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Moonlight rose over the hills.
Jimmy hoisted his heavy blade and, with a few powerful swings, brought down a dead tree.
He dragged the trunk back, spun the blade once in his hand, and reduced it cleanly into firewood.
Balin frowned, "Every time I see that sword and your strength, I am impressed, but treating a weapon like a woodcutter's axe still offends me. A warrior's weapon is his second life."
"You should not use it so casually."
Jimmy shrugged, "You said it yourself. Second life, right now, the first life comes first."
He turned.
"Bilbo."
"Did you find anything edible?"
"I found some mushrooms," Bilbo replied. "And a few wild herbs, enough to make a warm soup."
"There will not be many mushroom stews once we leave the forest tomorrow."
"Yes." Bilbo nodded. "The trees have been good to us."
The soup finished cooking.
Jimmy accepted a bowl from Bilbo and passed him some bread in return.
"Thank you," Bilbo said politely.
Jimmy had traveled with the dwarves for several days now, yet he still struggled with their rough habits and lack of cleanliness.
A distant howl echoed across the open land.
Bilbo stiffened.
"What was that?"
"Nothing to worry about," Kili said, half serious and half teasing. "Just Orc scouts, Creatures that avoid the light."
Jimmy placed a reassuring hand on Bilbo's shoulder.
"I will keep you safe."
"They are only Orcs."
"Killing them is no harder than slaughtering chickens."
Kili glanced over. "If Orcs strike at night, should we set a watch?"
"They will not dare," Kili replied confidently. "They prey on weakness and numbers, Thirteen of us could send a hundred of them running."
The younger dwarves spoke lightly.
They had not lived through the old wars.
As Balin began to speak, his low voice carried the weight of memory.
He told them of the ancient hatred between dwarves and Orcs.
Of blood and stone and battles fought beneath open skies.
The fire crackled.
The story pulled everyone in, as if the past were unfolding again before their eyes.
Jimmy rose quietly and looked toward the opposite ridge.
Behind him, Gandalf approached.
"What are you watching?"
"Nothing serious."
"Just a minor concern."
"Yes," Gandalf replied. "The wilds are dangerous, but they do provide food."
The truth was simple.
Thorin's company had little wealth.
Combined, their resources did not match even a fraction of Jimmy's supplies.
They lived off the land, hunting as they traveled.
If Jimmy had not purchased flour and rations earlier, their pace would have been even slower.
Jimmy smiled faintly.
"Perhaps."
They could not see what he saw.
On the far cliff, several Orcs sat astride massive wolves, watching the firelight from the darkness.
Their armor and markings were familiar.
Very familiar.
…
Jimmy's hand brushed the hilt of his blade.
At last.
Something worth cutting.
…
"Stop."
"We make camp here."
The sun was still high when Thorin Oakenshield gave the order.
Gandalf dismounted and walked toward a ruined farmhouse.
The damage was not caused by time.
It looked as if something had torn the occupants out through the roof.
Rust-covered abandoned tools.
Broken handles lay scattered in the dirt.
A farmer would never leave his tools behind.
Something was wrong.
"I think we should keep moving," Gandalf said. "We can reach Rivendell."
"Elves are traitors." Thorin snapped. "I will not go there."
"They can help us."
"They can offer food."
"Advice."
"I do not need advice from traitors."
Thorin's voice burned with old anger.
He had never forgotten the sight of the elves turning away when Smaug appeared.
…
Gandalf turned sharply and walked off.
Even the patience of a wizard had limits.
"Gandalf," Bilbo called after him. "Where are you going?"
"I need some time alone in the woods."
…
Night fell.
Gandalf had still not returned.
Bilbo paced nervously by the fire. "Jimmy, He has not come back."
"All right, I will look for him."Jimmy rose to his feet, resting the heavy blade against his shoulder as he headed toward the trees.
…
He stopped abruptly.
The scabbard spun upward as steel flashed under the moonlight.
"What is it?" Bilbo whispered.
"Stay behind me."
"There is trouble."
"I will check it out."
Ahead, near the horses, a massive shape moved through the darkness.
The creature stood at least six meters tall.
One arm pinned a struggling horse beneath it as it lumbered away.
A troll.
Three of them.
They sat around a fire, stirring a crude stew inside an oversized pot.
The smell alone suggested that whatever they were cooking would poison even themselves.
Two horses lay discarded nearby.
The largest troll turned, clearly intending to grab more.
Three targets.
If he struck fast and removed one immediately, the rest would fall quickly.
Jimmy climbed silently onto the rocks above their camp.
The great blade vanished into storage.
He drew the lighter weapon instead.
When the largest troll stepped closer, Jimmy dropped.
The strike came straight down.
Steel punched through the skull.
He twisted hard, then kicked away as he landed.
"Who are you?"
"The one killing you."
The troll staggered forward.
A blow that would have killed anything else instantly had barely given it time to speak.
It took two more steps.
Then collapsed face-first into the dirt.
"Ruberz One of us was taken down by a squirrel."
"Eat the squirrel."
The other two charged.
Jimmy switched weapons.
Against creatures this large, the heavy blade was faster in the long run.
"Eat mez You would shatter your teeth."
He moved with the blade.
Silat footwork carried him inside their reach.
He leapt.
Steel carved across a troll's waist.
The blade cut deep, yet no blood flowed.
Their skin tightened in battle, turning dense and stone-hard.
A massive club swung down.
Jimmy rolled aside.
He surged forward, shoulder driving into the troll's leg at an angle.
Bone snapped.
The troll howled as it dropped to one knee.
Jimmy pivoted.
The great blade followed through with the momentum of his entire body.
Steel met bone again.
The second leg gave way.
The creature collapsed.
Jimmy stepped in.
One clean strike.
The head rolled free and came to rest beside the fire.
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