Disclaimer: I believe everyone knows the drill. I don't own Middle-earth, nor any of the characters created by Tolkien. I do, however, claim several yet to come in this story, for Tolkien never mentioned such nor wrote about them. I hope he forgives me this.
A/N: I am glad there are those of you out there who enjoy this. I did spend quite a bit of time on this tale and I really appreciate your comments, ect. Thank you for the time.
Abigail da Jedi: 'Anor' is another name for Minas Anor, 'Tower of the Sun', later named Minas Tirith. 'Anar' is the Quenya name of the Sun. Why one is spelt 'Anor' and the other 'Anar' I know not, save perhaps the terms merely coincide with their meaning as can oftentimes happen in different tongues. I merely chose the 'Anar' because it specifically was the name for the Sun.
Blue Jedi Hobbit 009: Forgive me, Blue Jedi Hobbit, but I am afraid that I did not understand your review for chapter two—'That was um...original...to say the least................................ Okay, I didn't get it.' Perhaps if you elaborate I could help you 'get it'.
My sincere appreciation.
Being the Fourth Part of . . . .
With The Rising and Setting of Anar
Frodo looked at the wizard wide-eyed. "You knew my parents?" he blurted.
Gandalf smiled and nodded. "Your father was an ornery lad, if ever I saw one," he smiled fondly. "I remember . . ." he chuckled. "It was at one of the Old Took's birthday parties--128th if I remember correctly--and your father and several of his truant friends got a hold of my dear Gerontius' birthday cake. He was just a lad, then, no where near his tweens, and the whole county was in an uproar when they discovered their over-bloated, and might I add, well satisfied hobbit-children sprawled in the grass sleeping the afternoon away." Gandalf smiled at the memory. "Geron hadn't laughed so hard in all the years I had known him. I think that that was one of the best birthdays he ever had."
"He sounds like Pippin," Frodo commented, with a delighted chuckle.
Gandalf blinked and looked down at the hobbit, startled at this obvious statement that he himself had never realized. "Indeed." Pippin was a lot like Drogo had been when he was younger. "Perhaps that is why I have never laid that foolish Took flat."
The hobbit's eyes widened at this blunt statement then, catching the twinkle in the old man's eye, Frodo couldn't help but laugh.
"I was very fond of your father," Gandalf admitted, once their laughter had been blown away by the salty wind. Several moments fled before Frodo said aught. When he did, his voice was thick with longing.
"I should have liked to have known him." He stared off into the distance, and then glanced up a moment later as he felt the wizard's gaze upon him.
"Why didn't you tell me about them before?" he wondered, almost accusingly. Gandalf did not begrudge the hobbit his anger, only nodded in understanding. "At least I might have heard about their deaths from you, Gandalf. Not from someone I hardly knew." There was a note of resentment in his voice.
Gandalf allowed the hobbit a patient smile, soft and comforting. "Ah, Frodo my lad, don't you see?" The hobbit frowned at the look the wizard bestowed upon him. Gandalf chuckled at Frodo's confused expression. "No, I see that you do not. Listen to me, my boy, and I shall continue my tale . . . ."
*~*~*~*~*~*
Gandalf looked over at the warm glow emitting from the round windows of Bag End. It had been a long time since he had seen a welcome that seemed so inviting to his very soul. The thought of what awaited him there warmed his insides and seemed to lighten the invisible load that was dragging him down. As he walked up the path to a well-rounded, brightly painted green door, there was less of a limp to the old man's walk and more of a bounce.
He rapped upon the wood with his staff in sync with the beat of his heart and stood back to graciously await the arrival of his host. Several moments passed and, when no one answered his call, he repeated this process making certain the thwacks held a demanding tone to them. He stood back in satisfaction this time, for he heard the irritated stomp of bare feet and grumblings that could only be owned by one well-loved soul.
"Doesn't anybody know what time it is these days," somebody growled menacingly on the other side of the green door. Gandalf heard the click of a lock and watched in bemused silence as the door handle--which, according to hobbit custom, was placed in the center of the door--turned with an irritated rattle of its own. Slowly, and without any hint of a creak or a squeal, the door swung open upon well-oiled hinges.
"Well, what is it? What do you want?" the dark figure demanded irritably. "I hope you realize you got a poor old hobbit out of his nice warm bed. Do you have any idea what time it its? It's five hours 'til dawn and not at all an appropriate time to go a visiting."
Gandalf smiled broadly at the familiar voice that presented itself and chuckled at the ridiculously defiant and angered figure before him. Not even four feet tall, Bilbo Baggins stood framed in the very center of his round doorway, hands on his hips, staring out into the blackness of night. At the wizard's chuckle, the hands hesitantly fell to their sides and the small character peered out into the darkness.
