Because Dúvi's company left early in the morning, heading alongside the river Hoarwell to the north, the bold fellows had yet some time to look around for the troll's hideout. Surely he was not around for too long time, for he did not have much of a hoard; but still the friends found some things of interest among his possession. Bivoj fancied especially one bull's horn, which gave out a very powerful deep sound when blown. The most interest, however, was caused by a small wooden box which, that much seemed clear, resisted even the troll's attempts to open it. The dwarf Thrán tried to succeed where the troll was not lucky and attempted to strike off the lock on the box with a stone. When he did not succeed, he continued with an attempt to strike off the lock over the edge of the bridge. The box flew off from his arms and nearly killed Larongwaloth and Grill. The elf decided to take the matter to his own hands - it seemed clear to him that this is not any ordinary box. Only after he knocked on it and spoke some unintelligible word, the box opened and revealed its contents. It contained a case with a letter written in Sindarin, warning before the "Shadow that looks towards Moria", which, according to the prediction of the writer is "moving northwards". The friends could not learn much from it, though, except from that the writer was a woman.* Therefore Larongwaloth decided to preserve the letter and the box for now and pass it in Rivendell to the Wise.
Afterwards, the company entered the Ettenmoors. The land of wolves and stone trolls gave the impression of rough and unpleasant country. Right the first day afternoon a rain storm started and it rained with short breaks for two full days. As if that were not enough, the friends realized that they don't have enough food for everybody on the journey to Rivendell. The dwarves Thrán and Grill, before dependant on the provisions of Dúvi's caravan, were abandoned with no food and in the rain it was not possible to stop and try to seek any fuel. Not considering that even attempts like that ended always unsuccesfully; the Ettenmoors seemed desolated and lifeless.
On the evening of the third day the friends came to a lake that was probably created under unfavorable natural conditions and it blocked the East road on a space of almost hundred yards. Nevertheless, thanks to Blueberry's good guidance the friends avoided the wetland and succeeded to pass by the lake; and they camped on its eastern side before the sun set.
Because the weather was nice now, the bold fellows collected some wood and after a long time they made a campfire and broiled some mushrooms that Grill found, along with lard he dug up somewhere among his possessions. Their pleasant feasting was interrupted by Bivoj's dog, who suddenly started to bark furiously towards a group of trees southward from the campsite. Thrán, Bivoj and Blueberry went to explore what caused the dog's disconcert. As soon as they stepped under the trees, they noticed a light of fire shining through the forest. While the two warriors unwieldily crept forwards, Blueberry quietly sneaked to the very edge of the forest glade where the fire was. She saw two trolls: one was saying something to the other at the moment, pointing back to where the friends came. Blueberry had to act quickly. She gave sign to both of the nearing warriors and then she used her affinity with nature and lured both the trolls away. After she run to the clearing, doused the fire by liquid from the trolls' mugs and then she dared to look to the purse one troll left there. And that was a mistake. Trolls' purses are the mischief, and this was no exception. Something gripped Blueberry's wrist and did not want to let go. Incoming Thrán rushed to aid her, while Bivoj sent his dog back to the camp, where Laronwaloth and Grill understood that something is wrong and run to help their friends. Before their departure Grill picked from his possessions several little bottles of unknown content.
When they arrived at the spot, Thrán was just trying to cut himself away from the entrapment of the troll-purse. It was not much time left, the trolls could be back in any moment. Thus, the bold fellows hid themselves behind the trees surrounding the forest glade.
The trolls really returned. It took them a while to realize what happened. But they figured out that someone doused their fire and was messing about with their purse, and that "someone" could be none but the one whose camp they before saw nearby. The companions, however, did not want in the slightest to leave their camp and Larongwaloth's donkey to two hungry trolls. Bivoj blew his bull-horn and Larongwaloth shouted aloud to lure the trolls back. They arrived in a moment with terrible stampede; but they did not expect the ambush that was prepared for them. Thrán and Bivoj clashed with one and let him taste the blades of their swords; Blueberry kept hitting the other with slingstones while Grill tossed two of his bottles at him. The dwarven liquid fire burned the troll and kept flaming; at the moment when the troll turned to run, Larongwaloth the elf appeared beside him and another flow of fire streamed from his hands! Both the trolls were defeated and our friends felt rightfully like heroes. The only thing they pitied was that the trolls - obviously famishing themselves - did not contribute in the slightest to their diminishing supplies.
But this was not the end of the events on the lakeside. On the next morning, when the companions went to the lake to refill their water supplies, Blueberry entered the water and after a while started even to swim further from the edge and dive. But when it happened that she did not emerge for some time, Larongwaloth started to cry for help. But sooner than Bivoj and Thrán (in his chainmail, as he was) could dive for her, she appeared suddenly near the shore, dragging a big two-handed sword. To the questions of her companions she answered that she found a dead body underwater, and that the sword was lying beside it. Bivoj took the body out and found that it belongs to a middle-aged man. The dead obviously was not lying underwater for much long, for he was still in quite good state; asides from the sword he had also a sack with watered remains of food, a knife and a purse of gold. The death was caused probably by piercing wound in his back. The friends spent some time with speculating about the fate of this man, but they did not came to any conclusion; at least they covered the dead's body with wood and shrubs and then resumed their course to the east.
The biggest problem were now the running-out supplies. Laronwaloth the elf made some calculations and came to the conclusion that the company has about three days till they reach the Bruinen fords. That did not sound too reassuring. The landscape, however, started to seem a little bit friendlier and even the animal tracks started to appear more frequently; Blueberry found some nuts to fill in her stomach. Now the company decided, about a day of walk before Loudwater, to make a stop and spent some time with hunting. This task was given to Thrán and Bivoj, accompanied by Bivoj's dog. It did not take a long and they were back in camp, not only with two rabbits, but also with numerous wounds from claws and bites. It was revealed that during their hunt they stumbled upon a pack of three white wolves, which however they overpowered (although for the price of numerous wounds) and whose meat then served as makeshift dish for the next day.
Nevertheless the meat served the lives of our friends, or rather stomachs. With enough rations the bold fellows could without fear get to Loudwater, which they passed without any problems. Further, led by the perceptive eyes of the dwarves and especially by these of Larongwaloth the elf, our friends marched on following a barely noticable path through the rocky land full of steep slopes till nightfall. At last, under high starry sky, five days before the autumn equinox stopped the weary wanderers on the edge of the secret valley of Rivendell and looked upon the Last Homely House, where there dwelt the wisest of all loremasters west of the Mountains, Elrond Halfelven.
~THE END~
(for now
)
*Maybe it would be nonsense in Sindarin, but in Czech you can realize even if one speaks in first person whether he is "he" or "she" by verb suffixes.
I might add that there were also three big fëanorian letters without vocalisation on the case:
calma, arda, númen.