9. To the Rescue

            I paled. “What do you mean there’s only fifteen? How could you have lost two of them?” Immediately I hoped Remy wasn’t one of the two who had suddenly disappeared.

            “We don’t know. Let’s take a tally and see whose missing.”

            The four of us went around the area, counting the ponies. I found Remy who was a bit flighty; I calmed him down with soft, soothing words. Maybe one of the two missing ponies had been near him, or he had seen something.

            We all met back together a few moments later.

            “Daisy and Bungo are missing,” Kili reported.

            “Well, that’s not good,” Bilbo stammered, laughing nervously. “That’s not good at all. Shouldn’t we tell Thorin?”

            “Uh, no,” said Fili. “Let’s not worry him.”

            “That would put him in a cheery mood,” I said sarcastically.

            “As our official burglar, we thought you might like to look into it,” Fili said, directing his words to Bilbo. I had to remember that I was never a part of the contract; I was just another addition to the company. Bilbo was their official burglar.

            “Well, uh…Look”—Bilbo nodded towards the downed tree closest to us—“something big uprooted these trees.”

            “That was our thinking,” Kili murmured.

            “It’s something very big,” I concluded.

            “And possibly quite dangerous,” Bilbo added apprehensively.

            “Hey,” Fili called lowly. “There’s a light. Over here.”

            We caught up with Fili, who was crouched behind a downed tree. In the distance, I could see faint light bouncing off the trees. We weren’t the only inhabitants in this area. I swallowed, wondering if it wasn’t too late for my nightmare to start coming true at this point. I flinched as I heard gruff laughter.

            “What is it?” I asked incredulously.

            “Trolls,” Kili growled. He bounded over the tree, his brother followed him. I sat the bowl of stew on the tree as I passed over it. I looked over my shoulder to see Bilbo following with both bowls of stew in each hand. I rolled my eyes. Of all the things to worry about, I was pretty sure the stew was at the very bottom of the list.

            Faint quaking under our feet made Bilbo and I take cover behind the uprooted trunk of a nearby tree. There were panicked squeals of terror coming from two ponies. My heart clenched. What business did Trolls have in the forest? What right did they have to steal our ponies? I blanched when I realized what was going on. They’re hungry. They’re stealing our ponies so they can eat them.

            I peeked around the trunk to see a massive, thickly-built figure stomp through the woods. Two struggling ponies kicked at air. I recognized both of the ponies: Myrtle and Remy. I let out a squeak of terror but quickly covered my mouth. The Troll didn’t notice, it kept trudging along towards the fire. They’re going to take all of the ponies. They see free dinner.

            “He’s got Myrtle and Remy,” I hissed. “I think they’re going to eat them. We’ve got to do something!” I looked from the brothers to Bilbo.

            “Yes, our burglar should,” Kili said. Bilbo immediately shook his head vigorously, trying to protest. “Mountain Trolls are slow and stupid, and he’s so small, they’ll never see him. It’s perfectly safe. We’ll be behind him.”

            “Wait, what about me?” I piped. “That’s my pony that bloke’s got. I should be going with him to help.”

            “Are you sure that’s smart, Red?” Fili asked me.

            “I’m not just going to stand on the sidelines while my pony is in danger. Besides, I’m sure Bilbo would appreciate the extra hand.” I looked to my best friend, awaiting his approval.

            “I was actually going to agree with them, Lily.” Bilbo didn’t meet my eye.

            I snorted in disbelief. “I may not be your designated burglar, but I am still a part of this company.” I looked at the brothers. “I’m going in with him, and neither of you will stop me.”

            “All right, then.” Fili sighed. He took the stews off of Bilbo’s hands. “If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl.”

            “Twice like a barn owl,” Bilbo told himself. “No, twice like a brown—once like a—like a—”

            “Oh come on!” I said impatiently, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him along behind me. “I’m sure if trouble arises we won’t be specific on our calls.”

            “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Bilbo stammered.

            I didn’t answer him; I just pulled him behind me through the brush. As I led us closer to the Trolls’ den, voices travelled to us.

            “Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and, blimey, if it don’t look like mutton again tomorrow,” a low, grumbling voice complained.

            “Quit your griping,” another gruff voice snapped. “These ain’t sheep. These is fresh nags.”

            “Oh, I don’t like horse!” said a third voice, which was slightly higher than the previous two. “I never have. Not enough fat on them.”

