19 | The Sorceress & The Hobbit

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Illyria Strange | Elemmírë Oialëa

Location: Imladris, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: October 2980 T.A

Elrond told her that the house had never been so busy since The Last Alliance, which was pretty shocking in her opinion considering the number of visitors she could remember. They had festivals, which they celebrated, the twins or Arwen's birthdays had a lot of people coming from the valley and from the Grey Havens to visit.

So to hear that the time when it was the liveliest had been because of war was pretty morbid in all honesty.

And Illyria was not wrong about it being lively.

Despite the elves preferring their solitude, she knew they secretly enjoyed seeing all these new faces coming in. When she first came here there was some misunderstanding, and perhaps a little hostility between dwarves, magic users, and elves. But somehow, four decades and the end of the world might have rubbed the surface off from people's prejudices.

It didn't mean that it was entirely a place where anyone could be who they are.

Maedhros still had to disguise himself (which he hated like 100% of the time) whilst Glorfindel still had people coming up to him and wondering how the fuck was he alive and all.

Not to mention herself.

People could not understand the difference between her and Elemmírë, and every time they're asking about some elven trend from the last three centuries: she had to just smile and nod at it all.

Don't get her wrong, everybody must be irked to find two dead elves walking again but she really couldn't hide this façade anymore. She even admitted to Elrond the other night (or what was supposed to be night but now each hour was just a blur) that she couldn't stand having to sit still and have tea with the other elleths talking about embroidery and new fabrics from Lothlorien.

Elrond (blast the peredhel being too handsome and yet being such a meanie) merely chuckled at her ranting and assured her that they all meant well. He then noted to her that even in her past, she was hardly a typical lady in their custom and often sought to go to the training grounds than to sit idly.

Of course, she would. Even meditating would've been ten times better than sitting and drinking tea. With pinkies out and feeling as if you're at The Ritz. [1]

But one thing she did love to do was to go about and prepare for the plans they set for the valley. Elrond entrusted her and Maedhros to do most of it, hinting to get the twins involved by scouting the areas and giving points of possible entrances. Illyria wasn't sure if her husband was being considerate of their children's involvement in the possible battles that made him suggest this...

...Or the fact that Elrond did all he could to separate Elladan and Elrohir from Kili, Gimli and the hobbits.

Might be both.

She knew by his panicked look, when they spoke about it, that the second reason was his top priority.

In the end, she had Elladan and Elrohir go with Maedhros to begin mapping possible places to fortify the valley. The battle might not happen in a couple of months but it was better safe than sorry.

Illyria continued her intense training and learning with her children, mostly with Arwen, whenever they weren't too busy with other work. There wasn't any change in the locator or any energy fluctuations of a possible Silmaril, annoying Illyria every time she saw it.

Glorfindel began helping the new Captain of the Guard to train the soldiers once more, often seeing him just after his sessions exhausted. When he wasn't doing so, she always lugged him for training or sometimes to monitor his bloodwork ever since the Nazgul's chase to the Ford.

And yet still had the energy to go to Erestor's place by the end of the day.

At least now there was some improvement between them. Her episode with Elrond a few days ago still lingered in her head, and even if she did feel he was telling the truth, the doubt ate at her. She hated it. Hated the fact that she couldn't fully trust him.

It wasn't helping that they didn't see each other nowadays. He was busy catching up with details. Letters from both Mirkwood and Lothlorien whilst having to speak to the guests before the council.

The council was tomorrow, and she was tasked to see to the protection of the house in case someone decided to pop out and do a Thanos – just collecting the Ring before committing mass murder.

However, there was also planning their trip to the Grey Havens.

Illyria thanked the expense of countless training and growth of power that she found a way to tackle all these jobs.

And it was why she found herself wandering into one of the gardens. The sound of the fountain in the background whilst the water glittered under the starlight.

Sitting at the edge of the fountain, sharpening their sword with a whetstone - was a grey-black-haired dwarf. Sitting on a bench just adjacent to him was a hobbit, a rather recognizable red leather-bound book in his hands. She almost squealed out loud when she saw it, but remained relaxed as she continued to head over to them.

