Bilba stares at Fíli as the troll walks past, her heart is thundering in her chest and her breath is coming in shallow gasps. Once it is gone, they both emerge from behind the wall, eyes wide and cheeks pale. A quick glance reveals that two of the ponies, Myrtle and Minty, are missing.
"What do we do?" She asks Fíli. "Do we go after it?"
For a moment it appears as though Fíli is considering it, his blue eyes turning in the direction the troll took before he glances first at her and then at the blades they had so carelessly dropped. It had been a miracle the troll hadn't noticed them, and Fíli retrieves them before giving his answer.
"We tell my uncle, he replies, grabbing her hand to lead her back to the half-collapsed farmhouse.
"What about the other ponies?" She asks as he tows her along, his hand warm in hers and his grip gentle.
"If that thing comes back, I don't want to risk alerting it to the others. Uncle says trolls aren't all that bright and they're lazy as well, it'll go after the ponies before it even considers us."
That makes sense, she thinks. It only takes a few minutes to join the others and Thor scowls when he sees them. It's obvious that he is displeased with their presence and truth be told Bilba still finds his gaze intimidating even after nearly three weeks on the road with him and even knowing just how much he cares about his nephew. Those eyes are somehow more intimidating than Dwalin's tattoos and hardened face or the knife that dances over Nori's fingers and flickers in the firelight. Even Balin has softened more towards her now and he reminds her a little bit of her grandfather.
"Well?" Thor demands.
"A troll, Uncle," Fíli says after a beat. Thor visibly tenses, already reaching for his sword. "It took two of the ponies."
"You did well, Fíli," Thor says. "Show us which way it went. I have no desire to leave a troll behind us."
Bilba is still holding Fíli's hand, she realises, and so she feels the way he almost relaxes with his uncle's obvious approval of his decision to come straight back to camp. He doesn't notice when she slips her fingers from his, his attention is all on his uncle and Bilba can tell that he is trying not to smile. She holds back as the others pass her, their weapons clinking as they follow Fíli back towards the glade where they had left the ponies.
Most of the dwarves Bilba has met in her life have been in the Great Smial on official business, wearing mail and with polished weapons. This little group looks poorly prepared by comparison, with no real armour and an odd assortment of weapons. Once they have found the trail, not a difficult task since their quarry has ripped up trees on its journey, their steps shift and become lighter. Every now and then there is the crack of a broken branch and Fíli or Ori will flush at the glares sent their way by the others. Even the wizard seems capable of moving on silent feet, although none of them are as silent as a hobbit.
Finally, no short distance from their camp even though it would be nothing at all to a troll, they spot the light of a fire and hear the rumble of voices and the snorts and stamping of nervous ponies. Thor makes several odd gestures at Nori, who watches the way the dark-haired dwarf's fingers flicker with sharp eyes. Then he nods and slips away, creeping closer to the fire light while Thor makes several other gestures towards Fíli. The younger responds with an angry flick of his hands and, to Bilba's amazement, the two proceed to exchange a series of gestures. Their expressions seem to indicate that this is quite a heated debate and out of the corner of her eye she notices that Ori makes a few small gestures of his own before shrinking into himself under Thor's steely gaze. Dwalin just watches from beside his brother, large arms folded over his chest, as he waits for his husband to return and his expression seems to war between amusement and frustration. Balin mutters softly to Gandalf, who hums in apparent delight. The argument, if that is what it is, has not concluded when Nori returns, if anything Fíli's gestures have become sharper and larger, his fingers snapping every now and then in his frustration.
"Enough!" Thor snaps. "I have told you what I want of you, you will remain with Ori and the girl. Nori, report." Nori leans against a tree, his expression grim and his ever-present knife dancing through his fingers. In the moonlight that filters through the leaf canopy he looks more dangerous than ever.
"Three of them," he says simply. "Big buggers too, bigger than the sort that usually come out of the mountains at any rate. Been here a while from the sound of things," he shrugs. "We could take one, maybe two. They're slow and stupid, but there isn't enough of us to confuse three of them."
