The Mage of Middle-Earth - CH - 15 (Patreon)

Sirius Black was working in the field, his hands covered in soil as he tilled the earth alongside the other hobbits, when he noticed something unusual in the distance. A horse-drawn carriage was slowly making its way down the road, and it wasn’t the sort of thing one typically saw in the Shire. The hobbits preferred simple carts and walked most places on foot, but this was different. The horse was large, and the figure driving the carriage was even more peculiar.

Sirius squinted against the sunlight, wiping the sweat from his brow as he straightened up to get a better look. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the long, flowing cloak and the tall, pointy hat. A white beard that trailed down to the figure's chest completed the familiar sight. Sirius knew immediately who he was seeing, even though no one had introduced him to the wizard.

It was Gandalf the Grey.

He had heard whispers of the famous wizard during his time in the Shire. The hobbits adored Gandalf, not just because of the fireworks and wonders he brought to their festivals, but because he was their protector, their unseen guardian who ensured that the Shire remained untouched by the darkness and dangers that lurked in Middle-Earth. And now, here he was, riding through the fields, with his piercing eyes hidden beneath the wide brim of his hat.

Sirius froze for a moment, his mind racing. The resemblance to Dumbledore was uncanny, from the way Gandalf’s long white beard swayed with the breeze, to the way his eyes twinkled with the weight of untold knowledge. For a fleeting moment, Sirius felt as if he had stepped back into the wizarding world, as if Albus Dumbledore himself had somehow found his way into Middle-Earth. But this was not Dumbledore. This was Gandalf, a figure of equal if not greater power in this realm.

As the carriage rolled through the village, hobbits waved happily at Gandalf. Many stopped their work to greet him, some tipping their hats, while others, especially the children, ran excitedly behind the carriage. The hobbits knew Gandalf well, and his arrival was always an event of great joy for them. He would bring fireworks and stories, and sometimes he would stay for the harvest festival, lighting up the sky with his magical displays.

Sirius, however, wasn’t in a mood to engage. His heart pounded in his chest, and his instincts kicked in. He knew better than to risk exposure, especially now that one of the most powerful wizards in Middle-Earth was passing through. Even though he had spent years suppressing his magic and blending into the hobbit community, the presence of Gandalf felt like a challenge. He couldn’t afford to slip up, not now.

Quickly, Sirius tugged at the small necklace hidden beneath his shirt—a magical suppressor he had fashioned himself. It was a necessity, a tool he used to completely mask his magical aura so that no other wizard, ranger, or creature of magic would notice him. Sirius knew the risks of using magic openly in this world. He had to keep his secret well-guarded. It wasn’t just his own safety on the line, but the safety of the life he had built here, in the Shire, among these peaceful people.

Gandalf’s carriage slowed as it passed the field where Sirius was working. The wizard, as always, waved cheerfully to the hobbits as they smiled and nodded back. Sirius, feeling the weight of the moment, quickly lowered his head and resumed his work, blending into the background like the rest of the farmhands. His appearance as a hobbit was impeccable—he had been careful to ensure that he looked the part, right down to his size, clothing, and mannerisms. He had even worked on adopting the carefree, laid-back demeanor of the hobbits, though that part had been much harder for him to master.

The hobbit children, of course, were not so restrained. A group of them darted past Sirius, giggling and shouting as they followed Gandalf’s carriage, eager to catch a glimpse of whatever wonders he might bring. “Fireworks! Fireworks!” they chanted excitedly, their little feet kicking up dust as they ran.

Gandalf’s carriage continued down the road, drawing more and more attention as it moved through the village. Sirius remained at his post in the field, watching from a distance, his eyes following the wizard as he made his way toward the center of the Shire. The hobbits, in their simple, carefree way, didn’t seem to understand the gravity of having someone like Gandalf in their midst. To them, he was just a friendly old wizard who brought fireworks and stories.

But Sirius knew better. Wizards of that power didn’t come to places like this without reason. There was always something lurking beneath the surface, always some hidden threat or unspoken danger. The hobbits might have been blissfully ignorant of such things, but Sirius couldn’t shake the feeling that Gandalf’s visit wasn’t just a social call.

He would keep his distance, for now. He had built a life here, and he wasn’t about to let it slip away. But he would watch, and he would listen, just in case. Because in a world like this, you could never be too careful.

Despite his reluctance, Sirius Black knew he had to go to Hobbiton that evening. Skipping his usual visit to the Green Dragon would only draw unwanted attention, and that was the last thing he needed with Gandalf the Grey in town. Every day after work, Jimmy Potter, as Sirius was now known among the hobbits, would stroll down to Hobbiton to drink, dance, and share in the relaxed merriment of the hobbits. If he suddenly changed his routine now, it wouldn’t go unnoticed. The hobbits were friendly, but they were also curious, and questions would certainly be asked.

And if the hobbits started asking questions, it wouldn’t be long before Gandalf heard about it. That was a risk Sirius couldn’t take. His cover as Jimmy Potter, a simple hobbit with a wandering spirit, depended on blending in. As he made his way toward Hobbiton, his steps were slower than usual, his mind heavy with the realization that tonight, he would likely come face to face with the wizard he had been so determined to avoid.

