Sirius Black walked through the lower tiers of Minas Tirith, where the grand towers of the city gave way to humble dwellings and bustling marketplaces. He was in search of answers about the mysteries he'd uncovered in the library, but something else had caught his attention: rumors of a peculiar child who could perform "tricks" no one could explain. The boy, they said, had no family, no home, and an uncanny knack for survival.

It was late afternoon when Sirius found him. The boy was sitting on the steps of a crumbling fountain, his clothes tattered and his face smudged with dirt. A small crowd had gathered, watching as he balanced a stone in mid-air with nothing but his gaze. The stone wobbled, then dropped as the boy's concentration faltered.

"Impressive," Sirius said, stepping closer. His voice carried a warmth that instantly softened the wary looks of the onlookers. "What's your name, lad?"

The boy looked up, his bright eyes filled with suspicion. "Eron," he said hesitantly. "Who wants to know?"

"A traveler," Sirius replied, kneeling to meet Eron's gaze. "Someone who recognizes potential when he sees it."

The boy furrowed his brow. "What do you want with me? Everyone else just watches for a while, then leaves."

Sirius smiled. "I want to help you. But first, tell me—how do you do it?"

Eron glanced at the crowd and lowered his voice. "I don't know. It just… happens. When I'm scared, or hungry, or angry. I can't control it."

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. "I can teach you to control it."

The offer lingered in the air, heavy with promise and uncertainty. Eron stared at Sirius, his small hands clenching at his sides. "Why would you help me? What do you want in return?"

Sirius admired the boy's caution. "Nothing you wouldn't freely give. Knowledge is meant to be shared, and power, when controlled, can shape your destiny. But uncontrolled…" He glanced at the fallen stone. "It can become your undoing."

The boy hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. I'll learn. But no funny business."

Sirius chuckled. "No funny business, I promise."

The crowd dispersed as Sirius led Eron away, their chatter fading into the background. They walked to a quieter part of the city, where Sirius had rented a modest room above a small shop. Inside, Sirius handed Eron a bowl of stew and a piece of bread. The boy ate ravenously.

"We'll start with the basics," Sirius said, leaning against the small wooden table. "Magic is not just about instinct; it's about focus and understanding. You have a gift, but raw talent needs refining."

Eron swallowed his food and asked, "What kind of magic do you do?"

Sirius smiled faintly. "A little bit of everything. I've had years to study, and my world—where I come from—is very different from this one. But enough about me. Let's see what you can do."

Sirius placed a candle on the table and lit it with a flick of his wand. He didn't show the wand to Eron, not yet. "Your first lesson is control. Watch the flame and see if you can make it grow or shrink. Don't use your hands—just your mind."

Eron stared at the flame, his brow furrowed in concentration. The candle flickered but didn't change. He sighed, frustrated.

"Patience," Sirius said gently. "Power responds to will, not force. Relax. Focus."

Eron took a deep breath and tried again. This time, the flame wavered, shrinking slightly. His face lit up with excitement. "I did it!"

"Yes, you did," Sirius said with a nod. "And tomorrow, you'll do more. But for now, rest. Magic requires energy, and you'll need your strength."

Over the next few days, Sirius guided Eron through simple exercises—levitating objects, manipulating light, and sensing the energy around him. The boy was a quick learner, eager and determined. Sirius saw a reflection of himself in Eron's curiosity and stubbornness, and he felt a growing sense of responsibility for the boy's future.

One evening, as they practiced in the small room, Eron looked up and asked, "Why are you helping me? You said you don't want anything, but… why?"

Sirius hesitated, then said, "Because I've been where you are—lost, unsure, and misunderstood. Someone helped me once, and now I'm passing that on to you. One day, you'll do the same for someone else."

Eron smiled faintly. "I think I'd like that."

As the days turned into weeks, Sirius and Eron formed a bond that went beyond teacher and apprentice. Together, they prepared for the road ahead, for Sirius knew that his journey was far from over. And now, he would not travel alone.

Sirius Black and Eron began their journey together, a curious duo traveling across the varied landscapes of Middle-Earth. Sirius, cloaked in his dark robes and carrying his magical trunk, now had a young companion who eagerly absorbed everything he was taught. Eron, wide-eyed and eager, carried a small satchel of essentials and a short sword that Sirius had given him, one sized perfectly for a boy his age.

