A Mercenary's Tale

A Significant Encounter

Standing at a good nine feet high, it seemed impossible to miss a troll, but Fith had a sinking feeling that she had managed to do exactly that.

She hated trolls. There was no way around it. It wasn't just because they were smelly- though from her experience, trolls had never failed in disgusting her with their perpetual stench; and don't even remind her of the difficulty she's had getting the smell out of her clothes afterwards- nor due to their lack of sophistication and charm.

She hated trolls because the pay was bad.

Don't get her wrong, she understood that times were hard, and that not everybody could afford to pay her generously. Moreover, she agreed that trolls were not in fact a difficult species to take out, and that any fool with a sharp enough sword could have a good shot for themselves. But for Mahal's sake, she grew tired of being paid so little. It was a real hoard of gold that she sought after.

And yet, despite knowing the job's dismal prospects, she had still accepted it with little objection. After all, gold was gold, no matter how little: a proverb that she lived by.

But she had little need to complain about her potentially poor wages. At this rate, she would be lucky if she got paid at all. Those who she worked for never cared about the difficulties she endured on her travels. For them, it was a simple case of: no successful kills, no wages; and right now, with not a troll in sight, she regretfully acknowledged that, unless she exchanged what few items of value she had left, she would be going hungry for the next few weeks, another lesson that she knew well.

Going back to why she hated trolls. In fact, if she were to really dig deep, she would include Trollshaws to the list.

This was not her first visit, much to her displeasure. It wasn't uncommon for trolls, mainly Hill ones, to haunt in these particular upland woods- which, to Fith's horror, was beginning to occur more frequently over the last couple of years- and so she was beginning to recognise certain parts.

Which is why, when she stumbled across the place where she usually rested, now suspiciously clear of any trees unlike what she recognised from her previous encounters, her hunter skills kicked in quickly. It seemed that her acquaintance with these woodlands had helped her big time.

Experience drilled in. Despite being weighed down by her ageing weaponry, as well as the basic chain mail that she wore over her chest, she stepped across the clearing silently, making not a sound, not even with her thick boots.

It wasn't hard to miss the newly uprooted trees, and other clear signs of a huge and clumsy disturbance. These were clear indications that she had found her targets, which meant that she was getting paid after all. A fact that was enough to put a smile on her face. Craning her neck, she noticed the familiar sight of a hastily made camp, with a fire burning in its centre...

"Kili, wait."

Realising that she was no longer alone, she slowly turned around- albeit with little grace: instead, rolling her eyes while huffing- with her hands held defensively in the air, now in the view of two other dwarves.

They seemed to be just as taken aback, though they were taking much longer to adjust.

"Who are you?" The taller of the two questioned abruptly. Unlike the other, his hair was extremely fair, reminding Fith of the gold that she treasured so much. Next to him was the other, whose colourings were much darker, though his expression remained unfazed.

Looking about wearily, she replied. "I'm a fellow wanderer of these parts. Like you, I mean no trouble. Happy now?"

The tall dwarf's expression demonstrated that, clearly, he was not. He only risked taking his eyes off of her when someone else pushed their way into the clearing.