It wasn't long for them to notice her walking over, with the hobbit looking straight up to her first whilst the dwarf followed suit.

His mouth was open wide, shocked, and confused. "I swear I saw you walking past by with Miriel."

Illyria grinned, hiding her amusement.

God, she missed watching his reactions to all her shit.

Especially when the dwarf beside her looked as if he was trying his best to hide his confusion.

"I am, and I still am." She softened her smile and greeted them, "Hello Bilbo Baggins. Thorin Oakenshield...or should I say former king and king consort."

Never in her life would she expect to see both these two characters be together in this day and age. Even standing there on that autumn day, fighting Azog up in Ravenhill, she doubted the chances of seeing them together decades later. The books never really indicated anything other than the fact that The Company respected the dear hobbit: who decided to return home to his smial. He would live the rest of his years mostly on his own, recollecting his tales in a book whilst raising his nephew.

But here she was, standing before them.

There was a moment where the hobbit appeared slightly flustered, whilst Thorin seemed proud before he stood up and greeted her with curtly nod.

"It is good to see you again and well, Illyria Ettelëa." He glanced up before he pointed out in his usual gruff baritone voice, "Your hair has changed."

With a grin, Illyria fiddled with the loose ends of her hair. "Dyed it so we could match now, Thorin." When she saw the flare in his eyes, she grinned even more and brushed it off, "I'm joking. Elrond can't stand it but I'm just telling him that I'll be like this soon enough."

Though the moment she ended that joke, there was an awkward moment where the two merely paused (probably taking a double-take at her 'pleasant' dead joke). Even Bilbo, who knew more about Elemmírë and elves, looked a little green before he shook his head. Something to do with her typical sense of humour.

Right, she forgot she needed to tone her attitude back on Middle Earth.

They don't seem to like death jokes.

Especially when war and Dagor Dagorath was on their way.

With a clear cough, Thorin commented, "You're still mortal."

Illyria inhaled to calm herself, deciding to sit in the space beside Bilbo. She did all she could not take a glance at the pages in front of the hobbit, even if she was so desperate to know which chapter he was in writing about their quest to Erebor.

She could have sworn he was on the chapter about the Goblin King.

Oh, classic David Bowie all over again.

In honesty, Illyria did all she could to divert anything about this topic. Mortality and death. She wasn't stupid, of course. She knew she was human (or at least that was what she pretty much guessed), and she knew she was ageing. The wrinkles on her forehead for being so stressed and always scowling at bad guys was probably enough evidence for it.

But whoever gets the prize for the number of times to dodge the 'd' word was probably her lovely immortal husband who clearly wanted to forget about it.

Both from her and their daughter too.

And now with basically anybody knowing Illyria Ettelëa connected to Elemmírë and her mortal form...everybody seemed to be holding their breath about what they were going to do about it. The answer would be simple; nothing.

However, it didn't mean other people could ask about it.

Illyria gave the two a sort of sad and invisible smile as she answered them, "I'm afraid so." Taking a deep breath, she placed her hands onto her lap and changed the subject. "But enough of me, how are you both?"

Closing the red book, Bilbo adjusted his posture before allowing Thorin to go back to sit beside the fountain, listening well as he worked to sharpen the blade.

"Well until the Nazgul arrived at the Shire..." The hobbit began, his voice capturing her attention. "Gandalf informed us last year that he finally confirmed it to be the one ring and that he would go and consult with the head of his council. We waited for a year and Gandalf never arrived. However, I had not worn the Ring in thirty-nine years. Until Frodo, my nephew..."

She saw his face already falling into anguish.

Already, she knew what he was about to say.

"He found the ring in your house and held it, didn't he?" Illyria softly asked, trying to reach out to his mind and fëa to soothe him.

He didn't need to answer.

"I swore myself to never show or tell him, but it was too late." He whispered, opening his eyes to wipe tears away. Looking up, he stared in front of him as he continued, "I almost hurt him until Thorin grabbed onto me. If he hadn't been there..."

