After ensuring the villagers were safe, Sylas sealed the trove of gold and jewels with magic, cloaking it beneath layers of wards. He planned to return for it later, once their work was done.
With that, he and Gandalf resumed their hunt for troll dens. But this time, they had a powerful advantage.
"Let's see," Sylas murmured, holding up Palantíri. He focused his thoughts and peered into the swirling mist within the orb, his mind calm and sharp.
Gandalf stepped up beside him, eyes narrowed with anticipation.
In an instant, the fog inside the Palantír cleared, and the image that emerged made them both stiffen in surprise.
There, bound to a thick tree trunk and dangling precariously over a roaring campfire, were Thorin Oakenshield and his company. Towering above them were three grotesque trolls, jostling and arguing as they prepared to cook their captives.
But standing between them and certain doom was Bilbo Baggins.
To their astonishment, Bilbo looked remarkably composed. The little hobbit was weaving a web of clever lies, claiming the dwarves were riddled with parasites or spoiled by disease, and that cooking them would cause stomach aches or worse. He stoked the trolls' suspicions, then exploited their greed and mistrust, goading them into arguing over who got to eat what.
"Well now," Gandalf chuckled softly, arms folded. "I had a good feeling about him. Bilbo's proven himself to be quite the trickster. Putting him among the dwarves may have been the best decision yet."
Sylas, on the other hand, wasn't as calm.
Even with the presence of a new variable like himself, fate still seemed determined to follow old paths. His brow furrowed as he muttered, "Why are they still running into these three brutes? We need to hurry, Bilbo can't stall forever!"
Without wasting another word, he and Gandalf sprang into motion, racing through the forest. With the Palantír clutched in hand, they were able to monitor the scene as they ran, adjusting their route and pace accordingly.
Soon, they reached the edge of a rocky clearing. In the distance, firelight flickered and shadows loomed, three enormous trolls, all mid-argument, unaware of their invisible observers.
Sylas crouched behind a boulder, panting quietly. "Should we just attack them head-on?" he whispered, glancing sideways.
Gandalf's gaze stayed fixed on the trolls. "Bilbo's holding them off well. If he keeps them quarreling until sunrise, the light will do our work for us. Still, if you've got one of your potions left, it might speed things along."
"I'm out," Sylas admitted with a sigh. "I've burned through everything. I suppose we'll just have to let the dwarves suffer a bit longer."
Despite his words, he was already moving. With a quiet incantation, he cast a Disillusionment Charm over them both, blending their bodies into the shadows. Silently, the two crept closer.
The trolls remained none the wiser. One was poking the fire with a tree branch, while the other two bickered over seasoning and bone sizes, and did not notice that someone was quietly approaching from behind.
"Confundus~"
A whisper drifted on the wind, light as a leaf, yet brimming with subtle magic.
In that moment, the three trolls blinked, their dim-witted expressions turning blank. Something foggy clouded their thoughts, and the only idea that remained was the desire to claim all the dwarves for themselves. A gnawing hunger twisted into violent jealousy. Each troll eyed the others with suspicion and rage, driven by a silent voice whispering in their minds:
"Kill the others… and the dwarves are yours alone."
No one could tell who struck the first blow. But within seconds, chaos erupted.
Before the astonished eyes of the bound dwarves, the trolls began brawling like wild beasts. They grabbed trees, boulders, and anything else they could use as weapons. The forest shook with their fury—trees shattered, stones cracked beneath their feet.
And yet, a small area remained untouched. Thorin and his companions were encased in an invisible barrier that deflected flying debris and kept them unharmed.
Delighted but bewildered, Bilbo twisted his head around and whispered softly into the empty air,
"Sylas… is that you?"
The trolls' battle raged on until exhaustion and injury brought it to a grim end.
One troll lay collapsed, a massive stone embedded in its bloodied skull, alive or dead, no one could say. Another was writhing on the ground, its arm and leg broken, moaning in pain. The last troll, the supposed victor, was barely standing, its massive body covered in gashes and bruises.
"Heh… mine… all mine! My food!" the wounded brute growled triumphantly.
But its celebration didn't last.
FWOOOSH!
A brilliant flash of golden flame burst through its chest, a sword of fire piercing its heart, incinerating it from within.
The remaining injured troll shrieked in terror and tried to flee, hobbling on its one good leg.
But before it could escape, two silver daggers sliced through the air and embedded themselves in its eyes. The beast let out a scream so chilling it silenced the entire forest.
Now blind and stumbling, the troll crashed into trees, howling in agony and thrashing like a panicked animal.
"Sylas," Gandalf called out as he tossed the sword.
Sylas caught it mid-air. With swift precision, he plunged the burning blade into the troll's back. A surge of golden fire erupted from the wound.
The troll's screams ended in an instant. Its massive body crumpled to the ground with a heavy thud.
Without hesitation, Sylas turned toward the final unconscious troll. He drove the sword straight into its heart, finishing the job cleanly.
And just like that, all three trolls had been defeated.
While Sylas wrestled his twin daggers free from the eyes of the blinded troll, grimacing as he wiped the black blood from the blades, Gandalf was already moving through the clearing. He made his way to the captives and cut through the ropes binding Bilbo and the dwarves.
Cheers erupted as the last of the bindings fell. The dwarves, still stunned by the intensity of the battle, quickly found their feet and rushed to thank their rescuers.
Even Thorin Oakenshield, usually so proud and reserved, gave a deep, solemn nod of gratitude to both Gandalf and Sylas.
That's when Bilbo spotted something unusual in Sylas's hands.
"Sylas, what's that?" he asked, tilting his head curiously at the large black orb Sylas carried.
"Is that… the Palantír? The Crystal of True Knowledge?" Thorin stepped forward, his voice filled with awe. As the heir of Durin's line, he had studied many ancient relics and knew the look of a seeing-stone when he saw one.
Sylas smiled and gave a small nod. "We found it in a troll cave. Just now, Gandalf and I saw all of you trapped through it, so we hurried here without delay."
Thorin's expression flickered with envy. A Palantír... If the House of Durin had one during the fall of Erebor, they might have seen Smaug's approach in time. Perhaps they would never have lost the Lonely Mountain or been forced into exile.
With everyone safe and the trolls defeated, Sylas returned to retrieve their ponies. He also recovered their supply cart, which had been magically protected and remained untouched despite the trolls' pillaging.
Inside the cart, everything was still intact, including a potted Mandrake, now fully grown.
Though the Mandrake was powerful, Sylas hadn't yet learned the charm to safely mute its cry. To prevent disaster, he routinely cast a Petrification Spell on it to keep it from screaming itself, or others, to death.
After gently placing the Palantír into the cart for safekeeping, Sylas turned to the others. "Shall we check out the trolls' cave?"
He remembered that Gandalf's sword, Glamdring, and Bilbo's blade, Sting, had both been discovered in this very cave.
...
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