Chapter 2: Pleasant dinner Re-Writing

[Aldril POV]

"My name is Gandalf, a pleasure"

A well-known name, I wouldn't deny that his presence initially seemed suspicious to me. But what could I do? Someone appears out of nowhere and introduces themselves with all the humility in the world; anyone in my situation would have been cautious.

But none of that mattered anymore. 'Gandalf,' now standing before me, provided all the information I needed. I loved fantasy movies as well as medieval documentaries, which is why my passion had drawn me toward the Tolkien universe films.

Perhaps my enthusiasm didn't reach the level of those die-hard fans who read all the books, but that didn't stop me from recognizing one of the most important characters in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

"Gandalf the Grey Wizard," an iconic figure known to most. That single introduction from the old man revealed that this was not the Middle Ages, I was in the world of The Lord of the Rings!

There was no doubt that no one was playing tricks on me. His spotless grey cloak, like overcast days; his staff, alive as though the wood pulsed with energy; that jovial smile despite his apparent old age; and his calming presence that would lower anyone's guard if they didn't know him.

Gandalf, in all his glory, stood before me. There were no longer any doubts about this old man's identity.

But now a question arose: 'What point in the timeline am I in?' I could deduce, from his grey robes and the absence of a companion, that I was somewhere before the events of The Lord of the Rings. However, it was also possible that I was in a world where the book's events unfolded differently. Based on what I remembered from conversations with a friend, the book had significant differences from the movie.

My erratic thoughts were swift, like an avalanche flooding my mind. It didn't take long for me to return his smile. 'What does it matter? Now that I know which world I'm in, it's better to earn the Grey Wizard's friendship,' I thought.

Adopting a more approachable attitude, I smiled back with an apologetic hint. "Sorry for my caution, but you have to understand, it's strange for someone to approach like this at night," I said as I resumed my seat on a large log serving as my makeshift bench.

Gandalf, ever the wise and understanding old man, returned a smile of apology. He urged his horse to come closer, and if I didn't know him, I might have found the movement suspicious. Shortly after, he dismounted, placing a hand on his back and stretching with a slight crack of his joints.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips, likely, riding his horse had tired him. I didn't blame him; I usually did the same after a long ride. It's not as though the old saddle made things any more comfortable.

"A wise choice to be cautious, young one. Even an old man can be dangerous at night, especially in a forest," he said, slowly walking toward the large log where I sat.

My attention was no longer on Gandalf but on the tender venison cooking over my fire. The flames flickered gently, and the evening breeze lacked the usual chill; instead, it was warm, as if embracing anyone who felt it with its affection.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Gandalf's slightly drooling face. 'Is he like this because of the meat?' I thought. I wouldn't blame him, this venison was special. It didn't need any spices to taste like a three-star Michelin meal.

"Would you like some?" I asked, focusing on turning the meat, which was almost cooked.

"I would gladly accept your invitation," Gandalf replied with his characteristic carefree smile, settling himself on the log.

Nodding, I turned and cut another piece of meat, skewering it and placing it over the fire.

Judging by Gandalf's look of anticipation, he was eagerly waiting for the meat. His face showed the same expression as those in the village who bought venison from me. It seemed this venison was indeed special, though I had never inquired further about it.

But my doubts would soon be answered by Gandalf, who, being the sociable person he was, broke the nighttime silence with a comment about the deer. "I didn't expect you to have hunted a Gwael Deer," he said, prompting me to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Gwael Deer?" I repeated, and it seemed my uncertainty was evident on my face because Gandalf chuckled softly, likely amused by my ignorance.

"Yes, the Gwael Deer. It moves as delicately as a summer breeze. Not even the best human archer could bring one down; they are incredibly fast, and it's rare to taste their delicious meat," Gandalf explained patiently, his eyes fixed on the meat now beginning to cook. "Without a doubt, you must be very skilled to have managed to hunt one…" He gestured with his eyes, a gesture I instantly understood.

"Aldril, forgive me for not introducing myself," I added, causing Gandalf to smile meaningfully as he brought one of his hands to his beard and gently stroked it.

"Aldril," he repeated, "a good name, its meaning is profound," he murmured.

I managed to hear him, but I didn't ask further since my meat was burning, and I had to act quickly before wasting such a fine piece of meat.

----

There wasn't much conversation between us. The meat was cooked a little after our brief exchange, and we both savored its delicious taste.

It was a dinner accompanied only by the silence of the night. Words weren't necessary, it would have been rude not to fully enjoy the meat.

Despite the silence, the atmosphere wasn't uncomfortable. The gentle wind embraced us with its warmth, and the campfire cast small shadows across our faces. Its warmth enveloped us, creating a quiet but comfortable environment.

That's how we men were, simple. Many words weren't needed to enjoy each other's company, especially considering that Gandalf exuded a calming presence.

Perhaps it was because he was a Maiar, assuming my friend's tale hadn't been mistaken.

These lesser spirits, followers of the Valar, were sent to Middle-earth to guide its inhabitants, the "Children of Eru," as he liked to say. Their guidance would help combat the darkness enveloping the free peoples of Middle-earth.

Little by little, the meat disappeared from the improvised skewers, and with it, our conversation resumed. Gandalf, curious, observed my attire. My special eyes, which allowed me to see clearly in the dark, caught Gandalf's subtle glance.

"Aldril," he said, catching my attention. "Are you a ranger, by any chance?" he asked, while wiping a bit of grease from his gray beard with his hand.

"Ranger?" I paused, bringing a hand to my chin in a thoughtful gesture. I wasn't a ranger; if anything, I was a wanderer. So, the most natural answer came to mind.

"More than a ranger, I consider myself an adventurer," I said. And it was true. I had planned to explore this land fully.

Even now, that goal had solidified, I wanted to discover everything Middle-earth had to offer. I had already lived a boring life as a sheep in society, and I was tired of it. On my journey, I took on tasks and fulfilled requests, so I could easily fit into the category of adventurer, right?

"Adventurer?" Gandalf repeated, testing the word as if it were something familiar from long ago. "Does that mean you're the person everyone in the nearby towns speaks of?" he asked, his expression cheerful.

"I suppose," I replied, shrugging. It wasn't as though there was anyone else helping with the villagers' tasks. Now that we had a topic to discuss, I seized the opportunity to ask, "By the way, Gandalf, where are we exactly?" I didn't know the map of Middle-earth by heart, after all.

"I suppose you're from a distant village," he muttered to himself, then looked up at the starry sky that stretched out in all its splendor. There was no doubt this was a magical world, with such natural beauty.

"This is the road to the Shire," he added after tearing his gaze away from the sky. My surprise must have been quite evident, as Gandalf chuckled amusedly.

"The Shire," I murmured, somewhat incredulous. I was near such an iconic place and hadn't realized it. If Gandalf hadn't appeared, I might have discovered I was in Middle-earth from the hobbits themselves.

"Yes, the Shire, a beautiful place to retire. The hobbits are quite friendly, and they produce excellent wine," he said, as though promoting the place. At that moment, imperceptible to me, a gleam filled with deep meaning reflected in Gandalf's eyes.

"You said you're an adventurer, didn't you?" he continued, fully capturing my attention. Something told me I should listen carefully. A small flame burned within me, waiting to be fanned.

Seeing he had my full attention, Gandalf didn't delay in speaking. "In that case, I have a task that might interest you," he said, pausing, waiting for my response.

"What task?" I asked eagerly, not disappointing him.

"Oh, it's something simple. It has to do with some grumpy dwarves."