Hello Everyone!
Here you go another chapter. I must warn you this one hasn't been beta'd either. I feel that my updates are too inconsistent to burden them upon a beta so for the time being they will continue to be unedited. Enjoy :)
Disclaimer: I do NOT claim to own anything from J.K's or Tolkien's universes.
Chapter 19 – Troll Hoard
Piles of gold pieces mingled with the dust and cobwebs under Bofur's feet. "Seems a shame just to leave it lying around. Anyone could take it."
"Agreed." Gloin said a greedy gleam entering his eyes, having found a chest teeming with treasure, "Nori, get a shovel." The three dwarves buried their findings, claiming it to be a 'long term deposit'.
Thorin although not entirely immune to the dwarven greed, he pushed on further into the cave until he came upon a cluster of swords and pulled two from the pile. He examined the swords with the eye of a blacksmith, seeing the fine work in the hilt of the swords. "These were not made by any troll."
Handing the larger of the blades to Gandalf, he inspected the smaller but finer blade for himself. "And not by any smith among men either." Gandalf uttered, unsheathing the sword. "These were forged in Gondolin by the High Elves of the first Age."
Thorin's rising respect for the craftsmanship of the sword in his hands vanished upon hearing that they were of elves but as he went to put it back Gandalf insisted, "You could not wish for a finer blade."
Thorin hesitated and looked up to see Gandalf's determined expression and for the first time he gave Gandalf a chance. He pulled the blade out of its sheath to inspect if its craftsmanship was as high quality as Gandalf believed it to be. It was old but still strong enough to withstand a good fight. The balance was superb, unlike any other he had handled in his years of blacksmithing and light, unlike dwarven swords. Satisfied, he re-sheathed the sword. As Thorin turned to leave a flicker of light caught his eye. The light was reflecting off a sword leaning against the rock to his left. He could have sworn that the sword wasn't there a moment before. Lifting it to full view he found it not to be of elvish make or any other race he could think of. Baffled he examined it more closely. This one was smaller than his and Gandalf's, but still large enough for dwarves and the race of men. There was no sheath to be seen for this blade anywhere. On closer examination Thorin was shocked to find that it was made of pure silver, with rubies set into the blade. Never before had he heard of a race who made swords from pure silver. Twisting it in the flickering light of his torch, he was able to make out writing in the common tongue engraved just beneath the hilt.
"Godric Gryffindor." He whispered, feeling the foreign word roll off his tongue. Thorin looked up to see Gandalf examining another elven blade, although his looked to be more of a dagger.
An image of Hermione being confronted by orcs entered his mind and he realised that besides her magic, she had no other real means of defending herself. So without a second thought he decided that he would give her the blade even if it is only a backup in case for some reason she is unable to use her magic to defend herself.
"Let's get out of this foul place, Now. Let's go." Thorin ordered heading for the exit. The others followed, glad to finely breathe the unpolluted air.
…
"Bilbo. Here this will suit you nicely." Gandalf said as he pressed the dagger against Bilbo's chest.
"I can't take this. I have never used a sword in my life." Bilbo explained calmly, frowning as he said so.
"I hope you never have to but this blade is of elvish make, so it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby." Gandalf looked down intently at him, "If you do have to use it, remember this, true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one."
…
Thorin looked around at each of the company looking for her face but on not seeing it the second time around he began to feel a little anxious.
"Where's Lady Granger?" he asked causing all present to pause for a moment looking around at each other trying to spot her.
"Hermione." Bilbo called out her name expecting a response but none came. The dwarves began to panic themselves, they were now all looking in every direction asking no one in particular if they could see her anywhere.
"Lady Granger!" Thorin barked giving all the dwarves and Bilbo quite a fright. Still no response, "Hermione!" Bellowing louder this time.
"I'm here! What's the matter?" Hermione shouted back from her spot amongst the flowers as she rubbed the remains of sleep from her eyes.
"What's the matter! We were calling for you and you didn't respond. No one knew where you were!" Thorin growled as he marched over to her and yanked her from the ground. Hurt shot up her arm from where Thorin was crushing her hand. Not wanting to show weakness she clenched her teeth at the pain.
