Chapter Text

Chapter I: Gandalf

Dagor Dagorath had scarcely ended when Olórin withdrew from the frontlines. Between the Elves and all of the Secondborn, there were more than enough brave souls who would charge after the remnants of Morgoth’s forces. And with his greatest servants slain, there was no need for him to confront his fallen brothers, or, Eru forbid, another Balrog.

So instead, Olórin cast his mind out and searched for the ones who he had least expected, but most hoped for. In the chaos of the battle it had been hard to tell who was where and what happened when, but no one had missed the coming of Illuvatar’s Children to reinforce the beleaguered Elves and Ainur who bitterly defended Aman.

They had come in the thousands, Men the greatest host of all; a collection of banners and warcries in the languages of uncounted years, and Olórin had seen the White Tree of Gondor and the Crown of Arnor and the White Horse of Rohan and many more banners that he recognised, and yet even more that he did not; Men from far-away lands or times, come at the ending of the world to set their reckoning to Morgoth.

But they had not come alone, for besides them had marched the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves and their peoples, unleashed from Aulë’s halls at last; and yet besides them strode the graceful forms of the Ents and Ent-wives, and with them came the trees of Aman, aroused in fury. But behind all of these came another host, the one which looked least fit for battle: the Hobbits.

Olórin had not seen who led them into battle, but he had his suspicions. The Hobbits he knew were not a martial people, but the Scouring of the Shire had proven that they could fight as well as any being could, and it seemed that they had done so today as well.

And now the battle was won, Morgoth slain by the blade of Turin and the strength of Tulkas and the wit of Feänor, who had unleashed the Silmarils’ hallowed light into the face of the Foe of the World, and Turin had seen his chance and struck for the Vala’s neck, and Tulkas had held him down with all his might.

Olórin yearned for rest, but they were not done yet. The Second Singing was not far off now, for even with Morgoth gone Arda was now irreparably destroyed, but they had a moment yet.

Olórin reached out to Manwë, who seemed more exhausted than he had ever been. My lord, if you have no need of me, I would go and see the Hobbits.

Manwë’s response came a moment later, amusement shining through his exhaustion. Go, my friend. Let none say you have not earned this moment!

Thank you, my lord.

Olórin broke the connection, and then focused on the Hobbit host. Even his simple twist in the Song to move across the battlefield to them was exhausting as it had never been, but it was minor compared to his earlier labours. He could cope.

When he appeared, he saw that the Hobbit host was not as underequipped as he had feared; though their garb was brightly-coloured and like the rainbow, they wore no clothes but strong mail and leathers, and bore weapons of good quality. He even spied a few Hobbits riding Ponies which wore armour as well, and one of those riders, clad in familiar armour, turned to him.

‘’Gandalf!’’ the rider called out.

‘’Meriadoc Brandybuck!’’ Olórin returned with a laugh. ‘’I might have known you would be at the forefront of your people. It is good to see you again!’’

‘’It is so good to see you as well, Gandalf,’’ Merry answered as he rode over to him. ‘’It has been very long. We have been preparing, as you can see.’’

‘’So I can,’’ Olórin agreed, and then looked closer at Merry. He appeared no older than he had been when Olórin saw him last, in Mithlond, but he saw now that it was not the armour of Rohan’s esquire that he wore, but something similar and yet altogether different. It was, however, undoubtedly Hobbitish.

‘’Do you like my outfit?’’ Merry asked, seeing his gaze. ‘’When we arrived in the Waiting Smials we found that old Bilbo had secretly snuck into Aulë’s halls - do not ask me how, he would much rather tell the story himself! - and asked some of his old friends for explanations on how to craft weapons and armour. He said, and I quote: ’I do not doubt that there once shall come a time when all is to be set right, and then we certainly cannot go there armed with pans and farming tools! And even if I should be wrong, then there is still no harm done. Never hurts to be prepared, eh?’. And as you can see, he was right once again.’’

‘’Indeed he was!’’ Olórin shook his head. ‘’I might have known that he would do something like that, though I certainly never heard about it from Aulë!’’

‘’I imagine not,’’ Merry said wryly. ‘’He came to us once, some time after Bilbo had returned with the information, when we were all still figuring out how to get this and that in order. Told us he was going to show us how to make arms and make them right, and to never tell anyone besides his wife that he was there. I don’t think most of us really knew who he was, then, but we found out soon enough.’’

‘’It seems,’’ Olórin mused, eyes turned towards the Dwarven host, where Aulë had gone, ‘’that I have to thank Aulë for something. Though I can imagine why he did it.’’

Merry nodded. ‘’He never said anything, but Bilbo and Frodo figured it out soon enough, though they never told anyone besides us three - that’s Sam, Pippin and myself.’’

‘’And perhaps they were wise to do so.’’ It was not so surprising, in hindsight, that Aulë would feel guilty about how his former Maiar had affected the Shire and its people. ‘’Though I am willing to wager you would have figured it out yourself, in time. Now then, where are Bilbo and Frodo? The Second Singing shall commence soon, and I’d like to speak with them before then.’’

‘’They are further back in the host, together with Sam,’’ Merry answered. ‘’Thorin Oakenshield and his Company joined them as a honour guard of sorts as soon as we both emerged onto the battlefield, so you’ll have no trouble spotting them. Oh, before you go!’’ He reached into his pockets and rummaged in them for a few moments, before pulling out a packet of pipeweed and handing it to Olórin. ‘’It’s even better than Old Toby.’’

‘’Meriadoc Brandybuck, you have brought me a greater gift than I have received since I set foot again in these lands!’’ Olórin proclaimed as he took the pipeweed, before bowing his head to the Hobbit. ‘’A blessing on you and all your kin!’’

Merry laughed. ‘’You should know better than anyone how many those are, Gandalf! Now go then, I imagine they’ll be happy to see you!’’

‘’As I was to see you, Merry.’’

And with that said, Gandalf turned away and began to walk into the host. He had friends to speak to again. And a pipe to smoke.