The dwarves rushed to lift Thorin from the ground. The prince did not refuse their help; he was still dazed from the troll's brutal charge. Both he and Bilbo were brought to their feet while Gandalf, frowning, stared at the corpse of the monster he had just felled, wondering how such creatures had managed to come this far south.
"Are you alright, Thorin?" asked Dwalin, holding him by the arm.
"Yes…" he replied, staggering and nearly collapsing again as he tried to take a step. "Just… give me a moment."
Relief spread across the dwarves' faces when they saw that both their leader and the hobbit were alive. It had been a hard-fought victory, but without casualties. Their joy, however, turned into surprise when they saw the Eldens approach, seize the massive troll's corpse, and drag it back toward the camp where the fighting had taken place.
"What are they doing?" asked Glóin, frowning.
"Should we help you?" Ori added, but his companions only shrugged, just as puzzled as he was.
There was no need. Despite the troll's size, the Eldens were not ordinary beings, and together they dragged it effortlessly while the dwarves followed at a distance, carrying Thorin and Bilbo along, driven by curiosity.
At the troll camp, Miquella knelt, channeling a glow that enveloped both his hands and the bodies of the three trolls. His expression was grave, and his work frantic, fearing that the rising sun would petrify the corpses and ruin that invaluable energy. He chastised himself for not having asked Yavanna's help to recharge his ring, which would have given him the strength to bring into existence something he truly longed for.
The dwarves circled the corpses, once again astonished by the demigod's magic. They had seen it before, but it never ceased to impress: the way the bodies dissolved into golden particles, the radiance in his hair, the almost divine majesty that emanated from him, as though, for one fleeting moment, a celestial being regained his light.
At a certain point, the absorption accelerated. As with other large creatures, the process shifted from slow and steady to suddenly swift. Within seconds, the trolls vanished completely, leaving only the traces of battle. Before them all, Miquella raised his hands and began to form floating circles in the air, etched upon the invisible.
"What is that?" asked Gandalf, intrigued.
"A rune," Miquella replied, evaluating his creation.
It was not like the rune from Brea, and not just because it came from another race, but because of its forging method. The rune of Brea had required consuming the entirety of its bearer's being and soul to be completed; this one, however, had been forged with only a fraction of the life essence, resulting in a weakened rune—temporarily. In time, it would regain its strength until it reached its full potential.
In return, much of the being's energy could be preserved and stored in the ring for other purposes. Miquella had devised this method inspired by the Eldens' situation upon arriving in this world. This was his first successful attempt at a rune of such power, and he could now claim mastery over two paths of creation: consume everything to obtain a full rune instantly… or sacrifice only part, forging one that would mature over time.
"Is that the trolls' soul?" asked Gandalf, sensing within the magical floating carving the same essence he had felt in those creatures. To accomplish such a feat was a fearsome power indeed; had it not originated in dark beings like trolls, his reaction would have been far less restrained.
"No… and yes. It's their essence…" Miquella replied, though his voice sounded distant. His focus was entirely elsewhere. Without even looking, he tossed the rune toward the dwarves. "Keep it."
At once, he lifted his hand with the ring, closed his eyes, and sank into deep concentration, feeling the torrent of power coursing within him.
"It's enough… almost…" he murmured, channeling the gathered energy. It was not enough to bring back his family, but he felt he could… enough for other things he desired.
Bombur, standing directly in the rune's path, managed to catch it clumsily, juggling it a bit before securing it. Yet he noticed that the object never actually touched his skin, always hovering a few inches above his hand. The rune was composed of three circles, each with intricate engravings, its glow as strange as it was mesmerizing. Bombur glanced at his companions uneasily, unsure what to do.
"What do we do with this?" Dori asked Gandalf.
"It's an enhancer," Miquella quickly answered, beating the wizard to it. "If you carry it on your bodies, it will grant you the troll's power… or it will, in time. It can be divided, so share it. The closer the bond between the bearers, the stronger the effect." His brow furrowed and his tone hardened. "Now, keep silent."
The dwarves exchanged glances, staring at the rune, at their companions, and at Miquella with a mix of wonder and confusion. Though they trusted the demigod would not give them anything harmful, the final decision had to be made by their leader.
Thorin looked at Gandalf for a moment. The wizard hesitated but ultimately yielded the choice to the dwarf, who turned back to the rune, weighing it in silence.
"Bombur, Bofur, Bifur… share them," Thorin ordered, handing over the rune. Though he was also impressed by its appearance, he chose to give it up so that they might take it and test it.
The three dwarves approached cautiously, not quite sure what to do. Finally, they stretched out their hands, and each took one of the circles. To their surprise, the entire rune split easily into three individual pieces, each formed by a single circle. Yet they did not know how to use them and looked to Miquella in doubt, unwilling to interrupt him in whatever he was doing.
For a moment, Bombur seriously considered eating it… until a voice stopped him.
"Stick them to your skin," Leda instructed, noticing the three dwarves' hesitation.
Now with clear instructions, they found bare spots on their bodies and pressed the runes to their skin. Before everyone's astonished eyes, the symbols began to merge, fusing with their flesh until only a dark mark remained, like a tattoo. The nearby dwarves soon tried to touch them, attempting to pull them off, but to no avail.
"Mmm… they don't look like trolls. I think it failed," Dwalin remarked mockingly.
