After the skirmish with the Orcs, the company rested where they were, nursing their weariness beneath the stars.
The dwarves, invigorated by victory, enthusiastically exchanged stories, bragging about who had felled the most Orcs, voices full of laughter, clinking weapons, and the occasional exaggerated gesture.
But Gandalf remained silent.
He sat a short distance away, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe, brows furrowed beneath the brim of his hat. His gaze was distant, fixed on the flickering flames, though clearly his mind was elsewhere.
Sylas noticed the change in his expression and quietly stepped over, settling beside him. "You look troubled, Gandalf. What's on your mind?"
Gandalf didn't deflect. Instead, he let out a deep sigh, his voice low. "Orcs tend to dwell in the deep hollows of the Misty Mountains. For them to be roaming this far into the wild means only one thing: their numbers have grown, drastically. They've spilled out from their dens and now scour the wilderness for prey."
He tapped the end of his pipe against a stone. "We're meant to cross those very mountains to reach Erebor. And if their forces are swelling like this, we may be walking straight into a nest."
Sylas grew quiet at that. After a moment, he asked, "So what will you do?"
"I intend to scout ahead after we cross the Last Bridge," Gandalf replied, eyes narrowing. "Alone, if I must. We can't afford to walk blindly into a horde."
Sylas nodded thoughtfully, then offered, "I'll go with you."
Gandalf raised a brow.
"I've been working on some concealment magic," Sylas added, drawing his wand. He pointed it at a nearby stone.
In an instant, the stone shimmered and vanished, at least, to the naked eye. Upon closer scrutiny, it hadn't disappeared at all. Instead, it blended seamlessly into the landscape, its colors matching the grass and shadows perfectly, like a chameleon cloaked in illusion.
Gandalf chuckled, a glint of admiration in his eyes. "Is there any end to your bag of tricks, Sylas?"
The two exchanged a knowing look. Though nothing had been said aloud to the group, the decision was made, when the time came, they would slip away and scout the path ahead together.
After a short rest, the company pressed on.
Fortunately, the days that followed were calm. They met no more Orcs and eventually reached the Last Bridge.
Spanning the swift, cold waters of the Hoarwell River, the Last Bridge marked a gateway eastward. Beyond it lay the Trollshaws, a dense and tangled forest known for its stony hills, ancient trees, and, as its name suggested, trolls.
Not far beyond that lay Rivendell... and then, the Misty Mountains.
But just as Gandalf and Sylas were preparing to share their scouting plan with the group, tension suddenly erupted.
Thorin and Gandalf had come to a disagreement.
The issue: the map of the Lonely Mountain.
It was an heirloom of Thorin's line, drawn by Thráin II himself. The map showed the location of a hidden entrance on the western side of Erebor. However, the instructions to open this secret door were written in Moon-letters, ancient Dwarvish runes.
These Moon-letters were an ancient and secretive form of writing, visible only under specific conditions, typically by the light of a full moon on Midsummer's Eve. Even among Dwarves, only the most skilled could read them.
To reveal the map's hidden message, Gandalf suggested traveling to Rivendell, the Last Homely House east of the sea, where Elrond, one of the greatest Elven sages in Middle-earth, might be able to read the runes.
But Thorin's pride and long-standing grudge against the Elves made him balk at the idea.
"I will not go to Rivendell," Thorin declared sharply. "The Elves' halls hold no welcome for my people. And Elrond is kin to Gil-galad, who once stood with our enemies."
By "enemies," Thorin meant the Elvenking Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, who had refused aid to Thorin's people after Smaug took the Lonely Mountain. The wound still ran deep.
Thorin's grudge went further. Thranduil had once commissioned a radiant white-gem necklace for his queen, crafted by the finest Dwarven smiths of Erebor. But the dwarves demanded a price higher than expected, and when no agreement could be reached, the deal collapsed. The quarrel soured relations between the Woodland Realm and Erebor for decades.