Sirius began Eron's lessons with the basics of reading and writing. They often stopped by streams or under the shade of large trees, where Sirius would spread out parchment and quills.

"You'll never be truly free if you can't understand the words of those who would bind you," Sirius told Eron as they sat by a campfire one evening. He handed the boy a piece of parchment with the Sindarin alphabet scrawled on it. "Language is power, and in this world, knowledge is survival."

Eron frowned, holding the quill awkwardly. "I'm not good at this. What's the point of learning to write if we're just going to fight?"

Sirius smiled faintly. "Even the sharpest blade can't cut through ignorance. Trust me, boy, this is as much a weapon as that sword on your hip."

Every morning, before they broke camp, Sirius drilled Eron in weapon skills. The boy's short sword clanged against Sirius's blade as the older man corrected his form.

"Keep your feet apart," Sirius barked, circling Eron like a hawk. "If you lose your balance, you lose the fight."

Eron gritted his teeth, trying to hold the sword steady. "You make it look so easy."

Sirius parried the boy's clumsy strike with effortless grace. "It's not easy. It's practice. Thousands of hours of practice. Do it enough, and your body will remember even when your mind is too tired to think."

They paused for a moment, and Sirius handed Eron a waterskin. "You're improving. Tomorrow, we'll practice with daggers."

Eron gulped down the water and grinned. "Daggers? That sounds fun."

Sirius chuckled. "Fun until you cut yourself. Don't worry—I'll teach you how not to."

As they traveled through forests, hills, and plains, Sirius taught Eron how to live off the land. They foraged for edible plants, set traps for small game, and learned how to track animals without being detected.

One afternoon, Sirius knelt beside a patch of wild herbs, showing Eron how to identify them. "This is kingsfoil," he said, plucking a leaf. "Not much use on its own, but if you mix it with the right ingredients, it can heal wounds. Always pay attention to the plants around you—they might save your life one day."

Eron nodded, carefully adding the leaves to a pouch. "You know so much. How did you learn all this?"

"Experience," Sirius replied. "And mistakes. Lots of mistakes. I'm teaching you so you don't have to make as many."

Eron's magical lessons were the most challenging but also the most rewarding. Sirius began with simple spells, teaching the boy how to channel his energy without letting it overwhelm him.

"Close your eyes," Sirius instructed one evening as they sat around the fire. "Feel the energy inside you. It's like a river—it flows naturally, but you need to guide it."

Eron frowned, his brow furrowed in concentration. Slowly, a small orb of light appeared in his palm, flickering like a candle flame.

"Good," Sirius said, his voice calm and encouraging. "Now hold it steady. Don't let it waver."

The light dimmed for a moment, then brightened as Eron steadied his breathing. He looked up at Sirius with a triumphant grin. "I did it!"

"You did," Sirius said, nodding. "But remember, magic is as dangerous as it is powerful. Never use it carelessly."

As the weeks turned into months, Sirius and Eron developed a bond that went beyond teacher and apprentice. They became companions, each relying on the other in their travels. Sirius admired Eron's determination and quick wit, while Eron looked up to Sirius as both a mentor and a protector.

One night, as they sat under the stars, Eron asked, "Why do you do all this? Why take me with you when you could just leave me behind?"

Sirius gazed at the fire, his expression unreadable. "Because I see potential in you, Eron. Potential that shouldn't be wasted. And maybe… because I needed someone to remind me what it's like to have hope."

Eron smiled. "Well, I won't let you down."

"I know you won't," Sirius said softly, patting the boy's shoulder. "Now get some rest. Tomorrow, we start learning archery."

With every step of their journey, Eron grew stronger, wiser, and more confident. Sirius, in turn, found a renewed sense of purpose, guiding the boy toward a future where his gifts could be a force for good in a world that desperately needed it. Together, they were more than just a wanderer and his apprentice—they were a team, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the dense forest trail where Sirius and Eron had set up camp. The air was crisp and quiet, save for the crackling of the small fire they'd built. Eron was practicing with his short sword, mimicking the drills Sirius had taught him earlier, while Sirius was examining a peculiar herb he'd collected earlier in the day.

