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Chapter Text

“This forest is sick.” Bilbo said, casting a wary glance at Mirkwood Forest. “Are you sure you have to leave?”

“I fear I am wanted elsewhere, my dear Hobbit.” Gandalf said, looking at him seriously. “You are not the same hobbit I found in the Shire.”

“I was going to tell you,” Bilbo said, almost spitting out the secret he had been carrying around for a long time .

“Oh.” Gandalf leaned in, interested. “Tell me, then.”

“I found something in the Misty Mountains.” Bilbo said.

“ What did you find, Bilbo?” Gandalf inquired.

And, just as Bilbo was about to speak of the ring and Gollum, something stopped him.

“My courage.” Bilbo said.

His hand dropped from the pocket where the ring was kept, his eyes clearing of the doubt of confessing.

The ring had come to him , if that wasn’t meant to be, Bilbo didn’t know what was.

“Good.” Gandalf smiled, standing up to his full height. “You’ll need it.”

Bilbo swallowed, watching Gandalf mount his pony and walk away.

“Come on, let’s stay on the path.” Thorin said, starting to lead the group, holding Bilbo close to him.

With a sigh, Bilbo gave up and followed the dwarves down the path.

***

“Speak, Master Baggins, if it will put your mind at ease.” Thorin said suddenly, glancing at Bilbo.

The hobbit looked ill, deeply affected by the forest and its illness.

“Excuse me?” Bilbo gasped, blinking at Thorin, clearly confused.

“You look lost .” Thorin cleared his throat, wondering why keeping the hobbit happy was so important now.

“The forest is sick.” Bilbo shivered. “Lady Yavanna has blessed us to feel her creation as they feel us, all gifts the Green Lady has given to the world.” Thorin watched Bilbo explain in fascination, not missing the way his eyes twinkled. “Yet we also feel the desolation in the lands, and this forest is clearly cursed by some sort of curse, something poisoning its life source, frightening life away from where I can sense it.” Bilbo closed his eyes, a sharp shiver running through him. “It is not the best place for a Hobbit.”

“Tell me about the forests near the Shire, then.” Thorin offered, noting the way the other companions seemed to be recovering from their illness. “Tell me about the life you feel in the lands of the Gentle West.”

“The Shire has much life, all the way to the nearest city of men.” Bilbo described. “By day, fauntlings come to pick ripe blackberries and search for mushrooms hidden in the roots of the trees. Or some of them watch the wanderers of other races who seek refuge on the outskirts of the Shire, knowing that no self-respecting Hobbit will drive them away.” Bilbo smiled. “At night, after the fauntlings have gone to bed and everyone is asleep, the moonlight and the stars shine on the night flowers of the Shire, lighting the river with their soft light, gentle and soft where the sunlight has been strong and strong. Those hobbits who are still awake, either by necessity or sickness or desire, can gather around the hearth in the square of each town, to watch the spectacle that nature and Lady Yavanna offer us in her goodness.”

Thorin found himself smiling. “It seems peaceful. Is this something you have done yourself?”

“Not by sickness or necessity, but as a fauntling I was one of the few who tried to venture into the forest in search of the fairies.” Bilbo smiled. “Small, mischievous things, no bigger than a fauntling itself, if we are to be honest, and extremely bright. It is said that they enjoy life in the Shire, and that anyone who sees one has been blessed by Yavanna herself to a life of safety and prosperity.”

“And have you seen one?” Thorin asked, speaking softly, drawn into the story Bilbo was spinning for their ears.

His head had cleared and his eyesight sharpened at the hobbit's words, enough to see the path winding in an easily mistaken way and following the correct path.

“Not that I know of, but all fauntlings know that it is not we who are meant to see the fairies, but they who are meant to see us.” Bilbo answered, smiling. “And if a fairy were to see, he would send a signal!”

“What kind of signal, Master Baggins?” Ori asked, leaning forward.

From the way his hand was shaking slightly, Thorin could tell that he really wanted to write down all the news Bilbo had just shared with them.

“Well, they send a visitor. His skin is as pale as an elf’s, but he is not an elf. He has the magic of a Maiar, but he is not a Maiar. He has the tenacity of a man, but he is not a man. He has the mettle of a dwarf, but he is not a dwarf.” Bilbo listed. “You might take him for an elf or a Maiar, but his voice is even more musical than an elf’s and his magic stronger than a Maiar’s.”

“ Stronger , how?” Ori asked again.

“According to the stories that go around the Shire, he is a boy blessed with eternal youth.” Bilbo said. “His magic keeps him young and allows him to control the weather, to control famine and disease, and to save lives that were almost lost. If he gave his loyalty to anyone, anyone, it would be only after judging a person’s heart . He does not meddle in the affairs of Middle-earth, but when he does, the side he chooses becomes the favorite, for it has his blessing.”

“Could he kill a dragon?” Dwalin asked.

“The stories of the Shire do not speak of death or killing , Master Dwalin.” Bilbo scolded him, and Thorin watched with amusement as his nose wrinkled. “But what sense does it make for a gift to kill a dragon when he can only control one?”

“Control dragons?” Fili exclaimed.“Lasdel [absurdism], Thorin, why on earth did we ask Gandalf’s help if there is a wizard who can control dragons alive?”

Thorin narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

“Gandalf didn’t mention this wonderful wizard, though.” Balin spoke softly, drawing everyone’s attention. “It’s probably just a tale told to children to let them rest.”

“Now, Master Balin, I don’t dare make your stories into poor fairy tales , and I’d appreciate it if my tradition wasn’t treated with such disdain .” Bilbo looked at the offended dwarf. “And I can vouch for the fact that there is a wizard who can change the weather! I saw him when I was barely twenty, when he let the sunbeams flood the Shire after the Fell Winter, saving us from the second wave of wolves, Helyntwyr [hunters/chasers], and Dynion Gwynion [pale men]!”