"Gandalf?" Bilbo asked hesitantly, his voice wavering in a hope he feared would prove false, as it all too often did.
"And who else would come to your door at such an awful hour?" He smiled down at his friend. "Who else but your old friend Gandalf."
"Gandalf!" Bilbo launched himself from the warm embrace of Bag End to the warm embrace of Gandalf the Grey. His small arms hardly reached around the wizard's billowing robes. "Oh, Gandalf my friend! I have missed you."
The wizard kneeled down so that he might see the hobbit clearly. Though Bilbo's head of curls was disheveled from sleep, his eyes were bright and wide-awake. The hobbit leaned back so that both could get a good look at the other. Satisfied with what he saw, Bilbo smiled at his friend. "It has been too long, Gandalf."
The wizard nodded. "Indeed, it has."
But despite the hobbit's words, Gandalf saw that there was no difference in Bilbo's physical appearance. It had been many years since he had seen his friend and plenty of time had gone by for Bilbo to have aged. Gandalf frowned and looked the hobbit up and down. He hadn't aged, though. Not at all.
"Come! Come, my friend!" Bilbo pulled away from Gandalf and walked inside Bag End. "There is much to talk of."
As the hobbit disappeared within Bag End's bright interior, he never heard the wizard's murmured, "So there is."
Slowly, Gandalf followed.
Gandalf sat at a small wooden table in Bilbo's kitchen. The table was small even to hobbit standards (more of a counter than anything) and Gandalf found his knees nearly up to his chin. Bilbo had offered the wizard respite in the dining room for that table was much larger, but Gandalf had graciously declined. He found the kitchen more homely, it being where Bilbo occupied most of his time. Friends and family were few and he only used the dining room when entertaining.
Gandalf alternately sipped at a small cup of tea and bit into a sweet red apple. He munched on the one contently for several moments while Bilbo set out a plate of freshly baked bread and a hunk of cheese.
"There we are," Bilbo said, seating himself opposite Gandalf. "Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
Gandalf had been reluctant to speak of what he knew he must. For the first week that he stayed at Bilbo's he had procrastinated, finding reasons to wait until tomorrow or the day after. But time grew short and the old wizard knew the inevitable was drawing nigh. Last night, he had decided that it was time.
It was a beautiful morning, the sun streamed in through the round window on the wall to Gandalf's left. He heard the birds chirping beyond and the distinct sound of snipping. Hamfast was at work already, he decided. A perfect day in a perfect place. Gandalf sighed mournfully.
"How long has it been since you've visited your cousin, Bilbo?" Gandalf wondered, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as possible. Bilbo poured him another cup of tea.
"Which cousin, Gandalf?" the hobbit chuckled. "I have more than I can count on all my fingers and toes together."
Gandalf smiled. "Drogo."
"Ah, yes." Bilbo smiled. "I visited him about a year or so ago. Did you know that he and his wife have a son now?"
"I'd heard something of the sort, yes."
"A delightful little lad. As shy as a garden snail, he is, but once he warms to you . . ." Bilbo looked over at Gandalf, wonderment in his eyes. "He really took a liking to me, Gandalf, and I can't for the life of me figure out why." He laughed. "The grouch that I am."
"Your an easy person to get along with," Gandalf assured him, not untruthfully.
Bilbo nodded, his eyes a little distant. "Perhaps."
Gandalf nibbled on a piece of freshly baked bread, relishing its warmth. "Delicious," he commented.
"Hmm," Bilbo glanced up. "Oh, thank you. My mother always was an excellent cook. I learned from the best, you know. But we were speaking of Drogo. What about him?"
Gandalf took a sip of tea, set the cup carefully upon the table, and settled himself as comfortably as could be expected in a chair that was three times too small. "I want to discuss a matter of great importance with you Bilbo."
The hobbit nodded. "Alright, Gandalf, I'm all ears."
The wizard looked at Bilbo intently for a moment then nodded, satisfied. "How likely is it that you will marry?"
Bilbo blinked, startled at the unexpected question, then laughed. "Oh, Gandalf, the things that interests you. Marry! Me? I'm nearing my eighty-fourth year--what would I need with a woman? Oh, I suppose it would be nice to have someone about, someone I was fond of and who shared my affections--it can be awful lonely when dusk falls . . ." Bilbo looked about his hobbit-hole with all its knickknacks and baubles and gave a gusty sigh. "No, Gandalf, I am too old. Besides, I think I am content in my waning years." He took a sip of his tea then placed the china down with a pretty clink. "And yet," he said softly, as if something unpleasant nagged at the back of his mind. "It's sad really . . ." He trailed off suddenly and Gandalf noted his eyes became distant.
"What's sad, Bilbo?" the wizard pressed gently.
The hobbit caught himself, looked over at his patient friend. He forced a smiled. "It's nothing."
