Hey guys, just wanted to give a thanks to everyone who's been reading and commenting asking me to update. It helps me decide which stories to focus on and get the next chapter up sooner since I have a few different stories. I know it mig not be a good thing in some peoples' eyes because it might mean I'm getting lazy but to me it's great because it means that people actually want to read more of my writing. So thanks again and on with the story.
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Relentlessly, the company searched for a cave in the nearby rock face. It seemed hopeless of such a large area but still they kept at it, driven by the prospect of the treasures that may lay within. Approximately three wasted traveling hours later, Niatha came across a fissure in the otherwise solid mountain. Vines and Ivy crawled along the outer edges, clutching at the crumbling rock. Some were even so overgrown that they hung limp over the entrance, making it almost easily missable. Almost. Stepping tentatively inside, the girl let out a gasp: it was a magnificent troll hoard! Hazing around at the glittering coins--and many other gems and jewels of various kinds as well--piled to the ceiling on every wall. It seemed these trolls had been very busy on the long journey south. In the corner lay piles of weapons strewn with silken cobwebs. A barrel also held a number of elven-looking blades.
Niatha strode outside and hollered the rest of the company at her find. Soon, like sparrows to grain, they flocked to the cave with expressions of awe and wonder grafted to their features as they entered. Only once the initial shock wore off did Niatha finally notice the foul, malodorous stink emanating from the very walls. For the smell of troll will find any place to sink it's grasping tendrils and seek a foothold in any place.
"Urgh! What's that stench?" Nori cried upon entering. He held his arm fully across his nose, muffling the sound.
"It's a troll hoard. Be careful what you touch." Gandalf warned in apprehension of nasty things from filthy, troll-infested caverns.
As almost everyone retched at the odour, Bofur stood contemplating. "Seems a shame just to leave it lyin' around. Anyone could take it."
"Agreed. Nori, get a shovel." The three began digging a small hole in which to hide a few of the treasures for safekeeping.
Meanwhile, Gandalf was examining the swords in one of the many barrels and baskets littering the ground. He drew a web-encased blade partway our of its intricate sheath and scrutinised it with a trained eye. His icy gaze traced the detail of the pommel and handle right down the blade and even the simple sheath. Coming away from the gleaming sword, the wizard looked slightly perplexed at what he'd found. Even Thorin lifted one for his own interest. He seemed impressed by the craftsmanship of the weapons and held a certain admiration in his eyes.
"These were forged in Gondolin by the high elves of the first age." speculated Gandalf. Thorin immediately dropped the sword he'd been holding back into the bucket and made to move away.
"You could not wish for a finer blade!" The wizard snapped at the stubborn prince. Reluctantly, Thorin once again gathered the blade and held on to it.
Niatha, however, paid little heed to this conversation for her attention was entirely enraptured by another blade nearby. It hung carelessly from a fraying straw basket. From what was visible outside the sheath, the girl could see an ivory pommel on leather bound grip handle. The handle was slightly hooked to fit around the fist for a better holding position. Delicately, she knelt to lift the sword with both hands. Then (clasping the handle in a practiced manor for this make of sword) she drew a shimmering silver blade. It was as long as from her shoulder to hip and curved: the dull edge of the metal was a slight arc where the sharp edge was much like that of the sword Thorin had kept. It flashed in the limited rays of sunlight coming from the cave's opening, boasting lavish decorations of animalistic motifs and knotted patterns. This was no sword of trolls or orcs or men or even dwarves or elves. This was the the sword of a Skinchanger.
A strangled cry broke free of the mechanical visor Niatha kept so unwavering in her desperate attempts to hide who she truly was. It gained the attention of Gandalf and Thorin though Gandalf was the only one to go to her aid: Thorin felt he might be best left out of this private exchange, ordering the other dwarves to do so as well while they made a 'long term deposit'.
"My dear, whatever is the matter?" He asked in a somewhat frantic demeanour.
"This sword... It belonged to one of my people. It has been so long, Mithrandir, since I have seen anything to remind me of its once glorious existence in this world." Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. "How do you think they came by this blade?"
"It is most likely that they made a stop via the Misty Mountains and paid the Great Goblin for it."
"I believe this may have belonged to my family; the pommel is carved relatively feline as my form is it not?"
"It is indeed Niatha. It is indeed."
"I shall keep it as a reminder of who I am. Never shall our race fall so easily as the goblins first thought." Determination was palpable from even her soft voice.
