“It's better than a leathery ol' farmer. All skin and bone he was. I’m still pickin' bits of him out o' me teeth.” The Trolls continued to converse. Seeing as how they were deep in conversation Bilbo moved from his hiding place and darted forwards quietly. Suddenly hearing a sneeze he stopped and hid behind a tree. Taking to advantage their distraction Bilbo managed to move from the tree all the way to the pen. A thick rope was coiled around the branches. Reaching up he started tackling it. It was tied up very well and very tightly. It was no good, the rope was not budging, ducking around the side Bilbo stood stock still as one of the Trolls stepped forwards to inspect their dinner.
Hearing the metallic impact of him being hit on the head, Bilbo quickly moved back round. He took to rather pathetically tugging on the rope, yet it still wouldn't budge. Looking up at the sight of a sharp blade which was behind the belt of the Troll, Bilbo raised a thoughtful eyebrow. Moving silently forwards he managed to sneak all the way and stand silently. Looking at the blade he sighed quietly. How was he going to get that? Just as he reached out to try the Troll stood only to sit moments later, at this point Bilbo had casually crouched down looking most unamused by the position he had just found himself in.
As soon as the Troll was seated again, he reached out to try and get the blade, only to suddenly find himself being scooped up and ungracefully used as a handkerchief. He laid truly confused by the moment in the hand of the Troll which was holding him.
“Ah!” The Troll which was holding him said in a tone of shock. “Blimey! Bert! Bert, look what's come out of me hooter! It's got arms and legs and everything!” At this all three of the Trolls crowded around to look.
“What is it?” The one addressed as Bert asked.
“I don't know,” the one holding Bilbo said. “But I don't like the way it wriggles around!” At this Bilbo found himself flung to the floor with a quiet thud.
“What are you then? An oversized squirrel?” Bert asked.
“I'm a burglar...uh, Hobbit!” Bilbo said quickly and with a frown.
“Can we cook him?”
“We can try!” Suddenly being lurched for, Bilbo made an attempt to get away only for Bert to come up beside him and bat him away with what seemed to be a ladle.
“He wouldn't make more than a mouthful. Not when he's skinned and boned!”
“He's too quick!”
“Oh, come here! You little...” Trailing off Bilbo had gave a good run around only to find himself being gripped onto and yanked upwards. “Gotcha! Are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn't?”
“No.” Bilbo answered.
“I am not!” Bilbo retorted.
“Hold his toes over the fire. Make him squeal!” This sentence didn't last long before a pained noise came from the Troll.
Kíli had appeared and struck his sword against his leg. “Drop him!”
“You what?” Came the almost outstanding confused reply.
“I said, drop him.” Kíli repeated with a grin while twirling his sword in his hand. He didn't think the Trolls would take his words literally because Bilbo was thrown in the air over to him. Landing in a heap the two quickly scrambled up just to see the rest of the company run out from the bushes.
“You purposely looking for trouble?” Bilbo looked up just to see Náriel skid past an oncoming hand. “Or does trouble just find you?”
“It was their idea,” Bilbo defended while quickly glancing at Fíli and Kíli who were – amongst the others – into the fighting. “The knife.”
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Calm The Fire (UNDER EDITING)Fanfiction
It is a little known fact that Thorin had come to dislike the race of elves; but perhaps it hasn't always been this way, maybe, just maybe, once upon a time there wasn't such high disdain held towards them. The dwarf-Prince's heart isn't as nearly a...