“What are they?” Kili asked, frowning.

“I suppose in Westron they’re called wargs and ogres.” Bilbo muttered, grumbling at the absurdity of the common tongue spoken throughout Middle-earth. “And I can guarantee that the Sun would not have risen if it had not been for him, just as the river would not have thawed!”

“What is his name?” Ori asked. “Surely he must have a name.”

“Well, no one really knows his name, but the hobbits could not allow such a kind and helpful host as hobbits believe themselves to be to remain nameless. We call him in our language Y Gwarcheidwad [The Protector], which means protector in the Common Language. He protected us when men and elves could not, and for that he will always have our gratitude.”

Fili sighed. “I wish we had his help.”

Bilbo chuckled, much to Thorin’s relief. “I’m sure if we really need it, he’ll show up.”

***

“Dwalin, Fili, Kili, you have first watch.” Thorin barked as they all stopped for a short rest. “Bombur, Bilbo, can you pass out the rations?”

Bombur stammered. “We don’t have enough food for everyone, Thorin. We should gather something here to eat.”

“That’s a bad idea.” Bilbo shook his head. “It’s cursed, this forest. We can’t eat anything it produces, not at this rate.”

Thorin imprecisely, drawing the other members’ attention to them.

Then, another unexpected event. 

“Thorin, something is approaching.” Dwalin warned, and they all groaned, taking up their weapons and preparing

“Peace, master dwarves.” a melodious voice made them stop, as they turned to the source of the voice, standing near the group. “And a hobbit.” The boy tilted his head, looking at Bilbo interestedly. “I’ve never seen a hobbit this far from the Shire.” Then, he said something Thorin didn’t understand, but it made Bilbo stand up, shocked.

“Are you Y Gwarcheidwad?”

The elf looked impressed. “It is a great honor to be called this way from you, Bilbo Baggins. What are you doing so far from your home?”

“It is none of the elves’ business,” Thorin growled.

The elf looked confused. “I am not an elf, master dwarf. And not all of them are bad, if I am honest. Lord Elrond would never behave unbecomingly, I am sure.”

“You are not an elf, or a wizard, or a man, are you?” Kili was enthusiastic. “Are you here to help us?”

The creature frowned. “I do not know why you have chosen to travel this desolate and poisoned land. It is certainly no place for the creatures of Yavanna, nor is it suitable for the strong creations of Mahal. I will give you food for your break, and I will not deny myself the pleasure of hearing why you have chosen to take this path.”

“But will you help us afterward?” Thorin asked.

The being blinked. “I have no reason not to help you if it is in my power to do so, Master Dwarf. Of course, if your quest was motivated by pride, spite, or greed, I cannot guarantee to do anything more than lead you out of this accursed forest.”

Which, if Thorin was honest, was more than anyone else would have done for them.

“That is acceptable, Master…” Thorin paused. “My name is Thorin Oakenshield. And what is our guest’s name?”

“Oh, I have been given many names, both by the Valar and by men who have met me.” The being said. “Yet I find myself still fond of the name my mother gave me at birth in this world. You may call me Merlin, Master Oakenshield.”

Chapter Text

Thorin could not complain about the enormous meal that Merlin, as he insisted on being called by all of them, had offered them.

It was far more than anyone else had done for them, in all of their lives, and Thorin had learned that he could not refuse kindness where he found it. Not in a time when his people relied on him.

“Is it true?” Kili asked, impatiently.

“What is true, master dwarf?” Merlin asked with a gentle smile on his face, amused by Kili’s enthusiasm.

“That you can command the dragons!” Kili replied, clearly excited.

“Well, the elves who faced the great serpents of the North did not do so without help from others.” Merlin shook his head, thoughtfully, looking at Kili with his blue old eyes. “Nor was the strong spell that covers and eases the pain of the King of Greenwood’s wound made without help either.”

The dwarves stirred excitedly.

“Will you help us?” Fili interjected, unable to contain himself.

“You have not yet told me the reason for your journey,” Merlin pointed out to the impatient dwarf. “Don’t you think I should know why anyone would seek out a dragon?”

“Smaug sought out our home, long before we knew his name or were aware of his mere existence.” Thorin replied, raising his head in defiance. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bilbo deflate, perhaps fearing that Thorin’s unkind words would earn Merlin less hospitality, as they had done in Rivendell long ago. “We don’t want a needless war, just our home back.”

Merlin smiled. “You remind me of an old friend of mine, Thorin Oakenshield. Well, to undertake such a journey alone is not very wise, despite the honour the quest and your desire to help your own brings upon you.”

“We were not alone, Gandalf was with us.” Bilbo spoke up, relieved at Merlin’s answer.

“And he left you to wander Greenwood on your own?” Merlin did not seem to approve of the wizard’s actions. Thorin could appreciate that; he did not approve of many of the wizard’s actions during their quest either. “That was not wise. A terrible disease is upon these woods, and beasts that have not roamed in ages have taken refuge in a once-abandoned stronghold, strong with the support of an even greater evil.” Merlin narrowed his eyes to the North, a frown on his face that made him look more like a Maiar than an elf. “The White Council has addressed this matter, but Saruman the White remains blind to the danger that lies before us, with his darkness that finds its way upon our homes.”

The disappointment in Merlin’s voice gave Thorin hope that they would receive help from the powerful boy.

“Will you help us, then?” Fili asked a second time.