Bilbo's breathing shallowed whilst he squeezed his eyes. His hands clenched whilst he shook his head.

For some reason it made her even more guilty the longer she sat next to him.

It wasn't long for a larger hand to grab his. Thorin had just appeared beside the hobbit, rubbing his hand with his own as he gazed down at his husband.

"Amrâlimê. Remember: that ring is pure evil." The dwarven king justified, attempting to calm him. "Despite how long you endured with it, you are not invincible."

But Bilbo refused, shaking his head strongly as he cried out, "But it should have been me! Not Frodo...he should hold no burden of it!"

There was an immediate metal anchor dropped within her stomach as her entire body felt a cold gust throughout her. Her memories watching Movie Frodo Baggins as a little kid in Darcy's living room, her fear by her heart raising whenever she saw the moments the Ring affected the hobbit.

Not just Weathertop, but during the journey to Mordor. Every moment he got closer to that eye or when Sauron got stronger or focused on it made her almost clench her eyes shut and look away. Gollum and Shelob. Sam...

She could have prevented this.

She could have stopped the cycle of what was supposed to happen in what Tolkien wrote. But even then: who was he to know the truth of one singular timeline when clearly nothing was adding up?

'But you still could have changed things...' Some part of her told her. 'You would have stopped countless deaths.'

Illyria hitched a breath.

'You could have taken that ring with Bilbo to Mordor before the battle. Stopped the future even before it could be set.' She thought. 'But here you are, playing 4D chess. Playing with timelines and realities. Breaking the code you swore to keep with the Mystic Arts.'

She was straying far from the Natural Law.

And even if she changed things, she would have broken that law even more.

Gulping back the bile, she carefully asked: "What...what happened next." Illyria glanced over to the dwarf. "Thorin?"

The dwarf eyed her for a second before he focused his attention back on Bilbo. However, he answered her, "We knew it was a danger so we decided to go to the next place we knew it would be safe. To Rivendell." He paused to take a short breath, "We travelled here in hope that Tharkun would meet us in Bree...until we met some rather curious lot." Thorin's tone changed, a look of disapproval and annoyance on his face.

She looked over to the hobbit, who was trying to wipe away his tears with the back of his hand. To surprise him again, she reached out her hand towards him.

At that moment, a white handkerchief materialized from her hand.

Bilbo let out a short gasp, eyes widening before he smiled sadly up to her and thanked Illyria. She couldn't help then but smile.

Even a small gesture, this hobbit always wormed up into her heart.

He dabbed away his cheeks as he croakily asked, "Halfast, do you remember him Illyria?"

"I do." She replied before her smile fell into a frown. Illyria knew what he would say next. "It's his son, isn't it?"

Nodding, Bilbo replied, "Yes. Thorin found him hiding in the rose bushes and threatened to cut his head. But Frodo and I stopped him." He explained, "But he heard everything about the Ring and what you told me. We had no choice but to bring him here."

"Much to my displeasure." Thorin scoffed, his arms no folded whilst he stood in front of them. "The young lad reminds me too much like you when we first began the quest."

Illyria saw Bilbo let out a soft chuckle and her lips twitched. It was good to know that they remembered after all these years the first time they met (considering they practically ransacked Bilbo's pantry and then proceeded to bully the hobbit out of the quest). Everything about that evening was when everything changed for, well: all of them to be honest.

Bilbo Baggins, the most sophisticated bachelor of The Shire – went off with thirteen dwarves, a wizard, and a sorceress to kill a dragon. Therefore, definitely not a Samwise Gamgee.

Well...Sam won't be a sophisticated bachelor of The Shire if things rolled to what Tolkien wrote.

She inquired, "And the other two?"

It was Bilbo's turn to scoff, causing Thorin to even look more exasperated. "Peregrine Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck...too much like their own namesakes and I am not surprised they weren't in the fields stealing food from Farmer Maggot." He told her with much annoyance, "We tried to leave them. And bless Yavanna we did."

Oh, Illyria knew how they felt about that. Even hearing that there'd been numerous complaints of missing stocks in the kitchens was clear proof those two hobbits were the same as the ones she knew.

