Although the original plan was to let Thorin and his company experience a bit of hardship, Gandalf and Sylas hadn't forgotten their real task, scouting ahead.
They traveled on foot, but their pace was surprisingly swift.
Part of that was thanks to Gandalf. Walking beside the wizard, Sylas felt strangely energized, tireless, even. Only later did he realize it was due to the quiet influence of Narya, the Ring of Fire. The Elven ring bestowed upon Gandalf by Círdan pulsed with subtle magic, bolstering the spirit and warding off weariness.
Sylas could only sigh with envy.
'I really want a divine artifact like that...'
But such things were beyond his reach. The Three Elven Rings were held by the most powerful beings in Middle-earth, Elrond, Galadriel, and Gandalf himself. There was no chance one would end up in the hands of a mere wandering wizard like him.
'No wonder Saruman grew distant from Gandalf after Círdan gave him Narya,' Sylas thought. 'Who wouldn't be jealous of such power?'
His thoughts wandered further, to the One Ring.
As far as he knew, it was still hidden deep within the Misty Mountains, clutched by a creature named Gollum. But it wouldn't stay there forever. Soon, by a twist of fate, it would fall into Bilbo's hands.
That thought made Sylas curious. The One Ring was said to be more powerful than all the Elven Rings combined, a relic forged by Sauron himself. Yet, when Bilbo wielded it, it seemed to do little more than turn him invisible.
Still, Sylas wasn't tempted.
The Ring's power to corrupt even the strongest minds to lure, twist, and destroy, was well-documented. Gandalf refused to touch it. Galadriel dared not claim it. How could he, Sylas, believe himself any more immune?
He pushed the thought aside.
Night had fallen by the time they passed through a nameless village on the road. But instead of signs of life, they found only ruin.
Buildings were torn open, doors smashed, fences trampled. Not a single soul was in sight.
Sylas and Gandalf both fell silent.
The destruction looked recent. Splintered beams, shattered windows, even pots and pans left untouched, as if the villagers had vanished mid-meal.
They stepped into the village square. There were bloodstains on the stones. No bodies, no signs of resistance, just eerie silence and the lingering echo of something terrible.
"I fear they didn't flee," Gandalf said gravely, crouching beside a crushed cart. "These marks... large footprints. Crude. This was done by Trolls."
They left the village in silence, continuing eastward. But the horror didn't end there.
They passed through two more hamlets, and found the same signs: wreckage, overturned wagons, blood, but no people.
Suddenly, Gandalf stopped.
"The plan is cancelled," he said, voice hardening. "Finding those Trolls is now our top priority."
Sylas looked up. "You think they took the villagers?"
Gandalf nodded. "The attacks were recent. And Trolls often take captives rather than kill outright, especially if they're hungry."
"If we move quickly, we might still find them alive."
Sylas had no objections.
Without hesitation, the two of them altered their course, veering off the main road and heading deeper into the shadowy thickets of the Trollshaws, following the faint trail of massive footprints left behind.
As the forest thickened and the night deepened, they pressed on, the moon now high above. Midnight approached when their path finally led them to a swamp, dark, silent, and ominously still.
Before them stretched a wide expanse of stagnant water, its surface glinting dully beneath the moonlight. Mud and moss clung to the twisted roots of trees that jutted out like skeletal fingers, and the stench of decay hung heavy in the air.
Gandalf frowned deeply.
"The trail ends here," he muttered. "The Trolls' footprints have been swallowed by the swamp. There's no telling which direction they took."
Sylas remained silent, peering into the murky water. He recalled that there was a guiding charm taught at Hogwarts, that could reveal directions, but unfortunately, he hadn't learned it yet.
Suddenly, a crisp prompt echoed in his mind:
[Hogwarts Sign-In System: Trollshaws detected. Would you like to sign in?]
Sylas blinked in surprise. Now?
Mentally, he focused. Sign in!
[Sign-in successful. Congratulations, Parseltongue talent acquired.]
Sylas's eyes widened.
Parseltongue? The rare gift of snake-speech?
He waited, expecting perhaps a scroll or spellbook to appear, but nothing else came.
Gandalf, still studying the swamp, let out a tired sigh. "It seems we're left with no leads. We'll have to trust to luck now and hope we stumble across the Trolls' lair before it's too late."
