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"Sometimes when my underwear matches my outfit, it makes me feel like I really have my life together!" -Unknown

~Chapter 15~

Burglafurhobbits and Jelly Dwarves

I awake from my peaceful slumber and scan the campsite. A flash of anxiety courses through me as I remember that the company is currently with the trolls. It's still dark, and I'm not sure how far away dawn is—perhaps an hour? Not having clocks in Middle Earth has made me a little better at judging by the color of the sky and the smell of the air. Gazing around at the packed-up camp, I silently pray that Gandalf will rescue them any minute now.

But what if he doesn't? What if this is a Nori situation, where only I can do something?!

Maybe I should go check on them? Just a quick look...

I stand up and begin pacing around the camp, double-checking everything while my anxiety only gets worse as the minutes tick by. What if something goes wrong? This story feels so different from what I remember! Almost as if it were an entirely different story yet with the same characters and timeline.

I weigh the pros and cons for a moment, but then I'm like, "Screw it," and sneak in the direction I last saw them go. I hope it's the right way. My fears subside as I eventually spot a faint light in the distance and hear the deep rumble of voices. It's the trolls' fire!

I slow my steps and try to move silently, thinking 'hobbit feet' thoughts. I hear gruff, thick voices, like gravel crunching together as they speak. As I get closer, I can make out the words. It causes my hair to stand on end, and my stomach twists with dread.

"Pass me the seasonings, will you, Burt?"

Horror grips my heart as I imagine what they could possibly need seasonings for. Images of dead dwarves being served on dinner plates flash through my mind, and I try to stifle my sharp, terrified gasps. Am I too late?!

A large boulder blocks my view, with the glow of the fire emanating from behind it. I peek around the corner, trembling with fear of what I might see. A quiet sigh of relief escapes me as I spot my dwarves, neatly tucked in their brown bags, with piles of pants, coats, and weapons nearby.

My eyes widen at the three ENORMOUS trolls surrounding the fire. More like giants! They wear nothing but thin loincloths and are bald. The smell is also nasty. Like very VERY stinky feet mixed with wet dog and unwashed laundry. Ugh!

"Why don't we just sit on them, and squeeze them into jelly?"

Gross! A light breeze ruffles my blond hair around, blowing dust and leaves behind me towards the camp and I have to move my hair away from my covering my eyes.

Suddenly, one of the trolls pauses. "Oi!" He sniffs the air. "Do ya smell that?"

The other trolls, including the cross-eyed one, sniff with their gigantic noses. The cross-eyed troll groans, with a high-pitched whine, "I can't smell nothing with me cold!"

But the second troll gasps excitedly, "A female!" His gravelly voice makes it sound as if it were his birthday. "I thought I smelt one earlier, but I wasn't sure! Must have been her scent on one of their coats..."

Oh shi-

"Uh, no! No, you didn't smell a female...No females in this company, I'm afraid," pipes up a certain hobbit from where he lay among the other dwarves.

"He's lyin!" The troll who had initially noticed my scent scowls. "The burglaflurhobbit is trying to protect 'er. Stay with this lot, and I'll go back to where we found the ponies and bring 'er 'ere!" He scrambles eagerly in my direction, where I hide behind the stone.

But he's stopped by the large meaty hand of the other troll. "No, you lugnut! You'll eat 'er before you come back, like you did with the last one! I'll get 'er!"

What the…? This isn't part of the story! I duck even further behind the large rock, listening to some instinct inside me telling me it'll be very bad if they find me.

"No! Let me go get 'er!"

"But someone has to stay with the dwarves!" The troll who was turning the spit abandons his task and pushes after them.

Then, they leap over the large boulder I'm hiding behind, crashing and lunging into the forest. "You're being too loud, you Jabberwock! Be quiet, or she'll hear us!"

"We wouldn' be so loud if you was staying with the others!"

I watch in frozen, wide-eyed shock as the three trolls erupt into a fight, crashing through the forest, knocking down trees and tearing up roots in their frenzied haste.

What…the….?

I stare, wide-eyed, at the huge path of destruction that creates a gaping trail between the trees, listening to the snapping and upturning of the undergrowth grow softer as they rush toward where they think the campsite might be.

How did they manage to get past Kili and Fili in the first place? They aren't exactly the sneakiest of creatures!

I peek my head back up to look over at the dwarves, who are furiously wriggling in their bags, yelling frantically at each other in panic. Aww, it warms my heart to know they care.