A reminder again to not let her boys meet those hobbits.

At least have them as far away if possible.

"Then the Nazgul found you." She stated, furrowing her brows as she questioned out loud. Mostly to herself. "How did they know? How did Saruman know?"

Of course, Bilbo and Thorin didn't know of this, their mouths dropping in confusion and shock.

The hobbit stammered, "The White Wizard sent them? But that was where—"

"Yes." Illyria firmly replied, a bitter taste in her mouth. That slimy motherfucker's name constantly made her blood boil. "It's why Gandalf never came. Saruman betrayed the order and now...we're fucked."

Oh, they were probably more than fucked.

The two didn't know that though, and she kept it that way as long as she could.

To her own surprise, the former dwarven king had smirked, chuckling at her. "Good words indeed." He then went over to where he worked, placing Orcrist into its holster whilst he placed the whetstone in the satchel – slinging it onto his back.

Nodding his head as a gesture, Thorin spoke, "If I may excuse myself, I will see my nephew and good-niece before the feast. Yâsûn." [2]

He left the garden after bidding Bilbo and her goodbye, heading to where Tauriel and Kili would be. From what she knew, she had seen them on the way to the training grounds or that was what her other self saw.

Illyria had her eyes always on the dwarf when he left, stunned at not just his appearance but his character.

That wasn't the Thorin Oakenshield she met two and a half years ago.

"He's changed," She murmured in her normal tongue.

She then heard Bilbo reply softly back, "It is what happens after decades of being King."

Turning to him, she saw him straighten his back, looking every bit like a royal with his posture. But even then, Illyria still saw the typical hobbit she once knew back in Bag End. The twitch on his nose as he slouched his shoulders slightly.

She wasn't sure now if it was the years spent as a ruler, or being with the Ring, that affected how exhausted he appeared.

He continued, "He...he and I realised that we have not got much time left. With both of us nearly gone and just...so tired of the world. We decided that Fili should have the crown. He was old enough to rule along with Sigrid, Kili, Dis and Dwalin at his side."

The mention of those names made her raise her eyebrows. Fili married Bard's eldest daughter, whom she knew from Elrond was now Queen of Erebor alongside the blonde dwarf Illyria once knew.

How she didn't connect the dots; Illyria shouldn't be shocked. Kili fell in love with an elf and Thorin married a hobbit. Must be a thing that ran in the family to find their other halves from other races. (Or so she speculated with the limited knowledge on dwarven soulmates and whatnot.)

She didn't know much about Dis, only from what Kili and Fili used to tell her and Bilbo and how their mother could be the only force to shove the boulder that was their uncle.

At the mention of Dwalin, Illyria eagerly felt her heart leap in the mention of the other members of The Company.

But then it hit her again. The realization of what occurred after she left.

Treading her words, Illyria took a deep breath before she slowly spoke, "I heard from Elrond...that some of the company didn't make it."

Her hands were now clenched atop her lap like Bilbo's pulsing as she felt her emotions fill her again.

As she stared down onto the floor, she heard the hobbit whisper back: "Yes."

Dori, Gloin and Balin.

Three people she would never be able to see again.

Three people who were never supposed to die that day.

Illyria felt that she was thrown back again weeks after she returned from Middle Earth, kneeling in front of the grave she made as a remembrance to her brother in Oxford. Out of all things: she forgot to remember the lives that were taken during the battle.

Elf, dwarf, human – so many of them died. So many that didn't deserve to die before their time.

She remembered Dori, sweet and such a mother hen and like every bit of an older brother to both Nori and Ori. He always used to find her clothing and fashion so intriguing, sometimes disgusted, and they would talk non-stop on different patterns and dyes.

And Gloin, that red-headed dwarf was supposed to watch his son grow up. What was Gimli like now then? Did he hate elves less or more? Was he tougher than a mere joyful one in a group? Even if he were here for the sake of her request from a letter, it didn't mean that he would have been the same.

