The morning sun broke through the clouds, casting a fresh, glistening light over the damp landscape. The dwarves, groggy from their feast the night before, stirred awake one by one. They were greeted by the welcome sight of a clear sky, the storm having finally passed. But almost as soon as they woke, the complaints began.
"We're starving!" one dwarf grumbled as he rubbed his belly, and others soon echoed his sentiment. "Let's get breakfast going! Where's the food?"
They began eyeing the ponies, eager to break into the remaining provisions. But before they could grab at the bags of food, Sirius, who had woken early and was keeping a close watch on the group, rose to his feet and sharply commanded, "Stop it! All of you!"
The dwarves froze, mid-motion, surprised by the stern tone of the usually quiet and resourceful hobbit. Sirius stepped forward, hands on his hips, his gaze sweeping across the group. "This is not some merry little entertainment we're on," he said firmly. "This is a long and dangerous journey to reclaim your home, and we need to be smart about how we handle things."
The dwarves exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of where Sirius was going with this. Some muttered to each other under their breath, displeasure evident in their faces.
"Our provisions are limited," Sirius continued, undeterred by their grumbling. "And we've already lost a pony's worth of food because of the storm. We don't have much money to buy more supplies along the way, and there are no guarantees we'll find food easily in the wild. If we keep eating like we did last night, we'll be starving before we even get halfway to the Lonely Mountain."
The dwarves shifted uncomfortably, their stomachs rumbling. Sirius could see the growing frustration on their faces, but he pressed on. "From now on, we're rationing the food. We'll eat small portions at a time, and I'll make sure we stretch what we have for as long as possible."
"Rationing?" Bofur scoffed. "We can't fight or travel on empty stomachs!"
Others nodded in agreement, but Sirius raised a hand to silence them. "If you want to make it to the Lonely Mountain, you'll have to trust me on this. I've traveled long distances before. I know what it takes to survive when the road is uncertain. And right now, you need to focus on the goal—reclaiming your home, not feasting your way there."
Some of the dwarves grumbled louder, casting angry glances at Sirius and whispering complaints to one another. "He's just a hobbit," Dwalin muttered, "What does he know about long journeys and battles?"
But before their murmuring could escalate, Thorin Oakenshield stood up. His tall, imposing presence immediately silenced the rest. He looked at Sirius, then at his grumbling company. "Jimmy Potter is right," Thorin said, his voice deep and commanding. "We are not children on a picnic. This journey will be hard, and we must be prepared to face challenges far greater than hunger. If Jimmy says we need to ration the food, then we will do so."
The dwarves, though still visibly unhappy, respected their leader's decision. They knew Thorin wouldn't steer them wrong, and if he was willing to trust the hobbit, then they had little choice but to follow.
Thorin turned to Sirius, nodding in acknowledgment. "You have traveled more than we know, and if we are to reclaim our home, then we must rely on more than just brute strength. Wisdom and experience will guide us as much as anything else. Lead us in this matter, and we will follow your plan."
Sirius gave a short nod in return, grateful for Thorin's support. He knew the dwarves would need time to fully accept the idea, but at least they were listening.
And so, the morning passed with Sirius overseeing the careful rationing of their food, splitting small portions among the company. It wasn't a feast, but it was enough to keep them going. The dwarves ate in silence, no longer laughing and boasting as they had the night before. Now, the reality of their quest seemed to settle more heavily on their shoulders.
As they packed up their camp and prepared to move on, the dwarves, though still grumbling, began to understand that this was no leisurely adventure. They were on a quest that required sacrifice and discipline. And for the first time, Sirius saw a shift in their attitudes. They might not like it, but they were beginning to respect the little hobbit who had saved them from their own recklessness.
The second day of their journey had come to an end, and as dusk settled in, the company arrived at the south side of the Weather Hills. The long day's ride had worn them all out, and Thorin called for them to make camp. The dwarves worked in unison, unpacking their supplies and setting up their tents, eager for some rest. But just as they began, an unsettling realization dawned on them.
"Where are the ponies?" Balin exclaimed, looking around with wide eyes. Several of the ponies that had carried their food and supplies were nowhere to be seen.
"Blasted animals," Dwalin muttered, frustration brewing. "Must've wandered off while we were distracted."
"Or something else took 'em," Bombur said nervously, glancing at the darkening horizon.
Sirius stepped forward, his face calm but his mind already working through possible solutions. "Stay here," he commanded. "Get your tents up and have something to eat. I'll go find the ponies."
The dwarves nodded, some still grumbling, but they trusted him now after his wise rationing plan. Sirius, determined not to let the situation escalate, set off into the night, slipping quietly through the underbrush.
He moved swiftly but carefully, his senses heightened as he kept a sharp eye out for any signs of the missing animals. After some time, a strange sight caught his attention in the distance—a flickering glow, like a massive fire pit. As he crept closer, he saw the unmistakable silhouettes of three hulking figures sitting around the flames.
