from the camp. He was a skilled archer, but if there should be goblins lurking about he doubted he could defend all three of them.
Bilbo, having found a new audience, was joyfully recounting his adventures to the elf, who listened patiently. He was quite courteous, thought Bilbo, noting Lindir's interest as he made comments in the right places and laughed when a joke was told.
"And then I found myself in a grand hall filled with treasure!" Bilbo said, making a sweeping gesture with his arms. "Smaug lay there upon his great horde, pretending to be asleep, but I knew he was not." Lindir seemed to be as taken with the story as Mélanyë had been. He leaned in closer now as the story went on.
"When at last I had gathered my courage, I darted down as quick as quick and snatched a golden cup from right under the old dragon's nose!" he exclaimed, sounding pleased with himself. Lindir laughed heartily.
"Bilbo! No wonder they called you a 'burglar'!" he said. Just then, they came to the end of the path. In front of them was a wall of trees, and they could see no other path around. The three first looked around, and then at each other. "We could go back," said Lindir.
"I'm not quite ready to sit down again," said Bilbo, "And I should like to know what is beyond those trees…it seems almost familiar somehow."
Cautiously they picked their way through the trees and emerged into a clearing not too far in. Right in front of them they saw three massive shadowy figures that made Lindir draw an arrow in his bow. He walked protectively in front of the two Hobbits and approached the figures. A minute later, they heard a short laugh.
"Ha! Stone! They're made of stone!" he called back to the relief of Mélanyë and Bilbo. He replaced the bow on his back and began to inspect them. Bilbo had already guessed what they were and was delighted beyond belief.
"It's the trolls!" he said, pointing to each one in turn. "That's Bill, Tom and Bert! And look…Tom has a nest of birds in his ear!" The hobbit began to scurry about and tell his tale once more of the night he and his dwarf friends were captured by the very large, and very stupid trolls.
"And this…" he ran over to a spot in the woods. "This is where I hid and watched them around their fire…which was…" he ran over to the center of the clearing, "right about here. And the poor dwarves were tied up over there!" He pointed to one side.
"Yes, that was most uncomfortable!" said a loud voice from the direction he had been pointing. Lindir again drew his bow as the hobbits hid behind him.
"Who's there?" he called, aiming an arrow at the darkness. His dark eyes scanned the clearing and caught movement within the trees. Very slowly an old dwarf came out of the woods with a hand up in friendship.
"Gloin!" Bilbo cried as he ran over to his friend. His beard was very long and very white.
"Yes, dear Bilbo, it's me!" said Gloin. "I see you haven't forgotten about us!" Bilbo began to look a little embarrassed at this, but quickly smiled. As he was talking more dwarves wandered out of the woods. Some were part of the original fourteen, Bilbo saw, and others were new.
"Uhh..no! No, of course I haven't forgotten! I even came here to meet you!" he said stammering. Lindir and Mélanyë looked at each other and then at Bilbo and Gloin. "I am going to go with my friends here to visit the King under the Mountain!"
"King under the Mountain?" asked Lindir, who had lowered his bow once again. "What mountain would that be?"
"What mountain?" Gloin seemed a bit flustered at this elf's ignorance of dwarf matters. "Why, the mountain, of course, The Lonely Mountain! Under the kingship of Dáin II cousin to Thorin Oakensheild."