After leaving the trolls' cave, Sylas used the Palantír to search for other troll lairs.
But he and Gandalf had already cleared the nearby dens, and the remaining caves were too far away. Worse, the crystal showed no trace of captured villagers or travelers in those distant places.
After a brief discussion, the two decided not to pursue the trolls any further.
Instead, they agreed to set course for the valley.
Though Thorin was reluctant, he no longer opposed the decision. As the group's rescuer this time, and with both Gandalf and Sylas supporting the idea, he knew better than to argue. In truth, the brush with death had only deepened his urgency to reach the Lonely Mountain. He needed to retrieve the Arkenstone, to rally the Seven Houses of Dwarves under his banner once more.
And so, the company set out again, their packs lightened, their steps steady as they journeyed eastward, leaving the Troll Forest behind and heading toward the valley.
Unbeknownst to them, word of the trolls' gruesome fate was already spreading like wildfire among the troll clans of the North. Whispers told of a dark-robed hunter who devoured troll hearts and wielded flames that could melt stone.
Frightened, many trolls fled deep into the mountain caves, refusing to venture down to the valleys. Fear of the fire-wielding monster gripped them so tightly that attacks in the region plummeted. Travelers, traders, and wandering folk alike found the road safer than it had been in years.
Meanwhile, the villagers whom Sylas and Gandalf had rescued from the trolls made their way to safety. Some followed the River Hoarwell south by boat, bound for the peaceful kingdoms of Men. Others crossed the Last Bridge, venturing west across the great wilderness, following the East-West Road toward Bree.
Their story, of the Grey Wizard and the mysterious black-cloaked stranger who vanquished trolls and saved innocent lives, soon became legend.
In towns across Eriador, folk began whispering about the "Ogre-Killers." Children repeated the tale around campfires, and traders swore they had seen smoke rise from troll dens long abandoned. The names of Gandalf the Grey and Sylas the Black spread like wind across the land.
The company had barely made it past the edge of the forest when a sudden sound broke the stillness of the path.
Instinctively, everyone halted, eyes scanning the woods, hands drifting toward weapons.
But the danger never came.
Instead, through the underbrush zipped a strange sight: a wooden sled pulled by a team of enormous rabbits, bounding over root and rock as if the forest floor were smooth as snow. Seated atop the sled was a tall, tangled figure in brown robes.
"Radagast?" Gandalf blinked.
Indeed, it was none other than Radagast the Brown, another of the Istari. As tall as Gandalf, he wore a wide-brimmed hat streaked with bird droppings and a robe that looked more like a compost heap than clothing, covered in leaves, twigs, and the occasional crawling insect.
"I was looking for you, Gandalf," Radagast said breathlessly, his eyes wild beneath the brim of his bird-stained hat.
"Something is wrong, terribly wrong!"
Gandalf arched a brow, though he was used to Radagast's erratic behavior. "What is it this time?"
"The Greenwood, the Great Greenwood, is ill," Radagast said, voice trembling. "A shadow festers there. The trees are dying, the air is thick with rot, and the waters... they're turning black and bitter. Spiders, Gandalf. Enormous ones. Too many to count. They're everywhere."
He paused, glancing around as if afraid the trees themselves might be listening.
"They're not ordinary beasts. They feel... old. Ancient. I believe they're the spawn of Ungoliant."
At that, even Gandalf's face turned grim.
Ungoliant. The primordial terror born from the void beyond the stars. A spider of monstrous size and power, she once allied with Morgoth, the first Dark Lord, to destroy the Two Trees of Valinor, Laurelin and Telperion, the very sources of light in the world before the sun and moon. Her hunger was so great, so consuming, that even Morgoth feared her in the end.
Her offspring, such as Shelob, haunted Middle-earth's darkest places. Even Sauron dared not challenge Shelob directly, instead offering her orcs as sacrifice to keep her wrath at bay.
"I followed the trail of the spiders," Radagast continued, his voice dropping. "And it led me to Dol Guldur."
"There, I sensed a dreadful presence... and I found this."
Radagast reached into his robes and pulled out a wrapped bundle, bound tightly in aged leather. He passed it to Gandalf with a shiver.
"A necromancer's trace still clings to it."
Gandalf took the bundle carefully and unwrapped it. Inside lay a long, blackened blade, cold to the touch, veined with veins of pale, ghostly silver. It pulsed with malice, as though it still thirsted for the cries of the living.
"Morgul blade..." Gandalf murmured. "This is no mere relic. It once belonged to the Witch-king of Angmar."
He looked up sharply at Sylas, his expression grim.
Ever since their encounter with the barrow-wights in the downs, Gandalf had suspected the Witch-king still stirred in the world. But this blade was confirmation.
"The Witch-king has returned," Gandalf said quietly. "And if he is gathering power in Dol Guldur... then the rumors are true. The so-called necromancer... is none other than Sauron."
Before anyone could respond, a chilling howl echoed through the trees.
"A wolf?" Bilbo asked, peering around nervously. "Are there wolves in this forest?"
But the dwarves were already reaching for their weapons.
"That's no ordinary wolf," Thorin warned. "That's a warg."
Even as he spoke, a massive beast burst through the underbrush, twice the size of a man, its fur bristling with thorns and scars, its eyes gleaming with hate. It leapt, jaws wide, teeth glinting like broken daggers.
Before the giant warg could land, a flash of magic shot through the air. Sylas raised his wand and uttered a sharp incantation, the beast froze mid-leap, encased in stone before it hit the ground. It slammed into the forest floor like a statue, and Sylas followed up with a swift strike of his sword, shattering the petrified creature into blackened shards.
Gandalf, standing firm beside him, met another charging warg head-on. With a swift draw of Glamdring, he struck clean through its gnarled hide. The beast crumpled to the ground in silence.
"Hurry!" Gandalf called, voice urgent. "These are scouts, Gundabad wargs. That means an entire pack is close behind… and orcs with them!"
"We can't move forward!" Dori, the dwarf in charge of provisions, shouted as he stumbled over to the group. "The horses, they've bolted. All of them!"
Indeed, the frightened steeds had fled into the woods in a panic, except for one. Sylas's peculiar, shaggy pony, stood blinking in confusion, still attached to its cart as though unaware of the chaos around it.
Unfortunately, the small cart couldn't carry the entire company to safety.
Seeing this, Radagast stepped forward and straightened his crooked hat. "I'll lead them off," he said without hesitation. "You use the chance to escape."
Gandalf turned sharply. "Radagast, these aren't just any wolves. They're Gundabad-born, bred for war. Are you sure?"
Radagast only chuckled, his eyes twinkling beneath his untidy brow. "Let them try to catch me. I've got my Rhosgobel Rabbits. Nothing outruns them."
"I'll draw off another portion," Sylas added, stepping forward. "If I go with the cart, I can split their numbers. It'll give you a better chance."
Radagast tilted his head, eyeing Sylas curiously. "And who's this brave one?"
"This," Gandalf said with reluctant pride, "is Sylas the Black Robe. A wizard of no small talent."
Gandalf turned to Sylas with furrowed brows. "You're certain about this? These aren't the scattered orc bands we've crossed before. This is a war party, mounted wargs, armored captains, bloodthirsty scouts. You could be riding into death."
But Sylas only smiled. "Trust me, Gandalf. I know how to handle myself. And once the enemy takes the bait, don't waste the chance. Get the others to Rivendell as fast as you can. Cross the Bruinen Ford. The moment you're under Elrond's territory, you'll be safe."