Merlin looked at the company, before nodding and saying, “I am not like Gandalf, though. If I were to help you, I would appreciate it if you heeded my words and my warnings. Dark things are growing, lurking in the shadows. The orcs are growing bolder, with an alliance that has long since been thought lost forever.”

Thorin nodded. “Your words will be heard and your actions will be followed. Unless, of course, they go against the welfare of this company.”

Merlin smiled at Thorin. “Your answer does you credit, Thorin son of Thror. Well, let us leave this accursed forest.”

The boy’s eyes glowed gold, much to Thorin’s surprise, and everything around them disappeared.

Chapter Text

Bilbo had never expected to live to see t he Protector with his hobbit eyes. 

Oh, if the people of the Shire knew that the Protector himself had come to his aid, Bilbo was sure that not only would they praise him as they never had, but they would also try to curry favour with the Protector, perhaps even trying to leave without warning.

“You look enthusiastic .” 

Bilbo started, glancing at Thorin, who was staring at Merlin, as he insisted on being called, and Bard talking.

“I have just met one of the legends of my people, I think I am justified in my enthusiasm.” Bilbo grumbled back, narrowing his eyes at Thorin.

The dwarf had almost chased the mighty being away, and Bilbo would never forget it.

“I know you are angry with me,” Thorin said. “But you must understand, I do not get along well with strangers.”

“You and yours were strangers to me, too, when I left my home and went after you, to help you.” Bilbo said dryly. “I do not remember ever treating you so disrespectfully .”

Thorin looked down. “I will go and speak to Merlin and the man.” He said, trying to be quick to leave Bilbo with his thoughts while he went to speak with their benefactor.

***

Merlin was watching Thorin Oakenshield with amusement.

Perhaps he did not have the habit of prying into the private affairs of all those around him, offering advice and directing decisions that had not yet been decided.

Merlin had helped only one man, a king worthy of the name, in his time. Arthur . And then, he had decided that fate had many ways of making events happen that were meant to happen, without the intervention of the Maiar.

Not that that stopped Gandalf most of the time, of course.

When he learned from Lady Galadriel that Gandalf had begun the reconquest of Erebor, spurring Thorin to take back his home, Merlin had immediately looked to the East for signs of danger.

The Necromancer was no ordinary wizard, he and Saruman both agreed.

But Sauron had no power without the Ring, and it was imperative that it not fall into the wrong hands.

Gandalf had then contacted him to explain the precarious situation of the Company.

When he heard that they had to pass through Greenwood, Merlin had decided to help them despite his policy of not interfering .

No one could bear the poison that was permeating the forest with evil and pain.

“Master Merlin.” Thorin bowed his head. “I realise that I have you to thank not only for leading us away from the forest, but also for securing our passage nearer to the Mountain.”

“I have a talent for forging important contracts .” Merlin chuckled, remembering Lancelot and the seal of nobility. “The Governor does not seem to be an honest man, and I do not know how much of that is the dragon’s fault.”

“The dragon?” Thorin frowned. “How could it be the dragon’ s fault?”

“Why do you think it is called Dragon Sickness, Master Oakenshield?” Merlin asked, tilting his head. “The dragon poisons the minds of the strongest people. Whatever their weaknesses, it is used against them. Men, dwarrows, elves, they are all drawn to the dragon’s power.”

“But not hobbits.” Thorin murmured. “Is that why Tharkun wanted a hobbit among us? To prevent our descent into dragon-induced madness?”

“I cannot know why Gandalf does the things he does. Boredom , perhaps.” Merlin speculated. “But I can see that Bilbo is a very special hobbit. Very few of them would even open the door to dwarrows, much less follow them on a mission of suicide and little chance of success.”

“You also think I have no right to take back my home.” Thorin snarled. “As do all the others!”

“I know how much it hurts to be away from home, Thorin Oakenshield. Gandalf’s desire to help you is right, but he has not considered only your desire to return home .” Merlin smiled. “I fear Gandalf’s motives were more for the greater good . Smaug could be a powerful ally to the forces of Gundabad and Dol Guldur. Gandalf must have long feared what might happen if Smaug were involved with the forces in the East.”

Thorin murmured. “I have always suspected that Tharkun was not only eager to help people in need.” Then, the dwarf looked at Merlin. “And yet, you are not at the center of the negotiations of Middle-earth. Why?”

“You know, I find it ironic that the people who lead us are those Sauron himself saw as worthy of a ring.” Merlin smiled in amusement. “Sauron offered me a ring. Of the ocean, he called it. Fit for one as powerful as I, not maiar, not elf, not man, not dwarf.” Merlin chuckled, watching Thorin’s eyebrows rise in amusement against his will. “I told him where he could put that ring.”

Thorin laughed, a deep laugh, loud and passionate like all dwarrows were.

Merlin watched in amusement as the dwarf regained control of himself, but not before seeing Bilbo look at the dwarf in shock.

Thorin, still smiling, said. “So how do you plan to get us into the Mountain?”

“Durin’s Day is almost upon us, Thorin.” Merlin warned. “Time flows differently in the forest, it becomes almost liquid.”

Thorin nodded. “Then we will enter the Mountain only thanks to you and Bilbo.” The king looked at the hobbit. “After years of my people being abandoned by men, elves and even other dwarrows, it is good to see a hobbit and a very powerful warlock come to our aid.”

“It was about time, too.” Merlin murmured. Smaug was a dragon, Merlin could have stopped him.

“You are here now .” Thorin said. “That is what really matters.”

Merlin smiled. “You will be a good king, Thorin Oakenshield.”

As Thorin bowed his head in thanks, Merlin thought that this was a king Merlin could follow.

Chapter Text

Merlin could safely say that the Governor of Laketown was an idiot. 

And judging by Bilbo’s expressions, Merlin was definitely not the only one who thought so.