By the time Sirius arrived in Hobbiton, the village was buzzing with excitement. Gandalf had already made his way into the town, and wherever the wizard went, he brought with him an air of mystery and excitement. As Sirius approached the Green Dragon Inn, he could see a gathering of hobbits, laughing and talking animatedly. Some of them were still chasing after Gandalf’s carriage, eagerly awaiting the fireworks they hoped he would set off later in the evening.

Sirius took a deep breath and stepped inside the inn. The warm glow of the hearth greeted him, and the familiar sounds of laughter and clinking mugs filled the air. For a moment, he hoped he could slip in quietly, just another hobbit returning from a day’s work in the fields. But as soon as he entered, a group of hobbits called out to him.

“Jimmy! You’re late! We’ve been waiting for you to join the fun!” one of them shouted, raising a mug in his direction.

Sirius forced a smile and made his way over to the group, trying to keep his demeanor as relaxed as possible. “Got a bit caught up in the fields,” he said, settling into a seat.

But as soon as he sat down, he felt it—a presence, an almost tangible feeling of being watched. He turned slightly and saw Gandalf at the far end of the room, seated by the fire, surrounded by a few hobbits who were clearly excited to have him in their midst. The wizard wasn’t looking directly at him, but Sirius could sense that Gandalf was aware of him.

And why wouldn’t he be? The hobbits, bless their innocent hearts, were terrible at keeping secrets.

As Sirius raised his mug to take a drink, one of the hobbits leaned in closer, a grin plastered across his face. “Did you hear? Gandalf’s asking about you!”

Sirius nearly choked on his ale but managed to keep his composure. “Me?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “What’s he want with me?”

“Oh, nothing serious,” the hobbit replied with a laugh. “Just that when Gandalf asked what’s new in town, everyone’s been talking about you, Jimmy! You’re the most interesting thing that’s happened in Hobbiton in years!”

Sirius felt his stomach drop. He had tried so hard to keep his stories harmless, to present himself as nothing more than a curious hobbit who had traveled a bit more than the others. But of course, the hobbits had been more than eager to share his tales with Gandalf.

“And what, exactly, did you tell him?” Sirius asked, doing his best to keep his voice light.

The hobbit chuckled. “Oh, we told him all about your adventures! About how you’ve been to places none of us have ever seen—Rohan, Gondor, even the Lonely Mountain! Some of us thought you were pulling our leg, but Gandalf seemed pretty interested. He said only someone who’s truly been to those places could describe them like you do.”

Sirius cursed silently under his breath. He had been careful not to mention anything magical in his stories, but even without magic, he had clearly attracted Gandalf’s attention. The hobbits may have seen his tales as outlandish, but to Gandalf, they had been a little too accurate.

Glancing over at the wizard again, Sirius saw that Gandalf was now looking directly at him. There was no mistaking the curiosity in his eyes. It was as if the wizard could sense there was more to Sirius than met the eye, and that thought made Sirius’s blood run cold.

He quickly drained his mug and set it down, trying to come up with an excuse to leave. But before he could, the hobbit beside him clapped him on the back. “You should go talk to him, Jimmy! He’s been asking about you all evening. Wants to hear more of your stories, I reckon.”

Sirius forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “Oh, I’m sure Gandalf has better things to do than listen to my ramblings.”

The hobbit shook his head. “Nonsense! He’s the one who brought it up. Said it’s been a long time since he met a hobbit with such a wandering spirit.”

Sirius felt the weight of Gandalf’s gaze, even as he tried to remain calm. The last thing he needed was Gandalf prying into his past or asking too many questions. He had been careful to tell his stories from a hobbit’s perspective, leaving out any mention of magic, but it seemed that hadn’t been enough to escape the wizard’s notice.

Sirius sighed internally. He should have expected this. No matter how much he tried to suppress his true nature, to blend in and live a quiet life among the hobbits, the world of magic and danger always had a way of catching up to him.

He could feel the eyes of the hobbits on him, waiting for him to go over and introduce himself to Gandalf. There was no avoiding it now. If he didn’t speak to the wizard, it would only raise more suspicion, and Sirius couldn’t afford that.

With a deep breath, Sirius stood up and made his way across the inn, toward the fire where Gandalf sat. As he approached, Gandalf’s gaze remained fixed on him, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Well now,” Gandalf said as Sirius drew near. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Jimmy Potter. A hobbit with a penchant for adventure, it seems.”

Sirius smiled tightly, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “I suppose you could say that,” he replied, his mind racing for ways to keep the conversation harmless.

Gandalf's sharp eyes gleamed with curiosity as Sirius, in his guise as Jimmy Potter, took a seat nearby. The wizard gave him a knowing smile, as though he could already see through the layers of caution Sirius had built around himself.

"Quite rare for a hobbit to venture far from the Shire," Gandalf remarked, his voice deep and calm. "Even rarer still for one to travel to such places as you’ve mentioned. Gondor, Rohan... even the City of Dale." He paused, as if measuring Sirius's reaction.

