10. A Sticky Situation

       Roaring.

            It didn’t sound like an animal. It didn’t sound like one of the Trolls. I concluded the noise to be from a fire. A fire. We’re going to be eaten. Though I had fallen unconscious, I didn’t forget the situation I was in, the situation Bilbo and the thirteen Dwarves were stuck in. I also remembered that Gandalf was nowhere in sight.

We were doomed and sure to be eaten by Mountain Trolls. This wasn’t how I expected this journey to go. Of course, I never expected it to be obstacle-free, that would defeat the whole concept of an adventure, after all.

            “Oh!” squeaked a Dwarf. “That’s hot, that’s hot, that’s hot!”

            Were the Trolls cooking Dwarves right now? I moaned, fluttering my eyes open. I tried to move freely but realized my body was contained. I lifted my head up to see I was stuffed in a sack. As my vision cleared, I noticed the majority of the Dwarves, and Bilbo, were alongside me, all engulfed in sacks. A few Dwarves were tied to a spit, which the Trolls were manning. A blazing fire was slowly heating them from below. I swallowed.

            “Don’t bother cooking them,” Sneezy suggested. “Let’s just sit on them and squash them into jelly.”

            “They should be sautéed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage,” said Bert.

            “That does sound quite nice.”

            “Lily,” Bilbo said, relieved. I threw him a somber smile. “You’re awake, thank heavens. Are you all right?”

            “For now.” I sighed. I looked to the spit. “It looks like that’s our fate.”

            “You sound as though you’re giving up.”

            “What can we do, really?”

            “We’ll get out of this, Lily.”

            “How? Gandalf has abandoned us and we’re all in sacks!”

            “We’ll figure something out.”

            I heard some Dwarves nearby throw demands and insults towards the Mountain Trolls.

            “Never mind the seasoning,” Complainer said. “We ain’t got all night. Dawn ain’t far away. Let’s get a move on. I don’t fancy being turned to stone.”

            I saw something click in Bilbo’s head, the gears were turning. He looked to me, a hopeful twinkle in his eyes.

            “Follow my lead,” he whispered.

“What are you thinking?” I raised an eyebrow.

“We’re going to stall them. You heard what he said; they’ll turn to stone when sunlight gets to them!”

Maybe I had been too worried about being eaten to really pay attention to the Troll’s words. Of course. At least Bilbo had a sane mind right now; I was too panicked about dying.

“Good thinking,” I commended my best friend. “But do you really think we can stall them for that long?”

“Daylight shouldn’t be too far off.”

“If you think so. Let’s hope this pays off.”

“Let’s hope.” He looked at the Trolls. “Wait! You are making a terrible mistake.” Bilbo wriggled to get himself standing.

            “You can’t reason with them,” said a Dwarf on the spit. “They’re half-wits!”

            “Half-wits?” Bofur said, who was also on the spit. “What does that make us?”

            Bilbo was now standing in his sack, hopping like a bunny towards the trio of Trolls. My heart hammered anxiously, hoping whatever Bilbo’s idea was pulled through. This was a dire situation of life and death, we couldn’t afford mistakes.

            “I meant with the seasoning,” Bilbo went on, ignoring the Dwarves’ complaints.

            “What about the seasoning?” said Bert.

            “Well, have you smelt them? You’re going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up.”

            “What do you know about cooking Dwarf?” Complainer quizzed.

            “Shut up,” Bert demanded. “Let the flurgaburburhobbit talk.”

            “The secret to cooking Dwarf is…” I could tell Bilbo hadn’t thought up a “secret” on the fly.

            “Yes? Come on. Tell us the secret.”

            “Yes, I’m telling you. The secret is…”

            “To skin them first!” I blurted out. Immediately I knew I had angry Dwarf eyes locked on me. At Bilbo’s rate, he still would have been standing there, thinking, making the Trolls even more impatient than they already were.

            “Yes, yes, that was it!” Bilbo piped. “You’ve got to skin them first.”

            “Tom, get me filleting knife,” Bert said, a hungry look in his eyes.

            The Dwarves, naturally, went into an uproar. I didn’t meet any of their looks.

            “What a load of rubbish,” Complainer snarled. I blanched. “I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on. Scarf them, I say, boots and all.”

            I shuddered, trying not to get a mental image. I didn’t want that to be my fate. I didn’t want to be put in stew or eaten alive. I didn’t want to die in general.

            “He’s right,” Sneezy—Tom—realized. He lumbered over towards the collection of Dwarves and me. “Nothing wrong with a bit of raw Dwarf.” I watched with owl eyes as Tom scooped up Bombur, held him upside down above his massive head. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see what happened next.

            “Oh, not that one,” Bilbo panicked. “He’s infected.”

            “Huh?”

            “You what?” Complainer asked in disbelief.

            “Yeah, he’s got worms in his…tubes,” Bilbo said.