“He can’t be serious.” Bilbo muttered, shaking his head. “Is he mentally delusional ?”

“I think he’s just greedy .” Merlin shrugged. “You know, he reminds me of a king who once cursed my friend to cause a war so he could continue to have weapons and flourishing trade.”

“He wanted war so he could get money ?” Bilbo asked, looking at Merlin with wide eyes. “But that’s just barbaric ! How could he sleep at night?”

“Rather easily, I think.” Merlin muttered. “Though I think he was killed in a revolt in his army. They wanted a better king, I think. I’m not sure, after protecting my friend I didn’t really care about the other kingdoms of men. Taking care of a king is hard enough in itself.” Merlin nodded at Thorin, still speaking to Bilbo. “Surely you know that, don’t you?”

Bilbo, surprisingly, blushed. “I, I have no idea what you’re talking about, no sir!” Then, shaking his head, he coughed and said. “We’ve been given weapons, supplies, and provisions to get into the mountain.”

“Right, what did you have planned, then?” Merlin asked. “Before you found out I was real, at least?”

“You know you’re a legend of the Shire?” Bilbo asked, his eyes widening.

“I know the Tooks tell stories of how one of you fell in love with a fairy and had a child with her.” Merlin smiled. “It’s not quite what they mean , but there’s a reason why the adventurous spirit of the Tooks isn’t quite hobbit-like . I helped one of your ancestors, a Took, have a child, and the children have been much more adventurous ever since.” Merlin chuckled. “Gandalf often blamed me for the adventures he drove the Tooks on, but I never went and took a hobbit away from his home.”

Bilbo looked at him wide-eyed. “Are you related to the Tooks?”

“Well…” Merlin cocked his head. “I simply took advice from an old wizard I knew, another of my kind, Taliesin, who told me it was possible to share some of who we are with other races in Middle-earth. He had done so with the Dunedain, men of the West, and that is why they live so long.” Merlin looked back at Bilbo. “But if you wish, you may call me your kin . It would be a great honour for me if you did.”

Bilbo looked at him wide-eyed, before blushing and looking away. “The plan was to let me enter the mountain alone. Smaug has never smelled a hobbit before, I would confuse him with my scent.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “ Confusion does not stop a dragon from killing . Gandalf should have known that very well. And then? The master plan was to go in and let you face the dragon alone?”

“The dragon should be asleep, at least that’s what the dwarves and Gandalf say.” Bilbo replied, shivering slightly. “And the plan is to retrieve the Arkenstone and then call forth the seven dwarf armies.”

“So you’re telling me that the best plan Gandalf and these dwarves could come up with is not feasible ?” Merlin sighed. “Stupid Gandalf. When Elrond warned me that he feared Gandalf had no idea what he was starting, I mistakenly thought that he had simply hidden his ideas and plans from the Council, afraid of being stopped, but instead he was just proceeding blindly . Very well. Never trust a Maiar , I have always told myself.”

Bilbo swallowed. “You think it won’t work?”

“Dwarves, no matter how many of them, have no chance of harming a dragon .” Merlin shook his head. “And Smaug is awake.” His gaze shifted to the Lonely Mountain. “I can feel it. He’s only at rest, sleeping, but awake. A thrush bumped a snail a few months ago, and Smaug woke then, as he does from time to time.”

“So… I’m going to steal from a very live and awake dragon?” Bilbo had paled.

Merlin snorted. “Bilbo, you’re not going into that Mountain alone. If the reasoning is to keep him from smelling dwarves and subject him to the odors of species he’s never smelled, then I can do the part very well, too. Besides, I can just command him.”

“You can command a dragon to do what you want.” Bilbo looked at him wide-eyed. “Isn’t it just a legend?”

“No.” Merlin shook his head. “When the Took I gave a son to ask me about it, I told him everything I knew or I was able to do. And then he turned it into legends and stories, a way to make the Shire feel special.”

“The Shire is special.” Bilbo told him, swelling slightly at the thought of his home.

“That’s true.” Merlin nodded. “However, I don’t have much to do with the Shire’s value. It’s the hobbits who make it special and great. Not me .”

Bilbo blushed.

Then, after a moment of pause, he added. “I’m glad to have your company. These dwarrows were becoming more and more stubborn and annoying.”

Merlin laughed. “Yes. I can imagine that.” Then, shaking his head. “If you think dwarrows are awful to deal with, try spending your afternoons with the Maiar ! Believe me, they could inspire a saint to murder .”

Bilbo laughed, his earlier nervousness forgotten.

Merlin smiled in response.

It would have been a long journey.

But, at least, he was able to help the little hobbit.

And, honestly, Merlin preferred Smaug to the Governor of Laketown and his assistant Alfrid.

Chapter Text

Merlin was a young man the first time he met his strange and very particular friend.  

He couldn’t hunt, not like many other men; he couldn’t heal, not to the level required by the people he was meant to serve and protect.  

He was just an ordinary man—not too powerful, not too proud—with no prospect of wealth or honour.  

“Ah, just the person I was looking for.”  

Merlin stopped, looking up and blinking in confusion, as if he couldn’t quite believe that this clearly powerful man was speaking to him.  

“Excuse me?” Merlin asked, remaining polite.  

“No need to ask for forgiveness, my dear friend!”  

The stranger wore a blue pointed hat and had a long grey beard. A long pipe stuck out from his lips as he smoked, staring intensely at Merlin, who was working on some bandages that would be used to tend to wounded hunters.  

“But I am here because you need my help!”  

“Do you have experience in cleaning and disinfecting bandages, sir?” Merlin asked, frowning, wondering which of his neighbours had sent an elderly man to ensure the village fool didn’t cause another disaster.  

