15 Gandalf

Gandalf was lost in thought. After his message to the eagles led to the Company's timely rescue, thoughts of what had transpired until now refused to leave his wandering mind.

As much as Gandalf liked to pretend he knew everything – Eru knew how many times that habit of his had left his dear friend Elrond exasperated beyond belief – he was often as ignorant as the rest.

Which is why he found himself so befuddled by the events of the last few hours.

Oh, sure, he had his suspicions – and considering their nature, they were not as unfounded as some would like to believe – but that was all they were. Suspicions. Theories. The meager, fragile hopes of an old man, believing that perhaps Bilbo Baggins had managed to survive somehow and was now in his way back to them.

And if what Fili said proved to be true, Gandalf would be forever grateful to whoever had saved Bilbo. If Gandalf's own suspicions proved to be true, in fact, he would be forever thankful to Mairon. For protecting Bilbo when he could not.

Gwaihir's voice brought him back from his musings.

"Heavy are your thoughts as of late, old friend."

Gandalf sighed, not even bothering to change the subject to avoid the upcoming conversation.

"Heavy thoughts of an old, tired man," Gandalf agreed, his gaze fixed on the light of the coming day. "Though I find the memories quite heavy, themselves."

Gwaihir hummed. "You speak of the halfling. Quite a curious creature, is he not?"

Gandalf instantly became alert. "Bilbo," he breathed, grief and guilt battling with fragile hope. "Do you know something, Gwaihir?"

"A new Great One has emerged. Yet he is something we have not seen before."

"Mairon?" Gandalf asked hopefully.

"Wait, and you shall see. That is what my Lord Manwë said of the matter."

Gandalf stared in shock. Lord Manwë himself had intervened? He almost did not believe it, but Gwaihir's words rang with truth. 

How long had it been since Gandalf had had any contact with his home in the far West? His time there almost felt like a dream now. A distant dream he could only hope to reach one day, once again.

"My Lord was quite insistent, in fact," Gwaihir continued, not noticing how every word he said shocked Gandalf even more – or perhaps he did and found it amusing. Gandalf was not the only one who enjoyed being cryptic, after all, though he could admit it was a bit infuriating when he was on the receiving end of it.

"I have not heard him be this merry since Lady Varda agreed to marry him. It makes one wonder what it was, exactly, that amused him so."

Gandalf blinked. "…I see."

Well, now he was sure. If Mairon had absolutely nothing to do with this, he would eat his hat!

Honestly, the young Maia was like chaos personified! If something happened, Mairon most probably had something to do with it. He was more troublesome than an elfling!

Thank Eru the young one had not been anywhere close to the fire and the orcs; Gandalf feared what could have happened otherwise.

He had quickly taken notice of Mairon's reticence to getting near fire, as had Lord Glorfindel and Lord Elrond, and even though Mairon did not seem as if he knew the reason as to why yet, there could be many explanations for it, one more terrible than the rest.

After all, Mairon had been Sauron himself for years, even if he did not fully remember it, and he had already recovered some lost memories, if the events in the Hall of Fire were to be believed.

Hearing Lady Yavanna's Song so suddenly had been shocking, to say the least, and had woken emotions in Gandalf's heart that he had not remembered for what felt like an eternity.

They were dulled now, back in that place of his mind he knew was hidden from him during his days in Middle-Earth until he returned to the West, but the memory of those emotions had stayed with him.

He sighed, softly patting Gwaihir's back when his friend sent him a concerned look, and he cleared his mind of all his troubled thoughts, trying to let himself relax after everything that had happened.

He would certainly feel better once Mairon and Bilbo – if Eru was willing – returned, but now he simply watched the horizon with his old friend and thought of nothing.

With the light of dawn around them, Gandalf held onto hope and waited.

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 "Run, you fools! This way! Quickly!"

The dwarves thankfully did not raise any fuss and followed after Gandalf. He was not sure they would be so amenable to following his orders if they were not being hunted by a group of particularly feral wargs and orcs.

