Hey everyone. Finally finished my summer class, but life seems intent on getting in the way. I will update as soon as possible, but don't be surprised if it takes a couple more weeks. Everything is hitting me all at once so I appreciate your support and kind words! Everyone have a great day for me ok?!
JollyLoser and TheMoonSpirit101 – Here you go. As requested! Be sure to tell me your thoughts!
Guest Michaela – I will pick up the traitor thing when they reach Rivendell and be sure to tell me if it's too clichéd or not. I realize it is cliché, but I'm trying to make it unique. I hope I don't disappoint, but tell me what you think. I'm really glad you like it so far and I hope you'll stay with me to the end. :)
ro781727 – Thank you for the correction in the last chapter. I will do my best to be better with the names, but I can always use a helping hand. So thank you again!
BlackHreat – Thank you for checking in with me. It really motivated me to finish this part even though I worked for most of the weekend. Thanks for checking in on me. I hope you like this part!
QueefCream – Thanks for all of your support and our conversations have been getting me through some pretty bad days. I hope that this is badass enough for you (I'm kind of worried I over did it – but let me know). This one is definitely out to you again today!
Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. We are in the middle of some really crazy stuff and you should check it out!
Once I reach our camp, I collect my horse and all of my gear. Cautiously and quickly, I go around the troll camp and set up my first trap in the forest nearby. I travel probably 200 yards out from the left side of the camp relative to boulders at the "back" of the clearing. I use Wildwind to pull down a pair of flexible saplings that are tall enough to get at a troll. Measuring the exact height of the trolls is impossible while they live, but being able to compare it to the height of the dwarves gives me a guess at least. I tie them down using rope which attaches to another tree further behind them as a counter weight. Between the tops of the saplings I tie one of my greatest assets, mithril thread. The thread is flat like a small double edged blade, but as thick as a rope. Most rangers received these for accomplishing great feats; usually just for show. Mine had been given more or less for my heritage as a son of Imelkane when I became a true Dunedain ranger.
The tops of the trees are resting against the forest floor, like innocent bushes, waiting to be released. My hope is that it will act as a giant guillotine, coming off the ground and penetrating the troll's fleshy neck. It would be quick and painless. The plan is to lure one of the trolls in this direction after leading another away from the camp with a distraction. This will hopefully only leave one in camp for me to defeat. I know that fighting is inevitable, but at least it will be on my terms.
With the first ruse set, I lead Wildwind the same way, back around the camp to set up my second trap. In case the distraction doesn't work or I need to buy a few more seconds of time, this trap will hopefully injure, if not kill another troll. I crawl through the undergrowth with ease and climb along the back of a tree facing the camp. I find a fairly capable branch and repeat the process from the other tree, but without mithril thread I'm forced to improvise. So I tie my broadsword to the end of the chosen branch with rope in hopes of making something pick-like. This time though, my trigger is painfully obvious if you knew where to look. Somehow I don't think I can be quite as clever with this device as I could with the other.
This trap is directly opposite the direction my main trap is and places me to the right of the beasts' camp. As I climb down I can see through the thick foliage that the dwarves are divided into two sets; one being placed in sacks and another being tied to a spit to be roasted. When one of the trolls prods Fili a little too hard towards the spit I can feel my hands move towards the blades behind my back. It takes a moment, but I still my hand; I can't allow my emotions to take over. However, I know I can't fight without weapons so I will have to sneak away with some of the dwarves' weapons.
I would have liked Kili's bow and arrows, but they are at the bottom of the pile. Why did I have to go and throw mine? I won't be able to reach it without being spotted. Many of the weapons are too heavy for me as I most certainly won't be able to lift Dwalin's war hammer or Oin's staff. I decide a blade is the most comfortable way to go, but most of the blades are too short for what I have in mind. The only two that work are either Balin's or Thorin's blade. After a moment I finally decide on the top most weapons; Dwalin's axes and Thorin's blade – Deathless. Dwalin's axes are designed to be used one handed and are probably lighter than the other weapons in the pile. Despite that, I know they will still be heavy and difficult to wield, but I have little choice at this point.
