Chapter Five

What Happened in Mirkwood

They wandered throughout that day. Trolo told Peg tales of his adventures, of his fights with other orcs, of his escapades with dwarves, of his journeys and of his meals.

'No doubt you have been to Rohan and Gondor,' said Peg.

'I have,' admitted Trolo. 'But I don't stay long in such places. They are full of Men.'

'Are hobbits hunted by men as well?' asked Peg.

'No,' said Trolo. 'It's much worse. I don't think you could understand, really. But the Big People and I don't get along very well.'

'Me neither,' said Peg.

They travelled across the morning, and near noon they saw a green mist to their right.

'It's Mirkwood,' said Trolo. 'If we go that way I can find something to eat for lunch.'

'Oh,' said Peg hesitantly. 'Just so long as we don't go near Dol-Guldur.'

'We won't even go into the forest,' said Trolo. 'Just find some bark or something. Let's hurry. I'm getting very hungry.'

This was something Peg was to notice as they travelled together. Trolo was always hungry, when Peg was quite satisfied.

But they hurried right towards Mirkwood.

It was a dark, green, growing place, full of the scent of deep earth and leaves. Trolo gathered some of the latter, and even a little of the former, and also some mushrooms, over which he danced like a dragon over treasure.

'Mushrooms!' he chortled.

'I didn't know you could eat those,' said Peg.

'My dear companion,' said Trolo, 'when Trolo Sackville cooks, you can eat anything.'

He was still gathering flora when Peg lifted his nose and snorted. Trolo looked up.

'What is it?' he asked.

Peg sniffed the air.

'Elf-flesh,' he snarled, and shrank smaller. 'Coming this way. Several, I think.'

'Oh, dear,' said Trolo. 'Our hero wished nothing more than to avoid a meeting with the quote, fair, unquote folk. He therefore left his occupation and scrambled into a tree.'

Peg did the same, and they sat together on a branch looking around and listening. And suddenly they did hear a scuffling and noise in the brush coming their way.

'It isn't an elf,' whispered Trolo. 'It's making too much noise.'

'It's too small,' agreed Peg. 'What do you think –'

But just then it showed itself. A small, pale creature with large eyes and very little clothes on, crawling across the ground on hands and feet, very quickly indeed, and snarling to itself.

'My Precious!'

'What do you think it is?' asked Trolo, with raised eyebrows. 'Is it an orc?'

'No,' said Peg. 'But – look!'

They saw the elves now, some ways away, coming towards them. Their golden hair fluttered in the wind, and it was a miracle that they were not caught up in the tree branches. There were three or four of them, all flaxen-haired and pale and carrying bows and swords.

'They're chasing him,' said Trolo, which was obvious.

Peg looked down at the creature, who had stopped to look back and was still muttering to himself. He looked very frightened and very unhappy.

Suddenly, Peg began to slip off the branch.

'Where are you going?' demanded Trolo. 'The elves will see you!'

'Yes,' said Peg. 'Exactly. I will lead them off, and they will think I am the other – thing.' He took off his helmet and other armour and then slipped down the tree trunk.

'This is a bad life choice,' said Trolo. 'I'm beginning to seriously doubt your sanity. But as our companion would not listen, our hero fell silent and watched what would take place.'

Peg dropped down into the underbrush. The elves had paused and were looking for tracks in the soil. The muttering creature was not far away, and he turned like lightning as Peg fell and sprang upon him.

For a moment they scuffled.

'Orcses!' cried the mutterer. 'Orcses chase us like the elveses! Nasty elveses to lock us up and keep us from the Precious!'

'No, no,' said Peg, hissing in his effort to be quiet. 'Run away, and I will distract the elves!'

The mutterer's eyes grew wide.

'A diversion?'

'A diversion!' said Peg.

Like a flash, the mutterer was gone. Peg peeped out over the ferns. The elves were straightening up. He snarled, and rustled the leaves. The elves looked his direction, and he ducked.

'There is a movement in the undergrowth,' said one of the elves, a tall blond with a fair face and perfect complexion. He wrinkled his brows. 'I think it may be our quarry.'

'Then let us after it,' suggested another.

The first elf smiled and started forward.

Not far away, Peg smiled, too. He darted away, making noises in the ferns and muttering to himself.

'The Precocious! The Prescience! The Presence! The Precarious! The Precaution!' He couldn't remember exactly what word the mutterer had used, but he supposed it didn't matter much.

And then he began to realise that he had made a mistake. Arrows were beginning to fly, and as he began to turn this way and that, there seemed to be an elf everywhere. Somehow, they had managed to box him in. They drew nearer and nearer, and he realised that they now knew where he was. And suddenly he popped out of the brush and looked around, and all four of them surrounded him, two with arrows poised, two with swords.

'Good Elbereth,' said one. 'It's an orc!'

He was also tall, but a dirty blond, and he had a soul patch on his chin. This was odd. Peg had never seen an elf with any hair on his face, except very dark eyebrows. This one must have been male, but – he looked around at the others. There was no saying about them.

'Slay it, Calendul,' said another elf, to the one who swore by Elbereth.

'Your Highness,' said another, 'are you sure we have been pursuing the right creature?'

'I know not,' said the one with the prettiest face. 'But I do know that the tracks we found were that of Gollum, and not of any orc.'

'So we have lost him,' said Calendul.

'Gandalf will kill you for this, Legolas,' said one of the others, to the pretty one.

'Slay it, Calendul,' repeated the one who had advised this course of action already.

'No,' said Legolas. 'There is more the orc can tell us. We will take it to my father.'

'Your father will kill it, Your Highness,' said the one who liked slaying. 'Might as well do it here.'

'You Shall Not Touch Him!' cried a voice from above, and Trolo Sackville fell out of the trees, brandishing his sword aloft. He landed before Peg and swung his blade. 'Back, elven folk, or I eviscerate!'

'Good Elbereth,' said Calendul. 'It's a Halfling!'

Trolo turned red and drew himself up. 'And none of you are man enough to fight me,' he said. 'I challenge any of you to lay a hand on my companion, and you will pay with your life.'

'Who are you, Halfling, and what are you doing in Mirkwood?' asked one of the elves.

'I am no Halfling,' snorted Trolo. 'You are a Doubling, if it comes to that. And I am in Mirkwood to prevent a friend's slaughter at your hands.'

'Well, then, tell us what the orc is doing here?'

'He was distracting you from slaughtering something else.'

'The orc helped Gollum escape!' said one elf. 'They are enemies and allies of Mordor! Kill them both!'

'No,' said Legolas. 'I have no quarrel with Halflings. We will take them to Lothlorien. There, my father and the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn will hold counsel.'

'Touch me,' said Trolo, 'and you will have a blade in you!'

Legolas raised an arrow. 'Don't think I won't kill you, hobbit,' he said. 'Tie them, Calendul.'

And so Peg and Trolo were bound and led away from Mirkwood toward the forest in the west.

Lothlorien. Peg knew of it. He tried to ask Trolo about it, but the elves ordered him to be silent. Trolo looked far from happy and very annoyed. Peg feared that there must be something very terrible indeed in Lothlorien to make him look so glum.

The forest stretched up before them and Peg swallowed hard.