He was too old for this.

When he convinced Thorin to reclaim the mountain from Smaug, this was not what he had imagined would happen. Then again, he had never expected Bilbo Baggins to fall down a ravine either, so maybe the universe just liked to surprise him.

He would not mind a new surprise if that was truly the case. Preferably a red one with a penchant for chaos. Eru knew they needed some of that right about now.

Gandalf looked behind them and warily watched the party of orcs gradually getting closer to Thorin's Company. They were still far, but it would not take much more time for them to catch up.

He knew the dwarves would not last much longer, for dwarves were not prepared to cover such long distances. Already he could see some of them lagging behind, and he quickly took the rear to avoid any tragedies.

They needed to hurry and find cover, or the dwarves would be captured, sooner rather than later.

Then Gandalf caught sight of something that gave him hope. It was a high thorn-hedge with a wooden gate, high and broad, beyond which he could see gardens and a cluster of low wooden buildings, some thatched and made of unshaped logs: barns, stables, sheds, and a long low wooden house.

If his dear friend Radagast's words were to be believed, there was only one person who could be the master of that place. And that was Beorn, a powerful skin-changer. A man who could turn into a bear and back into a man again, one whom Gandalf had never met personally but knew of.

An unlikely and doubtful ally, but a possible ally, nonetheless. And they all knew they were short on that front.

They really needed all the help they could get, and if there was a possibility, however small, for Beorn to help the Company – even if he was said to hate dwarves – then Gandalf would take it.

Hopefully, he was making the right choice. If not… well, it's not like they would be around to regret it, now, would they?

A thunderous roar sounded, and the dwarves all stopped in shock at the sound.

"What was that?" Ori gasped, tightly clutching his axe.

Thorin and Dwalin looked alert, warily watching their surroundings for any attacks.

There was another roar, and Gandalf tried not to stiffen as the figure of a humongous beast appeared between the trees, standing atop a great rock while it roared its rage to the heavens.

The dwarves did not need Gandalf's encouragement to run this time around.

With a fantastic sense of self-preservation often lacking in others, the Company started running towards the compound, and Gandalf watched in shock as Bombur, who was not certainly the fittest of them, surpassed everyone else in his state of panic and took the front of the line, only to bounce back when he hit the closed door of the house and fell to the ground.

"Open the door!" Gandalf exclaimed, not quite feeling panicked himself, but starting to as he saw Beorn closing in on them with incredible speed.

Well, at least the orcs were not following them anymore. They still had a problem, though. Especially if they did not get that door opened in less than ten seconds.

"Open the door!" He yelled again, and thankfully for their continued survival, Thorin managed to open the blasted thing, and they all stumbled inside the safety of the house.

"Close it! Close it!" Gandalf bellowed, and there they went to shut the heavy doors. It was barely enough, but it was enough.

They all gasped as Beorn's massive head lunged forward, his jaws snapping just inches away from the closing gap, before the door sealed shut, and Dwalin quickly blocked it with a large, wooden plank.

Gandalf sighed in relief while the dwarves watched the door, their residual panic starting to recede.

"What the hell was that?" Kili exclaimed, his eyes wildly darting between the now-closed door and Gandalf. It said something of the situation that Thorin did not reprimand his nephew for his language. Gandalf could certainly understand that.

He doubted they would like his answer, though.

"That, master dwarf," Gandalf sighed, "is our host."

The Company stared.

And just as Thorin was about to open his mouth to no doubt ask Gandalf why he had thought it a good idea to ask for help from what seemed like a wild, giant beast, something shifted behind them, and Gandalf turned around instantly, preparing for a threat, as did the others.

Only for him to stare at thin air.

He blinked and, he did not know what possessed him to look down, but when he did, his eyes met two pairs of eyes that stared at him in befuddlement. But Gandalf was left even more bewildered than them.

He was staring right at a couple of little girls, both brown-haired and with innocent, dark eyes that blinked at him and the group of dwarves behind him in confusion. But not a trace of fear was in their faces.

