-General-
Bilbo and Gandalf rode calmly, the odyssey they had lived still present in their thoughts, especially for the little hobbit, who found himself lost in reflection. An adventure filled with laughter, danger, and death had made him less fearful; his Tookish blood had awakened on this journey. Now, on his way home, he would let his Baggins side take control.
Such distraction would have earned him a reprimand from Aldril if he had been with them, as he had fervently taught Bilbo always to remain alert. However, the hobbit allowed himself the luxury of distraction, confident in the presence of the fearsome and dangerous Beorn, the skin-changer.
On their path, they found him in the middle of a hunt: a pair of scattered orcs attempted to flee, but there was no mercy for them. With a deep roar, Beorn leaped upon them, their guttural screams cut short beneath the crushing power of his jaws.
A horrifying sight! The hobbit would have once thought, but by now, he had grown accustomed to violence. Instead, he met the scene with an ironic smile. "Aldril is far more violent," he thought with a smirk. Poor Bilbo… Aldril may have been the one who helped him shed his cowardice, but he was also the cause of his desensitization to brutality.
"You've been distracted these days, Bilbo. Is something weighing on your mind?" Gandalf asked, pulling him from his thoughts.
Bilbo took a breath, inhaling deeply as he tried to compose himself.
"It's just that this adventure has left me with so many experiences… Some happy, others sad. I don't know how to feel about it… I just want to go home," he murmured, so softly that Gandalf barely heard him.
Gandalf observed him in silence for a moment before speaking in his usual calm tone.
"That is only natural, dear Bilbo. Great adventures change us, leaving marks we don't fully understand at first. But tell me, do you miss the Shire, or do you miss the life you had before setting out?"
Bilbo frowned, his gaze distant as he let Gandalf's words sink in. Finally, with a sigh, he allowed his thoughts to flow openly.
"I miss the quiet… Not having to worry about orcs, trolls, or dragons. I miss my books, my armchair, a good pipe by the fire. But at the same time…" He hesitated, as if struggling to admit it, "I know that when I return, nothing will be the same."
Gandalf nodded with a small smile, recognizing the hobbit's growing wisdom.
"That is how it must be. We can never return as exactly the same people we once were. What matters is what we do with what we've learned."
Gandalf chuckled softly, nodding to himself. This was why he had always held a deep fondness for hobbits. They longed for peace and quiet, yet within them lay an unexpected strength. Some of them were fearless, fiercely loyal, willing to give everything for a friend.
Bilbo was proof of that. He had placed his trust in Aldril during the battle against Smaug, never doubting his abilities. He could easily have given the Ark Stone to the elves and men, but he was sincere and put his friend first.
Beorn, riding ahead, listened to the conversation between the wizard and the hobbit but felt no need to interrupt. Besides, the hidden aura surrounding Gandalf unsettled him, a constant reminder that the wizard was far more than he appeared.
For several hours, they continued in silence, enjoying the rustling of leaves in the wind and the cheerful chirping of birds. Nature itself seemed to breathe in relief after Smaug's demise.
Then, Bilbo caught sight of a silver-white glow in the distance within Mirkwood. The radiance was so intense that it had to be a display of immense power. He furrowed his brows in confusion and glanced at Gandalf for an explanation. The wizard nodded without needing to turn his head.
"Yes, that glow comes from Aldril," he explained calmly, already accustomed to the half-elf's growing power.
Bilbo watched wistfully as the light faded. It had only been a few days since their parting, yet he had grown used to Aldril's presence. His absence felt strange, in a way… He missed Aldril's laughter and playful banter with the dwarves.
Recalling Aldril brought to mind a question that had been lingering in his thoughts for some time.
"Gandalf," he said, "why did you recommend Aldril for the expedition? According to what he himself told us, you had only met at a dinner a few nights before you came to find me."
The hobbit's question left the wizard silent for a few minutes. He gazed up at the sky, searching for the stars that had once guided him. In his eyes, only the blue, tinged with gold by the sunlight and white by the drifting clouds, was reflected.
"It was fate, Bilbo," he said cryptically, which only served to annoy the hobbit, who quickly began to rant.
"For my mother's memory, Gandalf, could you stop being so cryptic?"
A cheerful laugh escaped Gandalf as he simply shook his head and lowered his pointed hat slightly.
"But it was indeed fate that led me to the warrior chosen by Lady Varda," he murmured, his whisper drowned out by the chirping of birds.
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"Filthy spiders," Aldril muttered with disdain, flicking his sword Anguirel to the side. The dark blue blood of the creatures was thick and sticky, carrying a nauseating stench that lingered in the air.
"Take it easy, Aldril," Tauriel interjected beside him, maintaining her rhythm in the fight. "Remember, you're not alone. You don't have to carry the full weight of the attack."
Aldril nodded. Both were clearing the outskirts of Thranduil's realm, responding to Lady Thalwen's request. Their presence inspired the elven guards, and their swords, imbued with an ancient power, dispelled the dark magic corrupting the forest.
"We intend to reclaim what was once ours," Thalwen had said, her delicate voice laced with determination. "These beasts have advanced too far, intruding into our realm... It is time to cleanse this forest."
Aldril did not object. He did not even respond with arrogance. Something inside him urged him forward, as if a whisper in his blood warned him that purging Mirkwood now would prevent countless losses in the future. Besides, every fallen creature allowed him to keep accumulating points in his long-forgotten system.
[Attribute Points: 70]
He cast a quick glance at the growing number. It did not surprise him. He had slain countless orcs and more than a dozen trolls, yet he was still far from the true powers of Middle-earth.
Once he helped the elves reclaim Mirkwood, he would journey across Middle-earth until his presence was needed at the Council of Elrond. Furthermore, the call of the Blue Wizards and the tomb of his ancestors were matters he could not ignore for much longer.
***
Filthy orcs! here is the chapter of the day.
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