            “Eww!” Tom squealed. He dropped Bombur as if the Dwarf had stung him.

            “In fact,” I piped up, “they all have. They’re infested with parasites. It’s a terrible business. I wouldn’t risk it. I really wouldn’t.”

            “Parasites?” roared a Dwarf. “Did she say “parasites”?”

            “We don’t have parasites,” Kili protested loudly. “You have parasites.”

            I rolled my eyes. Dwarves could be such thick-headed bimbos. We’re trying to help you. Obviously you lot can’t see that!

            Just as their protests rose, they fell silent. I looked at them, and soon they started to catch on to what Bilbo and I were trying to do. Someone caught on.

            “I’ve got parasites as big as my arm!” crowed a Dwarf.

            “Mine are the biggest parasites,” Kili shouted. “I’ve got huge parasites. We’re riddled.”

            “Yes, I’m riddled,” said another Dwarf.

            “What would you have us do, then? Let them all go?” Complainer growled.

            “Well…” Bilbo started.

            “You think I don’t know what you’re up to? These ferrets are taking us for fools!”

            “Ferrets?” Bilbo and I squawked.

            “Fools?” Bert asked.

            “The dawn will take you all!” boomed a familiar, most-welcome voice.

            Out of nowhere, as if he came from thin air, our savior stood upon a rock. My eyes brightened with hope. Gandalf. I had never been so happy to see the old Wizard in all of my life! He hadn’t abandoned us after all!

            “Who’s that?” Complainer asked.

            “No idea,” said Bert.

            “Can we eat him too?” Tom asked.

            Gandalf slammed his staff down on the rock, breaking it in half. One half fell, exposing us all to daylight. The Trolls shrunk from the light, but they couldn’t escape it. Their skin slowly turned stony. I watched in fascination as the creatures slowly became statues.

            The Dwarves and I cheered, knowing we were saved. Without the threat of Trolls to take us, we focused on getting ourselves out of the sacks. Once I was able to move freely again, I tackled Bilbo into a hug, quivering with relief.

            “You did it!” I squealed.

            “You mean we did,” he corrected me.

            I smiled at him. “No, it was all you. I can take no credit. It was your idea, you’re the reason we’re alive right now, Bilbo. You were brilliant!” I ruffled his curly hair. “How lucky are we to have Gandalf come in our direst hour!”

            “I’m just glad I saw him when I did, we nearly ran out of time.”

            “Well, it paid off in the end.” I looked away briefly to see the Dwarves help those on the spit be untied and helped down. I stared at the Troll statues. Nobody would ever believe this back at the Shire.

            Not long after we were all accounted for, Gandalf and Thorin asked for volunteers to go cave hunting. Apparently, they suspected the Trolls had a cave nearby, as how else could they have come down this far? A few of the Dwarves tagged along while some of us remained outside, Bilbo and I included.

            “I’m glad we didn’t lose any of the ponies,” I said, grateful. Speaking of ponies, my Remy came trotting to me. He nuzzled me with his long muzzle. I kissed it tenderly. “I’m glad you’re okay, boy. Those big bad Trolls won’t bother us anymore.” I fingered his black bangs. “Now, go back and join your friends. Go on.” I shooed him off. Remy happily turned the other way to rejoin his companions.

            It was about a half hour later that Gandalf, Thorin, and some of the Dwarves came back from their cave venture. I overheard talk of there being treasure within it. This sparked my curiosity. Maybe if we stopped by here on the journey home, I could take some back with me. It would be the proof I’d want to show off to Jack and Cecelia, to prove that I had gone on an adventure.

            “Bilbo,” said Gandalf. The said Hobbit and I looked to see Gandalf approaching us. “Here.” He held out a sheathed sword that looked so small it could be mistaken for a large letter opener. “This is about your size.” He handed it over to Bilbo, who looked at the weapon uneasily.

            “I can’t take this,” my best friend muttered.

            “The blade is of Elvish make, which means that it will glow blue when Orcs or Goblins are nearby.”

            “Hmm, that sounds useful,” I mused.

            “I have never used a sword in my life,” Bilbo protested.

            “And I hope you never have to. But if you do, remember this: True courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one.” Gandalf’s blue eyes focused on me. “Do not think I forgot about you, Miss Petrova.”

At this point, I didn’t bother to correct him. I just let him call me what he wanted.

The Wizard revealed a few objects to my eyes. Slung on his arm was a sack of about ten arrows, all that looked durable. In the same hand, he held a bow that looked to fit me. In his other hand, I saw a concealed, curved dagger. My eyes bulged.

            “I-is this all mine?” I stammered.

            “I figured you would not want to be left out,” the Wizard said thoughtfully, handing me the bow and arrows first. I slung the sack across me; it fit snugly on my back. I took the bow, feeling its cold metal in my palm. Gandalf then handed me the knife, which I attached since it was on a belt. I examined myself.

