At the edge of the old forest, Lann and Gandalf first watched Bilbo leading a little pony, heading towards the lush and peaceful Shire.
Next, the two of them were also going to part ways.
"I really wish you could come with me to the Holy White Council again."
Gandalf, leaning on his magic staff, said regretfully to Lann.
"Last time, having you there to shut Saruman's mouth made things a lot easier for me."
"He is strong and focused, and I have no complaints about him chairing the meeting. It's just that he always targets me, making me very passive at every council."
The old wizard was leading his cow-colored horse while hanging the drooping silver scarf around his neck.
Under the lush white beard, a mouth kept mumbling.
"That's your trouble, Gandalf," Lann said lightly. "I have my own things to do as well."
"Tom Bombadil?"
Walking at the edge of the old forest, Gandalf looked into the forest and uttered a name.
"You're going to find him?"