Trolls.
Sirius ducked behind a tree, peering cautiously from his hiding spot. The trolls sat grumbling and gnashing their teeth, tossing bones into the fire. Tied up not far from them, near the edge of the camp, were the missing ponies.
"...always mutton, mutton, mutton," one of the trolls complained, thumping his fist on the ground in frustration. "I'm sick of it. I wanna try something different, somethin' special!"
"Ponies, maybe," another troll suggested with a wicked grin. "Haven't had those in a while. Nice and tender."
Sirius frowned, recognizing the danger. The trolls had clearly stolen the ponies, and if he didn't act soon, they would end up on the creatures' dinner menu. With his wand at the ready, Sirius considered using a spell to solve the problem. He could easily cast Lumos Solarum, a spell that would summon brilliant sunlight and turn the trolls to stone. But he hesitated—using such obvious magic would draw attention, possibly jeopardizing his secrecy and putting the entire quest at risk.
He weighed his options. The easiest solution would be to kill the trolls with magic, but that would expose him as more than just a resourceful hobbit. The last thing he needed was to be questioned about his true identity or powers by either the dwarves or Gandalf.
No. He would try stealth first. If things went wrong, he could always fall back on magic as a last resort.
Sirius crouched low, moving silently along the shadows, keeping his eyes on the trolls who were too distracted by their argument to notice him. He made his way closer to where the ponies were tied. Slowly, carefully, he approached the ropes that bound them.
The ponies snorted nervously, but Sirius soothed them with a gentle touch, whispering softly to calm them. He grabbed a knife from his belt and began cutting through the ropes, keeping one eye on the trolls as they continued their bickering.
"Maybe we could roast 'em real slow, eh?" one of the trolls suggested, licking his lips.
"Yeah, yeah! Roast 'em slow, nice and crispy!" another one agreed with a laugh.
Sirius worked faster, silently cutting through the remaining bindings. He could feel the tension rising in the air, knowing that any noise, any sudden movement could alert the trolls to his presence.
Just as he freed the last pony, one of the trolls sniffed the air and turned its head slightly. "Oi," it muttered, narrowing its eyes toward the trees. "You smell somethin'?"
Sirius froze, holding his breath. His heart raced as the troll stood up, towering over the campfire, squinting into the darkness.
"Bah, probably nothin'," the other troll grumbled, waving him off. "Just your imagination."
After a tense moment, the curious troll sat back down, shaking its head. Sirius let out a silent breath of relief, leading the ponies slowly away from the camp. He kept his movements deliberate, steady, making sure not to startle the animals or make any noise that could give him away.
Once they were a safe distance from the trolls, Sirius allowed himself to relax a little. He had managed to avoid using magic and kept the ponies safe, at least for now. Leading them back toward the dwarves' camp, he moved swiftly but carefully, eager to get them far away from the trolls' clutches.
Stealing the ponies from the trolls without being noticed was no small feat, even for someone like Sirius. While he initially relied on stealth, subtle magic was still necessary to avoid disaster. With a whispered incantation, he masked the scent of both himself and the ponies. A Muffliato charm followed, ensuring that the sound of their footsteps would be completely silent. The ponies, now under the spell, moved as quietly as shadows, and Sirius began to lead them away from the trolls' camp.
But he knew that simply returning to their camp wasn't enough. If the trolls caught wind of their absence, they would surely come looking. Sirius decided to take a long detour, guiding the ponies through the narrow paths and hidden passageways of the Weather Hills. His journey took longer than expected, but he couldn't afford to be hasty. The trolls were still grumbling behind him, none the wiser to the theft, and he had to ensure the safety of the dwarves and their provisions.
After what felt like hours, Sirius finally made his way back to the dwarves' camp, expecting to find them anxiously waiting. But to his shock and frustration, only two dwarves—Balin and Oin—were there, sitting by the fire looking just as confused as he felt.
Sirius's irritation flared. "Where are the others?" he demanded, his voice tight.
Balin scratched his beard, looking sheepish. "They, uh... decided to go look for you."
"Look for me?" Sirius echoed incredulously. "I told them to stay put!"
"Aye, we tried to stop them," Oin added, "but you know how they are. Impulsive lot. Reckoned something had happened to you and thought they could be heroes."
Sirius closed his eyes for a moment, trying to suppress the urge to scream. It was bad enough dealing with trolls and stolen ponies, but now half the company had wandered off into the night, potentially walking straight into the trolls' arms.
"Morons," Sirius muttered under his breath. He tied the ponies to a nearby tree and turned to the two older dwarves. "Stay here and watch over the ponies and provisions. I don't care what happens—don't leave this spot."
Balin nodded, looking a little embarrassed. "Aye, we won't move. We'll guard 'em."