Balin...Balin had been one of the first in the Company to reach out to her. He had opened an opportunity to learn about them, their lifestyle and their culture. He was every bit of a friend to her, perhaps a grandfather figure much like Master Hamir.

When she told the Company to not even try to reclaim Moria because of Durin's Bane (a.k.a the Balrog), Illyria had thought it could have stopped him from dying. It would have stopped countless dwarves from dying a horrible death.

Fate had told her to shut the fuck up and decided even she couldn't save lives.

Illyria didn't realise that she had been crying, tears splattering over her dress as she clenched her eyelids shut.

A small hand rested on top of hers.

When she opened her eyes briefly, she saw her friend mutter to her sympathetically: "I know, I am sorry it was this way."

She sniffed as she spoke hoarsely, "I just thought I could have stopped it. Stopped their death but..."

Goddamn her hormones lately, Illyria angrily wiped away the tears before she noticed a different handkerchief in Bilbo's hand.

With a mental thank you, she took the linen cloth and rubbed away her tears.

"Do not cry Illyria." Bilbo softly spoke, his hand squeezing her left one. "They fought valiantly. Balin, he actually saved an elf – which surprised King Thranduil."

She stopped her wiping then. Did she hear that right?

Illyria said with a slight smile, "Christ, that must have been a shock." But even then, she felt her heart uplift at the news of that. Out of all dwarves, she was glad to know that he was the one who also accepted change. Not just for diplomacy, but for morality.

That must have given Thranduil some weird elven malfunction hearing about that.

Her hobbit friend quirked his lips a bit and shook his head, "And yes, none of us expected it. But then again, you tried to save Thorin and his nephews."

Gazing down at Bilbo, she saw there was immense gratitude in his eyes. He was trying to say thank you even if was bittersweet. Thorin was alive as well as his nephews and that meant at least his family was there.

In this world, the hobbit who sat beside her was never alone. He had what he wanted, a home and a family.

Illyria wished there was more anger in him, but Bilbo Baggins always stumped her expectations. He saw the good side and it proved out to be something she couldn't help but agree.

Balin, Gloin and Dori and all those who died were remembered and loved. All they could do now after four decades was to remember them and to reminisce their memories.

She inhaled, straightening her back as she tried to crack up a happier tone, "Alright, no more tears. We are at a war, and I just can't go crying everywhere." Illyria smiled down at her friend and continued, "From now on, Bilbo Baggins. We are going to make the most of the time you're here. I'm sure you want to hear some new things."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Never had good news been so relieving for her.

Just several hours after she and Bilbo basically had a two-hour discussion about what happened and all the new things that were just in the top of their heads, she found out that a certain hobbit woke up from his coma.

How she learnt about it pretty much scared Bilbo, but he was happier that his nephew woke up from what happened up in Weathertop.

So after the gardens and a quick stop for food, Illyria took Bilbo to the Healing Halls where Frodo was staying, already finding a certain Maia and two Peredhil greeting and checking up on the young halfling at bed - resting.

Seeing him lying there, so much younger than what he had been in the books and the trilogy...

Illyria had to hide every bit of her worries away, allowing Bilbo to cry with joy when he embraced his nephew. She informed Arwen and Elrond through their minds that she'd let them all have a reunion, hiding away behind the door before walking away to head in the opposite direction. Frodo would reunite with his friends no doubt, and probably Thorin too before there was supposed to be a great feast in the Hall of Fire... [3]

...Which she was still technically preparing there now.

Hopefully, she and Miriel would be back in the family wing to get ready; it gave her enough time to meditate and rest before then.

After meditating, Illyria found herself taking a long way around from her research quarters to the Hall of Fire. Arwen and Elrond along with Lindir and Erestor were already there, keeping the guests entertained. Glorfindel mentioned that he would go straight there, so it gave her enough time with Miriel to find something she liked.

Not that she would go full elven this time around. But with her long red robes with golden mandala patterns, Illyria appeared slightly more appropriate for a dinner party.

Thank fuck Miriel gave a note to the tailors. At least these sleeves weren't going to cause any accidents.

Or make herself look like a bird.

