Author's Note: Well, well, well, if it hasn't been a step around the block or so since -this- little piece of mirth and madness has been updated! For those of you who have followed from the beginning, I'm once again sorry for the absurdly long wait. Life got in the way again, as it tends to do. This chapter is short, but another one will hopefully follow closely on its heels. By Hook or by Sparrow, this story will eventually be completed. For those of you who've never seen this story before in your sad, unfulfilled lives...enjoy!

Weylyn arched a brow sharply, but whatever questions he had were given no time to be voiced as a sudden torrent of clamor erupted from the woods beyond the clearing with a sound like a hurricane in miniature tearing through the leaves and bracken. The noise of shattering wood and snapping branches clashed harshly with Fizzgig's frantic yapping and a sudden wailing cry of warning from Ellywick.

"Weylyyyyn! Trolls!"

The world froze.

Weylyn heard nothing but the rush of blood in his ears as his hand seemed to drop to the hilt of his rapier so slowly he could count the moments between the beating of his heart.

Oh, shit…

Time snapped back into place in a shattered second as the first troll lumbered into the clearing, steam rising from the oily green hump of its back in the chill of the evening air. It rumbled to a stop, nearly getting bowled over by the two that came running up behind it as it stopped to peer stupidly at the little group. A thin line of spittle made its lazy way from the beast's fat bottom lip to plop on the forest floor. It pondered.

"Huh," said the troll.

"Huh," said its companions.

"More," said the troll.

"More," said its companions.

"Quite a few more!" Ellywick chimed in, not wishing to be disagreeable.

As the trolls turned their heavy heads as one to stare at the little gnome, Weylyn felt the familiar pain growing behind his eyes that was so often the result of Ellywick in general. If he had anything to say about it, though, his words were cut off before they passed is lips as Fizzgig took his moment. With a snarl and a flash of fur, the little familiar lunged forward and sank his sizeable fangs into the nearest troll's fleshy ankle.

The troll paused…and considered this a moment.

Those that know the basic mentality of your run-of-the-mill forest troll will find it no surprise that it did not consider long. Your average troll has two emotions: angry and hungry. And usually they don't bother too terribly much about separating the two. A roar split the night air like summer thunder as the troll lifted up the heavy tree limb that passed for its club, intent on smashing the little fuzzball into an unrecognizable furry smear.

Ellywick leaped forward with a shrill cry, brandishing her little fists at the monstrosity before her.

"You big, smelly, stupid, hairy, moss-covered big lumpa jerk! You don't dare hit my Fizzgig or I'll roast you all the way to the Plains of Della and back so fast you won't even know what's roastin' ya!"

With a few words that could hardly be called polite, Weylyn shoved his ash stave into the hands of the ragged stranger, hissing softly to him.

"Bucko, I have a clear hope that you can wield this with more talent than the state of you seems to claim." Without waiting for a reply, he lunged after Ellywick, hitting her with a rolling tackle and bowling her to one side just as the troll's heavy club hit the earth with a resounding smash where she had been standing.

Weylyn glanced back with wide eyes at the treetrunk of a club that had landed itself squarely between his splayed legs.

"Holy sweet mother of…"

The club was lifted again with a groan from the troll, giving the pirate no time to finish his colorful line of thought. He shoved Ellywick out of the way quickly, ignoring her squeak of protest as he rolled forward and drew the dagger and rapier from their sheaths with a clear ringing of metal that was quickly silenced as he buried the blades in the troll's pendulous belly. There was a rather hideous splorch sound that mingled with the troll's grunt of surprise as Weylyn roughly jerked the blades free. And then, all nine layers of hell broke loose.

The world was dashed from under him as the swipe of a great meaty fist caught him square to the side of his head. It sent him tumbling to one side and landed him up against a large and unforgiving tree with a sickening crunch. Dirt and detritus fell in small showers around his head as he shook the stars clear just in time to see the revenge of an angry little gnome.

Ellywick stood like a sparrow against a storm, her fists planted firmly on her hips and her large eyes blazing. She managed an angry mutter of, "Well…well…REALLY!" before her hands came together in a blindingly fast dance of gesture. Power crackled around her, blazed and formed into a miniature conflagration that burst forth from her small hands and caught the troll square in the chest. The force of roaring flames sent the monster tumbling backward and filled the air with a stench that Weylyn didn't care to dwell too much upon.

He didn't have time to. The fall of their companion seemed to snap the other two trolls into action who, until now, had stood behind in an almost hypnotized stupor at the antics of their leader and these tiny, noisy beings. One bore what looked like a rusted and oversized scimitar that still managed to hold a nasty looking edge to it. Bringing it up with a grunt, he swung it down with eager force at the little gnome that had just turned his chief into a smoking carcass.