"'ever mind the seasonin'. We ain't got all night. Dawn ain't far away an' I don't fancy bein' turned to stone," says the one turning the spit.
With my decision made, I return to the brush and lead Wildwind a little further away from the troll encampment and unsaddle her. I leave the saddle and reigns in a small pile beside a tree. She stands in place, waiting for my command. I take the moment to remove my cloak, which will only get in the way of my escape. Then I remove my mask. The purpose of wearing it is to help myself remain silent, but trolls are dim and will need coxing. All element of surprise went out the window when Kili charged the trolls.
Wildwind takes a step forward knocking my out of my thoughts and I approach her. Then I gently pet her soft neck. We had been through so much together already and I have trained her well to deal with dark creatures such as these, but it is times like this where I feel particularly blessed to have her. She is my constant companion and one of the few people left in the world who haven't left my side. It would hurt me to lose her too…
"Nin mellon mindil baur restage," I whisper to her. "Inye baur saideg i Maulir. La varqua." She muzzles my hand in response and I pet her lovingly. I kiss her nose and hug her muzzle before I leave her to take up a spot in the bushes beside the boulders and near the weapon pile. The boulders act as a shield for the rest of the encampment from the oncoming sun meaning the trolls had chosen their position well…I need just a moment to grab the weapons.
"Wha' about the seasonin'?" says a troll.
"Well have you smelled them?" asks Bilbo. "It will take a lot more than sage before you can plate this lot up."
Despite the groans and shouts of the company I can feel a smile on my face. The hobbit is brilliant; he's playing for time. He is unwittingly serving another purpose as my distraction; it is exactly what I need. He can keep the trolls enraptured with his impromptu cooking lesson so that I can grab the weapons. A loud whinny from the trees calls everyone's attention to my black mare. She whips her mane as though to taunt the trolls.
"Wildwind!" calls Kili.
"What's that?" asks one of the trolls, "Another nag?"
"That's a Rohanian mare! Rare treat that is, this far north. Tom, go collect it!" says another.
"Why? We 'ave plenty 'ere," says Tom.
"Horses eat grass so they don't need any special feedin'. We can eat it whenever we are done with the dwarves," responds the first.
"Go get it!" the third yells. Tom, I think, starts after Wildwind as she leads him from camp. He tries cooing at her in hopes that she will come to him, but she starts walking to lead him further into the woods. She would stop occasionally only to let him think he might catch her. Have I ever mentioned how much I love my horse?
"No," cries Fili.
"Make sure you're back before sunrise!" yells one. "Now 'bout that seasoning?"
Bilbo continues to distract the trolls much to the distress of the dwarves, but it buys me the time I need to stealthily steal one axe and Deathless. I drag the weapons behind the boulder to work with them for a moment, experimentally. After a moment I feel relatively comfortable with the weapons and I lay them down. They are for the fight later; right now my heart is pounding in my ears as fear pumps through my veins.
What I am about to do next is very stupid and risky, but I have no choice as I cannot take on two trolls at once. I walk around the back of the boulder and crouch at the edge, just beyond the troll's line of sight. I breathe in and out deeply, praying that this will not be my end. With a quick rush of speed I burst out from behind the boulder, just beyond where the remaining company members are tied. This positions me right in front of the tree line where I have hidden my trap. The trolls look up at my sudden appearance, surprised. The dwarves do their best to try and get a better look at what the trolls are looking at, but thankfully Fili's exclamation explains all.
"Kalar!" calls Fili from the spit.
"Who is that?" asks Bill.
"I don't know, but I bet you can eat him," says the other.
"I knew you wouldn't abandon us, lad," cries Bofur from the spit.
"The last man we ate was old and stringy, but this one looks young and tender," says the troll with the apron as he approaches me menacingly.
