Its mouth was so huge that it could swallow his entire head in one go. The battle abruptly ceased; the dwarves stopped their actions and turned to look at the source of the sound. When they saw the troll holding Bilbo in his hands and shaking him like a toy, everyone's expressions changed.
Thorin looked up at Bilbo, whose face had turned pale in the firelight, his eyes wide with fear, his lips trembling. In those eyes was a plea for help, as well as a fear of death. At that moment, many images flashed through Thorin's mind from their first meeting at Bag End. He had shown contempt for Bilbo; when signing the contract, he had said: "The burglar's life or death is not the company's concern." Along the way, he had shown impatience and ignored Bilbo...
And now this hobbit, whom he had looked down upon, was risking his life because of his own impulsiveness. "Drop your weapons," the troll leader repeated, tightening his fingers. Bilbo groaned in pain, his face turning purple.
Thorin was torn between two choices. Surrendering their weapons meant everyone here could die, but if he didn't, Bilbo would surely die. Finally, Thorin took a deep breath and loosened his grip on his sword. "Clang." The sword fell to the ground, making a distinct sound in the silence.
Balin was the first to react; he sighed and lowered his sword. Then came Dwalin. He glared angrily at the troll, but released his axe. One by one, Kili, Fili, Bofur, Bifur... laid down their weapons. Soon, all the dwarves were disarmed, standing empty-handed, looking at the trolls with anger and helplessness.
Finally, the chaos subsided, and only then did Thorin and the others realise that Gandalf was missing. During the attack, it seemed he had followed the leader, but now, looking around, he was nowhere to be found. He had not participated in the fighting, nor was he among those who had laid down their weapons. The dwarves lowered their voices and began to whisper among themselves.
"Where is Gandalf?"
"Did he... did he run away?"
"Impossible! He's a wizard!"
"Can't wizards be afraid? Trolls are so huge..."
"Then why didn't he use a spell? One spell would have been enough to deal with those ugly monsters!"
Thorin also wondered whether Gandalf had actually fled. The thought crossed his mind, but he immediately dismissed it. No, Gandalf was not that kind of person. If he wanted to run, he could have done so when the orcs appeared. Why wait until now? Then Thorin remembered something else: his refusal of Gandalf's suggestion to continue on, and the harsh words he had spoken to Gandalf...
Thorin looked up at his whispering companions. His voice was not loud, but loud enough for all to hear: "Enough, stop with the speculation."
"Gandalf is a wizard, not a warrior; casting spells takes time."
"We acted hastily, didn't give him time, and didn't plan tactics properly, so we cannot blame him."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the dark forest: "He should go and find Karl."
"Gandalf will surely return to save us if we can hold out until they get back."
Thorin's words calmed the dwarves; they had indeed been too impulsive and had not given the wizard a chance to cast a spell.
Gandalf watched everything from the grass, hiding behind thick bushes and observing the scene. When he saw Thorin lower his weapon to save Bilbo, he was filled with surprise. In particular, a slight smile appeared on Thorin's face as he explained his "absence." He stroked his long beard, considering Karl's words. It seemed Karl's method was indeed correct.
Thorin needed to experience more setbacks to change and grow. Being captured by a troll and realising the consequences of his impulsiveness proved more effective than a hundred lectures. "Time to show myself," Gandalf thought, preparing to stand and cast a spell.
However, just as he was about to step forward, he suddenly bumped into something warm from behind. Gandalf was alarmed; his heart stopped. Was it a wild beast? Or... another troll? Without thinking, he turned and swung his staff in response, but it was intercepted and caught by a hand that held it in mid-air.
That hand was as immovable as a rock; no matter how Gandalf tried, the staff did not budge, as if it had been forged on an anvil. "Gandalf, did you see that clearly? Why did you start hitting people?"
A familiar voice came, calm but with a hint of mockery. Hearing it, Gandalf, by the light of the moon and the trolls' fire behind him, clearly saw the newcomer's face: it was Karl.
Gandalf awkwardly withdrew his staff, coughing slightly to hide his embarrassment: "Sorry. There are trolls behind us, so it's better to be careful."
Karl ignored it, his gaze sweeping over Gandalf and into the distance. The three trolls were tying up the dwarves and stuffing them into sacks one by one. These sacks, originally used for storing grain or valuables, had now become prisons.
"Things aren't looking good." Karl squinted and slowly drew an arrow from the quiver.
"When I brought the prey back to camp, I didn't see anyone guarding it, so I knew something had happened."
"So we quickly set out to find them, and luckily, it wasn't too late."
In fact, Karl had been watching the group from close range for quite some time. He had assumed that with Kili and Fili there, Bilbo wouldn't risk freeing the horses and getting caught. Unexpectedly, all three were captured at once, probably because they were too hungry to resist.
"I'll blind them; are you ready?" Karl said, nocking an arrow to his bow.
Gandalf's gaze flickered, and he turned to look at Karl. Shoot a troll in the eye in the dark? And a moving target at that. Wouldn't it be better to circle around and untie Thorin and the others first? What if they missed?
But seeing Karl's confident look, Gandalf suppressed his questions, remembering the recent cliff collapse... Gandalf pursed his lips and slowly nodded: "Ready."
"You shoot them, I'll create chaos, and then we'll rush in to rescue the hostages."
"Alright," Karl replied, speaking only one word.
In the next instant, he drew the bowstring, his movements slow and even somewhat leisurely. The bow bent, groaning under the strain, and Gandalf even feared it might break. But Karl seemed to know the bow's limits, stopping just before reaching the critical point, then releasing it.
"FWOOSH!" A sharp and short sound of an arrow piercing the air came. Under Gandalf's watchful eye, the arrow flew straight toward the nearest troll. Before the first arrow could hit its target, Karl had already drawn a second. This time, his movements were so fast that Gandalf could not see them clearly: nocking the arrow, drawing the bow, and so on — all actions happened in a flash.
"FWOOSH!" The second arrow flew out immediately after the first. The first arrow struck the troll in the left eye with incredible precision, the shaft sinking to the very base, leaving only the fletching visible.
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