Frodo had a brief view of the creature before it slammed him flat to the ground. He was particularly huge to a hobbit, with a dark-green foul-looking hide, which made his appearance more detestable. He was actually the last remnant of the trolls, which was at the time a very small number. The evil creature showed his saliva-dripping yellow teeth and prepared to devour his prey.
Frodo had never expected this sort of thing to happen; although he was a strong young hobbit, he was not a warrior nor had any experience in handling accidents like this. He resisted vainly; and had still the wits to send a plea for help, “you…you ask my dad to come….! Now!”
The hobbit children were mostly dumbstruck. They fled yelling pointlessly, witlessly, trying to arouse as many people as possible to Food’s aid. That rightly requires time, and of course there was no time to lose.
Just as things seemed remarkable disagreeable that the hobbit children had left Frodo for help, the young hobbit, though dazzled being flattened by the troll, had suddenly spotted the red book-“The Hobbit-There and Back Again” lying just close by and reachable. Then, seized by a sudden inspiration he shouted, “Behold! What is that thing?”
The troll, as stupid as he was mean, turned his head and tried to make out what was the matter. Frodo didn’t need telling twice; he picked up the book and brought it down on the creature’s head. Of course he didn’t mean to knock the troll out; but to free himself out of its horrible grasp. The thick book hit him squarely on his forehead; but he was not confused. He seized Frodo by the ankle and sent him flying sprawled on the ground. “It wassss youuuuu,” he hissed, “who ssssent we into sufferin’…hidin’ back in those pathetic cavesssss. Now that I’vvve found youuu, I am going to makeeee youur SUFFER!”
But then Frodo beheld a figure running towards him and he let out an exclamation of joy; it was his sister Elanor the fair.
Her head was now visible in a great mass of smooth golden hair, and in her slender white hands there was a fine bow.
Even then the troll was not concerned. “Like meeeee am goin’ to fall for that trick againnn…..”he muttered, with his eyes still fixed on Frodo.
Then, without warning, the bow sang and an arrow came speeding towards the troll. It hit him accurately on the eye and he fell; dark blood came oozing out of the wound. As Frodo freed himself from the tangling body he found Elanor still fixed in the shooting posture, another arrow aiming at the fallen troll.
“It’s over, sis,” whispered Frodo, “this is all over.”
“Over?” replied Elanor, “I can’t believe this, Frodo; do you have the wit to know what place it is?”
“It’s the outskirt of the forest,” said Frodo without spirit; I usually come here and no one’s ever said a word, he thought. You just mention it after an accident. What’s the point of it?
“I suppose mom and dad never brought you up to behave like this.”
“Like loitering in the outskirt of a dark forest, like breaking up the whole house’s kitchenware, like wrecking the garden’s taters….and damaging Uncle Frodo’s book.”
So that’s the summing up of all my past records, Frodo thought bitterly, big trouble is coming. He decided to change the subject. ” That troll said I sent him into suffering,” Frodo said aloud, “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think that he mistook you for uncle Frodo,” Elanor said thoughtfully, “A lot of dark creatures hated him for the cause of their downfall.” Then she shrugged. “Whatever, you are NOT going to worm out of trouble this time!”