4 Of Travels and Talks

Traveling with Thorin's Company and a wizard was interesting, to say the least. I couldn't believe it had been a week and a half since we left the Shire behind; it was already May!

The journey had been quite light-hearted ever since, so time quickly passed us all by. Bilbo looked to be having fun, at least, listening to Balin's stories and the silly, little anecdotes the other dwarves sometimes narrated for the easily excitable hobbit.

It seemed that my presence had changed the initial impression and relationship that the dwarves had with Bilbo. The fact that I had told them of the hobbit's relation to the Thain probably helped matters, as well as Gandalf's poor handling and explaining of the situation – or lack thereof, really.

Well, I had already known I would change things. Just by destroying the Ring thousands of years earlier, I had thrown the whole story off course, even if some events, by some grace of God, had still stayed the same.

Smaug was probably an unchanged variable. At least, I seemed to remember that the dragon had nothing to do with Sauron; he just happened to hear about all the gold and jewels hidden inside the Lonely Mountain and decided to take the whole treasure for himself, something which was understandable considering he was a dragon.

So I had hope I would still be able to predict some of the events in the not-so-distant future we had ahead of us.

We had just passed by Weathertop, a sight which almost gave me the chills – I hated ghosts, and the Witch-king most of all; he was just too damn creepy – but fortunately for my nerves, we didn't camp there. Instead, we walked until night fell, at which point we were forced to stop because the dwarves could hardly see where they were going.

One thing I loved about this body is that I could see in the dark pretty damn well. It probably helped having twin flames for eyes, even if they were not in sight at the moment. Bilbo could usually see where he was going – hobbits were awesome like that – and Gandalf…was Gandalf. No need to explain anything there.

Anyway, we stopped for the night at the exact same spot shown in the movies.

Shocking, right?

After a small meal, aside from Balin and the twins, the dwarves all fell asleep.

I looked over at Dwalin, who was sitting against a rock and had his head leaned forward with his eyes closed, and I wondered how the guy could sleep like that without snapping his neck.

"Are you not tired, Kael?" Bilbo asked me quietly from inside his sleeping bag.

I shrugged, my fingers deftly carving a flute from a piece of wood I had gotten in Hobbiton. Muscle memory had come rearing its head again. At this point, almost everything that I did while being in Mairon's body would hardly surprise me anymore.

(In my defense, though, swordsmanship wasn't the only thing I had learned in Bree. It was just the thing I seemed to be better at for now.)

"Not really," I whispered back at Bilbo, not looking away from what was quickly becoming a wooden instrument. "I do not usually sleep a lot. You should rest, though."

Bilbo frowned and threw a pointed look at Bombur's snoring form.

Ah. I hadn't even noticed the noise; I had been too immersed in my task. Carving something from wood had a really calming effect. Who would have known?

Bilbo slowly shifted and stood up, taking an apple from his travel bag as he did and walking towards Myrtle – his pony – with careful steps.

I gazed at him in amusement as he smuggled the fruit to the animal, trying to be all inconspicuous about it while he cooed at Myrtle, and I had to repress a chuckle to avoid making a sound and waking up everyone.

If ponies could look fondly exasperated, Myrtle probably would have. As it was, she just looked at me with the usual stare a horse had and snorted.

A far howl in the night caught my attention then, but it didn't seem as if the others had heard anything. I still remembered the place where the orcs were shown to have been spying on the dwarves in the movies, so I quietly stood up and walked towards the edge of the cliff, next to the ponies.

My sudden movement attracted Gandalf and Bilbo's gazes. "Kael?" The hobbit began hesitantly, "what is the matter?"

I stopped walking, my eyes fixed on the cliff of the mountain in front of us, maybe less than 50 meters away. There were trees and shrubbery there, but I was able to distinguish some dark shapes between them. The orcs weren't even hidden; they were just looking at us.

"We are being followed," I said lowly, and I felt more than saw Gandalf's eyes snap to where I was looking.

"I cannot see anything," the Maia-in-disguise muttered curiously, "it is too dark. You must have a very keen eyesight indeed if you were able to discern anything through this darkness."

"Hm," I simply hummed, and guided Bilbo towards the camp, "come on, Bilbo, it is better they do not realize we noticed them."

And that's when a shriek, louder than the first, echoed through the mountains. Bilbo jumped. "What was that?"

I inwardly rolled my eyes. Honestly. It's like they weren't even trying to stay undetected! That was probably why orcs always lost, wasn't it? They were too freaking stupid to do anything else.

