The Troll’s Treasure

The experience of fleeing from the Lonely Mountain to the Blue Mountains had always remained vivid in the hearts of the Durin dwarves. The memory of that painful exodus haunted them, even after hundreds of years. They could never forget the hardships they endured and the family and friends they lost along the way.

Given this history, the route to the Lonely Mountain was familiar to these dwarves, as it had been the path they had taken during their exile. Thus, they were well-versed in the terrain and obstacles.

After the expedition set off from Wayne Manor, the journey quickly fell into a rhythm. Once the team discovered that Wayne possessed a magical item capable of storing vast supplies, the responsibility for logistics fell to him. He managed the cooking, hunting, and foraging tasks, with Deathclaw Robin handling much of the work, including catching wild animals in the dangerous wilderness.

With Robin at the rear, the expedition benefited from an imposing protector. The beast's towering two-story height and fearsome presence deterred any wild creature from approaching the group. No predators dared attack, wary of the monstrous guardian.

Wayne's occasional displays of magic and his use of enchanted items only solidified the group's confidence in him. Even Bilbo, who rarely commented on such matters, joked with Gandalf:

"Gandalf, who's the real wizard between you and Wayne? We've never seen you cast any spells."

The lighthearted remark drew laughter from the group, including Gandalf himself.

After half a month, the expedition left the Shire and entered a vast, ancient forest. Middle-earth's territory was vast, and although it was home to many races—elves, dwarves, orcs, and men—their numbers were sparse. The total population of the continent barely exceeded two million, and much of the land remained wild and uninhabited. Forests and wilderness dominated the landscape.

Travel routes were scarce, making long-distance journeys treacherous. Only in areas where trade thrived had safe paths been carved out, but venturing beyond those regions often meant facing untamed wilderness, predatory beasts, and other man-eating creatures.

One night, after the dwarves had fallen into a deep sleep, confident in Wayne's ability to keep watch, Bilbo was abruptly woken by a disturbance—the sound of agitated horses and faint cries of alarm.

Groggily, Bilbo opened his eyes and glanced toward the campfire, where Wayne had been standing guard. To his shock, Wayne was gone, and so was their most reassuring protector, Deathclaw Robin, who usually stayed close to his master.

Bilbo, now fully awake, glanced toward the area where the horses were tied. As he feared, several were missing—of the fourteen horses tied to the stumps, only ten remained. Four were gone.

Panicked, Bilbo scanned the campfire, where the dwarves, including Thorin, lay sound asleep, snug in the high-quality sleeping bags Wayne had provided. The dwarves were snoring loudly, oblivious to the missing horses.

Bilbo tried shaking Kili and Fili, the youngest dwarves, but they remained fast asleep, unresponsive to his nudging. Seeing no immediate reaction, Bilbo decided not to wake the entire camp, unsure if it was truly an emergency or if he was overreacting.

Quietly, Bilbo slipped out of his sleeping bag and, using his natural Hobbit stealth, followed the sound of the disturbance. Hobbits, with their small stature and nimble movements, were naturally stealthy. Their barefooted gait made no noise, and as Gandalf had suggested, Bilbo was perfectly suited for sneaking.

After tracking the noises for several hundred meters, Bilbo came upon a hidden cave obscured by rocks. As he peered through the tall grass, a firelight came into view.

Bilbo rubbed his eyes and looked closer. What he saw made his blood run cold: three towering, rough-skinned trolls. They wore nothing but fur skirts, their gray, ugly bodies lit by the fire. Their bald heads glistened in the firelight as they stirred a massive iron pot, discussing how best to cook their latest catch.

Beside the trolls, the four Shire horses taken from the Shire were tied up by the fire, trembling in fear, sensing their grim fate as potential meals for the ogres. The sight sent a wave of terror through Bilbo. Having lived a peaceful life in the Shire, he had never encountered such monsters before. He quickly covered his mouth, his first instinct to retreat quietly.

But then, memories of Thorin's constant distrust of him on the journey flashed through his mind. Thorin had doubted whether a hobbit like Bilbo, used to peaceful times, was capable of fulfilling his role as their burglar. This doubt gnawed at Bilbo, making him question his worth on the expedition to the Lonely Mountain.

Yet, despite his fear, Bilbo was no ordinary hobbit. Deep inside, he carried the courage and determination inherited from both his parents. Gritting his teeth, he resolved to act. He would prove his worth by rescuing the horses, driven by a sense of duty and an inner courage that had yet to be fully tested.

The thought of Wayne also gave him confidence. Bilbo believed that the skilled human adventurer would soon notice the disturbance, and with the terrifying Deathclaw Robin by his side, these trolls would surely be no match.