Weylyn wasn't sure if it was the blood in his veins that gave him strength or the color of Ellywick's widened eyes as he pushed himself off of the damp and rotting earth and tumbled forward, catching the scimitar on the crossed hilts of his blades. The force of the blow drove him back a few feet, his boots plowing slim furrows in the piled leaves. He grit his teeth as the bones in his wrists ground together with a soft complaining groan, but did not dare risk the glance behind himself to see if Ellywick had gotten clear. Another foot back. Another. With a prayer that she was away, he lurched back with a low snarl, letting the scimitar slide free of the rapier with an agonized screech of metal on metal.

Weylyn stumbled back, pins and needles shooting briefly through his forearms at the release in pressure. To his right, he caught a brief glimpse of the ragged stranger, wielding the borrowed quarterstaff with talent and surprising strength for a man in as desperate a condition as he was. Both ends of the stave were brought into play. Rapidly as snakestrike they lashed out at the lumbering brute, maddening it further as its clumsy blows failed to connect.

The young pirate wasn't left with much time for idle musing though. The troll before him had dislodged the blade from the loamy earth and was swinging it heavily once more. Weylyn dodged lightly to the side, the thin blades of rapier and dagger opening jagged lines in the thick, rubbery muscle of the monster's arm. With a roar of pain, the scimitar was brought back again, and this time even Weylyn's dancing footsteps were not enough to get him fully clear of the blow. The rusted metal of the blade caught him full in the shoulder, tearing into flesh and sending the pirate spinning once again. He hit the ground, arching his back in near agony as dirt and stone ground into the open wound.

An explosion of light and an acrid smell flashed through the clearing, announcing Ellywick's presence as she popped up from her hiding place with a little shout. The troll stumbled, giving a low, engraged gurgle and spun around, swiping at the little gnome. There was a small gnomish yipe as Ellywick rolled to the side, dodging and tumbling to avoid the heavy blows. With a sudden squeak, however, her antics were stopped in their tracks. The troll, still slightly smoking, gave a slow, horrible grin as it caught hold of Ellywick at last and wrapped its meaty fingers around her small throat.

Weylyn lurched to his feet slowly. His left arm hung useless at his side and he stood, merely raggedly drawing breath into his lungs for a moment. Ellywick gave a small, strangled cry as the troll began to squeeze, and with a soft curse and the repetition of a question that was growing very familiar, Weylyn leapt forward once again.

What the hell am I doing?

Foul breath, a miasma of filth worse than the stench of things long dead and forgotten washed over Ellywick as the troll slowly lifted her. Her tiny feet dangled yards above the torn floor of the forest and the troll squeezed harder, laughing its stupid, guttural laugh as she tightly shut her eyes and fought for air. Growing bored at last of her weakening struggles, the monster gave a final grunt, opening its maw wide and baring a mouthful of twisted, broken teeth with the intent of sinking them into the bruised flesh of her pale face. Ellywick opened her mouth, but she had no breath to scream.

Suddenly, with a squeal of anger and hatred, the troll lurched backward, dropping Ellywick in a crumpled heap on the ground. Weylyn had made his way up behind the two, leaping as the troll leaned forward to bite and sinking his dagger deep into the thick green hump of the monster's back. He clung tightly, wrapping his legs around the beast's middle and hanging onto the blade with his good arm as the troll bellowed and flailed blindly with its huge, thick arms. Jerking the blade free, he stabbed downward again and again. Blinded by the red haze of rage clouding his vision, he had no warning when the second troll came to the aid of its companion.

Enraged by the pained bellowing of its compatriot, the second troll turned its heavy head and growled. It shifted the stained and pitted battleaxe in its hands and roared, batting the ragged stranger aside and swinging the weapon with all its might. There was a dull, sickening crack, and the pirate's eyes opened wide only to cloud over, losing their emerald light as he spat blood and slid slowly to the ground.

Weylyn could see Ellywick screaming, but he couldn't hear it. He couldn't hear much of anything, really. Could only lie there and watch as the first troll knocked the little gnome to the ground with the flat of its rusted blade and pinned her to the earth beneath one clawed foot. The staff of the ragged stranger had been split in half by the second trolls attacks and he swung the pieces in desperation like a pair of light clubs, filling the air with a dull thudding that Weylyn soon couldn't distinguish from the slowly fading beat of his heart. The troll on Ellywick leaned forward slowly, raising its scimitar with a leering grin.

Weylyn strained, seeping blood between clenched teeth as he reached slowly for the fallen dagger that lay just beyond the reach of his fingertips. Two inches. One more...

There was the shriek of sharpened metal.

There was a high pitched, howling scream.