Whatever I decide to do, I have to decide quickly; I don't want to be here when they come back. Dawn is farther away than I originally thought.

My decision is made for me when poor Bifur, at the bottom of the spit, begins grunting and wiggling in pain as the heat scorches him. Without the trolls turning the spit over like a rotisserie chicken, the ones on the bottom will get burned alive. The others follow Thorin's example to wiggle over to the pile of swords to cut themselves free.

I stay hidden for a moment longer, listening for any telltale stomping of troll feet. I'm fairly certain they are gone, and so I come out from behind the rock and run towards the pile of weapons. I need to get the burning dwarves off the fire.

All thirteen dwarves and one hobbit stop and stare at me with shocked and relieved expressions. "Lass!", "You're ok!", "Thank Mahal!", "Run!", "Quick! Untie us!", "What are you doing here!?", "Leave!"

"Shhhh!" I hiss frantically and hold a finger to my lips, bidding them to be silent.

I quickly listen for any stomping giant feet and continue on my trajectory to the pile of weapons. I gently toss a few knives right by Thorin and some of the others and then focus my attention on the cooking dwarves. I can't help but feel worried as I notice Bifur's pink face, down where the heat is getting to him. The rope is too thick for me to cut through quickly enough, and even if I did manage- he could potentially fall into the flames.

"Hi Dwalin," I smirk cheekily at the scowling face in between Nori's legs while I pull experimentally at the thick ropes and try to analyze the situation as best I can. The fact that the trolls were able to tie them on like this at all is admirable. How they managed to tie up a brute like Dwalin, I'll never know. He must secretly be a pansy and the axes are just for show.

Dwalin's scowl deepens, but his words are actually rather sweet, "Get out of 'ere lass while ye still have the chance. The trolls won't wait to eat ye; they will tear ye apart immediately."

As I push with all my might at the supporting post, I grunt out, "Awww, Dwalin! You… DO…. care! Ergh!" I strain against the spit, but it won't budge. The trolls pounded it deep into the ground and I'm not as strong as a dwarf.

"I'm serious!" Dwalin snarls, and I'm startled to see an expression akin to worry on his face, "There's a reason womenfolk don' travel if they can help it!"

I pause, second guessing myself, but I know that Gandalf will be coming soon so I disregard it.

I try to turn the spit to offer them some relief but only a troll arm would be strong enough to rotate them. I have to do something! I'm running out of time! I'm going to have to take a running leap and throw my whole body weight at the edge in order to knock it a little askance to push them out of the way. Oooooooh, this is going to hurt. Especially with my sore muscles still being rather painful.

I march away from the company, ignoring their different comments and questions as I turn around and get ready to run at the spit...If I don't do this, then the poor dwarves on the bottom are going to be black by the time the trolls get back.

"Sorry guys," I mutter, taking in their wide-eyed expressions. I start running at full speed toward them.

Their eyes get comically wide and all at once start shaking their heads at me and saying "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!"

SLAM!

I bounce off them like a rubber ball, landing on the ground. Ouch!

Thankfully it does the trick, and the whole assembly makes a CREAK! as it budges at a large angle. One more ought to do it for them to not be suspended in the air. I stand up with a groan.

"Ooooooo, that's going to hurt in the morning," I wheeze, clutching my side in pain. "Ergh! Never mind, it's already morning!" I gasp.

"Peyton," Thorin's voice cuts through the chaos, his tone commanding and authoritative. I turn to him surprised. This is the first time I can remember him dropping the formal 'miss' and just calling me by name. He's trying to hold a knife through the sack's material, attempting to cut a slit in his sack to free his hand for real. "Get out of here and save yourself. Take a pony and find Gandalf."

I can't resist teasing him, "Oh, I don't know. I think I should stick around and see how it all unfolds."

I raise an eyebrow, observing his struggle with the knife. Taking matters into my own hands, I come over and kneel beside him, cutting at his sack myself.

"Did you not hear a word Dwalin said?" Thorin's anger flares even as his eyes carry a mix of frustration and gratitude for my intervention. "Women are a delicacy for trolls, goblins, or orcs. They won't cook you... they will eat you raw! Get out of here!"

Until this moment, I've never witnessed Thorin so resolute, almost frantic. I stand up hesitantly and glance back at the spit where Bifur is slowly recovering, though still in danger from the trolls coming back. "Okay...I'll, uh...I'll just stay hidden, then?"