I kinda felt bad for them. It wasn't their fault they were made like that.

Also, this unfortunately proved that Azog the Defiler was still alive and kicking. The question was, who the heck was he working for? Sauron was dead.

Was he working alone? And how had all these orcs survived until now? What the hell had the Allied Forces been doing all these years?!

"Orcs," Kili answered Bilbo's panicked question with such a serious face that I sensed the trolling coming from a mile away. I would know. I was a master troll.

"Orcs?!" Bilbo all but shrieked, and poor Thorin, who had been napping in a relaxed position – if sleeping against a literal rock could even be called that – instantly jumped awake.

"Alright, that is enough," I announced, gently pushing Bilbo towards his sleeping bag, "we know there are orcs, no need to terrify the poor hobbit even more," at that, I threw Kili and Fili a look that basically meant 'shut the fuck up, don't scare my friend and don't make fun of things that are not fun in the slightest'.

They probably got the gist of it because they quieted down without arguing and I nodded, satisfied.

Thank God. If I had to hear Thorin's story one more time I would jump off the cliff.

I sat on the rock floor and grabbed my flute again. Let's see if I could finish it before dawn broke. I was so looking forward to playing it. I wondered if Mairon had any skills in playing instruments.

Well, I guess I would find out soon.

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It seemed that the events of the night before had made the people who were awake completely paranoid. Balin and Thorin looked around with weary eyes, as if they expected orcs to suddenly attack us if we weren't careful.

Bilbo gazed at Fili and Kili every now and then, then looked at me with a questioning glance. I hadn't told him exactly why I made the twins shut up before they said anything else to him.

And Gandalf seemed relaxed, but I could tell the wizard was as cautious as the others, and should anyone strange appear, he would be the first one to take out his staff and pummel them into oblivion. 

The other dwarves had obviously picked up on their combined paranoia and were now looking quite paranoid themselves.

Meanwhile, I was the oddball in the group, chilling out and softly humming songs that once or twice attracted birds to perch on my horse's saddle, tilting their little heads while chirping along with me.

It was like being Snow White in Middle-Earth. Or any other Disney Princess.

What the heck.

The funny thing was that, just as I stopped humming, not even five minutes later, a heavy rainfall started, prompting me to get my umbrella. Who would have thought the Shire sold umbrellas? I couldn't believe it until I saw Lobelia Sackville-Baggins with one! Obviously, the first thing I did was buy one for myself and Bilbo, which he was clearly grateful for now.

The rain kept pouring for days.

On the third day, the dwarves started complaining about it, some of them casting envious glances at Bilbo and me, who were cool as a cucumber.

"Can you not do something about this deluge, Mr. Gandalf?" Dori asked, a miserable expression on his face.

Gandalf huffed. "It is raining, master dwarf. And it will continue to rain until the rain is done! If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard."

While Dori grumbled under his breath, Bilbo perked up. "Are there any?" He asked curiously from under his umbrella.

"What?"

"Other wizards?" Bilbo clarified.

Gandalf hummed in understanding. "There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, The White," here I wrinkled my nose in distaste. Ugh. Saruman. I had completely forgotten about him. Wait, would he even turn if Sauron was dead? But I hated the guy…Ugh.

"Then there are two blue wizards," Gandalf continued. "Do you know, I have quite forgotten their names."

I rolled my eyes.

"Alatar and Pallando," I told Bilbo, leaning my head and umbrella backwards to feel the rain against my nose. It didn't bother me in the slightest. It was actually quite relaxing. "Although some in the East and South would know them as Morinehtar and Rómestámo."

"I have not heard those names for many a year," Gandalf's voice betrayed his curiosity, "and I have been here for longer than that. How, pray tell, do you know them?"

I shrugged. "I enjoy reading stories," I happily informed him, knowing that it was a completely useless piece of information, even if it was true.

Gandalf knew that too, for the face he made was a glorious thing worthy of remembrance.

It almost topped Elrond's memorable freak out.

Almost.

"And who is the fifth?" Bilbo asked when Gandalf didn't say anything else.

"Well, that would be Radagast, The Brown."

Bilbo nodded. "I see. Is he a great wizard or is he…more like you?" He asked.

I laughed uproariously, Gandalf's indignant face setting me off every time I looked at him.

"Oh, that is great," I gasped out, dramatically holding my chest while I brushed my mirthful tears away from my face, "oh, Bilbo. You are a riot. Never change, my dear hobbit. That level of sassiness is going to get you far, mark my words."