"Elrond is not Thranduil," Gandalf said calmly, trying to reason with him. "He is wise, noble, and fair, and his halls are a refuge for all who seek aid. If anyone can decipher the Moon-runes on this map, it is him. That knowledge could be vital to our journey."
"I do not trust Elves," Thorin snapped. "They speak in riddles and smiles. I will not place the fate of our quest in their hands, nor give them a chance to meddle in our plans."
Gandalf's expression hardened. "That is prejudice, Thorin Oakenshield, and it blinds you. Not all Elves are your enemies. Elrond's wisdom spans Ages. We would do well to heed it, or we risk walking blind into danger."
"I would rather face danger than bow to Elves," Thorin replied stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest.
Gandalf, barely restraining his temper, muttered under his breath, "You're as thick as a mountain stone and twice as stubborn."
He turned abruptly and began to walk away, his cloak flaring behind him.
"Gandalf, where are you going?" Bilbo asked, puzzled by the sudden tension.
"To scout ahead," Gandalf replied curtly, "since some among us seem eager to find trouble."
Then, pausing mid-step, he turned back and looked at Sylas.
"Sylas, come with me."
"Er—alright," Sylas said, caught a little off guard.
He glanced at Bilbo, offering him a small smile and a reassuring wink. "Look after my wagon, will you? I'll be back soon."
Bilbo nodded, though his expression was uncertain.
With that, Sylas hurried after the wizard, the two of them disappearing down the wooded trail.
Left behind, Bilbo stood awkwardly among the dwarves. With Gandalf and Sylas both gone, the only two he truly felt comfortable around, he didn't quite know where to put himself.
Eventually, he retreated into Sylas's carriage, curling up quietly between the luggage, doing his best to go unnoticed.
Thorin, for his part, gave no indication of caring that Gandalf and Sylas had left. He merely gestured for the company to rest.
Ahead,
Once Thorin's company was out of sight
The irritation on Gandalf's face melted away the moment they were out of sight.
"Whatever happens, we must go to Rivendell. Only Elrond can read the Moon-letters. Without his help, even if we reach the Lonely Mountain, we won't be able to enter it."
Sylas blinked. "Wait, so… you weren't actually angry back there?"
Gandalf chuckled and shook his head. "Not really. I needed an excuse to leave without stirring too much suspicion. Those dwarves—" he exhaled dramatically, " are as stubborn and stiff as the rocks under an Orc's behind. If I took every tantrum seriously, I'd have dropped dead of frustration a dozen times over."
Sylas raised a brow. "You sure? Sounds like you were still a little mad."
Gandalf's eyes twinkled. "Perhaps a smidge."
Sylas couldn't help but laugh at the contradiction. "So now that we're out here, what's the plan? Are we actually scouting ahead?"
"For now, we stay apart," Gandalf replied, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Thorin won't be easily persuaded. Unless we hit him over the head, and that would be rude, he's unlikely to agree to Rivendell. We'll need the right opportunity to change his mind."
"What kind of opportunity?"
"One that puts him in danger," Gandalf said bluntly.
Sylas stared. "You want them to run into trouble?"
"This is the Trollshaws," Gandalf said, gesturing toward the dense, wild forest ahead. "We're close to the Misty Mountains. Danger's practically guaranteed. If we were with them, we'd make short work of any threat. But if they struggle a bit, it might temper their pride."
Sylas gave him a dubious look. "So your plan is to let them get into trouble... and just keep them from dying?"
"Precisely," Gandalf said, smiling. "Just a little shadowy shepherding from afar."
Still, Sylas furrowed his brow. "What about Bilbo? Why didn't you bring him along too? He's still stuck with them, he's the softest one in the bunch!"
"Exactly," Gandalf said. "If I'd pulled him out as well, it would've looked suspicious. Bilbo needs this. Struggling a bit with the dwarves will help him grow, and more importantly, it'll strengthen their bond. When the real trials come, they'll need to rely on one another."
Sylas sighed again and muttered, "Poor Bilbo."
...
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