Suddenly, my heart leaps into my throat as the voices of the trolls reach our ears. "I dunno where she could 'ave gone. My nose don't lie, but she ain't there!"

Before I can react, my feet are swept out from under me with an "OOF!" and Thorin Oakenshield, in a putrid-smelling sack, covers me with his body, grabbing me through the material and I find myself forcefully being rolled over and under him repeatedly, unable to do anything against his powerful and quick motions, until he's positioned us near the other members of the company, pinning my back to the ground. I'm too shocked by his incredible strength to utter a word as the trolls enter the clearing in the nick of time.

"Stay silent," Thorin's intense blue eyes warn mine before he slowly turns off my front and faces the approaching trolls, his body still halfway laying on me. It's not the most comfortable thing since he's squishing my legs, but with my life in danger, I can't really complain. The rest of the company quickly huddles around us, ready for whatever comes next.

"Come off it Tom, let's just season them and ge' the cooking started! The female made me hungry and-"

The Troll speaking stops mid-sentence and I tense, realizing that he noticed the dwarves are no longer cooking directly over the fire. Their whole setup has been budged at an angle.

"Wha is this?!" The troll asks, sounding angry. The ground quakes a little from his stomping footsteps, and he directs his anger to the tied up dwarves, "How'd you ged off?!"

"Oh! Well, you see, eh...It was me. I bounced all of us really really hard you see.." I hear the telltale voice of Bofur explain. I can't see anything past Thorin's dark hair though.

"Why you lil'...I'm gonna eat you first for tha'!"

"Come on! Let's eat! Dawn isn't far off and I don't fancy being turned to stone." The other troll grumbles and I can hear the wood being readjusted to cook the dwarves.

I let out a shuddered breath. Holy smokes. This is bad. There's something instinctually frightful about the idea of being eaten in comparison to any other form of death.

"You're making a terrible mistake!" I suddenly hear Bilbo say, grunting in a way that sounds like he's hopping up to them. "I mean, err, about...about the seasonings, that is."

If there's one person in the company that knows about seasonings, it's Bilbo Baggins. But why is he giving them cooking tips??

"Wha' was tha'? What do ya mean?" A troll questions.

"Well, have you smelled them? You'll need a lot more than herbs to plate this lot up," Bilbo retorts, his voice filled with disdain, causing the dwarves to angrily mutter to one another, confused about why he was betraying them like this.

"Well, wha do ye suggest?" The stupid creature asks, intrigued.

"The secret...to cooking dwarf...i-is..."

"Yeah? Go on!"

"Yes, yes, I'm trying to TELL you...it's...the secret is...toooo skin them first!"

The company erupts in angry shouts directed at Bilbo, and amidst the chaos, I hear Thorin whisper harshly, "What do you think of your hobbit now? He's saving his own skin!"

I know he's addressing me and I frown slightly at his words. My hobbit? Bilbo is OUR hobbit. He belongs to all of us.

I'm silent, listening intently. I know Bilbo. He would never do that. He must have something up his sleeve. Maybe he saw Gandalf in the bushes and is creating a distraction until Gandalf fixes things?

"Get me a filleting knife!" A troll says to the other.

But the other is a bit more intelligent than the others, "What a load of rubbish! I've had plenty of trolls with they skins on. Even their clothes!"

"He's right! Just eat them raw!" The third one wheezes excitedly.

I hear the terrified cries of Bombur and I gasp, trying my hardest to pull out my legs so I can get out from under Thorin. "Not Bombur!" I whisper, frantically. But Thorin doesn't budge, refusing to allow me to move. Where's Gandalf!? He's supposed to confuse the trolls and call them names!

"Nice and crunchy."

"Wait! Not that one! He's...infested!" Bilbo cries out, and I stop moving.

"Huh?" The confused trolls asks.

"He's got worms in his...tubes!"

A couple of pained cries from the dwarves tell me that Bombur was dropped on top of them.

"What?! We don't got worms! YOU got worms! Kili shouts angrily, the other dwarves start protesting and calling Bilbo all sorts of names.

Then it hits me! He's distracting the trolls! He doing what Gandalf is supposed to be doing!

"He's stalling them!" I lean up, whispering into Thorin's hair which cascades over and onto my face like a dark curtain. The scent of his hair is a welcome relief from the stench of rotting maggots that is covering me, so I try my hardest to breathe only his smell in as much as possible, "Trolls turn to stone in the light!"