She wound through the open walkways of the house before she sensed the powerful being staying here. Once she went around the corner, Illyria found the grey wizard standing idly behind the stone balustrades overlooking the westside of the house.

And guess what: he was smoking his pipe again.

To be fair, when would she find him not smoking weed during the quest and the trilogy?

Illyria wouldn't be surprised that the Maia could multitask and smoke a pipe whilst Astral projecting.

He already knew her presence, exhaling a ring of smoke as she called out to him.

"I knew I would find you here." Illyria walked over to him, smiling sincerely towards the wizard as she bowed her head: "I'm really happy that you're alive, Gandalf. I was getting worried that something happened in Isengard, and the eagles couldn't find you."

He turned to look at her, shaking his head whilst he assured her, "Do not worry of it anymore, my dear. I am here." Gandalf paused, tucking away his pipe, before he glanced over to the landscape and hummed, "Though, your information is a little different. I was saved in fact."

Illyria creased her eyebrows.

With a mysterious gleam in his eyes, he specified: "A certain sorcerer - like you - may have conjured a portal atop the tower of Orthanc to rescue me and bring me to Imladris."

A small gasp left her mouth.

A sorcerer. In Middle Earth. And not just any sorcerer, someone who was like her – with a sling ring.

She questioned him eagerly, "You met a sorcerer? Did they mention their name?"

Gandalf, the mischievous boy, simply hummed and merely spoke like he was supposed to shrug his shoulders. "Not to my recall."

Damn, no name meant she wouldn't be sure who it was. It meant it could have been dozens of sorcerers of the Mystic Arts who have been out on the field for years or have been missing.

She paused, before she inquired, "Where are they now?"

"I cannot say."

She rose an eyebrow at that and frowned, "Can't or won't?" Illyria spotted him unaffected as she mentally growled whilst she muttered: "They might know Lokachari."

It was there he gazed at her with a questionable expression.

Or maybe not. Illyria really wasn't sure if he was just fooling her or really telling the truth.

Damn meddling wizards. She now knew how frustrated Elrond and Glorfindel got sometimes with their resident Istar when it came to getting answers from them.

Mostly Elrond to be fair.

Illyria decided to elaborate, "Master Lokachari...well we believe he might have the Silmaril. Or perhaps know where Makalaurë is. Either way, they could know where the other jewel is." She paused, thinking again on the hopes of it really being him before she understood the conclusion. "But if it's Lokachari...the longer he has it, it's a risk. Saruman might take it or Mairon would find him."

Her voice rose at the end, panic rising up her chest.

She wasn't wrong. If the Silmaril got any closer to Isengard or Mordor (or even Valinor), shit would have gone down immediately.

And if the Silmaril did get into the hands of either the three of them...they might know how to use it.

The balrog...

"Interesting way to say his name, my dear."

Her thoughts were abrupted by Gandalf's astonished tone, his own eyes fixated deep into hers.

There had only been two other occasions she had the Maia stare at her like he was some metal detector.

One had been back in Bag End. And the other was when they were back in Dale.

However, now it appeared that it wasn't just some grey wizard looking at her but some odd entity – boring through her and wondering what made her say those things. This was not the Gandalf a second ago who spoke about getting a hitchhike through a golden portal, smoking his weed like it was a long day after talking to a hobbit.

For a moment, she could have sworn she saw somebody else. Some odd man with – much younger than him now – who glowed and appeared like a spirit. His grey eyes shone brighter, almost blinding her.

A fraction under the moonlight: he almost appeared what she would have thought the Ainur would look like in their true form.

Instead, she shook her head, clearing her mind as she awkwardly replied, "Just thought it would be better to call him what he should be." Illyria glanced back to him as she asked, "That is his name, right?"

Gandalf nodded slowly as he answered, "It is indeed. Though none speak his true name within the realms of Arda nor Aman any longer."

"Right."

Illyria blinked away and tried not to dwell on it. Before her weird episode could continue, she changed the subject ahead of the wizard's prying.

