The Red Witch of Middle-Earth.

Chapter VII- The Trolls Cave

The first thing the company noticed about the trolls cave, even before they had entered it, was the putrid smell. It attacked their senses, making their eyes water and their noses run. Rhavaniel, who's senses were a lot sharper than the dwarves, had to cover her face with her cloak, although it did barely anything.

"Is this really necessary ?" Bofur complained, his voice muffled by the cloth that covered the bottom half of his face.

"Aye. There'll be a great and many treasures in here." Replied Thorin. His mouth was also covered with a piece of cloth, which made his words almost incomprehensible.

One by one, the dwarves piled into the cave, Rhavaniel and Gandalf following them. An abundance of bones, some animal, some human, were scattered across the floor. They made walking silently almost impossible for the dwarves and Gandalf but Rhavaniel glided over them with ease.

The smell was a lot worse as well. It made them gag and retch in disgust.

A good deal of food had been jumbled carelessly on rickety shelves that lined the wall. A variety of food littered the floor too, among which were untidy piles of plunder; caskets of gold coins and chest full to the brim with gems that, even in the darkness of the cave, shone bright.

"Seems a shame just to leave it lyin' around. Anyone could take it!" Bofur said, waggling his eyebrows cheekily.

"Agreed. Nori, get a shovel!" Said Glóin, his mood now considerably better.

There were also lots of clothes hanging on the wall, but they were too small to be trolls- they were from unfortunate victims- and among them were several swords of various makes, shapes and sizes.

Most were old, rusted and covered in cobwebs but two caught the eyes of Thorin and Gandalf in particular, mostly due to their beautiful scabbards and jewelled hilts. Gandalf handed his to Rhavaniel, for he knew she was well versed in the likes of weaponry; after all, her father was the head smith of the Valar, and she had learnt everything she knew from him.

Some of the dwarves, who had filled a casket with treasure, were now loudly digging a hole. Once they deemed it deep enough, they stuffed the casket into it and then proceeded to bury it.

"This looks to be a good blade." She said, paying no mind to the commotion behind her and half drawing the sword, looking at it curiously.

"What would a witch know of blades?" Fíli sneered from somewhere in the cave, but Rhavaniel ignored him too.

"They were not made by any troll, nor by any smith among men in these parts." She murmured thoughtfully, mostly to herself. After peering at it for a while longer, she fully re-sheathed it and gave it back to Gandalf.

"They are of Elven make-" she started to say, but was cut off by Thorin, who, at the mention of elves, sneered and went to put the blade back.

"You could not wish for a finer blade, Thorin." Gandalf said, earning an approving nod from Rhavaniel.

Reluctantly, Thorin held onto the sword. He too drew it out a few inches, gingerly admiring the craft work.

"These were forged in Gondolin, by the High Elves of the First Age...." Rhavaniel said to Gandalf.

"What ails you, Rhavaniel?" Gandalf asked, even though he knew what her answer would be.

"How did three trolls come across such fine blades, Gandalf?" When he did not answer, she carried on, "trolls have not been seen in these parts for a very long, at least not since a darker shadows ruled this land...."

"Indeed." Gandalf finally said, nodding gravely.

"Come, let's get out of this foul place. Bofur! Glóin! Nori! Fíli!" Commanded Thorin, who had quickly grown sick of the cave.