No matter how many times Merlin had said it, no one wanted to believe that the tree had fallen on its own.  

Merlin didn’t even know how he could have done it, and yet…  

“Bandages? Nonsense !” The stranger huffed, shaking his head. “Who on earth set you to fixing bandages, with your talents and gifts ?”  

Merlin laughed, incredulous at the sheer audacity of the man before him. The only talent Merlin had was getting into trouble , and his only gift was being completely useless .  

“I think you’ve got the wrong person, my dear friend.” Merlin was still laughing as he shook his head. “Feel free to carry on and find the right person you actually meant to talk to. There are plenty of people in the village with talents and gifts far greater—and most importantly, real —unlike mine.”  

“Aren’t you Merlin, son of Hunith, whose father, unfortunately, is no longer with us?” The man leaned on his staff, the stone embedded at the top letting out a shrill sound, irritating Merlin, who rubbed his ears.  

“You know my name, yet I’ve no idea who you are,” Merlin commented, frowning as his gaze ran over the stranger’s figure. “Do you know my mother, perhaps?”  

“I have never had the pleasure of meeting your mother, but I spoke with your father a long time ago, before battle took him.” The stranger sighed. “He called me Gandalf! Gandalf the Grey!”  

Merlin scrunched up his nose, trying to recall any stranger by that name.  

“Uh… are you sure you’re in the right place?” Merlin asked, just to be sure.  

“I’m looking for a companion for an adventure!” Gandalf exclaimed, straightening up and finally removing the pipe from his mouth.  

“Then you are definitely in the wrong place.” Merlin shook his head. “Ealdor is not the place for adventures, I’m afraid.”  

“And that is exactly why I am here!” Gandalf nodded, agreeing with Merlin. “Ealdor is not the place for adventures.”  

“Then we’re in agreement.” Merlin spoke slowly, beginning to doubt Gandalf’s intelligence. “You are in the wrong place .”  

“It is not I who am in the wrong place, Merlin, son of Balinor, but you !” Gandalf declared, smiling cheerfully. “This place is too small f or you! It is not suited to someone like you !”  

“To a fool ?” Merlin asked dryly, repeating the words his neighbours whispered behind his back.  

“To a hero ,” Gandalf murmured, lowering himself and leaning in closer to Merlin. “I can promise you a life filled with joy, love, and friendship. But also pain and suffering. Will you come with me?”  

“This life is safe .” Merlin pointed out, gesturing to all the bandages around him. “And I don’t know how to fight, nor am I a scholar.”  

“You are much more , Merlin, and I can prove it to you,” Gandalf said. “Now the choice is yours: do you prefer a safe, solitary life or one full of adventure and friends?”  

Merlin remained silent for a moment before saying, “And where exactly are we going?”  

Gandalf’s smile was victorious. “Have you ever heard of Camelot, my dear friend?”

Chapter Text

Merlin raised an eyebrow when he noticed Gandalf watching the argument between some men near to their table with an arched brow.  

“You chose this place completely by coincidence , right?” Merlin checked, staring at Gandalf as if he wouldn’t believe a single word the man said.  

A nd he wouldn’ t.  

Meddler lunatic.  

Gandalf huffed, shifting his gaze to Merlin. “Why, my dear friend, would you think that I arranged all of this?”  

The look in Merlin’s eyes made it clear that the answer was yes .  

Absolutely yes.  

As if there could be any doubt about it.  

Damn meddler.  

“Well, if you believe me guilty of orchestrating this situation, perhaps I should resolve it.” Gandalf sighed, standing up and walking to the corner of the tavern, where a brawl was about to break out.  

Merlin settled himself in for a better view of the show.  

Gandalf had dragged him into the tavern, speaking in his cryptic wa y and avoiding Merlin’s questions.  

He hadn’t even said where the damned Camelot was. Or who its rulers were.  

Or why they had thought it was a good idea to send Gandalf to seek help.  

They probably didn’t even know Gandalf was coming.  

Unemployed meddler.  

Being a Maiar must have been incredibly boring if Gandalf spent his time bothering everyone else.  

“My dear sirs, it seems trouble is brewing here, and I really cannot let it go unchecked.” Gandalf spoke calmly, but even Merlin could hear the warning in his voice. “Not that I habitually interfere in other people’s affairs.”  

At that, Merlin snorted loudly .  

Gandalf ought to be known as Middle Earth’s Meddler, given how much he involved himself in other people’s business.  

“Stay out of things that don’t concern you, wanderer.” One of the men spoke, apparently either deaf or just very stupid for missing the warning and the fire in Gandalf’s eyes. “And don’t bother us.”  

Gandalf sighed sadly, as if he had expected something better from a complete stranger.  

“Well, if we cannot discuss this amicably, I see no alternative.”  

Merlin rolled his eyes, trying to decide whether he should get another pint of cider to deal with the headache Gandalf was about to give him.  

A flash of light engulfed the tavern, and Merlin turned just in time to see chickens where the men had been one moment before.  

All except one.  

One to whom Gandalf turned with a bright smile. “Please, do join me and my friend, dear traveller! One never knows what sort of company one might encounter these days.”  

Merlin groaned. “People like Gandalf ,” he muttered.  

“I think your friend is regretting being your friend,” the man commented, cheerfully taking a seat next to Merlin. “What’s your name?”  

“Merlin.” Merlin replied, after glancing at the man and then turning back to look at the chickens.  

“Are you serious, Gandalf?” Merlin groaned. “That’s what you call keeping a low profile ?”  

“For my abilities? Certainly.” Gandalf had the audacity to smile cheerfully. “But now that Gwaine is here with us, I feel much better about continuing our journey.”  