Radagast certainly had not told him about this. Whatever this was.

Oh, when Gandalf saw his friend again, they were going to have words.

Most certainly.

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 "Children?" Balin asked to himself, though everyone heard him, and such was their surprise that for a moment Gandalf even wondered if they had gotten the wrong house, after all.

(They had not, of course. That would have been embarrassing.)

"I am confused," Kili said in a stilted voice. "What is happening?"

"I believe we would all like to know that, brother," Fili said, and Dwalin grunted in affirmation. Gandalf leaned slightly on his staff and pondered what to do now.

The young pair did not look alarmed, though he noticed one of the girls seemed more wary than the other, who just looked curious. They both seemed to be fascinated with his beard – of all things! – and so Gandalf thought it better if it was him who approached them.

"Hello," he said softly with a gentle smile. He could tell his eyes crinkled, and the little girl on the left smiled shyly at him, though neither of them said anything.

"My name is Gandalf, and these are my friends," here he gestured towards the dwarves, and most of them smiled awkwardly or waved at the children. "Apologies for entering your home unannounced, but we were in a terrible need of shelter, and this was the closest place we could reach."

Gandalf gave them another smile, though he wondered if perhaps they had frightened them both when the children did not say anything. It seemed as if they would stay silent when the girl who had smiled back at him spoke.

"You made Papa mad," she said, her words not matching her cheery smile, and Gandalf almost sighed tiredly. Of course, the children had to be odd on top of everything else. Why not?

The other girl hissed and slapped the other's shoulder, clearly not liking the fact that her – sister? – had decided to speak to them.

"Ran-Ran! Father said not to talk to strangers!"

"But elder brother is in the other room, Helga," the child said, tilting her head, and Gandalf almost choked on his spit when he heard there was another one. In the house. With them.

This was going to end badly. Was it too late to leave?

A deep yet youthful voice suddenly emerged from a near room. "What is all this noise? Girls, I told you it was nap time, why are you not-" whatever the man was going to say next cut off when he took one look at them all and clearly classified them as enemies.

In a flash, the man had taken both girls and stood in front of them, his body ready to jump at a moment's notice.

"Who are you?! How did you enter this place?" The young man – because however tall he was, Gandalf could still discern the youth behind his gaze – demanded, and Gandalf threw a quick look at Thorin, begging him to stay silent.

The last thing they needed was Thorin's prideful words hurting the other's pride. Even if Thorin had not been as bad these last few days.

"Peace," Gandalf softly said, shifting his posture so it appeared non-threatening. He was not sure if he was successful, but at least the man did not look as if he was going to attack them at any second, now.

"I am Gandalf the Grey, and these are my companions. We were being chased through the woods and needed to find shelter at once. We have lost our luggage and nearly lost our way, and are rather in need of help, or at least of advice."

"Gandalf the Grey, you say?" The young man grumbled, looking him up and down, and Gandalf was certainly not expecting what he said next, "I thought you'd be taller."

Fili and Kili guffawed from behind him, and Gandalf huffed and tried not to look offended, although by the small smirk the man was giving him he was not very successful in this endeavor.

"Yes, well," Gandalf sniffed, deciding to change the subject, "may I ask for your name?"

The young man looked at the little girls, who stared at him with a smile, and he huffed. "I am Grimbeorn, son of Beorn. And I would very much like to know how you reached this place without Father devouring you all."

Ori and Dori squeaked. "Devouring us?!"

"That was your father?!" Oin and Gloin exclaimed.

The others wore a mix of disbelief and shock on their faces.

Gandalf was just confused. How many children did Beorn have, exactly? And why had Radagast not mentioned any of this to him!?

"Father is not going to be happy," Grimbeorn said, looking at their group, "he does not like dwarves very much. I am not the master of the house, so I cannot tell you to leave or to stay. Do as you like. But if I find that you were untruthful…you will not like what will happen."

