"Are you really here to save us?" asked a frail young man, his voice hoarse, eyes locked onto them with a flicker of desperate hope.
Gandalf nodded gently, his presence calm and reassuring, like a breeze in early spring. "That is exactly why we're here."
Sylas stepped forward and gave a simple wave of his wand. With a soft click, the heavy iron lock on the cage creaked open, and the door swung slowly outward.
The villagers inside hesitated for a moment, blinking in disbelief. Then, like dreamers waking from a nightmare, they staggered out one by one, limbs trembling, faces hollow.
But as Sylas and Gandalf counted the emerging figures, only a dozen or so, their hearts sank.
"Is this all of you?" Gandalf asked quietly.
The villagers fell silent, the weight of sorrow pressing down on them. A few began to sob softly.
The young man who had spoken earlier finally answered, his voice breaking with grief. "The rest… they were eaten by the Trolls. Today was meant to be my turn. But my mother… she pleaded with them to let me live a bit longer, said I was too scrawny. And then she..she offered herself instead…"
Sylas lowered his gaze, a shadow passing through his eyes. The young man stood trembling, torn between guilt and heartbreak.
Gandalf stepped forward and gently placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "What is your name, lad?"
"Edward," he replied, barely above a whisper.
"Edward," said Gandalf softly, "your mother was truly brave. She gave her life to give you a future. Don't waste it. Live on...for her."
The words, simple yet powerful, settled into Edward's heart like a glowing ember. And around them, the air began to feel just a little lighter.
With the villagers now free, Sylas and Gandalf moved to the next matter, getting them out safely.
"I'll hold the Trolls off," Gandalf offered. "You lead the villagers out of here."
But Sylas shook his head.
"Trolls aren't so easily handled," he said. "They're massive, armored like stone, and only truly vulnerable to sunlight. Facing five of them alone, even for you, would be a tall order."
Gandalf didn't argue. Though he was a Maia, one of the divine spirits sent to guide the Free Peoples, his powers in Middle-earth were bound by strict limits. He couldn't simply unleash raw magic to shape outcomes or tip the scales. His body, too, was mortal and vulnerable. He could bleed. He could fall.
So instead of pushing back, Gandalf asked, "Then what do you suggest, Sylas?"
With a confident grin, Sylas reached into his satchel and pulled out a small glass vial. The liquid inside shimmered with a silvery hue.
"Strategy over brute strength," he said. "Why fight five mountain-sized brutes when we can make them... pocket-sized?"
Gandalf tilted his head, intrigued. "And what exactly is that?"
"A Shrinking Potion," Sylas replied proudly. "One drop can reduce a full-grown horse to the size of a teacup. It should work just as well on Trolls."
Gandalf's eyes gleamed with sudden understanding.
"You're planning to pour that potion into their stew?" Gandalf asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Exactly," Sylas replied with a nod.
Without another word, he tapped his wand to his chest and vanished from sight under the shimmering effect of a Disillusionment Charm.
"Gandalf, you stay here and protect the villagers," Sylas whispered. "Once the potion takes effect, I'll signal you."
With that, he slipped away into the tunnel, hurrying toward the main hall. Time was against him, he needed to dose the food before the Trolls finished their grisly feast.
Back in the cage chamber, the villagers stared at the spot where Sylas had disappeared. Their eyes widened with awe, and for the first time in days, a flicker of hope stirred in their hearts.
Sylas reached the cavern's central chamber just in time to witness a chaotic feeding frenzy. The five Trolls, each towering and grotesque, were huddled around a cauldron the size of a cart, fighting over its contents with bone-rattling growls.
Casting a quick Levioso on his boots, Sylas floated just above the cave floor, gliding silently between piles of broken bones and discarded armor. Every step brought him closer to the Trolls, and deeper into danger.
Up close, the Trolls were even more terrifying. Their arms were as thick as tree trunks, and the foul stench of their breath hung in the air like a fog. A single careless movement could flatten him.
He slipped between their massive legs, careful not to brush against their scaly skin, and edged closer to the steaming cauldron.
But then, one of the Trolls froze.