            Past our cover, I could make out the trio of Trolls around a roaring fire with a cauldron hanging over it. One of the Trolls had to be the cook; he wore an apron and was stirring the contents inside the cauldron. Another Troll sat near him, who looked to be a bit cross-eyed. The final Troll lumbered over towards a Troll-made pen, where he put Myrtle and Remy in with some of the other ponies. I could barely see their frightened pawing at their enclosure.

            “Well, it’s better than leathery old farmer,” said the cook. My eyes bugged. What did the Troll just say? “All the skin and bone, he was. I’m still picking bits of him out of me teeth.”

            “Well, now I know what happened to the owner of that house near our camp,” I whimpered lowly. I swallowed. “Come on, we’ve got to get to the pen.”

            Bilbo and I slunk around in our cover. I heard one of the Trolls sneeze loudly, making me cringe. I heard something splash into the cauldron’s contents. I made a face. I don’t want to believe that’s what happened, but it’s the only logical explanation.

            “Well, that’s lovely, that is,” said Cook. “A floater.” I nearly gagged even though I didn’t see what the soup had in it. The mental image was bad enough.

            “Might improve the flavor,” said Pony-Napper.

            “Ah, there’s more where that came from,” Sneezy said.

            “Oh, no, you don’t!” Cook roared. Sneezy howled in pain—no doubt Cook got his nose. “Sit down!”

            There was a dull thud as Sneezy sat back on his stump. My eyes kept glancing over at the Trolls as they hovered over the fire. Bilbo and I finally got to the pen. The gate was tied with a thick rope, the only thing separating the ponies from freedom. I took the first crack at getting the rope loose. It was too tight. Bilbo nudged me aside and gave it his go. We both tried but to no avail. I huffed, staring at the rope as if I could burn through it.

            “Well, I hope you’re gonna gut these nags,” Sneezy said. “I don’t like the stinky parts. Ow.” No doubt Cook hit him again.

            “I said sit down,” Cook commanded.

            “I’m starving,” Pony-Napper—or should I say, Complainer—moaned. “Now, are we having horse tonight or what?”

            “Shut your cakehole,” Cook growled. “You’ll eat what I give you.”

            “Lily, look!” Bilbo whispered.

            “What?” I asked.

            “See what that one Troll’s got?”

            I squinted to see Sneezy have some sort of sharp weapon latched to him. My eyes lit up, my brain clicked together what Bilbo was getting at. We needed that weapon to cut the rope; it was probably the only way it would come apart.

            “How comes he’s the cook?” Complainer ranted. “Everything tastes the same. Everything tastes like chicken.”

            “Except the chicken,” Sneezy voiced.

            “What tastes like fish!”

            “I’m just saying a little appreciation would be nice,” Cook said. “‘Thank you very much, Bert. Lovely stew, Bert.’ How hard is that?”

            “I’m going there and getting it,” Bilbo said, slowly creeping along the pen.

            “Be careful!” I said, watching the scene warily. I didn’t bother trying with the rope any more, I couldn’t do anything unless I had something sharp on me.

            The ponies acknowledged Bilbo as he crept along. He shushed them as he passed.

            “Just needs a sprinkle of squirrel dung,” Cook—Bert—thought aloud. I wrinkled my nose. “Here, that’s my grog.”

            “Sorry,” Sneezy said. Bert whacked him with the spoon. “Ow.”

            “Ooh. That’s beautifully balanced, that is. Wrap your laughing gear around that, eh?” Bilbo was right behind Sneezy now. “Good, isn’t it?” Bert chuckled. “That’s why I’m the cook.”

            Sneezy stood up, scratching his massive bum. Bilbo looked to me with a disgusted look, I mirrored him. I’d hate to be where he was right now.

            “Oh, me guts are grumbling,” Complainer voiced. “I got to snaffle something. Flesh, I need flesh.”

            What happened next put a wrench in our plan.

            Sneezy reached behind him to grab his handkerchief, only he snatched Bilbo as well. I covered my mouth with my hands as I saw Sneezy blow into what he believed to be his tissue, when really, he just covered my best friend in boogers. I swallowed back the bile that threatened to come out of me. Sneezy, realizing what he had in his hand, panicked.

            “Blimey!” he cried. “Bert. Bert! Look what’s come out of me hooter. It’s got arms and legs and everything.”

            I slapped my forehead, too stunned to really think straight. Of all the things to happen!

