The Last Homely House

Have you ever felt the urge for the earth to swallow you whole in order to escape an awkward, terrifying conversation that you didn't want to participate in? Well, that's exactly how I felt at that moment. I was looking at all the shocked people in front of me, wishing I could escape the courtyard. I don't know why, but I suddenly found it more appealing to run away to the Lonely Mountain all by my lonesome self – pun not intended – and yell right at Smaug's fire-spewing reptile face before attempting to resolve this mess I found myself in.

Yes, I suppose I was somewhat of a coward. I had hoped I would have the entire conversation planned out, having thought it all through during the journey here. However, I was just as clueless about what to do as I was when I first started living with Bilbo. Nevertheless, I had to say something, because Glorfindel seemed like he wanted to interrogate me extensively, and I didn't have the nerve to keep him waiting any longer.

"I know I said this would be temporary, but…well. Here I am?" My statement ended up sounding more like a question, and neither Elrond nor Glorfindel appeared reassured by it. Instead, they both seemed even more bewildered by my presence than before. Which. Fair.

I wasn't reassured either. Seriously, Mairon? What the hell was that? I was supposed to be an ancient being with all the wisdom that a Maia like myself should possess, and I should have been throwing around witty words to boot! Surely I could do better than that! Where was the silver tongue that the Maia of Fire was supposed to be renowned for?

Unfortunately, Gandalf didn't appear to be of much help whatsoever at the moment. He had a glazed look in his eyes that would have concerned me if I hadn't noticed the pipe resting between his fingers. Well. I couldn't really blame him for wanting an easy way out of this situation, or rather, wanting to avoid it altogether. However, did he really have to inhale what seemed to be his entire supply of pipeweed in one go? I was almost offended by his desire to instantly nope the hell out of this conversation. In truth, I found myself envious of his ability to do so.

Anyway, there was no use dwelling on Gandalf's evident shock at my appearance. I had a more pressing matter to attend to – explaining myself to the Lord of Rivendell and his captain of the guard, as well as to the dwarves, who still seemed perplexed and didn't appear ready to speak anytime soon.

My gaze shifted between Elrond and Glorfindel, both of them looking at me expectantly, likely waiting for a more substantial explanation than my awkward initial statement. I opened my mouth and then closed it again.

Yeah, nope.

Honestly, I couldn't figure out what to say in front of so many people. The dwarves and elves observing all this needed to leave. So, there was only one thing I could do at the moment.

"I will wait until you are finished," I told Elrond and Glorfindel in Sindarin, and before they could respond or intervene, I swiftly ascended the stairs, passing by the two elven guards who shamelessly gawked at my departure, and made my way to the elegant pavilion where the White Council convened in the movies. It was the perfect location for a private conversation; elevated, distinct from other structures and communal areas, and undeniably impressive.

The architectural style the elves used was absolutely amazing. It would have taken me hours to find this place if it hadn't been for its location, to be honest, but given its elevation within Rivendell's layout, I found it relatively quickly. Also, there were not many elves around, and the few I encountered I was able to avoid.

The pavilion looked just like in the movie. With a circular layout and arches that gracefully curved and met at the zenith, it formed a dome-like structure that remained open to the surrounding landscape. The lighting of this place was fucking spectacular too. Holy shit, now I got why Bilbo wanted to stay here.

After looking around for a bit, my gaze fell on the small round table that stood on the center of the structure, which prompted a grin to spread across my face. It kind of felt reminiscent of a scaled-down version of King Arthur's round table, though presently devoid of any seats. This was likely due to the fact that the White Council hadn't yet convened. When were they expected, anyway? Elrond still had to send the invitations or whatever means he used to gather them, so it would probably require several days at minimum.

Had the dwarves truly stayed so much time in Rivendell? I couldn't really see Thorin and the more elf-hating dwarves staying here for longer than a mere day. But Elrond would need at least a week of time to notify Galadriel and Saruman of the situation and wait for them to arrive, if not more.

With a sigh, I walked up the few steps that led to the stone balcony where Galadriel stood during the meeting and simply looked at the Sun in the distance. I would probably watch the sunset from here today. I had a feeling it would be much more breathtaking seeing it from Rivendell than anywhere else.

A small brown thrush twitted nearby, and I smiled, holding out my hand for the tiny bird to land upon. Its delicate, little talons gripped two of my fingers, and the bird tilted its head, humming a soft melody. I softly released my hold on my aura, and I smiled at the bird's surprised twit when my skin and hair began to emit a soft golden glow.