"Keep your wrist steady, Eron," Sirius instructed, glancing up from his work. "Precision is more important than strength."

Eron nodded, adjusting his grip. "Like this?"

"Better," Sirius replied with a small nod. "You're improving."

Suddenly, Sirius stiffened, his sharp instincts warning him of an unseen danger. His hand went to the hilt of his sword as his eyes scanned the darkening forest.

"Eron," Sirius said in a low, urgent tone, " stay behind me."

"What's wrong?" Eron whispered, his voice barely audible.

Before Sirius could respond, a guttural growl echoed from the shadows, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps crashing through the underbrush. Moments later, four orcs emerged, their grotesque faces twisted into cruel grins. They brandished crude weapons—jagged swords and rusted axes—and their eyes gleamed with malice.

"Well, well," one of them sneered, its voice a harsh rasp. "A man and a whelp. This will be fun."

Sirius stepped in front of Eron, his elven blade glinting in the firelight as he drew it. "You'll regret this," he said coldly, his voice carrying a calm authority.

The orcs laughed, spreading out to encircle them. One lunged forward, swinging its axe with brute force. Sirius sidestepped the attack effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise. With a single, swift strike, he slashed the orc's weapon arm, disarming it. A second strike to its torso sent it crumpling to the ground.

Eron, clutching his short sword, tried to stay calm as the chaos unfolded. Another orc charged at Sirius, its jagged sword aimed for his chest. Sirius parried the blow, their blades clashing with a metallic ring. He countered with a powerful kick to the orc's chest, sending it stumbling backward.

"Eron!" Sirius shouted, "Stay alert! Don't let them flank you!"

While Sirius fought off two of the orcs, another turned its attention to Eron. The boy's heart pounded as the creature approached, its yellow eyes narrowing with cruel intent. Eron tightened his grip on his sword, his hands shaking.

"You're mine, little one," the orc snarled, raising its weapon.

Eron swallowed hard, remembering Sirius's lessons. As the orc swung its blade, Eron sidestepped clumsily but avoided the strike. Gathering his courage, he thrust his sword forward, the tip catching the orc's side. The creature roared in pain, swiping at Eron with its claws. The boy stumbled but managed to stay on his feet.

"Good, Eron!" Sirius called, dispatching another orc with a quick, deadly strike. "Stay focused!"

The injured orc charged again, but Eron stepped aside and swung his sword with all his might. The blade found its mark, cutting deep into the orc's neck. The creature gurgled, collapsing at Eron's feet.

Eron stood there, panting, his sword slick with dark blood. "I… I did it," he whispered, both horrified and proud.

The last orc hesitated, realizing it was outmatched. It snarled at Sirius, baring its jagged teeth. "You fight like no man I've seen," it growled.

Sirius's eyes hardened. "I'm no ordinary man."

With a flick of his wrist, Sirius disarmed the orc, sending its weapon flying into the underbrush. He advanced on it, his blade steady. The orc roared and charged, but Sirius sidestepped and delivered a precise strike, ending the fight.

The forest fell silent, save for the crackling of the fire. Sirius cleaned his blade on the tunic of one of the fallen orcs before sheathing it. He turned to Eron, who was still staring at the orc he had killed.

"You did well," Sirius said, placing a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's not easy, I know. But you defended yourself."

Eron nodded slowly, his hands still trembling. "I didn't think I could do it."

"You can," Sirius said firmly. "And you did. You're stronger than you realize."

As they gathered their belongings and prepared to move camp, Sirius glanced back at the fallen orcs. He couldn't shake the feeling that this attack wasn't random. Someone—or something—had sent them.

"Come on, Eron," Sirius said, his tone quiet but resolute. "We need to keep moving. There's more out there than just orcs."

Eron nodded, his determination renewed. Together, they disappeared into the shadows of the forest, the firelight fading behind them.

Author's Note:

Enjoying the story?

Consider joining my to get early access to more chapters and exclusive fanfictions! Even as a free member you will get one extra chapter and you'll receive early access to chapters before they're posted elsewhere and various other fanfictions.Your support helps me create more content for you to enjoy!

Join here: (dot)com(slash)Beuwulf