Sirius kept his face neutral, giving a casual shrug. "I’ve always had a wandering spirit," he said, his tone light. "The Shire is beautiful, no doubt about that, but there’s so much more to see in Middle-Earth."

Gandalf nodded, his bushy eyebrows lifting slightly. "True enough. Few hobbits have the inclination or the courage to explore beyond these lands. But I’ve found that there is always more to a traveler’s tale than what they share over a mug of ale."

The hint of suspicion in Gandalf’s voice wasn’t lost on Sirius. He could feel the wizard trying to peel away the layers of his disguise, his words like hooks fishing for the truth. But Sirius was no stranger to concealment. He had spent years running, hiding, and keeping secrets—even from the likes of Dumbledore. He wouldn’t let his guard down now.

"I suppose every hobbit has his secrets," Sirius said, smiling faintly as he raised his mug to his lips, using the motion to buy himself a moment to think. "But most of mine are just stories. A few exaggerations here and there, you know how it goes."

Gandalf’s eyes twinkled, but his smile remained steady. "Oh, I know well how stories can grow. But you, Jimmy, seem to have quite the collection of them—some of which, I believe, hold more than just a grain of truth."

Sirius felt a flicker of discomfort, though he hid it well. He needed to deflect Gandalf’s attention without arousing further suspicion. Leaning back in his chair, he laughed lightly. "Well, hobbits do love a good tale. And I've always been happy to indulge them. If they want to believe I've been to the City of Dale, who am I to deny them a bit of wonder?"

Gandalf tilted his head slightly, studying Sirius for a moment. "Indeed," he murmured. "Though you speak of Dale with such detail that one might think you’d stood in its streets yourself."

Sirius clenched his jaw for a moment, but quickly relaxed, maintaining his easy-going facade. "I’ve met a few travelers who’ve been there. Perhaps I picked up more from their stories than I realized."

"Perhaps." Gandalf’s tone was measured, but Sirius could tell the wizard wasn’t fully convinced. For a moment, the two sat in silence, the crackling fire filling the space between them.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably. He needed to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory. "I’ve heard you’ve been to some interesting places yourself, Gandalf," he said, turning the focus back on the wizard. "Far beyond Middle-Earth, even. The hobbits speak highly of your visits and all the wonders you bring."

Gandalf’s expression softened slightly, as if amused by the change in topic. "Ah, well, I’ve been known to travel a fair bit. There is always more to learn, more to see." He glanced out of the window, where the sky had begun to darken, the shadows of evening creeping in. "But my heart always brings me back to the Shire. There’s something special about this place, something worth protecting."

Sirius nodded slowly, understanding all too well the sentiment. The Shire, with its rolling hills, peaceful fields, and simple way of life, was a sanctuary. It was why he had chosen to settle here in the first place.

"I can see why," Sirius agreed. "It’s a peaceful place, untouched by the troubles of the world. You’ve done well to keep it that way."

Gandalf’s gaze returned to Sirius, his eyes searching once more. "It isn’t just me," he said, his voice softer now. "There are others who watch over the Shire. Rangers, for one. And... there are times when the land itself seems to protect those who live here."

Sirius felt a chill run down his spine at the wizard’s words. Was Gandalf implying that he already knew about the bandits Sirius had been watching? Had the wizard been involved in their mysterious disappearance? Or was there something else at work in the Shire, something even he didn’t understand?

"You seem surprised," Gandalf noted, watching Sirius’s reaction closely. "But I suppose even someone as well-traveled as you might not know all the secrets of this land."

Sirius quickly composed himself, shaking his head. "No, I just didn’t realize how well-guarded the Shire truly was. Makes me feel even better about settling here."

Gandalf’s smile returned, though there was a lingering curiosity in his eyes. "Yes, I’ve heard you’ve made yourself quite at home in these parts. Bought yourself some land, I hear."

"Just a little," Sirius replied with a chuckle. "Enough for a quiet life. After all that wandering, I figured it was time to settle down."

Gandalf hummed thoughtfully. "A wise decision. But I have a feeling you’re not done with your adventures just yet, Jimmy Potter."

Sirius felt his heart skip a beat, but he forced a smile. "We’ll see about that. For now, I’m content to enjoy the peace of the Shire."

"Peace is a precious thing," Gandalf agreed, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "And in times like these, it is often fragile. One must be vigilant to protect it."

Sirius nodded, understanding the weight behind Gandalf’s words. He could feel the wizard’s scrutiny easing, but there was still an unspoken tension between them. Gandalf was too perceptive, too experienced, to be entirely fooled. But for now, at least, Sirius had managed to avoid any direct questions about his true identity.

As the evening wore on, Sirius excused himself, retreating back to the solitude of his newly built hobbit hole. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Gandalf would continue watching him, perhaps even more closely now. The Shire was indeed a peaceful place, but as he lay awake that night, Sirius couldn’t help but wonder just how deep its secrets ran—and whether he would be able to keep his own hidden.