“How do you know my name?” Gwaine asked, narrowing his eyes. “I never told you.”  

“It’s something he does.” Merlin sighed, rubbing his eyes.  

“And where exactly are you going?” Gwaine asked. “I never said I was coming.”  

“Neither did I, and yet here I am,” Merlin muttered. “It’s something he does.”  

“As for our destination, it is where you are both meant to be.” Gandalf smiled. “Or rather, where you two should be. Almost essential.”  

“And where is that?” Gwaine asked, making another attempt at getting a straight answer from the enigmatic Maiar.  

“Where you are destined to be.” Gandalf nodded. “Yes, it will be very instructive for all involved, I am quite certain.”  

Merlin groaned. “I think I’ll need at least five pints of cider to get through this.”  

“Do me a favour,” Gwaine said, speaking very seriously. “Get five more for me.”  

“And since Gandalf is the one giving us a headache, he’s paying.” Merlin gestured towards the wizard, who smiled, shaking the pouch he hadn’t had a moment ago.  

“Dinner is courtesy of our kind friends .” Gandalf gestured to the chickens, which were clucking about on the floor.  

“You know what?” Merlin asked rhetorically. “I’ll make that six pints.”  

He was going to find a damn hobby for the meddler, and finding people on the road and kidnapping them did not count as a hobby.

Chapter Text

Merlin sighed, casting a glance at Gwaine.  

He had long, wavy hair, somewhere between chestnut and auburn, depending on how the sunlight hit it. It was unruly, framing a face with a roguish expression.  

His green eyes sparkled with mischief and something adventurous, which would explain why Gandalf had decided to bring him along.  

Speaking of the damned meddler, he was humming something ahead of them, busy smoking pipe-weed from the Shire—the finest of all, according to the unsolicited opinion (as Gandalf’s opinions often were ) of the Maiar.  

“Well, it seems Gandalf intends to leave us some time alone ,” Gwaine remarked. “So, how did you end up travelling with him?”  

“I was tending to some bandages, and he took me with himself,” Merlin replied, once again glancing at the man’s face.  

Gwaine wore rather simple armour. He had a chainmail shirt beneath a black jacket. His trousers were practical, plain, and he carried only a small bag with all his belongings.  

“And you? What were you doing in that tavern with that lot ?” Merlin asked, tilting his head.  

Gwaine took an apple from his bag, passing it to Merlin before grabbing one for himself and taking a bite.  

“You know how these things go. Wrong drink, wrong time,” Gwaine shrugged. “I’m relieved your friend stepped in when he did. The innkeeper, Mary… well, she’s a good person and shouldn’t have to clean up after those men ’s messes.”  

Merlin raised an eyebrow.  

He had no idea how a wrong moment could have landed Gwaine in the company of those people, but then again, a wrong moment had landed Merlin in the company of Gandalf , of all people who could have passed through that road at that time.  

“I see,” Merlin nodded, before gesturing to the bag. “Is that all you have?”  

“It’s all I need ,” Gwaine agreed. “I’m not a sentimental type.”  

“No family?” Merlin pressed, realising he was being just as nosy as Gandalf.  

The horror.  

“Not that it matters,” Gwaine, surprisingly, answered Merlin’s question. Then, less surprisingly, he asked in return, “And your family? Anyone who’ll miss you while you’re off discovering yourself ?”  

“My mother, most likely,” Merlin answered, surprised by his own honesty. Gwaine just had that reliable air about him that made confiding easy. “Though she’ll probably be better off without me there ruining her reputation.”  

“No father?” Gwaine inquired.  

“Not that I remember,” Merlin admitted. “And there was no marriage to shield my mother from the village gossip .”  

“Men can be cruel,” Gwaine nodded. “That’s why hobbits are my favourite company. They don’t have the arrogance of elves, the suspicion and rudeness of dwarves, or the cruelty and wrath of men. They’re rather sharp with their words, too.”  

“Hobbits,” Merlin nodded. “I’ve seen a few, dragged around by Gandalf.”  

Gwaine laughed. “Seems they’re his way of solving problems.”  

Merlin snorted. He could only imagine how happy the little hobbits were to see Gandalf appear.  

Merlin wouldn’t be.  

He’d simply warn them not to trust strange people in long grey-blue robes, pointy hats, and lengthy beards.  

Perhaps he’d teach them to throw small stones at him to ward off bad luck .  

A smile spread across Merlin’s face.  

“You just insulted Gandalf in your mind, didn’t you?” Gwaine deduced, upon seeing Merlin’s smirk.  

“Among other things, yes,” Merlin confirmed Gwaine’s suspicions. “You know, I feel like I know you well.”  

“I give that impression,” Gwaine agreed. “And you’re good company for an unplanned road trip.”  

“Excellent!” Gandalf interrupted their conversation.  

The two turned to see what had made Gandalf so pleased.  

“What is it?” Merlin asked, feeling justified in his concern.  

An excited Gandalf was just as dangerous, if not more so, than a bored Gandalf.   

“We are one step closer to our destination,” Gandalf replied in his ever-so-unhelpful manner.  

“Haven’t we covered quite a few leagues?” Gwaine asked, making the common mistake of taking the Maiar’s words literally .  

“Ah, but the climb is too steep to manage with just the three of us,” Gandalf replied, remaining as transparent as the earth.  

“Of course it is,” Merlin sighed. “So, what have we found? A rope?”  

“The best support one could wish for,” Gandalf replied. “A silver helm.”  

“How is a silver helm a support ?” Gwaine asked in a low voice, directing the question at Merlin.  

“I have no idea,” Merlin murmured. “I just feel the need for more cider .”  

