Author's Note – Two more! One Dwarf left!
Strength of the Youngest
"How long do you think it will be?"
The thread of anxious hope in Finnian's voice drew Gandalf's attention. "Worry not," he soothed. "We shall find him soon. I can feel him near." The Wizard looked around, eyes scanning the crowd in the stadium.
"Are you sure it's him?" Finnian demanded as he watched the people at the concession stand.
"The bonds of the Company have strengthened too much for me to mistaken," Gandalf replied. Ancient blue eyes crinkled in amusement. "The bond between the two of you holds a particular depth, one unmatched by the others." He paused. "Thorin and Dwalin share something similar, but even it cannot equal yours. The friendship between you cemented with the blood bond you once held as brethren…" His voice trailed off and then he shook his head. "No, no, young Finnian. Your brother is here."
Finnian's shoulders slumped in relief. "I'm sorry," he offered. "It's just-."
Gandalf glanced at his companion as the voice cut off. Finnian's eyes focused on the floor of the stadium, narrow and intense in their concentration. The Wizard followed his gaze and felt his own eyes go wide as they came to rest on an unexpected figure. "Elbereth," he breathed out in surprise.
"I don't believe it." The young man blinked and shook his head. His attention never swayed – and Gandalf could understand the fascination.
An older man led some of the students into the center of the arena as they prepared for the competition. Short dark hair framed a square, clean shaven face….a face with fewer lines than the Wizard remembered. "How very surprising."
"Bard," Finnian breathed out. "Bard of Dale. The Bowman is back."
"Curious."
"Are you going to…?"
"No." Gandalf frowned, still looking at the familiar figure. "I have nothing of his – nothing to recall the past. Perhaps…." He fell silent. "Curious."
Finnian suppressed a laugh. "In other words, you don't know."
"Hmph." Gandalf raised one bushy eyebrow.
A loudspeaker crackled, the sound interrupting the Wizard before he could continue. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the finals of the archery competition." Scattered applause sounded in the auditorium and then died away. "First up to the shot…"
Gandalf tuned out the continuing commentary as his eyes wandered the room once more. "Fascinating," he murmured as his gaze swept past the reborn Bard. "To come seeking a member of the Company and to find a king of Men. A minor king perhaps, but still a king."
"But you don't know why?" Finnian lifted his brow.
"The Doom of Men is unknown," Gandalf reminded him, "even to the Valar. The second-born of Eru are His alone to oversee. It may be that the cycle of life-death-rebirth is their path." Then he gave a soft snort. "Or it could be that the Bowman has returned for a reason as yet hidden to me."
The younger man smothered a chuckle. "You still hate admitting when you don't know something."
A retort rose to his lips, but Gandalf has no chance to offer it. The Company bonds gave a sharp tug. His head came up, ancient eyes focusing on the new arrivals at the competition. One figure in particular drew his attention. A tall figure with a familiar grin held a bow with easy confidence. The Wizard did not need the sharp indrawn breath beside him to know he looked on the face of the youngest of the reborn sons of Durin.
"Kíli." Finnian's voice held relief, affection, and gratitude.
"Indeed," Gandalf smiled. "Indeed."
"Ladies and gentlemen – please welcome our returning champion, Killian Turner!"
Cheerful applause and the sighs of admirers filled the air. It became obvious within the first few shots – the competition would be for second place. It took a few hours, but neither the Wizard nor the young man at his side held any doubt as to the ending. Kíli, sister-son of Thorin, had been the greatest Dwarf archer in the history of Erebor. Now he competed against himself, never looking at the scoring done for the others.
At the end of the day – he stood triumphant once more…a returning champion who defended his title with ease.
"Come along," Gandalf murmured as the competition came to an end. "We should catch him."
Finnian nodded without comment.
The two of them made their way to the floor of the arena, ignoring the crowds and working their way against the flow to step up near the last few competitors lingering in the area as they put up their equipment. Gandalf and Finnian made their way to the familiar figure.
"Hey," Finnian stepped forward, his gaze zeroed in on the young archer. "Got a minute?"
Deep brown eyes stared at Finnian, a flicker of something in their depths. The young champion narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Do I...do I know you?" he asked after a long moment. "I would swear I don't know you, but something tells me I should."
"Once," Finnian managed, his words coming out in a strangled voice as though caught between humor and sorrow. He cleared his throat. "You knew me once."
"Kil!"
The call drew all of their attention. The man Gandalf and Finnian remembered as Bard stared at them, suspicion clear in his face. Killian lifted his hand and gave a wave. "It's okay, Coach!" The older man gave a slow nod, still not happy, but he turned after a few seconds and headed towards the nearby gym. Killian laughed. "Coach Evans doesn't like strangers."
"What a surprise," Finnian chuckled.
"So…why do I know you?" Killian redirected the conversation. "I still don't recognize you…either of you," he corrected, turning towards Gandalf.
"Ah," the Wizard smiled. "There I might be able to help." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small black stone carved with line of runes. Extending his hand he offered it to the young archer. "This belongs to you," he explained, "and I am pleased to return it to its rightful owner."
Killian frowned even as he reached out to accept the offered stone. "I don't-." His voice cut off and he stiffened, a shudder running down his frame as his eyes fell closed. The stone vanished as his fist clenched around it. Several moments passed and then his brown eyes blinked open. "Gandalf," he acknowledged before his gaze flew to meet a pair of anxious blue. "Fíli!"
The brothers embraced.
Gandalf felt something inside of him settle. This reunion gave the Company bonds a strength he had not expected. Connections bled into one another, he knew that, but it amazed him how much the depth of any sort of love – romantic, friendship, parent-to-child, or between brothers, such as this – could empower anything and anyone linked to it. Somehow it transcended beyond those involved to give power and light and hope to all of the Free People of Arda. He could even feel his own power increasing with this renewed bond.
