Summary:

It was the wails of a child, that drew Gandalf to the scene. A scene of horror, one the wizard would never forget. Amongst the corpses of wargs and elves, a single elfling...survived. It was the way that the child ceased its cries, when it saw Gandalf. And it was a fatherly love...that caused the wizard...to hold onto the child...

This...the idea came to me when I was re-watching The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. When Gandalf speaks of the other four wizards, I wondered why they never took up apprentices. And thus, this fic was born.

Gandalf was said to be around 6000 years old in the LOTR movies, due to him being one of the Maiar (if thats the right spelling). And this fic is set probably 200 years before the events of The Hobbit.

I have seen all the LOTR films, and both Hobbit films. Whilst I have read the Hobbit book, I have not yet read the LOTR trilogy of books. Some of my knowledge may be innacurate, so feel free to input your Tolkien knowledge in a review!

Before we begin, I want to thank you for reading this fic ~

I've tried writing this in a style similar to the Hobbit book ~

Enjoy!

The sun shone down on Middle Earth that day. There had been no clouds in the sky, leaving it clear, and shining blue. The heat the sun bore down was not stifling, nor was it too mild. The weather had found the right balance, a rather rare occurrence. Bright and beautiful, the sun reflected off of the swirling lakes and rivers, filtering through the leaves of trees, creating a welcoming, summery atmosphere. It seemed that nothing could go wrong that day.

A low humming could be heard, as a lone wizard strolled down a winding path, content in his own company. The elderly man's aura was calming, and his smile reflected this. However, this wizard was no ordinary wizard. This was no meer human sorcerer, either. This was Gandalf the Grey, a member of the Istari, an incredibly powerful sorceror. He was one of the fee wizards left in Middle Earth. Well, it was hard to tell his strength, for the elderly man was so laid back, it was hard to imagine the great power he commanded.

Joyful as he always was, Gandalf was simply making a visit to Rivendell, home of Lord Elrond. The two had not met in many years, and the wizard figured a visit was long overdue. He was walking slow, for he was in no rush, and wished to take in the beautiful, peaceful scenery of Middle Earth.

It was halfway through his journey, that he heard a strange noise. At first, he assumed it to be an animal of some sort. However, once he listened closely, he realised that it was the wailing of a child in distress. Worry began to take over, and so the wizard rushed off in the direction of the heart-wrenching sound.

After a few moments of dodging tree branches, the surprisingly fast wizard found himself in a clearing, seemingly the source of the cries. It was with horrified eyes that Gandalf took in the scene before him. Before him was a scene of carnage. Orcs corpses littered the ground, the smell of decay lingering in the air. Along with the smell of decay, was the disgusting stench of congealing blood. As he dared to venture closer, he realized the wails had gotten louder since his arrival.

Gandalf looked over the scene, eyes searching for the child. As the wizard did so, he felt a shiver run down his spine. Cradled in the arms of a dead she-elf, was the source of the wails. An elfling, no more than a month old, was looking Gandalf in the eyes. The piercing stare of the child's iridescent emerald eyes momentarily startled the old wizard.

Only for a mere moment, however. The wizard was quickly moved into action, avoiding the Orcs corpses as he ventured towards the child, who had since ceased its cries. Just as he went to retrieve the child, Gandalf noticed another dead elf at his feet. The elf was clearly the father, and it seemed as if he had fought till his last breath.

After reaching down, the sun bearing down on him, the elderly wizard closed the warrior's eyes, uttering a few words to show his respect.

It was with a deep breath, that the wizard reached for the child. He was not well experienced with children. The experience he did possess was fleeting, and barely memorable. Yet, Gandalf picked up the child, cradling the elfling in his arms. He ran his fingers through the tufts of hair, a startling deep shade of Black, comparable to that of Ravens feathers.

Something about the elfling unnerved Gandalf. There was something odd about the child. Muterring the words of an ancient spell, Gandalf found something surprising. The tiny elfling possessed a magic core within her. A place to convert the energy within the body, into magical power. Such a strong core had not been seen since the birth of the five Istari, thousands of years ago. The spell also revealed the elflings gender.

It was a little she-elf.

And this tiny body...held a potential that had managed to shock Gandalf the Grey.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, the wizard examined the child, hoping that it had suffered no injuries. As he adjusted the child in his arms, he found relief that the babe was uninjured. What was alarming, was the signs of dehydration. How long had this child's wails gone unnoticed? Fearing for the child, Gandalf adjusted the tiny elfling, taking his staff in his free hand. With all his energy, he picked up the pace, renewed with purpose to reach Rivendell.