            “I look like such a fighter. How misleading.” I chuckled dryly. “I don’t even know how to properly use any of these!”

            “I am sure Kili can help you with archery, as for the knife…well, you know how to swipe at things, don’t you?”

            “Of course.”

            “Something’s coming!” Thorin shouted.

            “Gandalf,” Bilbo said, slightly frightened.

            “Stay together!” Gandalf bellowed. He pulled out a long, thin sword. “Hurry now! Arm yourselves!” He sprinted off, away from us Hobbits.

            Bilbo pulled out his sword, and then exchanged a look with me. Wordlessly, we went to catch up with the rest of the company. They were already armed, all but Kili armed with swords, Kili with his bow. I figured to follow the Dwarf’s example and take the same stance as he did.

            Whatever was headed our way was in a hurry, I could hear foliage be knocked against, rustling loudly in my ears. What were we going to actually fight? It certainly wasn’t Trolls. What other things could pose a danger to our company? A number of things, I thought gravely.

            I staggered back a step as a sleigh pulled by rabbits—I kid you not—crashed into view. The director of the rabbits had become a blur of brown but soon became a steady figure. He was cloaked in brown, with a funny hat atop his head, reminding me of Bofur and his hat. He was bearded, like Gandalf.

            “Thieves!” he shouted. “Fire! Murder!” His eyes held a wild look; I took another step back, wary of our intruder. My arm trembled at holding the arrow in its string for so long. I stole a side-glance at Kili to see his arm strong and stiff as a board.

            “Radagast,” Gandalf said, relieved. “It’s Radagast the Brown.” I relaxed immediately, recalling the Brown Wizard’s name. He was no enemy to us. “Well…” Our Wizard went to the other Wizard. “What on earth are you doing here?”

            “I was looking for you, Gandalf,” said the Brown Wizard, in a high and rapid voice. “Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong!”

            “Yes?”

            Radagast’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He closed his mouth and tried again. Still, no words. Clearly he had forgotten the very reason why he wanted our Wizard’s attention.

            “Just give me a minute,” said the Wizard. “Oh. I had a thought and now I’ve lost it! It was right there on the tip of my tongue!” I saw his tongue curl in a weird way in his mouth. “Oh.” He sounded as though he had something lodged in his mouth. “It’s not a thought at all.” I made a face as Gandalf pulled something off of Radagast’s tongue. “It’s a silly old stick insect.”

            Bilbo and I looked at each other, slightly disturbed and confused.

            Gandalf pulled Radagast aside to talk in private. Two Dwarves were sent off to check on our ponies. The rest of us relaxed and waited while the Wizards talked.

            “Hey, Red, when did you get that?” Kili asked. He’d noticed my new equipment.

            “Gandalf gave them to me just recently; he found them in the Trolls’ cave.” I brandished the curved knife. “I also received this.”

            “You look like someone to not be messed with,” Fili chuckled.

            “I look the part,” I emphasized. “That’s about it.”

            “So then you don’t know how to shoot?” Kili asked me.

            I blushed. “Not at all. Hobbits aren’t exactly natural-born fighters.”

            “I can teach you, if you want me to.”

            I smiled. “I’d appreciate it. I can’t do any good with them if I don’t know how to use them.”

“Don’t worry, when Kili’s done with you, you’ll be just as good as him,” Fili told me.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, brother,” Kili warned his brother. “It could take a while before Red is as good as I am.”

I raised an eyebrow questioningly. “I’ll prove you wrong, Kili. How soon can we start? I say the sooner I learn, the more prepared I’ll be.”

            Kili laughed. “Eager, are we? Hmm…let’s see. How about—”

            A piercing howl cut off his words. Silence fell upon all of us, including the Wizards.

            “Was that a wolf?” Bilbo asked. “Are there wolves out there?”

            “Wolves?” Bofur repeated. “No, that is not a wolf.”

            “Then what is it?” I dared to ask, now looking around us warily.

            A low growl rumbled near our troop. Crunching ground alerted us to our guest, who tried to ambush us from behind. When the creature launched in midair, Thorin met it, striking it down with his sword. I jumped away, my heart beating rapidly in my chest.

            “Kili, get your bow!” Thorin demanded.

 I yelped as another creature—something dog-like—came barreling down towards Thorin. Quick as a whip, Kili shot an arrow, hitting the animal in the shoulder. It tumbled in a mess of paws and teeth down the slope, where the Dwarves finished it off.

I looked from one corpse to the next. These creatures were too big to be wolves, and they looked too different to be dogs. Their fur was wiry-looking, their faces looked to strike fear into the hearts of their prey.

“Warg scouts,” Thorin hissed. “Which means an Orc pack is not far behind.”

“O-Orc pack?” I stammered, feeling my knees knock together.

            It looked like the Dwarves were about to reunite with old enemies.