Gandalf 'hmphed,' changing the subject. "I think he is a very great wizard, in his own way. He is a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forestlands to the East, and a good thing too, for always evil will look to find a foothold in this world."

Bilbo frowned. "Gandalf? What evil are you talking about? My mother used to tell me stories, you see, about the Enemy and such. But she said he was defeated before the Third Age even began!"

I stopped chuckling and waited for Gandalf's answer. Thorin and Balin, who were the closest to us, were also paying attention to the conversation.

Gandalf hummed noncommittally. "That may be true, but even the very wise cannot see all ends. Sauron was defeated, yes, but he was not the only evil in this world. No, it is best to be cautious with these things."

And with that final grim note, we continued our journey in relative silence, each one of us lost in our thoughts.

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It wasn't until that very night that I began to understand what it truly meant to have changed the story. We stopped near a small house with a small chimney from which a trail of smoke lazily floated upwards. A house which, if I remembered right, shouldn't be standing right now. It should have been in ruins, its occupants missing and likely dead, killed and eaten by trolls.

Instead, the door of the house opened, and a small child peeked out from behind it with a curious look.

"Astrid! Come back here, it is not safe out there!"

A woman's voice sounded from the inside, and after another curious look towards our group, the child disappeared inside the house again, the door closing behind her with a soft sound.

"Fili, Kili, look after the ponies," Thorin said, ignoring the presence of the family, "make sure you stay with them."

"Right," Kili nodded, and both him and his brother went to do just that.

"I think it would be wiser to move on," Gandalf told Thorin as said dwarf ordered Oin and Gloin to start a fire, "we could make for the Hidden Valley."

Thorin huffed, "I told you; I will not go near that place. I do not need the Elves' advice," he uttered 'advice' as if it were the foulest of words he had ever heard.

Gandalf looked exasperated. "We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us."

"Help? A dragon attacked our homeland. What help came from the Elves then? The orcs plundered Moria and desecrated our sacred halls, and the Elves looked on and did nothing! You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father."

"You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past."

"I did not know they were yours to keep," Thorin rebutted.

"Alright, calm down, both of you," I instantly interrupted them, seeing as Gandalf looked as if he were about to storm off. "Thorin, if I may ask, what is your problem with Elrond, exactly?"

Thorin looked furious. "I do not see why this would be any of your business, boy. Did no one ever tell you that eavesdropping on people is considered rude?"

I blinked, deciding to ignore the condescending way Thorin was addressing me. It's not like he was wrong in calling me a boy. I was 19. Although it was kind of insulting…

"They did, actually. I just do not care," I almost guffawed at Thorin's incredulous face, "And it sounds to me like this is a matter of pride. If I recall correctly, Rivendell is halfway across the world from the Lonely Mountain. How, exactly, were you expecting Elrond to help you? And it is not like they would know Moria would be attacked by orcs, either. They would have not been able to make it there in time to help you defend it. So why would you hold a stupid grudge against him?"

Thorin bristled. "I hold no grudge against him! It is the Elves that are the problem!"

I raised one of my eyebrows. "It sounds to me as if you are blaming an entire race for a matter that was not even their fault. Tell me, how were you expecting the Elves to help you against a dragon if you were not able to defeat it yourself? The only thing you would have accomplished is getting all the Elves killed. Last I remember, even they were not immune to dragon fire."

Thorin looked a mix between wanting to shout in frustration and wishing to strangle me.

"I said it before, and I will say it again. We are not going to the Elves for help. And that is my final word," he snarled, and marched off.

"Good luck reading that map, then!" I called out after him, and if he had known it, I was sure Thorin would have shown me the finger.

Welp.

Gandalf, who I just remembered had been there since the very beginning, was looking at me with an unreadable expression. I shifted nervously. "What?"

"I have never seen Thorin as furious as I have seen him now. What on Arda possessed you to say that to him?" He asked, puffing on his pipe. Wait, a pipe? When did he even-?! Whatever.

I shrugged. "I was right, was I not? If pride is more important to Thorin than getting his home back, then he will never be able to take back Erebor, let alone reach it. It was about time somebody told him that."

"I fear the only thing you have accomplished is making him angrier," Gandalf snorted, although he didn't disagree with me.

"The truth often does that," I pointed out, and I brushed nonexistent dirt from my shoulders. "Well, I am going to take a walk."

Gandalf did a double take. "A walk? Now? Whatever for?"