I can't see his face, but I feel him internally debate for a moment before he delivers a forceful kick to Oin's back. There's a pregnant pause and I wonder what's going on before Oin speaks again.

"I've got worms as big as meh arms!"

"I've got worms! Loads of worms!"

"We're infested!"

"Riddled!"

Bilbo speaks again, stuttering in his polite hobit way, "It's a nasty business, I wouldn't risk it. I-I-I really wouldn't."

"What do ya suggest then?! Let 'em all go?!"

I hear Bilbo hum thoughtfully, "Well..."

"You think I don' know wha' you're doin'!? You're taking us all for fools!"

"The Dawn will take you all!" The most beautiful voice says, causing me to sigh in relief. Gandalf's here. FINALLY!

The trolls, rather than running for their lives, question one another about who it is. A huge crack shakes the air, and then the screaming of the Trolls and the hissing of skin burning reaches my ears.

I struggle under Thorin, trying to look around him in desperation to see what's happening with my own eyes, but he's too heavy and he doesn't budge. "Ugh! Thorin!" I lightly complain, trying to move my legs which have started to lose circulation.

The dwarves erupt in cheers, relief washing over all of us as we realize the trolls are dead and we will be safe. I'm really annoyed though. I didn't even get to witness the trolls turning into stone!

"Thorin, you can get off now!" I huff, wishing I had seen Gandalf save the company.

He immediately rolls off, but before I can react further, he suddenly turns and grabs me...with his untied hands?! He hauls me up, and I'm taken aback as the disgusting sack simply falls off him. I realize he had cut it off while Bilbo was distracting the trolls, keeping it around him just in case. The other dwarves' sacks fall off as well, revealing that they had also freed themselves while Bilbo kept the stupid things occupied. It's reassuring to know that if Gandalf hadn't arrived, we would have been able to fight back until the sun rose. But all of that becomes insignificant as Thorin's fury is directed at me.

"You FOOLISH woman! I am the leader of this company! When I order you to run, you do NOT question me! You RUN and you do not look back!"

"Oh, please, Thorin!" I retort, annoyance seeping into my voice. "We're a team! One for all and all for one, and all that jazz."

"When you are given an order, you must follow it!" he insists, his hands still gripping my wrists from when he pulled me up.

"Thorin, I will follow ANY order you give me... EXCEPT the order to leave you behind! So get over it!" I assert, my words laced with determination.

My words leave him momentarily speechless, his eyes searching mine for answers. Realizing how my words might have sounded, I quickly amend them, "A-And everyone else too! You saved my life. Allow me to return the favor." I look over at the three enormous statues of the trolls, amazed at how they really did turn to stone. Gandalf is standing on top of a rock, that looks as if it was split in two. Wow. Wizards are so cool!

"But you didn't save us, Gandalf did," Thorin points out, his voice less severe than before.

I turn my focus back on him, "Yeah...after Bilbo and I distracted them! Poor Bifur's beard would have caught fire if I hadn't intervened!" I cringe a little, not mentioning that Bifur technically would've been perfectly fine until I showed up. I really should have just stayed at camp. Semantics, really.

"And..and besides that, how did you even get caught when you have weapons? Is your sword just for show or something?"

"What?!" Thorin's voice is filled with disbelief.

"I thought you knew how to use it, but I must be wrong," I shake my head and sigh theatrically. I'm teasing but also kind of serious. The dwarves have hardcore axes and swords at their disposal, yet they all ended up captured anyway.

Thorin's face registers shock, his pride clearly wounded. "I know how to use my sword," he growls, clearly offended.

I raise an eyebrow, the teasing tone slowly fading. "Thirteen dwarves with weapons against three trolls, and you guys didn't even manage to injure one of them." Like, not even a stab wound? Come on now...

Unbeknownst to me, the other dwarves have been listening intently to our conversation. As soon as I make that statement, they all exclaim in outrage and start protesting.

"It wasn't our fault!" Kili protests the loudest, as he's done this entire night. He steps up to stand beside Thorin and me. "Uncle is the best swordsmen of the company! He's an amazing fighter!"

"Yeah, Pey! Troll skin is incredibly thick!" Fili says, agitated.

Oin shakes his head and turns to Ballin, "What did she say?"

Ballin ignores him, focusing on the conversation, "Twas Bilbo what went and got himself caught, Miss Peyton. They were going to tear his limbs apart if we didn't lay down our weapons." He's very adamant.

"I should have let them," Thorin growls darkly.