Gwaine’s laughter accompanied them as they moved past the clearing.  

There, a man was seated by a fire, tending to the flames.  

He had dark, wavy hair, rather dishevelled, falling to his shoulders. His eyes were deep, dark brown, intense and thoughtful. His skin was olive-toned, and he had a strong, athletic build, carrying himself with confidence in his abilities. Lastly, a short beard accentuated his wandering warrior charm.  

He wore simple clothes, typical of a traveller—dark tunics, a worn cloak, and leather gloves.  

Resting beside him, a sword gleamed, reflecting the light of the fire and the sun.  

“Greetings, young traveller!” Gandalf hailed him. “May we join your fire for a moment’s rest?”  

Brown eyes studied them before the man nodded. “I would never turn away anyone in need of safe rest.”  

“Your hospitality does you credit!” Gandalf smiled, sitting down and making space for Merlin and Gwaine.  

“I am Gandalf, and these are Merlin and Gwaine,” Gandalf introduced them, ignoring the roughly one hundred and fifty rules that stated not to give one’s name to a stranger, as they might be a disguised fae.  

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the man said, his voice deep, his eyes kind as he observed them. “My name is Lancelot.”

Chapter Text

Merlin was following Gandalf, riding alongside Gwaine and Lancelot.​

In his vague and frankly annoying manner, Gandalf had cheerfully announced that they would soon reach their next destination .​

“Do you think Gandalf will involve someone else?” Gwaine asked with a grin.​

“I fear Gandalf will involve someone else,” Merlin corrected him. “I fear for that someone else.”​

“No one deserves to end up in Gandalf's crosshairs,” Gwaine chuckled. “Although I don't think you exactly regret accepting his proposal.”​

“I was conditioned,” Merlin muttered.​

He had been conditioned to follow Gandalf. It hadn't been a considered choice, and Merlin was certainly not happy about the situation.​

No matter how pleasant the conversations with Gwaine were when the fire flickered and they both kept watch. Nor how enjoyable the duelling lessons Gwaine had decided to offer Merlin were, saying that if they were to be a team, they might as well play the part.​

Lancelot chuckled beside them. Since joining them, he had become an important part of the trio. Merlin was… content with his presence, even if he would never admit it.​

Especially given the impossible manner in which Gandalf would behave.​

Finally, they entered the village, and their gaze fell upon the knight in the centre of the square.​

As they watched him perform for the people, they saw him trip over his cloak, nearly impale himself with his own sword, and then almost poke out an eye with a knife.​

“Please, tell me that's not our destination,” Merlin found himself pleading.​

Lancelot and Gwaine, at least, had talent. Merlin had yet to understand what Gandalf had seen in him , but he knew his own limits and was aware that he would never impale himself with a sword.​

“That one's called William,” Gandalf introduced him, with the tone of importance he occasionally adopted. “William of Deira. He's a very capable young man who has yet to find his vocation.”​

Merlin hoped he would find his vocation far away from them . As far as possible, especially if his tendency to impale people extended beyond himself to those he travelled with.​

“However, we're here for the blacksmith who made his sword,” Gandalf said with a jovial smile. “A talented blacksmith.”​

“A blacksmith ?” Merlin asked, frowning. “If you wanted a blacksmith so badly , why didn't you contact the dwarves?”​

“The dwarves have their own affairs, Merlin, and I wouldn't dream of disturbing them,” Gandalf waved his staff towards Merlin.​

So the dwarves weren't to be disturbed, but Merlin was ? That was called preference and favouritism.​

“Did you offend them recently?” Gwaine asked, smiling amusedly. “Is that why you're avoiding them?”​

Gandalf muttered, blushing.​

“Oh, Valar!” Merlin exclaimed. “You offended them and now you're avoiding them out of embarrassment! What do I have to do to be avoided by you?”​

Gandalf seemed insulted, although Merlin didn't understand why . He was decidedly too nosy to honestly believe that people were happy when he showed up.​

“Well, let's not keep our host waiting,” Gandalf exclaimed, ignoring Merlin's question.​

“I bet he doesn't expect our arrival and won't be happy to see Gandalf,” Merlin grumbled.​

“No one is,” Gwaine laughed. “I wonder why there's not a bounty on his head.”​

“Maybe he'd take it as an invitation to always show up at court, and people avoid him for fear of always having him there,” Merlin reflected.​

Lancelot spoke. “Come on, friends. I'm curious to meet this person.”​

Merlin wasn't curious to meet this blacksmith.​

He just felt immense compassion for him, knowing that Gandalf was about to involve him in something dangerous.​

And with which he had nothing to do.

Chapter Text

Merlin was looking at Gandalf with frowned eyes.

“You literally had one job!” He complained.

“Ah, my dear Merlin,” Gandalf smiled, as if the plan was going as he wished, “this isn’t the end of our journey! But merely a happy pause.”

“Speak for yourself.” Gwaine mumbled. “I’m not happy now.”

“No one is!” Merlin exclaimed. “Because Gandalf is a meddler without a working brain!”

“My dear boy, I told you before that we needed one other member to our company.” Gandalf said, seemed insulted by Merlin’s lack of enthusiasm. “And we’re getting that member in an easier way.”

“Is this the easier way?” Merlin exploded. “There wasn’t another one? Anything else that you could have done?”

“Not in the short time that we had at disposal, I’m afraid.” Gandalf shook his head. “As we speak, someone usurped the throne. The dangers our king is facing are way more than even I expected. Fortunately for us, our journey is almost done.”

“Almost done?” Lancelot asked, frowning. “Camelot isn’t that far from here. Even if we go there by foot, in two days we will be in the city.”