Its nostrils flared.
"Wait… do I smell a human?" the brute rumbled, turning its head, sniffing the air like a hunting hound.
Sylas's blood ran cold.
The Troll's snout swung in his direction, inching closer.
Holding his breath, Sylas raised his wand in a slow, practiced motion and whispered, "Confundo."
A thin wisp of magic struck the Troll's forehead.
The creature blinked, its face going slack for a moment… then suddenly twisted into a scowl.
"Which one of you just let one rip?! It stinks!" it roared, spinning and landing a fist squarely on the chest of the Troll beside it.
The second Troll reeled back. "I didn't fart! You did!"
Fists flew.
The two brutes were instantly locked in a full-blown brawl, their roars shaking the walls.
The remaining three Trolls burst out laughing, hooting and hollering like rowdy spectators.
Seizing the chaos, Sylas darted forward and reached the edge of the cauldron. A wave of greasy steam washed over him, thick with the scent of cooked flesh.
His stomach lurched.
He didn't want to think about what...no, who...was in that stew.
Forcing down the bile rising in his throat, Sylas uncorked the vial. Inside shimmered the pale blue glow of the Shrinking Potion.
'One drop for a horse…' he thought grimly. 'Let's hope a handful is 'enough for five Trolls.'
After pouring the potion into the cauldron, Sylas quickly retreated behind a large boulder near the cavern wall. He crouched low, his cloak wrapped tight, waiting silently for the results to unfold.
Before long, the two Trolls who had been brawling earlier lost interest in their quarrel and lumbered back to the pot, eager to gulp down what remained.
And gulp they did.
The stew was gone in moments.
Then the first signs of trouble appeared.
"Eh? Why're you lot getting bigger?" one of the faster-eating Trolls mumbled, scratching his head in confusion.
But it wasn't that the others were growing, it was he who was shrinking.
The hulking brute, originally six meters tall, began to dwindle rapidly.
Five meters.
Four.
One meter.
Fifty centimeters.
Ten centimeters.
Before long, he stood no taller than a squirrel, flailing in panic at the now-gigantic world around him.
The other four Trolls stared in disbelief, but before they could react, the potion took hold of them as well. One by one, they shrank like collapsing tents, their grunts turning into squeaky protests.
In less than a minute, five miniature Trolls, each no taller than a man's thumb, stood trembling where giants once raged.
And then, looming over them like a titan, appeared Sylas.
With a flick of his wand and a murmured spell, he conjured a sturdy cage around the shrunken beasts, trapping them neatly inside like unruly insects.
"Alright, Gandalf! You can bring everyone out now!" Sylas called toward the tunnel behind him.
From the shadows, Gandalf emerged, leading a group of weary villagers into the cavern. Their eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of the tiny monsters wriggling helplessly in their prison.
"Handled?" Gandalf asked with a hint of dry amusement.
Sylas pointed at the cage. "Not quite. The shrinking effect might wear off, so we need to act fast."
Gandalf raised a brow as he peered down at the trembling Trolls. "So, what's your plan?"
"I want to question them," Sylas said. "If there are other Troll dens nearby, some people might still be alive. These five might know something."
"Need help?" Gandalf asked.
"I'll try alone first."
Sylas knelt beside the cage and raised his wand. "Confundo."
The spell struck the tiny Trolls, who now offered little resistance to magic. Their already-simple minds clouded over further, leaving them dazed and highly suggestible.
"Tell me," Sylas said calmly, "where are the other Troll caves in this forest?"
The shrunken creatures looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes. In their confused state, they began to babble, names of caves, directions, landmarks, everything they knew.
Once Sylas was sure he had learned all he could, his expression turned serious. He stood, flicked his wrist, and summoned a slender silver dagger.
With a flash of light and a clean, practiced motion, the blade flew across the cage. Five sharp thunks echoed through the cave as each Troll was dispatched in a heartbeat.
The cage fell silent.
Moments later, their bodies began to swell grotesquely, reverting to their original size. The lifeless hulks lay where they'd fallen, black blood pooling around them.
...
Stones Plzzz