"Can you get the ponies loose?" Thor asks. Nori pulls a face.
"Aye, I could cut them loose," he replies, "I may not be as quiet as our hobbit lass, but I can get the job done. They'd notice the ponies once they were loose, though, snatch them up again and we'd be right back where we started except the trolls would know we're here."
"We cannot afford to lose anymore ponies," Thor says with a growl. "Gandalf?" The wizard turns curious eyes on the dwarf, his eyebrows raise slightly. "Do you have any ideas?"
"Trolls are susceptible to sunlight," the wizard muses. "If we could keep them occupied until sun up the dawn will deal with them for us."
"Isn't there any magic you cold use?" Ori asks, putting voice to the same thought that Bilba has. "Couldn't you put the trolls to sleep or make the ponies invisible or some such?"
"My dear Ori," the wizard exclaims cheerfully, "wherever have you been hearing such nonsense? I suppose I could render the ponies invisible, but would I be able to make them visible again? For the two processes are quite different, you know, and as far as putting the trolls to sleep, I could indeed but the process would be slow, quite slow enough to cause difficulty should they notice my presence. I have not the compelling tongue of the White and given the circumstances I would not wish for it either." The hobbit has no idea what that means, and it is clear that Ori and Fíli have no idea either, it probably has to do with whatever mysterious errand has six dwarves and a wizard travelling together and she decides she doesn't want to know.
"We are wasting time," Thor cuts in. "If you have a plan, wizard, let us hear it. Otherwise we shall have to take the risk of sending Nori to cut the ponies loose and hope we are far enough away to escape before the trolls notice."
"By all means," Gandalf relaxes back against a tree, "have Nori cut them free, only wait until closer to morning so that we have a fighting chance should they notice us." Thor glares at the wizard but his expression gives away none of his thoughts. Idly, Bilba wonders what use a wizard is if he cannot provide any sort of magical assistance with such a problem.
"Very well," Thor says finally. "Fíli, Ori, take Bilba back to camp and get some sleep. The rest of us will watch the situation here."
Bilba dislikes this idea, she can see that it has a great many ways to go wrong. With such creatures as these nearby, however, she can understand Thor's reluctance to write these ponies off as lost. They will not be able to move fast enough on foot to outrun them should the trolls realise that the presence of ponies must mean travellers. Fíli and Ori are silent as they walk next to her, obviously unhappy with being told to stay away from a potential fight. Bilba is just as happy for it, her glimpse of one troll was fleeting but it gave her enough detail to know that she has no desire to get a better look.
The two dwarves are still muttering when they reach the ruined building they had been using as a camp, though it is now too dark to see much of it, and she ignores them as she makes her way to the dimly glowing embers of the cook fire. With no one to tend it the fire has all but burnt away but she is relieved to find that dinner has finished cooking all the same and Bilba helps herself to the thick stew enthusiastically. Hunger, as her mother used to tell her, is often the best seasoning. This journey has given Bilba a far greater understanding of that phrase.
She crawls into her bedroll to the sound of Fíli and Ori muttering in the secret dwarf language, something she hates them doing because it reminds her that as kind as they are to her, she is still a stranger and an unplanned addition to the group. The low rumble of it quickly lulls her to sleep. Even though she cannot understand the words, the rolling sounds are soothing and coupled with the late hour it proves no barrier to her ability to rest.
If only her dreams were as relaxing. She dreams of Fíli's hands on hers as he presses against her and leads her through the same gentle movements as he had when they were supposed to be watching the ponies. This time, however, no troll stops them and she gives in to some unknown impulse to kiss him in a way she had not the opportunity to in the waking world.