Perhaps I was being uncharitable. After all, he did fight in the battle that Balin described against Azog.

Confused, I turn to Bilbo, "How did you get caught, Bilbo?"

Bilbo hangs his head in shame, avoiding eye contact with me.

Oh crap... I didn't mean to...

"Well, at...at least you stalled for time!" I try to comfort him. "You gave Gandalf enough time to find and save us!"

I glance back at the dwarves only to notice Thorin, Fili, and Kili glaring daggers at Bilbo, infuriated that I had criticized their fighting skills while offering consolation to Bilbo for his lack thereof.

Damn it! I didn't mean to make things worse for him! Why can't I just keep my big mouth shut?

"Okay, okay, guys. I'm sorry for commenting on your sword fighting! I haven't seen you use your weapons this whole journey, so I just started to think they might be props. A simple mistake!" I say, holding my hands up in surrender, hoping that will be the end of it.

But it's not.

Thorin redirects his glower from Bilbo to me now. He raises his head, his expression dead serious. "Your sword training with Dwalin begins tomorrow."

"Uh, what?" I stare at him in shock.

"You heard me," he says, turning around and walking over to the pile of clothing to grab his belongings.

Ah crap.

"I take it back! You're an excellent sword fighter! Thoriiiin! Don't be my frenemyyyyy!" I call out pathetically after him, but he refuses to turn back to me, angry about his fighting skills being called into question. Who knew that Thorin was so sensitive about his sword-fighting?

I glance around at the other dwarves, hoping for some support. Most of them are busy untying the dwarves on the spit. Kili and Fili exchange a knowing look, while Dwalin is watching me from the spit where Balin is untying him, obviously hearing the whole conversation.

Kili and Fili stay by my side, and Kili turns fully to me, his expression serious. "Uncle saved Bilbo's life. He ordered us to put down our weapons and stop fighting when he was captured. That's why we got captured too."

I let out a sigh. "I know, I get it. I'm sorry. I was trying to tease, but...it was a mean joke."

Fili gives me a pitying smile and Kili chimes in, "Well, at any rate, it's not a bad idea to learn sword fighting, Pey. Knowing how to handle a weapon in this world can be the difference between life and death."

I feel a sense of dread wash over me. He's not wrong, but sword training with DWALIN? That's not exactly what I signed up for when I joined this company.

"But I don't even know how to hold a sword properly," I protest, my voice wavering.

Dwalin, finally untied, has come over, his stern expression even sterner. "Then it's high time you learn." He growls, crossing his intimidating arms across his chest. "Especially since ye seem to throw yerself head first into danger with no thought whatsoever."

He's not wrong. I mean...how else am I going to defeat Azog? I flinch, wondering yet again how I am possibly going to defeat Azog and save Thorin. Up until now, I had always through of different plans that avoided any form of hand to hand combat with him.

Kili, always the diplomat, tries to ease the tension. "Don't worry, Peyton. Mister Dwalin is an excellent teacher! You'll get the hang of it in no time."

I stare at Dwalin reluctantly, "Okay, fine. But you have to promise not to make me spar with any trolls."

This time, my joke carries over a little better and Dwalin's lips actually twitch with the slightest hint of a smile. "Agreed."

Fili whispers something to Kili and they both look down at themselves before their faces abruptly turn red.

"Excuse us, please." Kili murmurs as he and Fili walk towards the pile of clothing where the other dwarves have all congregated.

I glance out over the company with my arms folded, noticing that the Trolls had made them strip down to their long johns. They're all wearing identical one-piece thermal undergarments in the same shade. Some of them are busy pulling on pants or putting on shirts over them.

"Uhh, lass? Do you mind?" Dwalin's gruff voice pulls me out of my thoughts

I blink at him, "Mind what?"

He gestures toward the rest of the dwarves who have paused in their attempts to put on their clothing, now staring at me with a mix of embarrassed blushes.

I shake my head, perplexed, "I'm sorry? I don't understand..."

"We're in our underwear, lass."

Oh? OH!

My eyes widen, "That's your underwear?" I can't help but let out a laugh, which I quickly stifle by covering my mouth. "I thought they were just your thermal underclothes!" I explain.

"You've never seen underwear before?" He protests, face turning beet red. I didn't even know Dwalin COULD blush.