"Why don't you come over here and find out?" I growl. I cannot see the faces of the company, but I'm sure they are surprised. Appearing unarmed, the one approaching troll began to follow me into the woods and away from the safety of the camp. My nimble feet are fast enough to bring me through the forest at a swift pace and it is relatively easy to avoid the obstacles between me and the goal. Immediately behind me, I can hear thunderous footsteps and heavy breathing. Trolls are made for brute force, but their stamina lay more in beating things with their fists rather than their feet. However, I can hear him crashing through the trees, crushing what had been obstacles for me moments before. The sound of a fallen log I passed breaking violently causes my heart to stop in fear, but I don't stop running. At this point I'm relying on my skills as a survivor, sprinting as hard as I can. A troll's immunity to the smaller trappings of the forest make them quite the adversary. The logs and rocks I pass are nothing to the troll and I am thankful when I finally see the "bushes". The trap is only a couple yards away. I just need to stay ahead of him a little longer. This is it…
"'old still you little-"
When I finally make it to my destination my mind switches off and everything I do now is purely instinct. I drop to my knees and slide alone the dirt surface to cut the rope holding back the trees with knife from my vambrace. My falling causes the troll to speed up, thinking that he has captured me. The trees release and fly back into their standing position. The tautness of the mithril thread produces a 'snap' as it lodges itself in the troll's neck. Despite that it is not a direct shot to the brain, the regenerative factor of trolls is unable to heal a wound of this magnitude.
The thread becomes coated with black blood and with a sickening 'slurp' noise, comes out the back of his neck. His face is still a perfect image of surprise as his head rolls off his shoulders. The head thumps to the ground, but it is nothing compared to the noise his body makes when it finally falls to the ground. It feels like thunder travels through the ground and halts my progress as I try to stand. So while I remain kneeling, I take a moment to catch my breath. I look up at the thread and it glistens in the moonlight despite the black liquid that drips from it. I consider taking the thread, but think better of it. I need both hands free for weapons. I finally stand and start backtracking. My legs are a little wobbly from exhaustion, but over time I manage to right myself. I'll come back to collect the thread later.
When I can see the campfire I edge closer to the boulders. I slip back behind the boulder and pick up the axe and sword once more. I furnish them with another twirl, getting a final feel for them before I put them to use. From over the stone I can hear:
"I've got parasites as big as my arm," says one of the dwarves.
If I weren't so tired I would have laughed, but I shake it off and crawl to the top of the boulder and take up a prone position. The dawn is slowly rising behind me. However, it's not coming fast enough. Maybe if I'm lucky maybe Tom will be turned to stone before he can make it back to the camp; more than anything I hope that Wildwind is okay. The other axe is still sitting near the top of the pile, which will be useful if my plan goes astray. I plan on taking him by surprise and that much like the others, he will lean down to try and reach me. At that point it should be easy to reach him where he is vulnerable.
I will have to stay low and use my own body weight in order to successfully shift the weapons around. That is the problem with trying to wield dwarf weapons. My lower back and legs are going to be sore after this. With renewed vigor, I assess my prey. He still turns the spit a good distance away, but is leaning closer in order to talk to Bilbo, who is standing across the fire from him.
"What would you 'ave me do? Let 'em go?"
I take the distraction to leap from the boulder and bury the battle axe deep into the troll's left shoulder. The only reason it manages to break skin and stick is because I hang onto the handle to act as a counterweight. Normally this would be a dangerous position, but the angle of the embedded axe leaves me hanging near the troll's back. Luckily for me trolls aren't known for their dexterity. However, it still tries to grab a hold of the axe by the handle in order to relieve the pain and it starts to spin. I am still attached to the handle as he moves, so I am violently thrown around. I have to use most of my upper body strength just to keep hold on Dwalin's axe and I start to feel nauseous after a moment or two.