She exhaled raggedly, her voice strong as she told him, "Their eyes are fixed on the valley. Aragorn says Gondor's almost gone, all except the western parts." Illyria asked aloud, "How are they going to go through that? And the Noldor coming here..."

Her breathing grew erratic, her hands quickly holding the railing as she tried to calm herself.

Panic attacks weren't a common occurrence for her but having them whilst talking to an ancient being who looked like everybody's neighbourhood homeless man with a wooden stick wasn't something she expected.

It was too much for her. There was so much to think about and it felt as if everything and everyone just wanted to pile it on top of her like a stack of lead-weighted books. She would rather have Mephisto burn London to the ground any day than to consider changing the course of the future and universal-sized apocalypses at her door.

And now...Now it's all here.

It was the realization hitting her fully in the face. The feeling now that everything was happening in reality and this wasn't just something to talk about.

Lives were counting on her and her family.

Thousands or even millions hoping to see the sunrise for them again.

Was this how her dad felt like? Being the Sorcerer Supreme was perhaps the biggest responsibility in all of the things, having to watch over countless threats in such a large area in space and time. Her dad was just thrust upon it because he was the only person who had the knowledge and strength to do so.

And her: what was she to them?

"Deep breaths, my dear Illyria Ettelëa," Gandalf spoke to her calmly, trying to ease her away from her troubled thoughts. He did well enough for her to change her attention to him as she tried to bring her breathing back to normal.

He continued with an encouraging voice, "This is not your burden to hold. It is all of ours. Partially mine for I should have done more to notice the signs of Saruman's allegiance. I should have foreseen the changes and acted sooner. Just like you, we had a role to play this. But we cannot change the past. We must continue forward and do all we can."

Illyria removed her hands, now finding herself crossing them over her chest as she glanced out into the valley.

Arwen was not wrong when she mentioned that the stars looked rather duller than before. Even with her human eyes, she knew that the Star of Eärendil used to shine so brightly that it was hard not to look at it. It reminded her as well, that the elf up there was Elrond and Elros' father, sailing with a Silmaril and hopefully for the future.

He was also her godson. The same one she came to guilt after mistaking his actions.

Even standing here she wondered who else knew about this all. The weird change she felt: like it was another seventh sense in her.

(She really hoped it wasn't like Darcy's odd seventh sense, though.)

After their silence, she glanced over to the Maia and spoke, "The Valar are angry, aren't they? They are angry at us. I changed things, surely I have."

It was something else she thought about occasionally. Even during her first time on Middle Earth as Illyria Strange, she felt as if someone was watching every move she made. Watching if she would make a grave mistake and full out change everything. Change the plans Eru made for this world.

And when she discovered that Elemmírë existed in this world – Illyria knew the change was inevitable.

But was it really her fault? Was she the cause of this? She was so desperate to ask someone who knew, someone who had the answers. Instead, she was stuck asking her philosophical questions of her existence and purpose to someone who wouldn't dare to say anything unless someone would smite him down.

Gandalf or Olorin, the spirit in front of her was still connected to the Ainur. Beings who knew more than her. Beings she couldn't pry answers unless it stumped them first. Though with Gandalf's reaction to her comment, it was evident that it was partially true.

She really did something they didn't want her to do.

Gandalf must have heard her thoughts and quickly vindicated, "The Valar are conflicted, my dear. Some believe now that there is no other choice but for things to play out. Some are more eager to help Middle Earth directly." He tapped his staff on the ground as he exhaled, staring off with a grim expression. "But now...I have yet to converse with them. The way to the West has been shut to protect both realms."

Illyria eyed him.

There was an imaginary plummeting sound.

The air grew stagnant.

"Like...you can't even contact them?" She questioned him with concern.

"Yes." He admitted, now looking back to her as he explained, "Only the One should I contact. And it is not my time yet to speak to them yet."

Great, not even the greatest of the Maia couldn't even contact the other Ainur.

That had rendered her speechless.

She felt that something had clogged in her throat and she gulped heavily.

"So..."

She slowly spoke, inhaling sharply before she murmured, "We really are alone."