"You do not want to know who we are?" Thorin asked dubiously.

"I could not care less," Grimbeorn bluntly stated, and they all stared incredulously at the man.

Gandalf, on the other hand, was pleasantly surprised. If there were more people like Grimbeorn in Arda, things would certainly be easier all around. But he had a feeling Beorn would not be like his son in that regard.

And sure enough,

"Father will be coming back soon," Grimbeorn informed them, "you should think of a good explanation for him. He is not the most patient, but he will hear what you have to say, at least."

And with those parting words, he moved to a corner, sat on a plushy armchair, and started snoring without a care in the world.

Gandalf blinked.

Well, then.

Better prepare a good argument. It would be a pity if they had gotten this far for nothing, now, would it not?

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 Gandalf wondered if it had been a good idea to just walk outside and go speak with Beorn, who was chopping wood in such a forceful manner that Gandalf would not have been surprised if Beorn was pretending it was the heads of his enemies he was cutting, instead of wood.

He tried not to gulp as he greeted the tall skin-changer, who completely ignored him and made Gandalf repeat himself, though he kept his cheery manner while doing so.

"Morning!" He exclaimed, and Beorn's attention slowly shifted from his task to Gandalf. He could not help but feel as if he were staring at a wild animal about to pounce.

"Who are you?" Beorn asked with a rough voice, and Gandalf smiled.

"I am Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey," he stated, bowing slightly in greeting. Beorn narrowed his eyes, and Gandalf fought the urge to squirm.

"Never heard of him."

Oh. Well, then. He sputtered and was about to ask Beorn if he had perhaps heard of Radagast the Brown instead – seeing as his old friend lived nearer – when Beorn spoke again.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, well, me and my, huh, travel companions, we were in dire need of refuge from the orcs and goblins chasing us, you see, and we happened upon your home. I must say, it is a beautiful place you have here, very well cared for, indeed."

Beorn suddenly shifted in alert, and Gandalf kept a wary eye on the man's axe.

"Travel companions?" Beorn asked, his voice a mix between alarmed and furious, and Gandalf opened his mouth to try and calm down the giant man when said giant suddenly marched towards the house with a purpose only he knew of.

Gandalf quickly followed after him, worried that the man might do something hasty and particularly harmful to Thorin's Company.

"Randi! Helga!" Beorn yelled with a note of panic in his voice after he opened the door with a slam, and the dwarves inside exclaimed in shock, pushing against each other to get away from the skin-changer.

And, oh, Gandalf could understand why Beorn had been so alarmed to find there were strangers in his home.

He was concerned about his family.

(He felt a bit silly, now. In his defense, though, he had been more worried about how they could survive an encounter with the man than thinking about said man's family. Maybe he should have started there, instead.)

"Papa!" One of the little girls exclaimed, running towards the man, who swiftly scooped her up in his arms and looked at all the dwarves distrustfully.

"It is alright, father," Grimbeorn, who looked to have been woken up from his nap by all the racket, was holding the other girl, Helga, in his arms. "They are not a threat. Just lost, is all."

Beorn visibly relaxed at the eldest's words, though his shoulders remained slightly tensed. Thorin, on the other hand, seemed offended that they were not considered a threat in the eyes of Beorn's oldest child, but he thankfully refrained from commenting on the matter.

"What did you go near orcs and goblins for?" Beorn asked Gandalf distrustfully, previously recalling the wizard's words before he went inside.

Gandalf hesitated, looking at the children, and Beorn seemed to understand, for he sent a look towards his son, who carefully took Randi from Beorn's arms and led the girls towards an adjacent room, saying something about reading them stories.

"We were on our way to visit the land of Thorin's fathers, away east beyond Mirkwood," Gandalf began once young ears were away, "and it is entirely an accident that we are in your lands at all, though Radagast the Brown informed me of this place. We were crossing by the High Pass that should have brought us to the road that lies to the south of your country when we were attacked by the evil goblins – as I was about to tell you before."