"Actually... Gandalf, I might have something worth trying," Sylas said slowly, unsure if it would work but unwilling to let the chance slip away.
"You have an idea?" Gandalf's eyes lit up with interest.
Sylas rubbed the back of his neck, still uncertain. "It's a bit untested… but worth a try."
Swamps were often teeming with snakes and other creatures. So, Sylas took a deep breath, focused, and called out toward the bog.
"Is anyone there? Any snakes listening?"
He half-expected silence or embarrassment to follow, but something odd happened.
To Gandalf, Sylas suddenly let out a low, drawn-out hiss, not random noise, but patterned and eerie, like the cold rasp of a serpent. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
The sound carried with it a strange power. It seemed to vibrate with the essence of the wild.
"What language was that?" Gandalf asked, brows raised. "You sounded like you were... hissing."
Sylas blinked and then smiled as realization dawned. "I think it worked. That was Parseltongue, the language of snakes. It allows me to communicate with snakes."
Just as Sylas was explaining to Gandalf, something stirred within the swamp.
Dozens, no, hundreds of snakes slithered out from the water and tall grass, their bodies glinting faintly under the moonlight. Water serpents, venomous adders, long constricting pythons, all sizes and colors, writhing forward, drawn to Sylas's hiss like moths to flame.
The sheer mass of scales and eyes made Sylas's scalp tingle. Even Gandalf raised a brow in alarm, his pipe momentarily forgotten.
A sleek water snake reared its head and hissed, "Hey, human! Did you summon us? Why do you speak the tongue of serpents?"
A bright green viper coiled beside her, clearly irritated. "I was courting Little Red, and this furless man ruins it. Hissss, makes me want to bite him."
Then came a deep, rumbling voice, like wet stone dragging through mud. A python thicker than Sylas's waist and over ten meters long slithered forward. "I haven't eaten in weeks. Can I have the old man? He looks a bit chewy, but I'd make do."
Sylas flinched.
The voices blended into chaos, snakes talking over one another, hissing complaints, threats, and negotiations. He pressed his fingers to his temples.
"Silence!" he commanded.
His voice slipped effortlessly into Parseltongue, sharp and commanding. Instantly, the swamp quieted. Every serpent froze mid-movement, and a tense hush fell over the marsh.
The snakes now looked at him with quiet reverence.
He addressed them with clarity. "Who among you knows where the nearby Trolls have made their lair? Lead us there. Now."
The enormous python lifted its massive head. "I do. I saw them dragging screaming prey into a cave not far from here. But I am hungry. Promise me food, and I shall show you."
Sylas raised an eyebrow, half-impressed, half-annoyed.
'A snake that knows how to negotiate.'
He smirked. "Help us find the Trolls. Once we deal with them, their whole carcasses will be yours. Deal?"
The python paused, tongue flicking.
"You can actually slay a Troll?"
"I'm a wizard," Sylas said dryly. "You think I just talk to snakes for fun?"
"Fair enough," the snake rumbled. "Deal."
But its glowing yellow eyes drifted toward Gandalf, who stood behind Sylas, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
"Still," the snake mused, "couldn't I just have the old one? He looks a bit crispy on the outside. I'd eat the bones too. And in return, I'll take you to a Troll cave full of shiny things, I know you two-legged folk like those."
Sylas's mouth twitched.
'Definitely too much brain, not enough sense.'
He glanced sidelong at Gandalf, who was blissfully unaware he'd just been offered up as a snack.
"Alright, stop wasting time, lead the way!" Sylas didn't waste any more words and urged it quickly.
With a reluctant hiss, the python turned and slithered forward, its tail parting the thick water as it glided into the swamp's heart.
The other snakes, seeing their part was done, slinked away into the reeds.
Sylas turned to Gandalf. "We've got a lead. That big one knows where the Trolls are. Let's follow it."
He raised his wand and tapped the edge of the swamp. With a low rumble, a sturdy stone path emerged from the muck, forming a bridge of stepping stones that arced across the swamp's surface like vertebrae.
Sylas stepped forward, cloak swaying behind him, wand in hand.
Behind him, Gandalf blinked, then laughed.
"Marvelous magic. And you speak snake-tongue, too? Truly, you are full of surprises."
...
Stones PLzzz