Once he realizes he's not going to reach it he slows down, allowing me to drop down safely with Deathless in my grasp. The axe is still lodged in his shoulder when he pulls out a large knife and turns to face me. I didn't see the knife earlier! In a moment of blind panic I grab Dwalin's other axe atop the pile and bring both blades in front of me to block the downward blow. I allow my knees to act like a spring and they take the brunt of the attack. I made use of my shoulder to shift the weight of the axe and throw off the troll blade. He brings it down in another downward stroke, but this time I dodge to the left. This buys me the time I need to charge forward. I hook the axe blade under the low hanging blade in the troll's hand and use my shoulder to throw both the axe and knife away from us. The troll looks utterly surprised, but pissed more than anything.
I use the troll's pause to look at the boulder behind me there is a large crack running in one of the boulders. A plan forms inside my head, in hopes of using the boulder for leverage to bring me high enough to reach the troll's face. I remove one of the daggers hidden in my vambrace, planning to bury it into the crevice and use it like a step to bring me up to the troll's head. The troll starts leaning down in hopes of catching me with its large arms. By leaning down he makes access to his face easier and now I can put more force into my attack.
So I follow through with my plan – I run at the boulders, stabbing the crack in the stone with my small blade until it is properly wedged. With the same momentum, I bring one foot onto the boulder and bringing up my other leg so that my foot catches the blade; acting like a platform to propel me upward. The troll, oblivious to my plan, continues to charge. I throw my arm holding Deathless forward, towards him. I hit the center of the eye and his body suddenly slackens, but the momentum of his charge still held. This forces the body and my own into the boulder. I can feel the breath leave my lungs and my chest screams as my armor pinches my body within, causing me to release a cry of pain. As the troll's body begins to experience gravity it slides me down with it. There is a moment where the body moves just enough for me to shift away from the corpse's large chest to just under its arm. So when I finally hit the ground I am only pinned by and arm. Despite how hoarse my throat feels now, at least I can breathe again.
It is a struggle, but I manage to pull myself out from under the body of the troll. Once out, I find my legs too shaky to stand so I lean against the boulder until my breathing finally manages to even out again. I look over at the troll and see black liquid running from its eye socket where Deathless is still lodged. It didn't make it to the hilt, as the blade had been unable to exit the thick skull of the troll. The axe I had placed in its shoulder appears to have almost come loose due to the regenerating skin. However, the free flowing blood is enough to tell me that the troll is truly dead. When I look away I finally realize that the company is calling out to me, concerned after I cried out.
"Lad, are you alright?"
"Say something, lad!"
"I'll be fine," I say, "Just need to catch my breath."
With their words of encouragement filling my ears, I do my best to stand again. I look over at the weapons and with the thought that the other troll is still out there I want the few weapons I can manage within my reach. So using my foot as an anchor I grip Deathless and pull with all my might to remove the blade from its fleshy sheath. When it finally gives, it is coated in a thick layer of black liquid. I do the same for Dwalin's axe before I make my way to Bilbo, who has managed to stand up in his sack. He is farther from the pile of sacked dwarves and is overall easier to reach. I only make it halfway when a loud voice sounds.
"I got 'em, Bert," says Tom as he enters just through the foliage at the edge of the camp. In both of his large hands he grips Wildwind's legs. One hand holds her front legs while the other holds her back legs. For a moment I see red as he handles her so carelessly, but I remember that he's a troll – it's not like he cares.
He stops rather suddenly, making note of the body behind me. Rather stupidly he looks between his fallen comrade and I, trying to piece together what had happened. After a moment it becomes obvious he can't figure it out so he shifts his attention to what is happening between Bilbo and I.
"What are you doin'?" he asks.
Despite the predicament we are currently in I don't have it in me to dignify the troll with a response. It's pretty obvious what I'm doing.
"Are you tryin' to steal our meal?" asks Tom angrily. He quickly becomes agitated. "Bill, what you doin' sleeping? This man is trying to steal our dinner."
By the Valar. Why can't all creatures of darkness be this stupid? If they were I'm certain that wiping out the entirety of the dark forces in Middle Earth would only take a month.