I didn't find the need to hide it any longer, although I did regulate it until it appeared more pleasant to the eye. I certainly didn't want to blind anyone. I managed to moderate it to a point where the golden aura hovered just slightly above my form instead of radiating brilliance like a freaking lighthouse.

The thrush pecked my hand before taking flight with a final twitter and a graceful arc, and I let my thoughts wonder while I waited for the inevitable confrontation that I had managed to push away for at least some time.

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It felt like hours had passed until I finally heard someone going up the stairs with a slow gait, and it was about time too. It was nearly sunset, for goodness' sake! I looked at the slanting rays of the setting sun, casting a warm orange hue across the sky – it was almost as if the Sun had set it ablaze – and I grinned brightly. My red hair probably blended perfectly with the colors on the horizon.

"Mairon?" Glorfindel's voice emerged from behind, giving me a slight sense of déjà vu, and I turned slightly to offer him a smile. "I was beginning to wonder if you would find me at all," I commented. Strangely enough, watching the sunset had completely erased my previous nervousness. Was it a mere coincidence, or was it another connection I now seemed to have with nature?

The golden-haired elf was accompanied by Elrond and Gandalf, the latter no longer looking as…ahem, absent-minded as before. Instead, all three of them were focused entirely on me. While Elrond and Glorfindel seemed awed by merely seeing my inner light shine through, Gandalf appeared a bit weary, although if he had been truly nervous I was sure he would have already said something. Or thrown something at me. Like his staff. My grandmother and Gandalf would have hit it off like a house on fire, that was for sure.

Gandalf huffed. "Is there a particular reason why we could not have this conversation in the courtyard?" He inquired pointedly, and I almost flushed in embarrassment when I recalled my hasty retreat.

"There were too many eyes on me," I settled on saying, dodging Gandalf's incredulous gaze and realizing that my answer sounded like something an embarrassed child would say in a situation such as this one.

"You wished to know why I was here once more, did you not?" I asked, addressing no one in particular, although I knew all three wanted to hear my explanation.

"It is this 'once more' that baffles me," Gandalf grumbled, leaning on his staff – though it was clear he didn't require it for support. It was probably a failed attempt to look completely at ease – "you should not be here. In fact, you should not be at all. Sauron was defeated during the War of the Last Alliance. His ring, your ring, was meant to be destroyed as well, so how is it that you are here before us now?"

I blinked, wondering how it was possible for a Maia to be so uninformed about me. Had Elrond, or anyone for that matter, not apprised the Order of the Istari of the occurrences of that fateful day?

Elrond must have seen my slightly shocked look at Gandalf's lack of knowledge, as he intervened. "I fear we only revealed the truth of that day to Saruman," the elf-lord's visage tensed slightly – what was likely the elven equivalent of chagrin, I presumed – at Gandalf's evident surprise. He continued, "You are familiar with the destruction of the Ring in Mount Doom, Mithrandir, but we never told you who was the one responsible for it. During the battle, when Isildur clashed with Sauron, the Enemy refused to fight us any longer, and instead, Sauron himself entered the mountain and willingly cast his Ring into the fire."

Gandalf's unbelieving face stared back at Elrond, and he kept on throwing looks at Glorfindel, as if he wanted to verify the story, only to look even more shocked when the golden-haired elf simply nodded with a hint of amusement.

"It appeared that Sauron met his end then," Elrond said, "and I, having followed him into Mount Doom, believed I too would perish. The fire nearly consumed me, in fact. Yet suddenly, just as Sauron had seemingly changed allegiances, a figure materialized before me. They carried me outside with an unbelievable speed and agility, securing my safety, and brought me to the others. Mairon saved my life that day, and it was that same day that he disappeared, and we never saw him again – until now."

"B-but why on Arda would you cast your ring into the fire?" Gandalf spluttered incoherently, "I cannot fathom it. You are Mairon, are you not? Should you not have rather kept your own ring?"

Recalling that wretched piece of creation caused my nose to wrinkle in distaste. "Why would I desire to keep that abomination of a jewel? It would merely have exacerbated your troubles, and I always found it to be rather…repugnant."

Glorfindel chuckled brightly. "I distinctly recall you expressing your disinterest in jewelry! I will never forget those words!"

While Gandalf struggled to make sense of that revelation, I thought of a question I had prepared for the wizard since the moment I saw he and the other Istari were here. "The question we should be asking is why you are here, Olórin," I pointed out, and I carried on, completely ignoring how Gandalf choked on his spit after hearing his real name spoken aloud that brazenly, "Sauron is gone, so why did the Valar send you and the others to Arda at all? Was your presence genuinely necessary, truly?"