"You are indeed admirable in your faith to your people, Niatha, but we must away to Rivendell. Just don't tell the dwarves."
"Gandalf! You know I worry about showing myself to the elves. Who knows what they may think of me!" She hissed in reply to the wizard's latter remark.
"Lord Elrond is not like those who dwell east of Haethelglir. The elves of Rivendell are wise and will welcome you, I am sure of it." The wizened man gave Niatha his warmest smile in the hopes of bringing her at least a small amount of comfort.
"I still do not trust the elves, no matter what you say. I will have to see it to believe it." Gandalf threw his hands up in exasperation. Niatha took that as her queue to leave.
Back in the fresh air, Niatha inhaled like it was her last breath of this fine crispy scent of damp moss and thriving woods. The girl was so pleased to be somewhat rid of the stench of troll that she even skipped a little to the trees. Alas, that was where her glee ended for a sound snapped her attention deeper into the trees. Like a cat--though she was really a feline anyway--she listened again. There. The frantic pattering of dozens of tiny paws beating against the forest floor, leaping over logs and avoiding collision with trees.
Niatha zipped back to the entrance of the cave to warn the rest of the company. When she got back she realised Thorin too had noticed something amiss.
"Something's coming." She stated in a low voice that came out louder in the quietude of morning. Everyone heard.
"Gandalf-" Bilbo was about to ask the wizard something when he was cut short.
"Stay together. Hurry now, arm yourselves." He gripped the sword he had just claimed from the hoard.
Swords and bows were drawn. Axes and maces readied in anticipation. Niatha saw Bilbo draw a very small sword of elvish make (clearly from the troll hoard for all the cobwebs still attached) that seemed just his size. Bless his heart, he fumbled around with the blade so helplessly it was clear for everyone to see the hobbit had never once held anything bigger than a pear knife. Niatha would only go as far as meat cleaver, but even that was unlikely. The blade did not glow blue; not orcs then. So what was it?
A torrent of oversized rabbits exploded from the forest, followed by a rickety sled upon which a man stood. His speed was of such magnitude that the dwarves feared they would crash right into them just as the sled halted right before them.
"Thieves! Fire! Murder!" The old man clamoured, waving his staff in the air. The top of the thing was twisted in a similar way to Gandalf's but it a much more unruly shape. A deep blue crystal seemed to be embedded within its twining confines.
Only when the wizard had calmed down a tad and stopped shaking could the group get a proper look at him. The first word popping to mind was 'mad'. This man looked utterly bonkers in every respect. His brown robes were patched in too many places to count and appeared as though wash water hadn't caught a glimpse of them for a considerable time. The brown wooly hat upon his lengthy, matted brown hair was in rather a similar shape to Bofur's! And pouring from beneath the wooly brim, was a suspicious looking substance of a white and green colour. Even the wizard's eyes spoke of restlessness as they flicked in every direction under bushy eyebrows and a beard almost as long as Gandalf's
"Radagast! Radagast the Brown." Niatha and a few other dwarves lowered their weapons at the recognition in their friend's voice. Thorin and Dwalin were not among that number. "Ah. What on earth are you doing here?"
"I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong!" Even Radagast's calm voice was stuttering and seemed to go full speed ahead!
"Yes?" But all Radagast did was open and shut his mouth for a time like he'd forgotten what he was about to say.
"Oh, just give me a minute. Um, oh, I had a thought, and now I lost it. It was on the tip of my tongue..." He curled up his tongue and went cross eyes looking at it in surprise. Gandalf plucked the thing from Radagast's tongue "Oh, it's not a thought at all, it's a silly old stick insect."
Everyone looked a little flustered at this man--who was now, officially (in their eyes), more of a blundering fool than Bilbo. Upon noticing this, Gandalf led Radagast off a few paces where they could speak a little more privately. Niatha had other ideas and used her acute hearing to sit on a boulder as unsuspiciously as possible and listen in.
"The Greenwood is sick, Gandalf. A darkness has fallen over it. Nothing grows anymore, at least nothing good." Niatha moved to stroke and pet the rabbits who patiently awaited their master. "The air is foul with decay. But worse are the webs." Webs?
"Webs? What do you mean?" Gandalf's brows were now knitted in worry.
"Spiders, Gandalf. Giant ones. Some kind of spawn of Ungoliant, or I am not a wizard. I followed their trail. They came from Dol Guldur." Gandalf gasped.
"Dol Guldur? But the old fortress is abandoned!"
"No Gandalf. Tis not."