I glance at trees, trying to gauge if I could trigger the second trap from here. I can make out the rope in the darkness and I'm fairly certain that it will make its mark. The troll continues to talk to its dead comrade, which gives me the time I need to drop the weapons and throw a knife that severs the rope holding the hidden branch. The troll's head is perfectly level with the branch when my blade sinks into his head through the ear canal. The death is instant and as his eyes begin to roll up into the back of his head, his grip on Wildwind immediately slackens. The mare lands on her side and bolts up to avoid being crushed by the body of the troll. As the weight becomes too much for the branch, it snaps both the branch and my sword. With nothing holding it up, the body tumbles forward and produces a small tremor through the earth.
Another sound of cheers erupts from the company. Wildwind comes to my side and as I look her over, she seems fine. I give her muzzle a brief pet and make note that she deserves an apple later. Now more wary of my surroundings I go to Bilbo once more – another knife from my vambrace in hand.
"You haven't seen any more of them have you?" I ask. I counted three originally, but that doesn't mean there aren't more.
"No," says Bilbo, "Not that we've seen. That was the last one."
"Good," I grumble. After loosening the tether at the top of the sack around Bilbo's neck, I cut the rope binding his hands. I slip the ropes off and hand him the knife to free some of the others. I pull another knife from my boot and pull Balin up from the pile to repeat the same process I had just done with Bilbo.
"What happened to the other one, lad?" asks Balin as he searches the tree line where I had lured Bert, I think, away.
"He lost his head," I respond. Kili chuckles at my statement – thinking it some sort of joke.
"Joking aside, lad," says Bofur from the spit, "How did you do it?"
With Balin free I hand him the knife from my hand while I look around for something to put out the fire.
"I meant it literally. I removed his head from his shoulders," I respond nonchalantly. Finding a rather large vat of liquid of some kind – I start dragging it to the edge of the fire. From the smell I can only guess it's some kind of grog. I notice the sudden silence and when I turn around I am met with looks of amazement from the company.
"What?" I find myself asking.
"That's amazing, lad," says Gloin. "How did you manage to behead such a brute?"
"Mithril thread," I answer as I struggle to bring the tub closer to the fire. "It is used by certain rangers for different tasks, but it is strong enough to make it through the toughest hides so long as it is used properly." With a final shove I pour the brew over the fire. There are many sighs of relief as the fire fizzles out.
Most of the sacked dwarves are now free and I'm surprised to see that the trolls had stripped them down to their underthings. Thorin, who has just been freed by Balin, is glaring at me. However, seeing the would-be King Under the Mountain pulled out of a sack in nothing, but his underwear has me choking on my own laughter. It sounds like I'm snorting to anyone who can hear me and I'm sure my mirth reaches my eyes. Thorin's expression darkens at my obvious amusement. He stalks over to me as I try to right the tub that held the grog and ignore his current…state.
"Why did you not tell us that you could speak?" asks Thorin. He is trying to remain calm, but when he crosses his arms and my eyes shift downward at the movement, I have to stifle the laughter in my throat. I have no doubt that I am testing his patience.
"I'm not much of a talker," I respond. It's all I can manage at the moment without laughing. As I approach the spit. Kili and Oin take up the other side of the spit and on my signal we push the thing over. The dwarves land safely outside the fire pit with a loud thud. Several of them groan from the abuse, but are glad to be free.
Balin and Bilbo move with my knives in hand towards the wriggling dwarves. Everyone who had been freed moves to assist their family members that had nearly been cooked. Before I can offer my assistance to any of them, a large hand wraps around my wrist.
I look back at Thorin, this time only keeping contact with his eyes. If I look at him as a whole there is no guarantee that I won't laugh out loud this time. I'm surprised to find that he's not as angry as I had expected. Despite the hard look in his eye, I can see a slight quirk in his mouth that makes him appear to be smirking – maybe even smiling.
"You have my thanks. All would have been lost without you," he says gently.
For a moment I'm speechless for being given a compliment. Let alone one from Thorin Oakenshield after I haven't told him that I can speak. I had anticipated something much more violent. Or at least angry…
"I'm sure you would have worked something out. Bilbo was on the right track – playing for time like that," I say.