"Come, come, my small friend, I see something is troubling you," Gandalf said good-naturedly, leaning back in his small wooden chair. It groaned in protest. The wizard glanced at it nervously but, as it didn't seem it would collapse beneath him, his attention once again fell to his companion. "Surely, we have known one another long enough that you might confide within me." He looked expectantly at the hobbit.
Bilbo chuckled hesitantly. "Yes, I suppose we have. It's just . . . well, I'm afraid that once I am gone," he looked around his room, "my home and all my beautiful treasures--my scrolls and maps--will be without a master." He frowned. "Unless"--he shuddered--"the Sackville-Bagginses get their greedy little fingers on everything." Bilbo sighed. "What a loss. What a terrible, terrible loss."
Gandalf pulled from the great billows of his gray robes a long wooden and well-carved pipe. He inspected it critically for a moment and then, putting it in his mouth, dug about in another section of his robes until he produced a small brown pouch which contained a good supply of Old Toby. Putting some of the highly prized leaf in his wooden pipe, Gandalf mumbled a few words--words that Bilbo couldn't quite catch--and the weed flared to life.
"Indeed," Gandalf agreed, inhaling deeply. "A pity." Large, white smoke rings floated into the air.
Bilbo nodded sadly. "But, then, I suppose there is no help for it."
Gandalf shook his head. "On the contrary, my friend." Bilbo looked at him curiously, but--knowing the wizard well enough that he would supply the reasoning shortly after--kept quiet. "I believe I have suddenly and quite unexpectedly come up with a solution to your misfortune." The wizard peered through the dancing tendrils of smoke. Bilbo gave Gandalf a bemused smiled, not surprised at the wizard's sudden claim. He had known Gandalf for nearly thirty-two years--little surprised him anymore.
"And that would be?" he inquired mildly, quite certain the wizard's "solution" wouldn't be much of one after all. Wizards had a tendency to do that. As it turned out, he was right.
A smile creased Gandalf's wizened old face. "An heir," was all he said.
Bilbo waited, thinking he would further explain and when he didn't, a frown marred his smooth hobbitish features. He shook his head in exasperation. "Yes, my friend, an heir would be a great benefit to my current circumstance but, as you no doubt realize, it is impossible."
Gandalf took the pipe from his mouth and eyed Bilbo quite shrewdly. "Why?" he demanded.
Bilbo looked at his friend incredulously, wondering if the years had finally caught up with him. "Where am I to get an heir, Gandalf? From my cabinet?" He shook his head. "I think not."
Gandalf chuckled good-naturedly. "No, Bilbo my friend, not from your cabinet, for a mouse would make a poor heir indeed."
Bilbo bristled indignantly. "Mice!" he cried, "I have no mice--"
The wizard held up his hands. "A jest, my friend, I was merely making a jest. You don't expect me to believe a well-respected hobbit such as yourself shares your smial with mice, do you?"
"Well," Bilbo said, slightly hurt but accepting the wizard's apology nevertheless, for Gandalf had meant no harm by it. "It was a poor jest that was poorly taken. Yet, you are wrong on accounts of 'well-respected' for I am afraid my fellows would disagree."
Gandalf waved this aside. "The heir, Bilbo, the heir," he said impatiently, for the matter weighed heavy on his heart and he wished to be through with it. "What say you to this?" he asked, cautiously.
Bilbo shrugged. "What ought I to say, Gandalf? You suggest an heir and, indeed, an heir is what I need but what you propose is, well . . . ." The hobbit sighed, seemingly at a lose for words. He nibbled on a slice of fresh bread, though he tasted it not, for his thoughts dwelt on other matters.
"Bilbo," Gandalf said, slowly and quite carefully. "If a suitable heir presented itself, would you take it?"
Bilbo forced a chuckle. " 'It,' Gandalf? My heir could hardly be an it," he pursed his lips, hardly withholding a smile, "Though I would not be displeased if this heir happened to be a him." Gandalf frowned at the hobbit and immediately Bilbo sobered. Sighing, he nodded. "Yes, Gandalf, if an heir presented itself, indeed, I would not hesitate."
Slowly, a smile creased the old man's face and, satisfied, he sat back in his chair, bringing the pipe to his lips and puffing on it lazily. "Indeed," he murmured, between the puffs of smoke. "Indeed." Bilbo sighed gustily and bit into a ripe apple. He chewed on it for several moments before Gandalf opened his mouth, as if to make some comment or observation. He never got the chance, however, for the chair on which he sat groaned mournfully and, before Gandalf could do ought, collapsed beneath him. The wizard spread his arms in a wild attempt to catch himself but, with Bilbo's laughter ringing in the air, went down regardless in a billow of gray robes.
* * * * *