"Go on telling, then," Beorn grumbled, and Gandalf nodded.

"Of course, of course. So, as I was saying, there was a terrible storm, the stone-giants were out hurling rocks, and we lost two of our Company, though they may still live and are perhaps on their way here as we speak."

The dwarves threw surprised and shocked looks at Gandalf, who had not told them that before – just his hopes that Bilbo was still alive, nothing more – and Beorn frowned, looking…well, not angry, but certainly not happy.

"And what happened next, pray tell?" Beorn asked with an arched eyebrow. Gandalf could not be sure if the man was believing their story or not, so he had no choice but to continue it.

"Well, after we battled the goblins and escaped Goblin-Town, we were then chased by orcs, all the way to the mountain's edge!"

"Chased?" Beorn repeated.

Gandalf nodded and told him about the wolf-ring in the woods and their mad scramble to climb the trees with all the Wargs underneath.

"I did the best I could, certainly," Gandalf said, glad that Beorn was seemingly invested in the story, "the forest was beginning to blaze in places, and we would have surely perished if it had not been for the eagles' rescue. They brought us to the Carrock, and we have been fleeing from the orcs, who have been hunting us, ever since."

"If I had been there I would have given the orcs more than fireworks," Beorn growled, more to himself than anyone else, and Fili and Kili exchanged wary looks.

The skin-changer continued, "it is a good story," he admitted, "though whether it is a real one is yet to be seen, but you deserve some food for it, all the same."

It had taken Gandalf so long to explain to Beorn their tale that the sun was beginning to fall and already he could see some shadows through the windows growing long in Beorn's garden.

"And what of your other companions?" Beorn asked Gandalf before they did anything else. "The…hobbit, was it? And the other wizard?"

Gandalf sighed. "I do not know," he admitted heavily, "it is possible that they are alive and making their way here as we speak, but I cannot be sure. Regardless, we would certainly be grateful if, should they come, you would grant them the same courtesy you have granted us."

"Well, at this point two more shall not make any difference," Beorn grumbled, and before the dwarves could cheer, he said, "but I will be checking to see whether your story is true."

"Of course," Gandalf bowed in acceptance, and after many thanks and similar bows from the Company, they joined Beorn's family – who had reappeared from a room – to eat and rest from their journey.

It was there where they also spent the night, and once they woke up, both Beorn and his son were missing, though Randi and Helga were still asleep.

Gandalf, having followed Beorn until the Carrock, at which point he could not follow him anymore, guessed it must have been some sort of meeting Beorn had with the bears that lived in this land – for there were many animal footprints and they could not all be from Beorn – and Beorn was, most probably, checking if their story was as true as they had claimed.

Grimbeorn, on the other hand, had completely vanished. Perhaps he was hunting or keeping watch for the orcs, but Gandalf could not be sure.

Either way, he and the dwarves waited patiently inside Beorn's house, and some of the dwarves used this time to explore the place for themselves.

Gandalf thought it quite comforting and warm, and all the animals around only added charm to the home. Admittedly, some were oddly big for their size, especially the bees, which prompted an alarmed exclamation from a dwarf or two at times, but still.

They spent the morning like this, and then Beorn returned, in an obvious better mood than before, having verified their story with the other bears, who heard and saw much.

He unfortunately did not see Mairon or Bilbo anywhere, but there was still hope.

"My son is keeping near the Anduin," Beorn told Gandalf after he saw him particularly downtrodden, "if your friends are near, he will find them."

"Thank you," Gandalf told him, though he was afraid that Thorin would not want to wait more than a day in the skin-changer's house.

If Mairon and Bilbo were not back before then, Gandalf would be forced to leave them behind – though now that he thought about it, he could always wait for them here after he led the dwarves to the elven pass in the outskirts of Mirkwood.

Well, he supposed time would tell. After all, who knew in what condition Mairon and Bilbo would return?

He just hoped they were not badly injured. Mairon would have made sure that Bilbo was safe, but who knew what the reckless Maia had done?