"No, Illyria." His voice was firm and yet gentle, assuring her with sureness. "We are not alone, my dear. So long as you believe in the heart that you have. Hope is not lost for light still glows in such beautiful and bright souls like yours, Elrond, your children and the young Aragorn."

Gandalf the Grey, always saying the right words at the right time.

Quite the opposite of her, really.

She felt her lips upturn to a small smile when she looked over to him, glad of his heartening words. It was not life-changing, but it was something enough for her and her alone.

"No more tears, my dear," He responded, bringing her away from her mind. "I shall do what I must, the very same task I first spoke of to you."

At first, she looked at him, confused. What task did he mean?

And being his dramatic self, Gandalf bid her good evening and headed off towards the Hall of Fire, leaving her to own thoughts as she tried to guess what he meant. She knew as Illyria that the task of the Istari was to be basically emissaries for the Valar. Since the fall of Númenor, the Valar decided to stop handling directly the affairs of Middle Earth. They now had the Istari and the elves to deal with their problems.

Then it hit her. Or more likely washed over her like the waterfalls in the valley. She jumped in her spot, her head flicking over to the direction of the wizard but she knew he was long gone.

Clearly, there was really something more about what he said.

She groaned to herself then, rubbing her forehead in frustration.

Damn elves and Ainur. Can't they be less cryptic about everything?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The Istar clasped his hands over hers, pressing a small object within her hands. However, his eyes focused on her own as he spoke calmly.

"You are not alone anymore, my dear." The Istar informed her, meaning every word he uttered, "It will never be your own duty to protect this world, may you be the Oialëa or not. Our task may not be clear to those here, but I know that you know."

Once he pulled away, Elemmírë glanced down and almost felt her knees grow weak.

In her hand was the very piece she once saw in hands of her dearest friend. The green shade was so distinctive in her long memory. Why did this Istar possess this in his hands? Did her friend give it to him?

Just as he was about to walk away out from the gazebo, she turned around – her dress flowing with her swift movements.

The Lady of Imladris questioned him, "Why do I feel as if I know you?" She paused, apologizing quickly, "Forgive me for being forward, Mithrandir. I..."

However, she trailed off as soon as she heard her brother's voice call out to her. Glorfindel appeared from the steps, his eyes brightening when he spotted her.

"Nésa! Your sons are eager to depart." He halted, faltering in his tone before he stared at the Istar. Glorfindel said simply with a small smile, "Mithrandir."

For some reason, she was sure that the two had known each other. Perhaps in Aman?

To her dismay, he brother was insistent for her to go. Her sons were rather impatient, even for Peredhil, and she knew they would want to start their journey soon to Arnor.

Whilst they were on their way out of the gazebo, she heard the Istar speak to her: "Remember my dear." Mithrandir said, "Hope is not lost when the last light still shines amongst the darkness."

____

[1] - The Ritz: This is a famous hotel and restaurant which I recalled from the movie Notting Hill.
[2] - Yâsûn: Khuzdul for 'Husband.'
[3] - Hall of Fire: A large room in Elrond's house in Rivendell. A large hearth is kept lit and is where many elves and guests told stories and sang songs and poems to one another.

____

A/N: Thank university strikes for giving me the time to actually update. I was able to finally have time yesterday to get through some writing as well as editing. 

And so we get finally get a Bilbo and Illyria reunion ( plus grumpy Oakenshield as always). I always adored these two, especially writing them in the first book. But don't worry! We are going to get so much more with them, but let's not say any spoilers.

We also get some Gandalf and Illyria interaction and I do love Gandalf being his usual mysterious self and making it ten times more frustrating for Illyria and the rest of our characters. Considering Gandalf's escape was a little different than what was in the books and movies, clearly, this changes a few things when it comes to the Istari and the characters involved.

We are nearing the end of Part 1, which I am hoping to end just after the Council of Elrond, so I'm just going to post two chapters this week. So that gives me another two more weeks (hopefully if I stick to the schedule) until Part 2 comes out. I'm so excited to release it on here!

____

Edited: 01/03/2022