The two men separated, but each kept a hand on the other's shoulder as if worried the other might disappear should they let go.
"So your name is Killian, now?" Finnian asked.
"Yeah," his brother nodded. "Killian Turner, but folks call me Kil." He frowned. "What about you?"
"Finnian O'Gorman."
"Finn," Kil announced.
The blond brother frowned at him – an expression belied by the light dancing in his gaze. "Finnian."
"Yeah, yeah," the younger one waved him off. "Finn."
Gandalf broke in before the two of them could turn it into a disagreement, teasing or not. "Tell me, young Kíli, will you be joining the Company once more?"
"Thorin?" Killian demanded, eyes shifting between the other two.
"Your uncle waits for you," Gandalf assured him. His gaze shifted between them. "He waits for you both."
With the brothers reunited and on their way towards yet another reunion, this time with their uncle, Gandalf could focus on the next Companion. He found himself on yet another university campus. This time he strode through the main library, making his way to the archives. The smell of old paper and the feel of the dusty air reminded him of the archives of Minas Tirith and he smiled in remembrance of combing through various shelves and scrolls and books with Finduilas and her youngest son.
If Faramir has been reborn, Gandalf hoped he still held his passion for searching such places.
A cough caused him to redirect his footsteps. He followed the sound and came around the corner of a shelf to find a young student sitting at one of the many quiet tables. Unlike the students on the main floor, this student seemed to be using multiple documents, taking notes and creating something that looked like an index. A pleased smile curved Gandalf's lips.
"Excuse me, young man?"
The student jumped, turning wide startled eyes on the Wizard. "Wh-what?"
Gandalf gave him a calm look. "May I have a moment?"
"Oh, oh, of course." He started trying to straighten some of the paper. "I'm sorry this is such a mess. Let me try and make you a little room."
"Please," Gandalf interrupted, "do not concern yourself. I did not come to disrupt your day." He held a long thin box in his hands. Taking a step forward, the Wizard put it down on the table. "I merely came to return this to its proper owner."
Sensitive fingers began to open the box even as hazel brown eyes stared at Gandalf in confusion. "Why would you have something of mine, Mister….." He paused. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name?"
"I am called Gabriel McKellen," Gandalf replied.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McKellen." The young student fell silent as pulled the lid off the box. His gaze shot up to meet the Wizards. "Sorry! I'm sorry, I just… Sorry. I'm Orrin, Orrin Brown."
"Well met, Mr. Brown," Gandalf gave him a solemn nod before his eyes returned to the package.
Orrin turned back to the package as well. "I still don't understand why you would have something of mine, Mr. McKellen. We don't know each other, do we?"
"I believe you will find your answers within the box."
"Okay." The way the student drew out the word only highlighted his confusion. He frowned down as he pulled of the id. "A quill?" Sharp intelligent eyes filled with bemusement as they shifted to stare at Gandalf even as one hand reached out to pull out the quill.
This time the Wizard got to see the precise moment memory surged back. Emotions clashed and fought for dominance. Surprise, fear and joy, hope and regret – all of these flashed and tumbled through those wide eyes. Then Orrin blinked. The nerves disappeared and his expression settled into a hard-earned wisdom. "Greetings and well met, Tharkûn."
"I am pleased to speak with you once more, Master Ori."
"My brothers?" Orrin asked, his manners sliding away before the more pressing concern in his eyes.
"Well," Gandalf assured him. "I have seen both of them with my own eyes, and spoken with them as well. Dori is a teacher in this life while Nori is a lawyer."
A somewhat soggy chuckle escaped from the young man. "That sounds right." He gave a wavering smile. "They haven't changed much then."
"They have," the Wizard demurred, "just…not where it counts." He paused. "Their first question centered on family as well. It is quite a comfort to know that I shall assist in reuniting another family – though I would not have stirred your memories without cause."
"Something's wrong," Orrin noted in a soft voice as he drew the quill through his fingers.
"Why do you say that?"
"As you said," he pointed out in a reasonable tone, "you would not have done this without cause…and it must be important for such an undertaking." Then he shook his head. "And yet…" His voice trailed away and he looked off into the distance. A flicker of unease entered those wide eyes. "Have you ever felt like you sat on the edge of a precipice, watching a storm rolling in, and you had nowhere to go? Nowhere to find shelter?" Despite the questions, he continued speaking without pause. "I have that same feeling now…and it matches one I remember from before." His gaze turned haunted. "In Moria…when I waited at Balin's tomb for the goblins to break through the door." For a moment his lips trembled, but then he firmed them. "Where are they gathering?"
"Colorado."
A small smile settled on Orrin's face. "The mountains."
"Yes," Gandalf nodded. "Thorin gathers the Company – any who choose to heed his request."
"How many…?" An eager anticipation flickered in the hazel-brown eyes.
"You are the last but one." The Wizard tilted his head, eyes half closed as he felt for the bond that linked the fourteen of them. "He is not near here, but the path is clearer than ever. I believe I shall be speaking to him within the next few days." Then he turned to smile at the student who sat waiting with strained patience. "Master Dwalin has been most difficult to pin down."
"He would be happy to hear that."
It took a few more exchanges to get the necessary information shared, but Gandalf soon found himself walking out of the library and into the setting sun. A light joy bubbled within him as he stood in the sunlight. Only one remained – only one to find and awaken. The Company stood all but complete, ready to once again take up the responsibility of standing against evil. The Wizard could feel the hope and the optimism growing in the air around him. The world of Men did not realize how close they stood to trouble, but rock and stone, metal and root….these remembered and their memories were long.
And the bones of the earth stood strong, ready to give a foundation to the Company as they faced the darkness reborn.