            “What is it?” Bert asked.

            “I don’t know,” Sneezy replied. “But I don’t like the way it wriggles around.” With a flick of his hand, he tossed Bilbo away. My best friend landed harshly on the ground, covered in snot and now dirt, leaves, and twigs. This was not his finest hour, for sure.

            “What are you, then?” Complainer questioned. “An oversized squirrel?”

            “I’m a burglar—uh, Hobbit,” Bilbo said quickly.

            “A burglar Hobbit?” Sneezy said.

            “Can we cook him?” Complainer asked, a hint of eagerness in his tone. My heart dropped into my feet. Oh no.

            “We can try.”

            The trio of Trolls started to herd in on Bilbo, leaving my friend with no way to escape them.

            “He wouldn’t make more than a mouthful,” Bert said. “Not when he’s skinned and boned.”

            “Perhaps there’s more burglar Hobbits around these parts,” Complainer said. Immediately Bilbo stole a glance at me. I dived into the brush, hoping none of the Trolls saw me. “Might be enough for a pie. Grab him!”

            I watched in terror as the Trolls tried to grab my best friend.

            “He’s too quick!” Sneezy complained.

            “Come here, you little—” Complainer grunted. I gasped as Complainer got Bilbo by his feet, hanging him upside dangerously high in the air, eye level with the Trolls. “Gotcha. Are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn’t?”

            “No,” Bilbo squeaked.

            “He’s lying,” Sneezy sneered.

            “No, I’m not.”

            My body froze as I swore I saw one of the Trolls look right in my direction. He must’ve heard my gasp from earlier. I scrambled further into cover as he charged for me. I turned on my heel and barely got a step on the ground before I was lifted high in the air. I screamed, being held upside down. I was glad for wearing trousers and not a dress. That would have not ended well, not that this was ending any better.

            “Here’s another one!” Sneezy said, having me dangle upside down.

            “Let go of me!” I cried.

            “Are there more of you lying around here?” Complainer interrogated Bilbo.

            “No, none,” I said shortly.

            “Hold their toes over the fire. Start with him first. Make him squeal,” Sneezy suggested.

            Someone squealed all right, but it wasn’t Bilbo. It was Sneezy.

            He threw me up into the air, grabbing at his leg, howling in pain. I screamed, falling fast towards the ground. I didn’t meet ground, instead I met strong arms. I looked to see Kili had come to the rescue. I smiled, grateful for his timing.

            He set me down on my feet before focusing on the Trolls who held Bilbo still. He swung his sword around, ready to pick more of a fight.

            “Drop him!” Kili demanded.

            “You what?” Complainer asked.

            “I said, drop him.”

            Complainer did as Kili wished; he flung Bilbo over to us. Bilbo knocked into me, sending me into the ground.

            “Sorry, Lily,” he grunted, immediately clambering off me.

            As I sat up, the company of Dwarves joined Kili as they took on the Mountain Troll trio.  I watched in awe and fear as the Dwarves went to work hammering on the Trolls. Bilbo pulled me to my feet.

            “Stay out of trouble,” he ordered. He started dashing away.

            “Where are you going?” I called, dodging as one of the Troll’s arms tried to knock me on my back.

            I couldn’t focus on what Bilbo was thinking, because I was too busy avoiding the Dwarves and Trolls, all the chaos. I dove for cover, near the pony pen, just as the gate was shoved wide open. The Trolls’ dinner galloped off to safety. I let out a whoop of joy. Our boys and girls lived to see new days! So that was what Bilbo was up to, fetching that weapon or whatever it was!

            My enthusiasm became my downfall. I was grabbed harshly around my middle by one of the Trolls. I felt suffocated, constricted. I couldn’t struggle much, his grip was pretty firm. I began to feel lightheaded.

            As I was held high in the air, I saw that the fighting ceased. I looked dazedly to see the other two Trolls holding Bilbo.

            “Lay down your arms,” Complainer demanded, “or we’ll rip his off. And we’ll squeeze the little one till she pops.”

            I looked to the Dwarves, pleading them to do something instead of look at the beasts. With a heavy look in his eyes, Thorin put away his sword. The other Dwarves looked to their leader in shock but followed suit. None of them were happy about giving up so easily.

            The Troll who held me didn’t loosen his hold. From the lack of air I was able to take in, I passed out, afraid of what I would wake up to…if I would wake at all.