Just as Bilbo drew his dagger, ready to make his move, a tall figure emerged silently from the shadows of the grass. With a massive, elegant two-handed sword in one hand, and a cold, emotionless expression, Wayne appeared, his gaze fixed on the three trolls. It was as if he regarded them as mere nuisances, hardly worth his concern.

Bilbo opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Wayne raised his left hand, and a large blue fireball shot from his palm toward one of the trolls.

In an instant, the troll was engulfed in the searing blue flames, turning it into a massive, screaming torch. The beast's agonizing wails echoed through the forest, but before the other two trolls could react, the burning creature exploded into countless fragments. Bits of flesh and rancid blood sprayed everywhere, leaving the remaining trolls frozen in terror.

Bilbo, who had been crouched in the grass, was equally stunned. Never had he seen such a brutal, bloody display. His earlier courage drained away, replaced with a mix of shock and fear.

He stared blankly at Wayne, his voice faltering as he asked, "Where have you been, Wayne? I thought you'd gone somewhere else. Even Robin's nowhere to be seen."

Wayne, still gripping his sword, pointed at the two remaining trolls and turned to Bilbo with a faint smile.

"I noticed the traces of these creatures earlier," Wayne explained. "I let them take the horses so I could track them back to their lair and deal with them properly—leave no stragglers behind."

He continued, "As for Robin, I sent him away for a while. If he were here, these monsters wouldn't have dared to come near our camp."

Bilbo, feeling a mix of relief and regret, sheathed his dagger. He realized that with Wayne on the scene, there was little need for him to act. The task of facing these trolls had fallen squarely to the Witcher.

As expected, things played out just as Bilbo had predicted.

The two remaining trolls, horrified by the explosive demise of their companion, stood frozen for a few moments. One of them, however, snapped out of its daze. With a loud roar, it grabbed a massive mace from the ground and charged at Wayne, intent on crushing the human beneath its weapon.

But the troll never got its chance. As it roared and swung the mace, Wayne moved with blinding speed. The troll had only taken a few steps when it suddenly felt an unexpected weight on its shoulder. It looked over, bewildered to see that the human had somehow appeared there without it even noticing. Wayne's speed and precision left the creature no time to react.

Before the troll's dull mind could comprehend what was happening, Wayne's Sword—charged with divine power—became a blur of motion, slicing cleanly through the creature's neck. Trolls, being creatures of darkness, were particularly vulnerable to holy weapons like Wayne's sword, which was imbued with the power to repel such evil.

The troll didn't even have time to scream before its head flew off with a gruesome click, the neck spurting blood like a fountain as its massive body collapsed into a lifeless heap.

As for the final troll, who had witnessed the swift demise of its companions in under half a minute, it chose to surrender. Kneeling before Wayne, it hoped that submission would save its life. But Wayne had no intention of showing mercy. These trolls were man-eating monsters, likely responsible for countless deaths over the years. Such creatures did not deserve forgiveness, and a simple act of submission wasn't enough to wash away their sins.

Once the cooldown on his teleporting ability passed, Wayne flashed behind the last troll in an instant. With the Sword in hand, he drove it through the troll's back, impaling its brain and piercing through its mouth. The troll let out a gurgled death rattle as its life was snuffed out.

After dispatching the three trolls, Wayne remained composed, his face betraying no emotion. He turned to whistle toward Bilbo, who was still hiding in the grass, dazed by the violence he had just witnessed.

In a gentle voice, Wayne said, "My friend, go and rescue our horses. I'm going to check out the trolls' cave."

Bilbo, still shaking from Wayne's swift and brutal efficiency, nodded quickly, feeling both awe and fear. "Leave it to me, Wayne," he replied, hastily moving toward the horses to free them.

Wayne, satisfied, nodded back. He then pulled a crystal orb from his space wristband—one that emitted a soft, glowing light—and walked toward the troll cave without looking back.

He remembered something important about this cave. According to the legends, there were not only many treasures left behind by the elves of the First Age but also three ancient elven swords. These swords, each a masterpiece forged by ancient elven smiths, were of great value. Now that the trolls were dead, all these spoils rightfully belonged to him.

Rather than let Thorin and the dwarves, who had often doubted his abilities, claim these treasures, Wayne decided it was better to keep them for himself. He entered the cave, swiftly collecting the valuable items, including the three elven swords, and pocketing everything of worth.

By the time the rest of the expedition arrived, alerted by the noise of the battle, all they found were the gruesome remnants of Wayne's fight: bits of flesh and blood strewn about, a decapitated troll, and the mutilated remains of another with a sword wound through its head.

Wayne emerged from the cave shortly after, pinching his nose against the stench inside. He had already claimed all the treasures within, keeping the elven swords and other valuables for himself.

He wasn't planning on sharing this discovery with the others.

...

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