"Do I need a reason? I just feel like it," I shrugged, and I almost laughed at Gandalf's exasperated look.

"Do be careful!" He called out after I turned around, "it is not safe out there! There could be orcs nearby!"

"Are you worried about me, Gandalf? Why, it almost sounds as if you actually care about me!" I laughed brightly.

"Oh, no. Bilbo, on the other hand, would kill me if something happened to you, whatever the reason for your odd friendship is. That is all."

I smiled. "Whatever you say. I personally think you are not as uncaring as you seem to be. One could even say I am growing on you!"

"Like a fungus, mayhap," Gandalf grumbled, "now away with you!"

I cackled all the way to the edge of the forest.

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To be honest, the only reason I had wanted to go for a walk was to have time for myself to think. You see, I had no idea what I would do about anything. How could I explain to Bilbo who I really was? How would I explain that to Glorfindel, Elrond, and anyone else who might be interested in my story?

Should I tell them I was from another world? But then, why was I also Mairon? It didn't make any sense. If I had been a normal human, there's no reason why I should have ended up in Sauron's body and later become Mairon myself. I should have had my normal human body, not whatever this was.

And how would things change without Sauron being here? Azog and the other orcs that followed him still seemed to be the same as in the movies, but would things even happen the same way? What about Radagast? Originally, he only came to warn Gandalf about Dol Guldur and the Necromancer, carrying the Witch-king's Morgul blade, but the Nazgûl were all gone, so the blade wouldn't be there.

If so, then Radagast would never come, and he wouldn't be able to distract the orcs that were after us, and the White Council wouldn't even need to meet because Gandalf didn't bring any news. Well, maybe they would meet regardless considering Thorin's quest hadn't changed.

Still, there were too many unknowns.

Just for a moment, I wondered if destroying the Ring had been the right choice. Maybe it would have been better to wait. After all, Isildur dying and Smeagol finding the Ring wasn't exactly that terrible.

Hell, I could have waited to destroy it until the Hobbit events were over. Bilbo could have still given it up because he wouldn't have been carrying it for that long, and I could have dealt with Sauron at the same time.

But if I hadn't destroyed it, then maybe I wouldn't have ended up in Middle-Earth again. I wouldn't have become Mairon, or whoever I was.

Maybe I'd be at home now, watching movies and meeting with my friends like a perfectly normal teenager.

I wouldn't even have found out about Narnia being real, about my grandmother finding it inside a wardrobe that was identical to its movie counterpart.

And I realized I couldn't really regret that.

No, I would not regret my choices. Even if I didn't know completely what the future held, I could be satisfied with the decisions I took that had brought me here.

It may have changed the whole story, but it had let me meet so many people: Elrond, Glorfindel, Gandalf, Bilbo, Thorin & Co, hell, even Thranduil, and elves, dwarves, men, and hobbits.

I had been able to experience what it meant to find yourself in a fantasy world that you had only ever known through a story.

Would I have been able to give that up?

The answer was clear.

I stopped walking once I reached a small clearing in the forest and looked up at the sky.

A bright, round moon greeted my eyes, and I felt surprised that so much time had passed since I had left the camp. It must have been two hours at least.

"Well," I sighed, watching my hand, which I knew would be glowing as much as the Moon if I let my inner light shine through, "I'd better get back."

"Kael?"

I screamed in fright and abruptly turned around; my arms raised protectively in front of my chest. Bilbo blinked back at me with a deer in the headlights expression and I instantly dropped my arms, one of them clutching my shirt.

"What is it with you people?" I exclaimed, feeling as if my heart was going to burst out of my chest, "first Elrond, now you! Can you not just announce yourself before scaring the hell out of me?! God!"

Bilbo looked apologetic and flailed his arms. "I am very sorry, Kael! I did not mean to startle you! You just looked so lost in your thoughts that-wait, Elrond?" He asked, frowning. "You know Lord Elrond, Kael?"

I inwardly winced. Damn. This conversation came sooner than I expected. Well, better get it over with.

"Right. Yes," I cleared my throat slightly.

"Bilbo," I began, fighting the urge to fiddle with my hands like a 5-year-old about to be scolded, "I may not have been entirely truthful with you about who I am, but I want you to know that I did not tell you before because of entirely valid reasons."

Bilbo lifted an eyebrow. "Right. Go on."

I swallowed. "I have two names. The first being Michael, which is where Kael comes from. That is the name my family called me when I was a baby, and it is the one I have been using for most of my life."