I turn away from them, shoulders trembling with suppressed mirth, unable to stop the tiny 'pig-snorts' from escaping me. "Uhhhh, underwear from my world is A LOT different from that. Yours looks...modest. Uh, very modest...compared to my world's underwear. I thought they were just normal clothes, like pajamas or something." I plug my nose in an attempt to keep from laughing too loudly, in a great mood now. That means that Thorin had been arguing with me in his underwear. Omfgshskjsdfks!

There's a strange quiet amongst the dwarves behind me. I sense their shock and curiosity, and I mentally kick myself for bringing it up. Now they'll be curious about how underwear looks in my world. I'm grateful that my face is turned away, hiding the beginnings of my own blush. Nope, Imma head out.

I clear my throat. "I'll, um, I'll just head back to camp and grab my bag."

"Wait," Thorin's voice stops me. I turn to look at him, only to be assaulted by dismayed cries from the company, causing me to quickly look away from them again, laughing once more.

"Sorry! Sorry, guys," I say, waving my hands apologetically in their direction. This is absolutely hilarious.

"Bofur, go with her." I hear Thorin bark, annoyed.

"Aww, have some compassion, Thorin! Poor Bofur is in his underwear. He can't go with me." I tease, grinning at the forest as I try to stop my shoulders from shaking with gentle puffs of laughter.

"Just wait a moment Lass, I'll be ready in a minute." Bofur mumbles. I don't need to look over to tell his face is red like the rest of them. Such modest gentlemen.

Eventually, Bofur steps into my line of sight, not meeting my eyes, "Ah, ok...Let's go then."

He's uncharacteristically quiet and I give his back a lopsided smile, not saying anything to embarrass him further as the two of us head toward camp.

After a while Bofur feels less embarrassed and turns to me. "Thank you for trying to help with the trolls. Poor Bifur couldn't take much more." He says gratefully.

I smile at him, "Of course. It's my fault, I should have stayed away and they never would have stopped rotating you guys."

Bofur stops suddenly and looks at me, eyes wide as if he sees a ghost, "You...you knew!"

I frown and tilt my head, stopping too. "Pardon?"

He pauses and shakes his head for a moment at the ground, brain churning, "You told me! Back when I asked about what we'd face on our quest...you said that we'd face trolls! How did you know?"

I grimace before raising my hands in a shrug, "Seer?"

Not.

He gives me a skeptical look, noticing my expression and not fully believing me, but also confused about the accuracy of the trolls, "But...you said you didn't think you were a seer?"

I sigh, "Bofur, the truth is too complicated, alright? Trust me. It's better that you don't know. Just believe I'm a seer and it'll all work out." At his skeptical look, I roll my eyes, "I promise I'll tell you all eventually. At least before I go home. Alright? By then you won't all think I'm crazy, so it'll be safe to tell you the truth."

Bofur is quiet for a moment before glancing at me, "Still plan on going home when all this is over, then?" He says it as a question, but we both know the answer.

For some reason, I feel bad. As if I'm letting him down, which is ridiculous because this was the plan all along.

I give him a sad smile and nod. Bofur is a sweetheart and he makes Middle Earth a joy to be in. I wish I could take ALL of them with me. They wouldn't fit in my world though. How strange it is, then, that I feel so comfortable here in this one.

He nods, "I understand, o'course. Nothing's more important than family. But, how sure are ye that ye can even GO back though?"

I bite my lip, not liking the direction our conversation has headed at all. I don't have any surety of anything. That's the problem. I don't even know the company's future anymore, let alone my own.

He seems to catch on to my sense of unease and quickly apologizes, "Never you mind, Peyton! If there's a way to get you home, we will see to it that you get back to your family." He gives me a kind smile and a firm nod.

I smile back, my heart touched that HE, unlike Thorin, would be willing to go to the elves if they can help me.

I feel tired of the melancholy in the air and chuckle, "Thanks, Bofur. I would stay but, sadly, you guys don't have chocolate here!...and I need chocolate. So I have to find a way home."

It's the lamest excuse ever, but he doesn't know that.

"Chocolate?" He repeats, intrigued.

Groaning in theatrical agony as we begin walking again, I reply, "YES! Chocolate! Sweet, succulent, delightful chocolate. I need it like the flower needs the sun. OH...and don't let me get STARTED on pizza!"

End of Chapter

Suuuuper short chapter! It was originally part of the previous chapter. I promised you guys the trolls, so here are the trolls! If you leave your thoughts and comments in the review box, I'll send you a box of dwarves in modest underwear as a gift ;) Takers? Anyone?