At the foot of the mountain, Gandalf stared silently at the corpse of the snow troll.
"No, I do not recognize it. I have never seen one before, at least not in the past few thousand years. But I have read a few lines about them in some ancient texts. They dwell in the uninhabited snowfields of the far north and rarely cross the mountains. The peoples of Middle-earth almost never encounter them."
"That is strange," Garrett said, glancing from the troll's body to Gandalf.
"Some time ago, the sentries and Rangers at the frontier told me they had seen unusual creatures in the snow-covered peaks. One of them being this kind of troll, and another resembling a warg. According to one Ranger, they were 'pure white or pitch black, tall and gaunt as spectres, with ferocious visages.' They looked like wargs, but far more terrifying, and much more agile."
As Garrett described them, Gandalf's brow furrowed deeply.
"Truly? He witnessed them with his own eyes?"
Garrett nodded. "We did not find any of those creatures this time, those that are supposedly even fiercer than wargs, but I trust my people."
"It sounds as though you know something."
"Of course I do. I not only know of them, I am quite familiar with the tales. Werewolves."
The word fell from Gandalf's mouth, a name rarely spoken in this age.
A cold wind howled through the valley, sweeping up shards of snow like broken glass.
Several days later, inside Wayfort, Gandalf stood by a window, lighting his pipe.
"Like wargs, werewolves also descended from the ancient evil wolves. The evil wolves were first recorded in the Years of the Trees, long before the First Age. Later, they became allies, or rather, servants of Morgoth. Even Sauron once took the form of a great wolf while serving Morgoth. Morgoth bred two variants from the evil wolves. One was the warg, broad-backed and fit to serve as mounts. The other was the werewolf. Compared to wargs, werewolves are far more dangerous. Fell spirits were bound into their bodies, granting them higher intelligence, and greater malice."
Listening intently, Garrett asked curiously, "So what makes you look so troubled? Surely they cannot be dangerous enough to bring down every Free People in Middle-earth overnight?"
"No, not quite," Gandalf replied. "Though they are indeed more cunning and nimble than wargs, even ten thousand of them could not breach the Great Wall of the North."
"I am simply puzzled. Werewolves have not been seen for thousands of years. I believed they had gone extinct."
"That is the Northern Waste for you, mysterious as ever," Garrett said half-jokingly, not thinking much of it.
"This is not a good sign," Gandalf said, turning to face him. "From that snow troll you slew, I sensed an ancient evil, familiar to me. It did not feel like a 'snow troll' born of the frozen plains. More like a creature dragged forth from some icy tomb. You may not sense that chill, but I do, keenly."
"Are you not being overly cautious?" Garrett asked, somewhat perplexed.
"Fine then, as you say. I'll have the frontier watchtowers keep a closer eye on things, and strengthen border defenses while we're at it."
"That would be best," Gandalf nodded approvingly.
After a brief silence, he added quietly,
"If my suspicions are correct, the North may soon face mounting pressure. If anything happens, be certain to inform me. If there is any way I can help, do not hesitate to call. I shall face it with you."
"All right, I'll remember," Garrett replied readily.
"I shall take that as you actually listening," Gandalf sighed softly.
Not long after, he departed Wayfort, heading straight for the Shire.
In recent years, he had visited the Shire many times. On one hand, it was to fulfill Bilbo's request, to look after Frodo whenever he had the chance, and to visit him occasionally. On the other hand, it was also to quietly observe Frodo, to see if there was anything unusual about him.
Fortunately, Frodo truly carried the spirit of the Baggins family, or rather, he was very much like Bilbo. Just like Bilbo, after receiving the Ring, Frodo paid little attention to the small trinket. In fact, he did not even bother to open the envelope. It was simply tossed into a corner of a cabinet, untouched for years.
As the clutter in the cabinet grew, the Ring was gradually buried beneath everything else, becoming a forgotten item at the very bottom of the pile.
Clearly, compared to the inheritance and keepsakes left by Bilbo, Frodo was far more interested in going on little adventures with his friends Merry and Pippin, or sometimes wandering off on his own to enjoy the quiet beauty of the countryside.
Seeing Frodo safe and content, Gandalf finally felt at ease.
"This is good, yes, this is good," he murmured to himself.
"To live one's life in such peace and harmony, that is the best fate."
For a Hobbit who loved peace and simplicity, that was more than sufficient. And for most folk, such a life could well be called perfect.
Year 3005, Dale.
Garrett sat indoors, watching Bain.
"I heard from Brand that you have not been faring too well lately. Are you unwell?"
"Do not worry," Bain replied, patting his chest. "As you can see, I am healthy. At most, I have just been having trouble sleeping lately. Not much rest. Sometimes, when I stand up after sitting for a long while, I grow a bit dizzy."
"That is normal. Many people experience that, even the young and strong," Garrett said. "Just make certain to rest more."
He did not know what else to say, so that was all he could advise.
But insomnia?
"Is there something weighing on your mind?" he asked gently.
"Not really," Bain said, shaking his head. "It is just that, when you grow older, you begin thinking about the past. I have been remembering my father, and my childhood. We were very poor back then, often working all sorts of jobs just to have enough to eat. Of course, it was not that our life was unbearably hard, nor that my father was lazy. The main problem was that the town's Master at the time held a grudge against our family, constantly making trouble for us, cutting off nearly every way we had to earn a living."
"He feared your family," Garrett said simply, summing up the Master's behavior.
Bain chuckled and continued:
"Yes, just as you said. As a child, I was afraid of them. Every time my father encountered them, he would take another route, and I thought he was afraid too. But when I grew up, I realized it was they who feared my father. The world is strange that way. Those who seem powerful are often filled with fear and unease toward those who appear weak."
Both men smiled at the memory.
Indeed, the world was like that, full of helplessness, and often, absurdity.
As their conversation came to an end, Garrett said, "For now, set aside the heavier responsibilities. Focus on living well and taking care of yourself. Thus far, you have done wonderfully. The prosperity here speaks for itself. Your father would be proud of you. And I am proud of you as well."