Hs grip on my wrist tightens, "That it may have been, but in the end it was you who saved us."
I don't know what to say. Everything had been left to chance – half of my plan relied on luck. Not that I'm going to tell him that. How do you respond to a compliment from a would-be king? Especially one that's in such a state of undress.
"I am at your service…My King," I respond. I can't really think of anything else to say. However, Thorin's apparent smirk tells me that it is all I need to say.
I catch movement in my peripheral, behind Thorin, that is far too tall to be any dwarf. Out of natural instinct, I remove my last knife and position myself between Thorin and whatever is emerging from the woods. However, the ferns are pulled back to reveal Gandalf. The wizard seems equally startled by my appearance as I had his. Relaxing, I resheathe the blade and move back towards the others; giving Gandalf and Thorin the chance to speak while Thorin redressed.
"Damned wizard," I say tersely.
With everyone free Balin and Bilbo return my knives. Bofur brings over my last one; the one that had cut the rope of the trap that felled Tom. As the dwarves take back their arms I notice that both Dwalin and Thorin eyed their weapons with newfound pride. Trolls are hard to kill, and any weapon that managed the feat would be considered remarkable. They would be worthy naming if they weren't already. Despite that my sword had done the same it is the only one that shattered.
"Shame about that, lad," says Dori as he picks up the pieces of my blade. Half of it is missing, which is still fully lodged in the troll's head. That's what I get for not getting a custom blade. I discard my scabbard as it is now nothing, but dead weight. As the sun finally peaks over the boulder. Tom's skin starts sizzling and cracking before becoming stone. Soon the other bodies will follow if they hadn't already.
"I'm going to retrieve my gear," I comment aloud; the statement is more for the dwarves' benefit than mine. Last thing we need is them scattering through the forest looking for me.
"I'll come with ya," volunteers Dwalin. I give him a nod of approval, not that he would need it. I'm sure he would come with me even if I hadn't given him permission. I start walking back into the woods with Dwalin hot on my trail. My legs are screaming with exhaustion and my mind is finally coming down from its heightened state, leaving me rather sluggish. With the light I can now see the path of destruction the troll left behind in our chase. Several trees had been scrapped raw and at least two large boulders are in pieces. At the end of it all is the troll's body, which had most certainly turned to stone. Above it my mithril thread gleams in the morning light, still taut between the two trees.
"Mahal's beard!" exclaims Dwalin quietly. He taps the head with the toe of his boot and eyes it warily. I ignore him and work my thread out of the trees. Once done, I notice the blunting on the side where the impact took place. If I did much more with it, it would surely break. It is quite lucky then that I find myself surrounded by dwarves. Maybe Balin could fix it for me…
I notice Dwalin's eyes have shift from the stone head to the thread in my hands. I hold it out to him. I know that most mithril comes from Moria, which even now remains lost to them. The metal is rare, even for dwarves, so I am more than happy to share it with them; aside from a tool the mithril means nothing to me.
"Go ahead," I offer, "I don't mind."
With a small glare he takes the thread and starts looking it over with awe. He studies it over a couple of times before he speaks.
"Not half bad work, this," he says. "But it'll be in need of some repair from the looks of it. The troll really did a number on it."
"I'm not surprised," I comment. "Troll hide is near impenetrable and they have the ability to regenerate." He looks up from the thread and takes in my face with another cautious glare.
"Didn't care to share that knowledge with us?" he asks.
"I planned to, but Kili was all too eager to find out for himself," I answer.
At that Dwalin grunts and returns to looking over the thread. He plays with it in his hands – feeling the material's weight in his hands before wrapping it around his knuckles and tightening. He is clearly in another time and place as he does this. His eyes are far away as he watches the metal in his hands.
"I haven't seen this much mithril since I was a lad. When we still had Erebor," he says sadly.
