Saving Durin {Hobbit/Thorin}

Chapter 9: He calls me savior, "That's not my name!"

Chapter 9:

He calls me savior, "That's not my name!"

It is later that night, closer to dawn than midnight, when Gandalf and I return to the camp ground. In these hours of separation from the dwarves, we have been inspecting the road ahead, only turning back when we have a simultaneous gut feeling: the company is in trouble. But are we really surprised? I'm not.

Just as expected, the camp is empty of all activity and dwarves. The remnants of their belongings show no sign of a fight, but a rush to leave the camp. Clearly, you cannot leave dwarves alone for a few hours without them making trouble.

"It is probably nothing. They most likely just ran out of food and went searching, in a frenzy, for more," Gandalf speculates. I have to disagree. My intuition tells me that one of the company must have been kidnapped by the monsters I sensed earlier, prompting the company to rush out of the camp to save him.

Following the tracks of the dwarves, we come across a clearing in which three trolls are roasting members of the company. The remaining dwarves and burglar sit, tied in bags, at the edge of the camp as the trolls rattle on about the best way to cook dwarf. Trolls are dumb, that much is for certain. But the fact that the dwarves have been caught by them shows their own idiocracy. I sigh at the situation.

Our plan, that is mine and Gandalf's plan, consists of me stalling while Gandalf waits for the sunrise. He will then crack the boulder on the east side of the clearing, releasing the awaiting sun onto the trolls, who will turn to stone. As it turns out, Bilbo has a similar plan in mind:

"Ye­­-yes, I'm telling you, the secret is ... to skin them first!" I roll my eyes at the ridiculous excuse, but am glad that the hobbit has the same idea. He will make my plan work all the more smoothly.

"Tom, get me the filleting knife," Bert demands. I know their names as I have been listening in to the conversation.

"If I get you, you little­­," Gloin stutters angrily at the small burglar. Dwarves can be very dense.

"I won't forget that!" Dwalin adds.

"What a load of rubbish! I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Scuff them, I say, boots and all," Tom says. Clearly, he is the smart one of the group, though that does not say much. My guess is that he is the leader of the trio.

Bilbo's head turns to see my head poking out of a bush, twenty yards from him. His face reflects shock before falling into a look of desperation. I nod at him in a reassuring way, though it doesn't seem to give him any hope.

"He's right! Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf! Nice and crunchy," William the troll says before grabbing Bombur, the fattest dwarf. He makes to throw the dwarf into his mouth when Bilbo, once again, speaks up: "Not­­-not that one, he­­-he's infected!"

"You what?" Tom replies. Ignore my previous comment about him being the smart troll; they are all dumb.

"Yeah, He's got worms in his ... tubes," Bilbo asserts, causing the troll to drop Bombur in disgust. To my joy, the dwarf lands on Thorin.

Consider that payback for earlier. Thorin deserves punishment after his rude words.

I stay silent as I step out behind the bushes, making my way closer to the scene while still remaining hidden by the shadows.

"In­­ fact they all have, they're infested with parasites. It's a terrible business; I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't," I speak up, coming into visibility. The dwarves look shocked at my appearance, though angry at my insult. In fact, Dwalin's expression can be described as murderous. And, of course, the trolls are just confused.