"Mithrandir and the other Istari were sent here to help us combat against Sauron's forces," Glorfindel explained, offering a sympathetic pat to Gandalf's back as he continued coughing from his previous bout. "Although the Enemy is defeated, remnants of a dark power lurk in Arda, hidden away since news of Sauron's downfall spread all over the land. We, along with the dwarves and Men, have been trying to banish all evil since then. The Order of the Istari has been invaluable in our efforts and remains so."

I hummed thoughtfully. "I see," I replied, though I did not, in fact, see at all. Sure, magic would benefit them greatly whenever they fought their enemies, but I still didn't find it necessary for the Valar to send five Maiar to a place where the most significant danger was long gone. There had to be more to this story. After all, Radagast had still claimed that a Necromancer loomed in Dol Guldur, plotting who knew what. Perhaps the Valar, following the will of Ilúvatar, suspected that the battle was not as over as most people thought, and so they had sent the Maiar in secret to investigate under the guise of helping the people of Middle-Earth against Sauron's allies.

"The Valar did not send you, however. That much I know," Gandalf grumbled, finally recovering from his shock. His expression conveyed a clear yearning for a smoke to ease his exasperation. "You are supposed to be gone. How is this possible?"

I sighed and rested my hand on one of the pillars upholding the dome above us as I organized my thoughts. "I am not the same Mairon you may have known, Olórin. Were I, I would recall the Song, Valinor's white shores, Laurelin and Telperion, the Valar and the other Maiar, my apprenticeship under Aulë, my encounters with Elves and Men…and everything that came after. I do not. I do not…remember any of that. I do not possess those memories. I am acquainted with them solely because I have gleamed them from a book. But that is all they were – a story."

Elrond furrowed his brow. "A story?" He inquired, voicing the question that the three of them appeared eager to ask.

"Yes," I nodded, "It was story, a tale that someone wrote about this world which Eru created and gave form through the Song. That is why I had so much knowledge during my initial arrival here, not because I remembered my past as Mairon."

"That is why you said you enjoyed reading stories back then!" Gandalf suddenly exclaimed fervently, "you knew about Alatar and Pallando because you read about them!"

I coughed slightly, feeling embarrassed that he had remembered that detail. "Yes. That is precisely right."

"You speak of Arda as if you are not from it," Glorfindel observed while Gandalf grumbled under his breath, "yet you are not from Valinor, as you stated. So, where were you before?"

"Another world entirely, one that is not Eä," I stated, and carried on as they fixed their combined incredulous gazes on me, "though there must have been a connection between that world and this one for me to be here as I am. Otherwise, I cannot fathom why I would be Mairon. Honestly, I still do not…"

"So, you are telling us you are from another world?" Glorfindel asked, appearing thoroughly taken aback. "Forgive me if I find that incredibly hard to believe…" he trailed off.

"I could not believe it myself at first," I admitted, "But just as I fell asleep on my world, I suddenly found myself inside Sauron's mind. I do not know how it happened," I quickly said when I noticed Gandalf looked about to ask me how that was possible, "In fact, at first I thought it to be a dream. But it did happen, so being aware of the Ring's malice I decided to destroy it. But instead of waking, I found myself…like this," I gestured helplessly at my own form, "and the rest is history."

"Then after that, you must have returned to your world if such a thing is possible," Elrond surmised, "but how did you find your way back to Middle-Earth? Are you mayhap experiencing another dream?"

"I am not," I stated, "This time, I found myself in Hobbiton by going through a magical wardrobe."

I inwardly winced after hearing how ludicrous that statement sounded spoken aloud. There's no way they'd believe that. The whole dreaming thing was already on thin ice, and now I was supposed to make them accept that a wardrobe had brought me here, of all things? Come on! They'd never actually believe that, would they?

Gandalf's eyebrows shot upward in mild disbelief, Elrond seemed deep in contemplation while maintaining his composed demeanor, and Glorfindel beamed with enthusiasm, akin to a child brimming with excitement. "A magical wardrobe! Truly? I have never encountered such magic before! Have you, Mithrandir, my friend?"

"No, I cannot say that I have," Gandalf sighed, "but then again, I am not all-knowing. If Mairon's presence here truly aligns with Ilúvatar's will, then I suppose anything is possible. Still, why a wardrobe? I could understand a tree or even a cave, but a wardrobe?"

I mused, "I believe it might have been crafted from enchanted wood that still retained some of its magic properties, and that is what let me cross it to arrive here."

We all stayed silent for a few moments after that, and then Glorfindel asked, "You do not remember anything at all? But you do recall our encounter; otherwise, you would not have recognized us."

