b2mem | Roots and Beginnings part 2, by Kaylee Arafinwiel (Reply)

B2MeM Prompt: March 2 art
Format: ficlet
Genre: gen,
Rating: PG-13
Warnings:
Characters: Mithrandir (Gandalf, Olorin), OCs
Pairings: OMC/OMC, Fionwe/Olorin (implied, nothing really shown)
Creator’s Notes (optional): This follows on from "Roots and Beginnings". I'm not sure the scene in the art really inspired much except the general mood of this piece - the SWG generator was responsible for much more, lol.
Summary: When Gandalf returns to Imladris following the downfall of Sauron, he meets Teron again, and the jewelsmith is rather taken aback by the changes in the wizard.

"When I think back, the memory is scented like fresh-picked apples..."

Teron turned his gaze to Mithrandir, returned to Imladris after sojourning long in the Wild. Garbed in white, not grey, as had been his wont for so long - but then white was a colour of purity, of joy. "The memory, Mithrandir?" he asked, leaning back against the tree trunk that shaded their shared bench.

"Forgive an old wizard, Teron." Mithrandir gave the elf a wry smile and puffed a smoke ring, making Teron sneeze. "I suppose as I draw nearer my journey's end, I think back to its beginning."

Teron fidgeted slightly. He saw the White Wizard's eyes go distant with memory. "Will you tell me...my lord?"

"Ah, well..." Mithrandir collected himself. "Elrond knows who and what I am, my young friend. But as for you...well, perhaps now that my power has been unveiled, what say you?"

"One of...of the Powers," Teron ventured hesitantly. "Though it is hard to believe, Mithrandir, I can see no other way."

"I had nearly forgotten that myself," Mithrandir admitted, nodding in agreement. "No Bala am I, but one of their servants, and not the most powerful, though certainly not the least. My name is Olorin, or it was when I first Emerged among my fellow Ainur, awakened to Existence. It is something one so young as yourself cannot imagine, my friend."

Teron supposed not. He considered himself no longer young by most counts - certainly not by any Mortal count, as he had fought at Elrond's side in the War of the Last Alliance. How young he had been then! Now, however... "You were one of those who Sang Ea into existence," he said, trying to reconcile that image with the one of the elderly wizard seated beside him.

"I was, and it was then that I came to truly know Fionwe, lieutenant of Eonwe."

Eonwe! That name was known even to Teron. "The Captain of the Host of the West."

"Indeed, though that came much later. Fionwe marched with him then, also. But when we first met, we had no physical form. Our natural essence was all we required." Mithrandir paused. "When my kind walk unseen, we may be discerned by scent. I came to know Fionwe's well. Even now, when I taste an apple, I think of him."

"You were...brothers? Friends?" Teron was surprised at his temerity, given what Mithrandir had become, and only his long friendship, he supposed, excused it. "Or..." He looked up, relief washing over him as Brûn appeared.

The stablemaster hooked an arm around Teron's neck, pulling him closer. "Do not," Brûn warned in a low growl. "You have importuned Mithrandir long enough."

Meekly, Teron rose. "Forgive me, Mithrandir," he whispered. "You must miss him."

"I do," Mithrandir agreed. "Soon now, though, we shall be reunited. Still, there are other partings I must endure."

As the light of Anor brightened in the east, the three stood together, Wizard and Elves, and Teron leaned into Brûn's strong embrace, feeling safe. Overhead, a hawk circled, crying out, and Mithrandir looked up with a smile. "I have not heard such a welcome sound since I fell to the Balrog of Khazad-dum."

"That is not a tale we were told, my lord," Brûn said, stilling.

"Then I shall tell it. There would not happen to be any decent wine, would there?"