She wakes as the dream grows heated, frustrated and annoyed with herself. She has had that kind of dream before, of course, but she has only just begun to consider Fíli a friend rather than a sullen shadow. She has obviously been out of the Shire, and away from Torluc Proudfoot, for too long if her dreams have resorted to Fíli for fantasy material. She resolutely stamps down on the fact that she found her dream to be quite enjoyable, and on the thought that Fíli is easy enough on the eyes for a dwarf and rolls over to go back to sleep since it is still dark and silent. That thought makes her open her eyes abruptly.
It is silent, too silent for one who has spent over two weeks listening to the snores of six dwarves. She should be able to hear Fíli and Ori at least, and she gets up, feeling her way around the burnt-out ruin and finding only empty bedrolls. For a moment she panics and the possibility that she has been abandoned crosses her mind until she remembers the trolls and she realises that Fíli and Ori must have gone back without her. She huffs and debates curling up and going back to sleep anyway, she has no place in a fight and can plead ignorance should Thor decide to express any of his ire in her direction. The thought sits poorly and so she rapidly finds herself marching towards the place they had left the others and muttering all the while under her breath about ponies, dwarves and interfering wizards.
Her unexpected companions are not where she left them, and it doesn't take her long to track them down. Bilba is a poor judge of the night sky, being a gentle-hobbit rather than a farmer, and so has no idea how far off dawn might be. Which is a problem because, as she had suspected due to their absence, her companions had, indeed, decided to try and free the ponies. Judging from their current predicament it is just as clear that the attempt ended badly.
It takes Bilba a few moments to find Thor and the others, her eyes arrested by the sight of the three trolls. They are larger, by far, than Men, larger even than the orcs who so plagued Bree and the Shire during the Fell Winter. Their skin is mottled grey, such that had she not seen them move already she would have taken them for solid stone, and they are utterly hairless. Their eyes are narrow, their noses bulbous and their mouths wide with large, flat teeth that Bilba imagines would have little trouble reducing the bones of dwarf, hobbit and Man alike to dust. Their chests, arms and feet are bare but she's relieved beyond measure to see that they wear trousers of roughly tanned animal hides stitched together with a slender, coarse looking, rope. Two are seated, one scratching his stomach while the other mops at his nose with a rag of dubious cleanliness. The third is standing, slowly rotating a crude spit over the fire and it is there that she first spies Dwalin, Nori and Fíli. They have been stripped to their undergarments and she averts her gaze with a blush, having already seen far more near naked dwarf on this trip than she had ever believed she would. She stays behind her bush as her eyes search the clearing almost frantically until she finally spots Balin, Ori and Thor. They are tied up in sacks but moving enough for her to know that they are alive. Of Gandalf there is no sign and she wonders where the wizard could possibly have disappeared to when the dwarves are in such obvious danger.
Bilba has to do something, she knows as she chews on a fingernail and thinks. She has no idea how soon dawn will come, but if she doesn't distract or delay the trolls her companions are going to end up eaten. The thought of it alone is horrifying enough, she has no desire to see it or live with it on her conscience. The dwarves' weapons and belongings have been left in a pile nearby and she's quiet enough to grab a small knife and one of the daggers she and Fíli had been using earlier as she passes. They probably won't do her any good in the long run, but she feels better for having them in her hands.
"Are they ready yet?" One of the trolls demands and she ducks behind a nearby rock, holding her breath as she listens. "I'm starving, I am. Why can't we just eat them raw?"
"Because it's about time we had a decent hot meal," the one cooking replies. "We haven't had properly cooked meat since that farmer. We all know dwarves taste better cooked."
"But it's almost dawn," the first complains. "Lets just eat these three and roast the others tomorrow." The one cooking stops turning the spit, scrunching his face up as though he is actually considering this option and Bilba can't have that.
"Eat any of them at all and you won't survive to eat the rest tomorrow," she says as she strides into the camp with a confidence that she doesn't feel at all. "This lot escaped from my pens yesterday, I'd just finished giving them the treatment for Tube Rot as well. It's highly contagious and you can't cook it out." The three trolls stare at her, she can almost see the wheels turning in their heads as she approaches. No one in their right mind tries to strike up a conversation with one fully grown mountain troll, let alone three.