"But I feel like one," Bofur shot back with a blissful grin, sensing strength flow through his body. He lifted his hammer with ease, spinning it in his hand. "I feel like more trolls could come and I'd love to see them try." He cried out with confidence, his eyes flashing with defiance.
Bifur looked just as thrilled, though no one understood what he was saying, and he simply patted his biceps proudly. Bombur, for his part, toppled several companions with a single belly shove.
Among the other dwarves, reactions were mixed: some believed in the runes' power, others remained doubtful. That division began to fade once they started testing themselves in arm wrestling and strength contests. The difference was clear: the rune-bearers far surpassed their previous strength, though when attempting to take on several rivals at once, they still lost. The power was not yet complete—only about a twenty percent boost over their original strength.
Gandalf and Thorin exchanged a glance full of surprise. Though the improvement was not overwhelming, strategically it was formidable; such a weapon could decisively tilt the outcome of a battle. Both then turned their gaze toward the not-so-distant child, who remained focused… and at that moment:
"I've got it!" Miquella exclaimed, his voice vibrating with determination and excitement at the success of his feat.
Suddenly, the ring's glow blazed with blinding intensity, bathing dwarves and Eldens alike in its energy. The powerful emanation of light and force captured every gaze, while before Miquella, the very fabric of space unraveled and twisted, allowing a figure to begin taking tangible form.
When the brilliance faded and the image grew sharp, a large, fur-covered silhouette appeared before them.
There was no time for comments: Miquella let out a squeal of joy and hurled himself onto the creature with overwhelming emotion.
"TORRENT!" he cried, clinging to his steed like a koala, rubbing his face against its soft fur.
The dwarves and the wizard gawked, watching the boy embrace that strange horned horse with pure happiness, a smile impossible to contain that revealed his truest emotions—so different from the controlled smiles he had shown before. The Eldens, though less surprised—since they had known Torrent and his return was not entirely unexpected—could not help but be amazed at their lord's intensity of joy, a reaction they had thought reserved for the day the rest of the empyreans returned.
"A… horse?" asked one dwarf, scratching his head.
"The best horse in the world… muaaa" proclaimed Miquella, kissing the animal with the same emotion he had shown upon reuniting with Leda in this world.
Torrent, too, seemed thrilled. After overcoming his initial confusion—and despite the fact that, had he not recognized Miquella's aura, he would have fled from such a rough embrace—he let out a whinny of reunion, escaping his muzzle like a warm reply.
Unable to hold back, Miquella nimbly climbed onto his back and, gripping as in the old days, gave him a few pats. Torrent raised his front legs in assent before galloping into the forest. The boy screamed in sheer euphoria at feeling that speed once again.
Those present watched him vanish among the trees, unsure what to do: worry, follow him, or simply let him enjoy his freedom.
Until…
"Yyyyaaaahhhhohoooooo!" Miquella was heard rushing past them at full speed, only to disappear into the thicket again.
That back-and-forth game repeated a few more times until Torrent stopped in the middle of the group, panting lightly.
"You're the best… and I missed you so much, old friend," he said, hugging his steed and feeling that the recovery of all he had lost was finally making true progress. Each day seemed to bring him closer to his goal. "Alright, everyone, this is Torrent, the best steed you could wish for… what do you think?"
"That you like him so much, I worry we won't have to find him a mare," Dwalin remarked in his usual serious, sarcastic tone, which drew laughter from the other dwarves… but earned him a deadly glare from the Eldens.
"Hmmm… you're just jealous," Miquella shot back, dismissive; nothing could overshadow his joy at that moment. "So then, how are the runes? Do they feel comfortable?" he asked, suddenly remembering the matter. Though they were a valuable aid, to him they did not compare to Torrent. Even so, strengthening the dwarves was a wise move.
"Good," replied Bofur, slapping his arm. "I don't have the strength of a troll, but enough to smash more skulls with my hammer."
"That's because they're not recharged yet," Miquella explained. "They'll recover their power little by little. Once they do, they'll grant their bearers the strength of a troll… not as crude as the original, but strong enough to make a difference. And they work best together: the closer the bearers are to one another, the stronger the power will be. They could even all be focused on one person, but in their current state, it's better to use them separately."
The dwarves gazed with growing interest at the three lucky ones who had received the runes. Many had thought the talk of "troll strength" was just an exaggeration, but if it was real… they couldn't help but drool a little at the thought. They couldn't help but ask Miquella, who came closer to cast a healing field over the wounded, if he had more, or if he could create more of those "Elden runes," as he decided to call them to distinguish them from "dwarven runes."
"My lord," called Dáin from a nearby hill. "I think I've found the trolls' lair."
"Then let's investigate it," Miquella replied, giving Torrent a pat as he began walking calmly toward Dáin.
Excitement spread at once: everyone moved forward, eager at the prospect of finding treasure. But before they could reach it…
"Master Baggins," Thorin called.
Bilbo turned, intrigued by the dwarf's serious tone. He was tired and hoped it wasn't something complicated. To his surprise, Thorin said nothing—just offered him a word of advice before moving on. A brief gesture, yet full of meaning. Appreciation? Approval? The hobbit didn't know… perhaps not even Thorin himself. But what was clear was that this gesture was a recognition—silent, yet sincere—for having saved him from the jaws of a troll.