"You can't just go off and not tell me, where you are going. We stick together!" Thorin continued to yell at her even though their faces were only inches apart. Realising the proximity between them, Hermione stepped back as far as she could with Thorin's tight grip on her hand.
"I did NOT wander off, I was still in sight sitting up. I didn't plan on falling asleep Oakenshield, but we all had a big night and it caught up to me."
Looking deep into Thorin's anger filled eyes she whispered so only he could hear, "Thorin, I never meant to cause you to worry and for that I am not only sorry, but appreciative that you would worry for me."
Still cranky but unsure of how to respond he placed the magnificent sword into her available hand grumbling, "In case you can't use your magic."
Hermione looked down at the blade, her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she realised what it was.
"Where did you get this?" staring shock-faced at Thorin.
"In the troll cave. Why?"
"This sword is from my world but it's not possible. It's back in its display case at Hogwarts. I watched Kingsley Shacklebolt do it myself."
This response drew the whole company in, who just happened to be eavesdropping. Hermione stood for a moment thinking over everything she knew about the Gryffindor's sword, until she came across a memory of something Dumbledore once told Harry.
"The sword presents itself as aid to any true Gryffindor that has need of it." Hermione said, you could hear the shock in her voice.
"Godric Gryffindor… That's what is engraved on the blade." Thorin uttered. "Who is a Godric Gryffindor?"
"He was one of the four founders of the school I attended. I was placed in his house, the sorting hat once said that 'Where dwell the brave at heart, their daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindor's apart'." Raising the sword until it was pointing at the sun showing off its beauty to the company, "This was Gryffindor's sword."
"Well then My Lady, it appears it thinks you are a true Gryffindor." Gandalf commented, looking around at the company. "We are lucky it seems, from your description of a Gryffindor, to have someone with such true and courageous qualities."
Hermione began to argue but was swiftly interrupted, "I wouldn't say that. I'm not cour…"
"Obviously the sword thinks you are!" Thorin grunted before a loud rustling could be heard moving fast and coming straight for them.
"Something's coming!" Thorin shouted back to the company, dragging Hermione back with him. The company readied their weapons as the rustling grew louder. Thorin stood slightly in front of Hermione still grasping her hand in his as he drew his sword with his other hand. Hermione dropped the sword into her bag and held her wand discreetly at her side silently casting protective shield spells around the company.
She could see Bilbo fumbling with a dagger which, for Bilbo, was more like a sword. He managed to finally release it from its sheath and point it in the direction of the sound, his hands and the sword shaking profusely.
"Murder!" came a shout as a sled made from branches pulled by ten quite large rabbits burst through the tree line. The dwarves and Hermione all readied themselves for battle watching the man who was dressed in layers of tattered rags. His long beard was knotted and had caught in his clothes. He wore an odd shaped hat much like the one Gandalf was wearing. He looked around skittishly until his eyes landed on Gandalf.
"Radagast the Brown." Gandalf sighed sheathing his new sword. The dwarves all looked to Thorin before they too lowered their weapons.
The dwarves circled the sleigh looking at the ragged wizard. Thorin looked over to Hermione who was looking down at something he followed her gaze until he saw their hand still entwined. Thorin dropped her hand immediately but as he did so, she winced. Red marks were starting to form on her now extremely pale hand. Thorin realised that he must have been crushing her small hand the whole time. He hadn't even noticed because her hand had fit in his so perfectly. Feeling remorse for hurting her he grabbed it again, gently this time, and to Hermione's surprise, raised her petite hand to his lips grazing them across her hand so gently that it felt as soft as a light breeze. Hermione blushed as he allowed his lips to linger for a few seconds as a tender warmth spread through him. They stared at each other with unreadable expressions for a moment before turning their attention to this Radagast fellow. The company's attention was on Radagast and Gandalf so their little interaction went unnoticed and for that he was grateful. Hermione discreetly looked down at her tingling hand, shaking it a little trying to remove the distracting yet lovely sensation.
"What on earth are you doing here?" Gandalf approached the startled wizard.
"I was looking for you Gandalf," Radagast said breathing rapidly, "Something's wrong! Something's terribly wrong."