Chapter 11
As Alric made his way back into camp his mind swirled with new plans and upgrades. He would have quite a bit of poison essence. Maybe enough to give himself greater resistance and a offensive measure if he was smart about it. He wasn't paying much attention as he strolled into the camp. This led to him being completely surprised by the new voice that exclaimed upon his arrival.
"My word! What an interesting fellow. Huge, all trolls are…but green! How fascinating."
Alric looked over and saw an old man unabashedly gawking at him. The man had a frenetic energy that paired strangely well with the ragged brown clothes. He seemed a bit like a squirrel to Alric. The man seemed strangely familiar, but he couldn't remember what role this odd being played in the movies. Luckily Gandalf jogged his memory.
"Ah, Alric this is Radagast. He comes with grave tidings of Mirkwood where he resides."
"Hello."
Radagast chuckled slightly and clapped once in joy. His mood far to jovial for whatever grave tidings Gandalf claimed he brought.
"Wonderful…A peaceful Troll! Imagin it, Gandalf."
"I don't have to my old friend…I'm right here." The Grey wizard gave a slightly exasperated smile.
"Well obviously! Don't be daft Gandalf. The boy is clean. No Rot, No malice and dark magic. A Troll. Who knows what this could mean."
I'm flattered but I'm not sure I'm quite the perfect saint this crazy person seems to think I am. Why can't I remember who he is, it's right at the edge of my memory. I for sure am not "peaceful" …Wait is that a full-on bird's nest in his hair?
Before Alric could ask after the sanity of this latest addition a howl echoed into the valley.
Everyone froze. The sound was seeped in a hungry menace. No normal wolf sounded like that.
All of a sudden Alric's memory clicked. Before the company had even left the Troll caves a band of Warg riders had attacked them. The strange wizard was Radagast the Brown Wizard who had distracted some of the Wargs that the White Orc Azog had sent after Thorin. But they had made it much farther before either encounter this time. Alric wasn't entirely sure what he had done to change the timing, but it was here, nonetheless.
As Gandalf warned of the imminent attack of Wargs Alric watched on. His plans needed to change or at least be delayed. He would need to help the party here. He was after all fashioning himself as a mercenary. And while payment was yet to be settled upon it would look rather bad if he failed to show any use while they were attacked. Alric had little doubt he would be attacked alongside the party rather soon. None of that was bothering him. What was leaving him pensive was how much help to give. If he fought too hard, he might negate the need and danger that allowed Gandalf to lead the cranky dwarves to the elves. Now normally he wouldn't care but the map was only supposed to be readable by Lord Elrond during that one night if he recalled.
Mind made up Alric put little more thought into the matter as he Turned and swung a massive fist down on a charging Warg. Just as the giant dog burst from the brush aiming to pounce at Bilbo, A massive green fist cracked its skull wide open. The dead beast's momentum died as its mangled head was planted in the dirt from the force of the blow.
"That's a scout." Alric turned but didn't catch which dwarf had said it.
Alric made no move to stop the progression as Gandalf used the emergency to lead the party to a secret path. Alric knew exactly where he was taking them. He did notice that with him protecting their rear the group kept their ponies and didn't plan to send Radagast as a distraction.
Instead of the smaller path through the stone crack Gandalf led the group toward Rivendell far more openly. This had two effects that deviated from the original as far as Alric could tell. Thorin caught on to the wizards plan much sooner. The scowling face and mulish glances at Gandalf communicated as much. The second was that the group was facing much more fighting.
That wasn't entirely true. The group was doing some fighting; Alric was killing as many of the overgrown hell chihuahuas as he could grab. He took as many big bites out of his kills as he walked behind the group as he could manage.
Escort missions are always the worst. Still these Wargs don't taste terrible.
The minions of the white orc were not very bright. They seemed utterly confused by Alric, as if the mere thought of them facing a Troll was strange. Which it may well have been while not exactly allies the two groups had little reason to clash and were often seen on the same side of most wars. They had finally realized they couldn't get to the dwarves while the giant green bouncer was present. Pouring the majority of their forces toward Alric they hadn't accounted for said forces being unable to do substantial damage to him.
Alric was pleased to see that his tithe system had improved his defense past the point of taking damage from mobs like these. The teeth of the Wargs dented in his skin but couldn't pierce fully through into the dense muscle. His fists rained out blows with terrifying force. Bones shattered and lives ended with every blow that connected.
This almost reminds me of my first fight here…These Wargs kind of taste like them too. Shame I can't eat more of them. These bites on the move will have to do.
As the pursuers fell back slightly to regroup a horn blast echoed forth crisp and clear. The dwarves may not have recognized the particular horn, but the orcs did. The leaders' eyes widened in alarm.
"Wait! Back. Retreat." The lead orc screamed at the contingent of riders in front of him. He didn't wait to follow his own advice as he jerked his own mount to retreat. Unfortuatley for it the attempt was far too little too late.
An arrow sprouted from the center of his back like a magic trick. The slight thunk sound of the elven broadhead sliding into flesh accompanied by a handful of identical occurrences across the now panicking orcs.
Alric and the group paused and huddled to reassess.
Alric was rather impressed by the elves showing. They charged forth in perfect sync flowing together in a sweeping charge that impaled the remaining orcs on spears in one fluid movement. The Elves rode on graceful horses each well trained to move as a unit with the rest, unflinching and graceful.
After the last Orc was made a shish-kebab the elves wasted no time encircling him and the dwarves. Alric was a little wary as the spears were lowered in a glittering circle pointed primarily at him.
While his defense had grown, he had little doubt that the elves' famous weapons were sufficient to slay even him.
Luckily it seemed even a Troll was to be heard out when traveling with a recognized friend such as Mithrandir.
Gandalf your up. Please talk these very graceful and scary people out of turning me into a pin cushion!
Before Alric could wait for the grey wizard to doubtless do just that, his mouth opened without him.
"Friendly! I'm not a bad Troll."
Even the immortal and helmeted elves seemed to pause and stare at Alric after his outburst. He could almost feel the stares on him. Even with helmets on and in the saddle the elves had clearly heard him.
At this point he was reconsidering whether he wanted the elves to stab him. He was certain the embarrassment was turning even his green face a shade darker.
"Gandalf…" he nearly whispered.
After a moment Alric decided the best play was to ask for back up. Let the diplomatic old man be all eloquent and stuff.