“We need some more companions before.” Gandalf answered, using that veil of wisdom that probably led other people in the misunderstanding that Gandalf was, in fact, smart. “Companions that already accepted to join our little troop, actually.”

“They accepted the way I did?” Merlin snapped. “Because in that case, we’re screwed.”

“Oh my, you’re in a terrible mood, aren’t you?” Gandalf shook his head. “Don’t worry, I have everything under control.”

“Great.” Merlin muttered. “We’re screwed.”

*****

Durin’s day was almost upon them.

Merlin raised an eyebrow when he saw Bilbo talking with one of the men.

“You know that person?” Thorin asked him, standing next to him.

“Yes, I do.” Merlin nodded. “An heir of Girion, if I’m not mistaken.”

Thorin’s expression clouded. “I see.”

“Don’t hate him for his grandfather’s mistakes, Thorin Oakenshield. He’s not his grandfather.” Merlin warned him. The ‘as you’re not your grandfather’ was unspoken.

“We need to discuss your contract.” Thorin said. “You’re doing a great favour to us. I feel obligated to recognise your help.”

“I have no need for gold, Thorin Oakenshield,” Merlin snorted, “and I’m helping you because Gandalf is a meddler.”

“Have you known him for a long time, then?” Thorin asked, amused by Merlin’s sentence.

“I didn’t know to be immortal,” Merlin murmured, “I’m helping you because I lost my home and family a long time ago. And I can not meet them ever again.”

“What happened?” Thorin asked, his voice becoming warmer.

“I defeated enemies, armies, just for them,” Merlin explained, “but I couldn’t stop time.”

“Your friends weren’t immortal, then?” Thorin asked.

“One of them is an elf,” Merlin smiled, “an elf I enjoy trouble with my presence some years, if I have to be honest. Have you ever seen an elf dealing with men’s nonsense? It’s truly amusing.”

Thorin snorted. “Everything that troubles an elf is amusing in my books.” Then, the dwarf asked. “The others were men?”

“Yes. All of them. We met dwarrows, and they were kind to me, especially when my friends died.” Merlin looked at Thorin. “I met one of your family’s line, Durin IV. He was… well, he understood my pain and he let me stay in his halls for the time I needed. Gandalf then found me. He accompanied me back to Rivendell, where Lord Erlond realised that I was different from the elves, but still immortal. I cannot be killed by any kind of weapon.” Merlin sighed. “And, believe me, I tried.”

“I’m sorry for your pain.” Thorin said. “And I have no doubts when I say that you will be welcomed in my halls every time you need it.”

“Thank you,” Merlin smiled, “you’re a kind person, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Chapter Text

Merlin was staring at Smaug.

He and Bilbo entered easily in the Mountain, after Bilbo managed to find the solution at the word game it was written on the map - Merlin had no idea dwarrow were able to be that subtle - and then the two of them traded to find the Arkenstone.

“Who dares to…”

“ Smaug .” Merlin called, making the dragon shut his voice down.

“A dragon lord.” Smaug muttered. “It has been so long since I last saw one of you.”

“I thought Aithusa warned you that I was still here.” Merlin raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t protect us.” Smaug growled. “You left us…”

“You know I wasn’t there while the elves fought you, Smaug, but I made each and one of them pay for their transgression towards you all.” Merlin stated. “But you disobeyed my direct orders.”

“I didn’t know dwarrow fallen under your protection.” Smaug answered. “You mentioned a human king, human soldiers, an elf soldier and some friend hobbits. Dwarrow weren’t never mentioned.”

“But they fell under my protection the same, especially Erebor.” Merlin shook his head. “You fell under the same sickness Thror fall sick.” 

“Dragons cannot fall to dragon sickness.” Smaug protested. “And I’m not…”

“You are.” Merlin interrupted the dragon. “But I have strict rules against killing my kin, and this includes dragons. You won’t be killed, or kept locked as an animal in a cage. What I want from you, now, is the Arkenstone. It has to be purified before Thorin Oakenshield could be able to touch it.”

Smaug seemed ready to protest, to fight the direct order Merlin spoke, even if he didn’t use his voice, but then he stopped.

“As you say, my lord.”

Merlin saw Bilbo’s expression change after he saw the shining stone.

“All of this for that stone?” Bilbo asked, in disbelief. “It can be useful just as a lamp!”

The Mountain trembled.

“This is called the Heart of the Mountain for a reason, my little friend.” Merlin explained. “But the dwarrow forgot that Erebor was here long before them. A dragon died in these halls, and this home became his grave.”

“The Arkenstone is a dragon?” Bilbo asked, blinking.

“His heart, what is left of him.” Merlin nodded. “His name was Kilgharrah.” Merlin smiled melancholically. “I am the one that brought him here for his last months. He helped me in moments of need and asked for this place to be his forever rest.”

“If you tell Thorin, he will treat it with the proper respect.” Bilbo reassured Merlin, promising.

“Especially after the poison that fell over it is gone forever.” Merlin smiled. “Kilgharrah would have hated it, knowing he dragged the dwarf to death by the fire of one of his kin.” Merlin sighed. “Especially after thinking he was the only one left.”

Smaug looked guilty. “I didn’t know this, my lord.”

“You have no fault for that.” Merlin promised. “I blame someone else for his thoughts. But we will decide what you can do to solve your transgression towards my orders, Smaug.” Merlin looked at Bilbo. “But now, here, give this to Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Can I tell him what this was?” Bilbo asked, looking sadly at Merlin, compassion written all over his face.

“Yes,” Merlin smiled, “you may.”

As he watched Bilbo trading off, Merlin understood Gandalf’s love for Bilbo’s kin.

That, on the other hand, won’t save Gandalf for being ripped apart for the danger he led a hobbit in.