Chapter Text
It was just like any other morning in The Shire. Birds began their early songs and the sun sparkled on the dewy grass. Soft, gentle hills and winding footpaths connected the gardens and their little houses. And William Baggins (or Bill, as he was known to everyone) woke up from a dream that somehow managed to involve trolls, a dragon, and ravens all in one.
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as his dream faded from memory. He had had others like it frequently, but never quite managed to remember them properly. But he always enjoyed them, even the scary bits. It was a welcome reprieve from the monotony of daily life.
He did have a wonderful and comfortable life, one that he quite enjoyed, thank you very much! But in the quiet moments, something would find him. As if there was a void inside him, a space in his heart that he could never quite fill. A hunger that was somehow never satisfied. But he had also learned to live with it– he even gave it a name: The Emptiness– and whenever it struck, he would simply wait for it to pass or find something to occupy himself with until it left.
He lived alone, his parents having passed many years ago when he was barely on the verge of adulthood. He would have attributed The Emptiness to this, except that it had afflicted him his entire life and it got neither better nor worse after his parents’ passing. Yes, his parents’ death had caused him a great deal of grief and suffering, but it was somehow not related to the unknown void in his heart, the hole that could never be filled. Just like The Emptiness, he learned to live with The Grief, and he now lived a satisfying, comfortable life. And so it was, this simple spring morning, that Bill set about beginning another ordinary day.
His father had owned a good amount of land, which Bill leased to some farmers and their families. He lived off the collected rents and traded crops, which meant that he often had to resolve Mrs. So-and-so’s complaint about the neighbor’s chickens getting into her garden or Mr. So-and-so’s cow breaking through the fence (again). But this morning, there were no such complaints, and he was able to take his coffee outside to enjoy the fresh morning sun.
The old man appeared as if out of nowhere– one moment, there was nobody, and the next, Bill was sitting in someone’s shadow. The man wore a gray traveling cloak; he had long gray hair and a long gray beard, and a gray hat perched upon his head. Bill looked up from his hot coffee with increasing suspicion. Where had he seen this old man before?
Bill spoke up first.
“Good morning!”
The old man looked at him with piercing eyes. Where had Bill seen those eyes before?
“What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”
“All of them at once,” Bill replied, “A very fine morning, made finer by some hot coffee. I have more in the house, if you are looking to fill your cup before moving on.”
The gray man didn’t move.
“It smells wonderful, but I have no time to idle. I am looking for someone,” the gray man said.
Bill looked up, mildly curious and increasingly suspicious.
“Someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging,” the man clarified.”It is proving difficult to find the right person for the job.”
Bill stopped with his coffee halfway to his mouth. The old man was definitely making him … not quite uncomfortable, but he felt all ruffled and a bit agitated. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this man knew him, and worse, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he himself somehow knew this stranger. It made him uneasy, and uneasiness didn’t sit well with him.
“Well, that comes as no surprise. I’m sorry, but you won’t find anyone interested in adventures around these parts. You could try further down the river, or perhaps over in Bree, but no, there isn’t a soul in this village with any interest in adventures… Good morning!” And he turned away from the old man and focused intently on his cooling coffee. Yes, he definitely felt uneasy now– why did this whole conversation feel familiar?
The gray man continued to look down at Bill with a piercing eye, and Bill nervously sipped on his coffee.
“What a great many things you use ‘good morning’ for! First you mean it as a welcome greeting, and now you mean to send me away!”
Feeling trapped and a bit exposed, Bill changed the subject.
“I don’t believe I quite caught your name.”
“But my dear fellow! You must know my name, even if you have forgotten I belong to it! I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me!”
Bill let go of a tension he wasn’t aware that he was holding onto. So he wasn’t losing his mind after all.
“Not the traveling tinkerer with the wonderful fireworks and who knows what other knick-knacks! We never knew what to expect from you and your cart! We had the most glorious… Well, no matter, that was a long time ago. I had no idea you were still in business. You look…”
But Bill didn’t finish his thought aloud. Gandalf looked exactly the same, except that it must have been close to forty years since his last appearance in The Shire. He had been an old man back then when Bill was just a little lad– how was this possible?
“Well, I am pleased that you remember my fireworks,” Gandalf said. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t.
Bill was struck again with the feeling that he had been here before, and not just a childhood memory of fireworks and parties. No… this was something… different.
“Ah, yes, well, I thank you for stopping by. I wish you the best of luck in finding the right companion for your adventure, although I daresay you will have to leave The Shire for that. If you are still in the area tomorrow, you are welcome to stop by for a spot of tea– good morning!”
And Bill scurried up back into the house as quickly as he could without being too rude. As a country gentleman, he generally considered rudeness beneath him, and the invitation to tea was a rushed nicety that he now regretted somewhat. He wasn’t looking forward to that uneasy feeling again, and hoped Gandalf either didn’t hear his last-minute offer or would forget about it.
Gandalf, on the other hand, simply looked on for a moment before taking up his long, weathered walking-stick. He carved a symbol into the corner of Bill’s door, so subtle that it was invisible to passersby, but if you knew where to look and what to look for, it shone clear as day– like magic. And then he was off.