I pause in momentary shock. It is so sentimental that I wonder if I just heard it pass through the dwarf's lips. I look at the thread itself, remembering when Arathorn had given it to me. It had been a great honor, but somehow the pride I felt diminished when comparing it to the sad joy in Dwalin eyes as he remembered a happier time. It is worth far more to him than me. All I need is the rank of ranger for my purposes, not the gifts.
"Then you may keep it," I tell him. "Until we have reclaimed Erebor and all the mithril within, it is yours."
He looks up at me with surprise written across his features. He looks like he wants to say something, but the words are caught in his throat.
"May it serve you well."
I start off for camp, giving Dwalin a moment to collect himself. That sad look on his face is more frightening than when he is in the heat of battle. When I return I can see that half of the company has left; most likely to collect what remains of our camp from last night. Off to the side I can see that Kili found my supplies I had left in the forest prior to my attack. He is currently replacing Wildwind's saddle and bridle by standing on top of a large rock.
I can feel the smile on my face as he brushes his hand along her neck. He is talking to her and though I cannot hear it – I'm sure he is lecturing her about getting involved with the trolls. A small giggle escapes my lips before I hear the pounding footsteps. I look to my left to see Thorin approach me with a stormy look in his eye. Gandalf follows the dwarf, but is looking at me with a curious expression. I feel my smile vanish – I'm not in the mood for the wizard today and clearly neither is Thorin.
"Where is Dwalin?" he growls. For a moment I just look at him. Does he honestly think I hurt Dwalin? Is he trying to make me out to be a villain of sorts even after everything I had done? There is no pleasing this dwarf. Compliments one minute and accusations the next. What is wrong with him? He becomes angrier with my silence and opens his mouth to state as such.
"It's alright, Thorin. I'm right here," says Dwalin as he emerges from the trees with the mithril thread still in his hands. He's holding it out in front of him like he might break it. Overall, it looks odd for the warrior to be gentle with anything.
"What is that?" asks Thorin curiously.
"By the seven lords! Is that mithril?" says Bofur as he races over. Without touching it, he examines the piece in Dwalin's hands. Thorin, who is also curious, goes over to look. I take that moment to escape and head to the far side of the camp where the shadows are greatest. It isn't likely that trolls would have let themselves stay out this long unless they had a cave nearby.
"That it is," says Dwalin.
"Where did you find this?" asks Thorin.
"I didn't find it. It was given to me," he answers.
"Who gave…?"
As I crouch to examine the tracks I could feel their eyes on me. I do my best to ignore them as the others return to the clearing. Upon seeing the gathering around Dwalin most of them join in, but Fili sees me and comes to investigate.
"What do you see, Kalar?"
"The trolls couldn't have moved in daylight. These tracks are theirs and will likely lead to a hoard," I answer. I have seen two hoards in my short lifetime and neither of them were very pleasant.
"What's in a toll hoard?"
"Usually treasures and possessions that belonged to their previous meals," I say as I hear Fili's breathing stall. "But sometimes they also keep prisoners."
"You think there might be people in there?"
"It's a possibility," I answer. "I need to go make sure that is not the case. I will return shortly."
I try to walk off, but Fili calls back to the others for them to follow me. In all honesty I had hoped for a moment of peace, but that hope is in vain. I can hear the dwarves trudge after me as I make my way to the cave. The tracks are fairly obvious and I'm sure anyone else could have followed them, but I am eager to make sure no one is left to suffer in the caves.
As I walk a thought comes to me. Without my mask it is clearly obvious I am not as badly mauled as I had made out to be. Not to mention I know I sound more effeminate than I should, but everyone still called me 'lad.' No one had made a comment on either of these things. There is no way…Am I really getting away with this?
(My Horrible) Translations:
Nin mellon mindil baur restaeg. – My friend, our comrades need your help.
Inye baur saideg i Maulir. – I need you to distract the trolls.
La varqua. – Do not be afraid.
The Sindarin is messed up I know, but just roll with me because I don't have the fancy keys for the special phonics. I also know that Dwalin was born two years after the fall of Erebor in the books, but I decided to make him older like the movies and said he was a kid when it fell. I hope no one is too upset by that.