"Yes," I nodded, "my first memory of this world is the Battle of the Last Alliance. But while I seem to have retained Mairon's muscle memory, I do not possess his memories. Therefore, I do not consider myself the same Mairon who was given form by Ilúvatar for the first time."

"That would make you less than three thousand years old," Elrond observed, his surprise evident, "almost the same age as my sons, even!"

I couldn't hide my wince at this. "Not quite," I chuckled weakly, "Time in my world does not really work like it does here…"

Glorfindel hummed thoughtfully. "I see. Does it go faster, then?"

"No, it moves slower."

Elron's eyebrows shot upwards. "Surely not. Are you younger than three thousand, then? Mayhap even younger than my daughter, Arwen?"

"A thousand?" Glorfindel ventured hesitantly, although he looked pained, as if he considered someone who was a thousand years old young. Then again, Glorfindel was ancient compared to other elves, so he probably did consider someone of that age young.

"I doubt he is as young as that, Glorfindel," Gandalf interjected, though he promptly fell silent at my guilty wince, "Oh dear."

The golden-haired elf looked as if he wanted to start praying to the Valar to give him strength. "Five hundred?" He asked weakly at my bashful gaze. "Two hundred?!" He exclaimed in his desperation to find out the answer.

I took pity on the poor elf and answered him already. "Nineteen," I said, smiling nervously, and I suddenly found myself the target of three absolutely shocked gazes. Gandalf huffed and started shuffling through his robes, no doubt looking for his loyal pipe, even if he didn't have any pipeweed left, while Elrond and Glorfindel seemed to want to envelop me with warm, soft blankets, hand me a cup of warm milk, yell furiously, and cry in despair, not necessarily in that order.

"Nineteen?! But you…you are practically a babe!" Glorfindel all but shrieked.

"An infant among the Eldar!" Elrond agreed, his usually composed demeanor slipping slightly.

I shifted uncomfortably under their shocked exclamations about my age. Was it really that big of a deal? It's not like I matured like the elves, who were still like children at my age. Instead, I had lived as a human did, so I was already an adult in the eyes of the law. And I liked to think I was mature enough too.

Gandalf finally located his pipe, though it was of course, empty, and he sighed in a way that suggested he needed a smoke to cope with this new reveal.

Glorfindel's hands fluttered around, as if he didn't quite know how to deal with the situation. "I have robes older than you," he finally muttered incredulously, earning a chuckle from Gandalf.

Elrond's gaze noticeably softened as he looked at me, and it made me remember that the elf had, in fact, children, "Well, regardless of age, you certainly have an intriguing journey ahead, Mairon. Your arrival here could herald unforeseen changes. Let us hope they are changes for the better."

"Well, I already got rid of that horrible ring, so I certainly hope so," I muttered, and I let out a startled squawk when Glorfindel suddenly all but jumped into my personal space and started dragging – I mean, leading me down the stairs towards where I guessed was the room where we would be eating.

"What the – Goldilocks! I can walk perfectly well on my own!"

"Yes, of course, Mairon. I am simply making sure you have a comfortable rest during your stay here, and I want you to know that there will be no problem should you choose to stay longer. In fact, you are welcome to stay for as much time as you need."

Gandalf chuckled at our retreating backs, the bastard, and while I protested Glorfindel's hovering – albeit not as much as I should have, and we all knew it – I felt like a huge weight had finally been lifted from my shoulders. I hadn't told them everything, not by a long shot, but for now, that was enough.

Now, if only I could skip time to the point where I had already spoken to the dwarves and I could finally taste the heavenly food elves cooked without worrying about having more conversations, that would be awesome. 

Regrettably, time manipulation wasn't one of Mairon's abilities.

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Thankfully, talking to the dwarves was a relatively easier task compared to the previous conversation. As we made our way to the dining hall, we decided to simplify matters by telling the dwarves that I was also a wizard – the same explanation I had given to Bilbo – rather than delving into the complex topics of angels, divine beings, and such. Explaining that would have been more time-consuming and less believable than stating that I could perform magic.

Thorin and the others didn't seem to care in the slightest, actually. Sure, they were glad to have an additional source of magical aid for their mission, but that was pretty much it. I had a feeling that as long as I wasn't an elf Thorin could care less about what or who I was.

I found it absolutely hilarious that the elves did eat meat and the only reason they hadn't given the dwarves meat in the movies was absolute pettiness in its purest form.