"And the second?" Bilbo asked contemplatively.

"My second name," I answered, "is Mairon. And it is the one I should have told you since the day we met, but I feared that if some people, like Gandalf – him, especially – found out about it, they would not let me stay in the Shire. I would not have a moment of peace, and I did not want that."

Bilbo frowned. "But why would Gandalf not let you stay just because of what your name is?"

"That is where the hard part comes, Bilbo," I said, "I share my name, Mairon, with someone who was…not exactly a good person. Do you remember when we were talking about the Enemy?"

Bilbo gasped. "Is he…was he called Mairon?"

I nodded. "Yes. But that was the name they called him before he became twisted and evil. And I did not want people to connect me with him because even if I do look like him, I am not him."

Bilbo blinked, visibly processing what I had just told him. "Just to be sure," he began, "you are telling me that you are Sauron before he became, well, Sauron?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I am saying."

"Oh. Well. Alright," Bilbo nodded, tilting his head. "Huh. Okay, then."

I peered at him. "Are you quite yourself, Bilbo?" I asked hesitantly.

"Oh, yes, yes. Of course. I just. Need a minute," he sniffed and looked at the Moon. "Right. So. You are not, in fact, a man."

"No, I am not," I agreed, wincing. Was I? Who the heck knew?

"So, you are," he said, gesticulating wildly towards my person, "what? A supreme race of being? Wait, are you like a Wizard? Like Gandalf?"

I lifted a finger and opened my mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

"Sure, let's go with that. Yes. I am exactly like Gandalf, but I do not look like an old man and I am not as old as him."

Because the real Mairon was the one who was as old – or was it older? – as Gandalf, not me. 

Besides, I didn't want Bilbo to freak out if I told him Gandalf and the other Wizards, along with me, were actually Maiar – who were like angels – from Valinor. I had a feeling the hobbit wasn't ready to hear that.

"Wait, so Sauron was a Wizard?" Bilbo asked incredulously.

"Of a sort," I answered hesitantly, "it is complicated, but essentially, yes."

"Huh. But how come you look so…ordinary?"

I snorted. "My red hair is ordinary? Have you ever seen anyone with hair as red as mine in Middle-Earth?"

"Well, I have seen hobbits with red hair, just not so…red."

I sighed. Good enough, I suppose.

"That is because I am suppressing my inner light from being shown. If I did not, I would be glowing like a lantern right now. And I would rather not attract any unwanted attention."

Bilbo's eyes sparkled. "You can glow? Oh, I so wish to see it!"

I looked upwards with exasperation. Trust Bilbo to focus on the most unimportant thing of everything I had told him.

"You are not angry?" I asked Bilbo, "I did not tell you the truth before, after all. Although I was planning on telling you just before we reached Rivendell."

Bilbo waved me off. "Why would I be? You did not actually lie to me. You told me your name was Kael, which it is. People can have more than one name, and yours just happened to be that one. And you did tell me you were not an elf, so really, it is my fault in assuming that you were a man, although it always struck me as odd. You do not look like one at all."

I sighed, relieved.

I mean, he was right. I had never intentionally lied to him; I had just not answered some questions. But that wasn't lying.

"Then please just keep calling me Kael for now. It would be strange if you just started calling me Mairon."

Bilbo's eyes twinkled in mischief, and I prepared myself for his deviousness. "If you show me the light you spoke of before, then I will continue to do so."

I groaned. "Alright, you little troublemaker. Just…try not to scream."

I gently searched for the faint aura that had been holding my light back ever since I arrived in Hobbiton – it was difficult to describe, but when I hid it, I could almost feel some sort of blanket enveloping my whole body. This was like grabbing that blanket and taking it off, just like the time I uncovered the wardrobe.

My skin instantly sparkled to life, getting brighter and brighter until I saw Bilbo closing his eyes, overwhelmed.

When the light settled, Bilbo opened his eyes again, and his eyes widened in absolute shock.

"Oh, Yavanna!" He yelped, unconsciously taking a step backward and falling on his ass after tripping on a branch.

A chuckle escaped my lips, and Bilbo looked transfixed at the sound.

In his defense, though, my laugh sounded like carol bells.

I know. How absolutely, ridiculously cliché.

"It is an absolute pleasure to properly meet you, Bilbo Baggins. I am Mairon. And Mairon… means me," I said, smiling all the while, and I started laughing brightly at Bilbo's amazed face.

And if a little relief was mixed into it, none of us said a thing.