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This was the first time Jimmy had ever seen panic in Gandalf's eyes.
That alone said enough.
So it really was that serious.
Watching Gandalf spur his horse and vanish into the trees, Jimmy shook his head.
He would have liked to see this so-called Necromancer for himself, but right now, he had no way to deal with things that whispered curses and hid behind shadows.
If brute force worked, he would already be there.
Unfortunately, all he knew how to do was cut.
Jimmy glanced at the blade in his hand and sighed.
"Let us cross Mirkwood first."
Thorin was the first to step onto the Old Forest Road.
The trees on either side were stripped bare, trunks pale and lifeless, the stone road beneath their feet buried under fallen leaves, weeds pushing up through the cracks, weathered but still barely visible.
That night, Jimmy lit a fire.
The flames pushed back the darkness, but something still moved beyond the light, soft scratching sounds, shapes shifting just out of sight.
Every so often, a sound echoed through the forest, sharp and wrong, something no animal should have been able to make.
Morning brought no comfort.
Sunlight barely pierced the canopy, and instead, a thick white fog rose from the forest floor, rolling in like a tide.
"Cough! cough!" Ori staggered back, rubbing his face. "This stuff smells awful."
He had stepped just beyond the warmth of the fire, and the fog had hit him hard.
Jimmy's hand snapped out, grabbing him.
"Stop, do not put the fire out," he said sharply. "Ori, do you feel strange?"
"Nothing strange." Ori laughed weakly. "Ha ha ha."
That laugh was all the proof they needed.
Jimmy immediately splashed water from a flask across Ori's face.
"Tobacco." he barked. "Gandalf's leaf, now, blow smoke in his face."
"I have some," Bilbo said quickly, taking a deep draw and exhaling directly at Ori.
Ori coughed violently.
"What are you doing," he demanded. "What is wrong with you all?"
"That fog," Jimmy said. "It is the poison Beorn warned us about, It fears fire."
He looked around.
"Everyone, make torches. Soak cloths in water mixed with tobacco and cover your mouths."
It was crude, but it was protection.
As for Jimmy, the fog barely registered, he could breathe it like smoke and walk on without consequence.
The deeper they went, the worse it became.
Water ran low, the fog lingered longer each day, no longer just a morning problem.
More than once, dwarves wandered toward branching paths, eyes unfocused, only to be yanked back by Jimmy at the last moment.
He was hauling Bombur away from one such turn when Bilbo's voice rang out ahead.
"Jimmy, the road ends."
"What?"
"I mean it, There is no road."
When Jimmy reached the front, he saw it clearly.
Trees had burst up through the stone path, roots tearing the road apart, and beyond them, a deep trench split the ground.
The road was gone.
"Wait here," Jimmy said. "I will take a look from above."
He found a nearby tree and climbed rapidly, ignoring thick strands of webbing as he snapped them aside with a stick.
He pushed his head above the canopy.
Wind rushed past.
In the distance lay the Lonely Mountain, Lake-town, and a winding river cutting through the land, the Forest River.
Then he saw it.
The treetops shuddered.
Heavy movement. Too heavy.
Boom! Boom!
"Stay alert."
Jimmy's eyes narrowed.
Spiders.
Massive ones.
The kind called Web shooters.
"Damn it," he muttered. "The fog messes with your head, How did I forget about these?"
Experience waiting to happen.
He did not hesitate.
Pulling a mass of water from the Cube, Jimmy leapt down.
Splash! Cc
Cold water drenched the entire group, snapping every dwarf awake in an instant.
"What in the hell?"
"Rain."
"What is happening?"
Jimmy landed lightly.
"Enemies incoming Get ready." Jimmy drew his blade and shouted.
The spiders answered first.
Sharp, shrill screeches cut through the fog as massive shapes dropped from the canopy, long legs striking the ground in bursts of movement.
Because of Jimmy's warning and the cold water dumped moments earlier, the dwarves held their formation.
Kíli did not miss.
Arrow after arrow flew, each shot clean and precise, pinning the web shooters at range, one flank completely locked down by him alone.
Jimmy charged.
Steel flashed, arcs of light tearing through the fog as spider after spider burst apart under his strikes, ichor spraying across bark and leaves.
The spiders fought back.
Those that slipped past Jimmy's blade and Kíli's arrows hurled thick webs toward the formation, anything caught was dragged backward with terrifying strength.
"Torches," Thorin shouted. "Burn the webs."
Inside the ring, Bilbo fumbled with a damp torch, blowing desperately.
"Hurry!!" someone yelled.
"Give me a second," Bilbo replied. "Everything is soaked."
Whoosh!
Fire caught.
One torch became two, then three, flames spreading outward as the outer ring of dwarves each took one, burning webs midair and hacking down anything that pushed too close.
"I am running low on arrows," Kíli called out. "Jimmy. Close in."
"On me," Jimmy replied. "Same plan, I take point."
He glanced ahead.
"I can see the direction of the Lonely Mountain."
"Then move," Thorin ordered. "Fast."
Jimmy carved a path forward, dragging the battle with him.
Thorin watched and shook his head slightly.
Jimmy was capable in every way, except one.
He fought too willingly.
Sometimes, the fight itself slowed the journey.
The spider numbers thinned quickly.
Jimmy wiped sticky blood from his blade against a tree trunk as the remaining spiders hesitated, circling, torn between hunger and fear.
"Everyone is good," Jimmy called back.
"We are alive," Bombur grumbled. "Though less covered in spider blood would be preferable."
Jimmy laughed.
"My fault, I will aim better next time."
Then he stiffened.
"Hold, Something else is coming."
The sound was different.
Not chittering.
Whistling.
Arrows sliced through the fog.
"Elves," Jimmy said quietly. "Wood Elves, Stay sharp."
He relaxed his grip slightly.
If it could be avoided, he would not kill them.
That was a rule he set for himself.
Power gained through killing without restraint had a cost, and he refused to lose himself to it.
He stepped behind a tree as arrows struck bark nearby.
"Do not move, dwarves." a clear voice rang out. "Another step and my arrow will take your king's head."
The speaker emerged from the mist, bow drawn, eyes sharp.
It was Legolas.
"That does not sound like proper hospitality," Jimmy said calmly, stepping out from behind the tree and appearing behind him.
Legolas spun instantly, movement fluid, rolling forward, pivoting, retreating, advancing again, each step precise.
Jimmy did not move.
The tip of his blade remained pointed at the same vital spot, the distance between them unchanged no matter how Legolas shifted.
More arrows flew.
Jimmy caught one midair, twisted his wrist, and knocked the others aside with effortless flicks.
"Enough." another voice called out. "Lower your weapons."
A figure stepped forward, bow lowered but eyes wary.
It was Tauriel.
"Human warrior," she said. "We should talk."
Jimmy lowered his blade.
"That was my intention."
The forest held its breath.
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