The dining hall was as pretty as every other room I had seen in Rivendell until now. It was a big wide space, open to the surrounding landscape like the rest of the buildings here. Numerous tables of varying shapes filled the hall. At one end, there was a raised dais that resembled a balcony, where I could see a round table that I guessed to be the one Elrond and his family usually ate at, along with any esteemed guests.

While the dwarves settled at one of the long, rectangular tables, Glorfindel nudged me towards the round one. Bilbo, who had followed after me as soon as he saw me, laughed quietly at my panicked expression. His amusement grew as he noticed the twin sons of Elrond already seated there.

"Elladan, is that who I think it is, or are my eyes deceiving me?" one of the twins asked the other as I took a seat before them.

"I believe it is him, Elrohir. Our sister will surely be disappointed to have missed this opportunity, brother!" Elladan replied, equally shocked.

As they stood up and simultaneously bowed their heads, the twins exclaimed in Sindarin, "A star shines on the hour of our meeting, Lord Mairon!"

"And may it shine brighter until the end of days," is what escaped my lips all on its own, and the twins exchanged a look, pleasantly surprised by my response.

I blinked back at them, bewildered, as I wondered where those words had come from. Don't tell me ancient pleasantries also counted as muscle memory?!

"There is no need to address me as 'Lord'," I chuckled nervously. "Please, call me Mairon."

"Oh, we could not possibly!" Elladan protested, almost scandalized, and Elrohir nodded in agreement. "Someone of your stature deserves proper respect, Lord Mairon!"

"Indeed, Lord Mairon," Glorfindel, seated to my right, seemed to be having fun at my expense. He struggled to maintain a solemn expression as he teased, "Someone of your stature—" he began before breaking into a childlike snicker. He only needed to pound his fist against the table to complete the whole image.

And that's the scene Elrond and Gandalf found when they finally joined us at the table: Elladan and Elrohir looking puzzled as to why the usually dignified golden-haired elf was giggling under his breath, Bilbo laughing heartily at my mock annoyance, while the surrounding elves – some of them who had previously been playing instruments – seemed conflicted as to whether they should look on in complete bafflement or throw me amazed glances when they thought I wasn't looking.

"Go ahead, laugh it up," I huffed at Glorfindel, who continued chuckling at my expense.

"Dare I ask?" Gandalf queried, a hint of exasperation in his tone as he sat beside Bilbo. Elrond took the seat between his sons, and Thorin, having approached at the sight of the elf lord's arrival, occupied the other seat beside Gandalf.

"Goldilocks is just being a child," I grumbled, smiling briefly at one of the maiden elves who was serving us drinks. She smiled back at me with a small blush before retreating towards some other elven maidens who practically pounced on her and started talking between small giggles.

I looked heavenwards and proceeded to ignore that whole interaction, although by the sly look Bilbo threw me, I knew I wouldn't be able to escape his teasing for long. Damn Mairon and his infuriating attractiveness that I had now inherited!

"Not a word," I muttered to Glorfindel, who had been about to open his mouth. He chuckled but thankfully let it go, and I focused on the conversation that had started between Elrond, Gandalf and Thorin.

Gandalf had shown Elrond the swords Bilbo and I had found in the troll caves. Now, the Lord of Rivendell examined them with undisguised awe. "This is Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver. A famous blade forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well," he said to Thorin as he handed him the sword back. He then inspected Gandalf's sword, "And this is Glamdring, the Foehammer. Sword of the King of Gondolin. These were made for the Goblin Wars of the First Age."

Glorfindel subtly flinched at the names, and Elrond, instantly catching his reaction, offered him an apologetic look. Poor guy. I recalled that Orcrist had once belonged to Echtelion of the Fountain, likely a close friend of Glorfindel's. Being reminded of all that had happened in the Fall of Gondolin must have been painful.

Bilbo gazed forlornly at his sword, and I smiled reassuringly at him. "Though your sword may not have seen battle yet, the day will come when it does. And it will be then that you will find the perfect name for it."

"But what should I name it?" Bilbo pondered.

"The right name will come to you, Bilbo, when the time is right. Now, more meat?"

Bilbo glanced at me, then at the plate of meat, and shrugged, "Why not."

It was one of my eternal philosophies. Food was the answer to nearly every problem in life. I handed Bilbo the plate and pushed another one full of sweet cakes and treats towards Glorfindel – totally inconspicuously, may I add – who had been in a somber mood ever since Elrond's discussion about the swords.

The elf lord stared at the cakes in complete bewilderment, and I gave him what I hoped to be an encouraging wink. And while I may have looked completely ridiculous, a faint smile still appeared in the corner of Glorfindel's lips.

Victory, I mused while munching on a cupcake, had never tasted so sweet.