"Good." Sirius grabbed his wand, ready to venture out once more. The trolls might still be near, and the last thing they needed was a full-blown confrontation.
He moved quickly, following the path back toward where he had seen the trolls. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of anger and worry surging through him. How could the dwarves be so reckless? He had warned them to stay put, and yet they ignored his clear instructions.
It didn't take Sirius long to find the trail of the Company of Dwarves. His worst fears were confirmed when he arrived near the trolls' camp—every one of the dwarves had been captured. The trolls had tied them up, stripped them of their weapons, and were discussing how best to cook them. Sirius, hiding behind a large boulder, observed the scene carefully. None of the dwarves appeared injured, but they were utterly helpless, their hands bound and mouths muzzled.
Sirius's mind raced. A direct fight using magic could work, but it would draw too much attention to himself, and he didn't want to risk exposing his full abilities just yet. He needed a more cunning approach. Surveying the surrounding area, he spotted a cluster of hollow logs and rocks nearby. A mischievous grin spread across his face as a plan began to form.
Using his wand, Sirius conjured a megaphone-like structure out of the hollow logs, amplifying his voice to an intimidating volume. With a deep, rumbling voice, he began, "Who dares disturb the Lord of the Mountains? You miserable trolls are disrupting my sleep!"
The trolls froze, confused and startled by the thunderous voice. They looked around, trying to figure out where it was coming from.
Sirius continued, now mocking them. "Look at you! Dressed like raggedy beggars, you have no sense of style! And what's that smell? Oh, I see, it's just your stinking culture of eating mutton every day. Pathetic!"
The trolls' confusion quickly turned to rage. They grunted and growled, looking for the source of the insult.
"Fight each other," Sirius boomed, "and I will grant the winner a reward—a magical club that will make you invincible! You'll be king of all trolls, feared by everyone, even the elves won't be able to touch you!"
The trolls, greedy and simple-minded, perked up at the thought of such a powerful weapon. But they hesitated, unsure whether to trust the voice.
To further convince them, Sirius waved his hand, summoning a few magical fireworks he had stashed away—Gandalf's handiwork from one of their earlier stops. The bright flashes of light and booming sounds awed the trolls, cementing their belief in the unseen "Lord of the Mountains."
Eager for power, the trolls turned on each other. "I'll be the king!" one shouted, swinging a massive fist at another.
"You? You're barely fit to hold a club, let alone rule!" another troll roared, grabbing a nearby log and using it as a club to strike back.
The dwarves, still tied up, watched in shock as the trolls began an all-out brawl, punching, kicking, and tossing each other around in their frenzy to win the "enchanted" club. Their brute strength shook the ground, and the noise was deafening.
While the trolls were distracted, Sirius crept toward the dwarves. He whispered quick incantations, undoing their bindings one by one. Thorin, the last to be freed, stared at Sirius with a mix of disbelief and grudging respect.
"We need to go, now," Sirius whispered urgently.
"But what about our weapons?" Thorin asked, his voice low but urgent.
"No time," Sirius hissed. "We'll retrieve them later. The trolls won't notice anything in their state."
The dwarves, though rattled, followed Sirius's lead. Moving stealthily, they escaped the trolls' camp and took cover behind a ridge, far enough away to avoid detection. From their new vantage point, they could still hear the trolls' battle raging on.
But Sirius had a growing concern. The trolls were so consumed by their fight that they hadn't noticed the sky lightening in the east. Morning was approaching, and trolls turned to stone in the sunlight. Sirius wasn't sure whether they would return to their cave in time, but he couldn't take any chances. Just as he was about to suggest a retreat, a familiar voice cut through the chaos.
"Step aside!" Gandalf's booming voice echoed through the clearing. The wizard appeared from behind a large stone, his staff raised high. With a sharp crack, he struck the boulder, splitting it in two. Sunlight streamed through the crack, directly onto the trolls.
The trolls barely had time to react before they froze mid-fight, their massive bodies turning instantly to stone. Their grotesque expressions, once filled with rage and greed, were now locked in place forever.
The dwarves, still crouched behind the ridge, breathed a collective sigh of relief. Gandalf approached them, his expression stern but amused.
"I see you've all had quite the adventure," Gandalf said, looking at the weary faces of the Company. "Jimmy, I trust you managed to keep them out of too much trouble?"
Sirius raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smirk. "Trouble seems to follow them, but yes, they're in one piece. Barely."
Thorin stood, brushing off dirt and grass. "We were reckless," he admitted. "But it seems we have you and... Jimmy to thank for saving us."
Sirius nodded. "Next time, perhaps follow instructions before charging into danger."
The dwarves grumbled in agreement, and the group, now safe, began retrieving their weapons and preparing to move on. But as they gathered their things, Sirius couldn't help but wonder—if trolls were this troublesome, what worse dangers lay ahead?
Author's Note:
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