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Shadows Stir in the Valley

"Where did you go to, if I may ask?", the Grey looked towards him. After making sure his elf was in condition to continue, Thorin approached their wizard.

"To look ahead", holding his staff, Gandalf looked towards their elf who was being looked over by Oin.

"What brought you back?"

"Looking behind. Nasty business; still, they're all in one piece", he nodded towards the Company, and after looking at them, Thorin regarded him once again, looking like he had been right all the time.

"No thanks to your burglar", confronted the dwarf.

"He had the nous to play for time", countered the other, "None of the rest of you thought of that", Thorin looked repentant. Gandalf turns, examining the trolls, and thinking. How come they were there?, "They must have come down from the Ettenmoors."

"Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?"

"Oh, not for an age. Not since a darker power ruled these lands. In any case, they could not have moved in daylight", Thorin turned to the comapny and told them to keep going, and they did.

Walking through the forest, the princess felt pain. Not on her body, but in her heart. Why did the forest seem so... grim? The leader stopped, and so did she, but her eyes did not.

"There must be a cave nearby", said the dwarven king. Thorin and Gandalf scanned the surrounding area, and soon the Grey found and lead them towards the said cave. As everyone walked inside, coughs and retching sounds were heard. The elf herself felt nauseous, and held her stomach.

"What's that stench?", asked Kili.

"It's a troll hoard. Be careful what you touch", warned Gandalf. Soon, the dwarves found piles of gold coins and many more treasures. Their exploring had given fruits.

"Seems a shame to leave it laying around. Anyone could take it", hummed Fili. Gloin nodded as if he had understood something.

"Agreed. Oin, get a shovel", and he did. Mäeth looked as they started making holes in the ground. Thorin had found something much more interesting, two swords covered in spider webs. Giving one to the wizard, he unsheated the other and evaluated the craftmanship in it. By his expression, it was no mere sword.

"These were not made by any troll", concludes Oakenshield.

"Nor were they made by any smith among men", he walked closer to further examine the blade, "These were forged in Gondolin by the High Elves of the First Age", Thorin, who could not forgive nor forget, began to put the sword away, staring in digust, "You could not wish for a finer blade!", Mithrandir glared.

Thorin angrily unsheathed the sword once again and held it high above him. In the entrance of the cave, the others were filling a chest with coins and burying it. Dwalin shook his head, while Mäetharanel watched curiously.

"We're making a long term deposit!", informed Gloin, and the elf could only nod. They never ceased to surprise her. An hand holding her own made her look down into Thorin's eyes.

"Come! Let's get out of this foul place", he seemed to have- was that an elven sword? Looking at him in mirth, she opened her mouth to speak, but, "Not a word from you", so she laughed.

The dwarves filed behind Thorin, leaving the cave. Gandalf makes to follow them, when his foot hits against something, a small sword.

"Bilbo, here", the wizard had approached them and gave the hobbit a sword, "This is about your size."

"I can't take this", answered the red head, aprehensive. He didn't want anything to do with weapons.

"The blade is of elvish make, which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby", explained the wizard, and while relutant, the other took the sword.