"What do you mean 'Tube Rot'?" The one standing demands, suspiciously, obviously quicker on the uptake than the others and this will be the one to look out for. "What are you anyway?"
"What I am isn't important," she replies firmly, turning her mind to how her Aunt Donnamira would handle such a situation if given the chance to talk. Bilba may not be able to flit from topic to topic in quite the same way that her aunt does but she knows how to chatter aimlessly well enough. "I know how to procure for those who want. I was told dwarves and I managed to find this lot and lure them in. And would you believe it, I managed to catch two young ones into the bargain and one of them a blond one at that! Do you have any idea how good the blond ones taste if you cook them just right? I was almost tempted to keep him for myself." She can feel eyes on her from all sides and no doubt Thor is quietly plotting her demise as she babbles on about herbs and seasoning and the best ways to prepare dwarf. "Of course, having killed one and started to gut him I discovered the Tube Rot. It killed my father, you know, silly old fool didn't think to check, and it ate him from the inside out in a week. I've given the lot of them the cleanser, obviously, but it would have been two days until it took effect. Two days and they would have safely purged themselves to death. Then they would have been fine to eat. But you couldn't wait could you! Even the cleanser is toxic. You have to wait for them to purge it out. I suppose it's too much to hope that you haven't already eaten the other four? At least if I can find them I might get paid-" A glance up shows that the sky is beginning to lighten, and she knows that if she can keep this up she stands a chance of getting the others out of their current predicament alive. Two of the trolls have dazed expressions, their eyes glazed and unfocused from trying to follow her rambling rant about escaped dwarves and lost dinners. Unfortunately, the cook hasn't been so easy to mislead.
"You must think I'm an idiot," he says, eyes narrowed. "You'd have us just let them go, wouldn't you? All that rubbish about 'tube rot', you're lying through your teeth, you are," he declares. Bilba's mind spins as she frantically tries to think of a reply, her eyes searching for the first rays of sun or any sign at all of Gandalf. "I think we should eat you first, a little appetiser, if you will. You're hardly more than a mouthful but I'll bet you're beautifully juicy." She squeaks and backs away, finally spotting the point of the wizard's hat by a large boulder. Not that she has time to linger on the reappearance of her previously missing companion, as a large hand reaches for her and she dives out of the way.
"Run, Bilba!" One of them shouts and she thinks it may be Fíli, but the instruction is futile because she won't be able to outrun these creatures. They may be slow and lumbering but they can still cover more ground at a greater pace than she can. She really should have stayed in the Shire.
"The dawn will take you all!" Gandalf cries, there is a mighty crack that makes the earth beneath her feet shudder and sunlight spills into the clearing. The trolls shriek when it hits their skin, crackling as they petrify even as they try to turn and escape. It is not a pleasant process to observe and Bilba watches in wide-eyed horror as the stone creeps over their bodies until they are rendered utterly lifeless, the fingers of the one who had been cooking mere inches from her. She trembles at the sight of it, confirmation of how close she had come to failing. Then the sound of the dwarves shouting cuts through her frozen daze and she hurries to the three in sacks, being insufficiently tall to help those still dangling over the fire.
She cuts Thor free of his sack first and he turns to head straight towards his nephew before pausing as he passes her. His hand comes down onto her shoulder with surprising gentleness and she looks up into blue eyes that are no longer as hard as ice but glow with the warmth of a blue summer sky. The smallest of smiles crosses his lips, crow's feet appearing at the corners of those same intense eyes and he inclines his head, just a little, as he thanks her warmly for her attempts to save them. It is more than she ever expected to hear from him, and she flushes, again, before nodding in return and going to free Ori and Balin. Then, having been exposed to quite enough dwarf nudity, she ambles over to Gandalf while they free and dress themselves. The wizard winks at her and she relaxes against a nearby tree while they wait.
