gandalf the time wizard

It amuses me that the Istari were specifically handpicked by the Valar to go to Middle Earth and defend it against Sauron.  They were essentially the Wizard Avengers.  They had one job to do.

But ffs two of them just wander off for no reason; they just disappear and no one knows where they went or what happened to them.

Radagast just sits around in his forests, only chipping in when Gandalf asks him for help.

Saruman turns on everyone and becomes Sauron’s lackey.

So what I’m saying is, Gandalf is that one guy in the group project that does all the work because everyone is either absent, lazy, or picking fights with the rest of the group.  So yeah I don’t blame Gandalf for being so goddamn grumpy all the time.

Three Knocks on Bilbo’s Door

The Hobbit One Shot, Bilbo/Thorin


For #anunexpectedanniversary I wrote this at 10.20 last night on the back of my study cards so it may be a little unstructured! 

The first knock comes as Bilbo Baggins is making a cup of tea. It is quarter past eleven and any respectable hobbit would be well into elevenses by now. But not Bilbo. He has not taken elevenses since his unexpected return a little over a year ago.

The knock is sharp, purposeful, and Bilbo knows who it is before he is even out of his seat.

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins is as frustrating and flamboyant as ever, bursting into the cosy hobbit hole with flair. She wears a garish yellow and large, ugly hat. Bilbo sighs.

“Hello Lobelia,” he begins as cordially as he can. “What can I do for you toda-”

“There are dwarves in town!” she interrupts. “Dwarves! Again! Bilbo, if these intruders have anything to do with you, I command you to remove them! I will not have those monsters messing up my peonies again!”

Bilbo’s heart drops, partly from fear, partly from excitement. He has missed his dwarvish friends, yes, and he greatly hopes it is Balin or Ori bringing news from Erebor. But also…he cannot face them just yet. It is too soon.

After a good ten minute rant on ill treatment to her ‘poor petunias’, Bilbo loses it with Lobelia, and they spiral into a passionate argument about the so called ‘unruly and disgusting manners of dwarves’. An insulted Lobelia leaves, taking at least one lace doily and a china dog with her. Bilbo doesn’t mind, however, too caught up in his thoughts to care.

The second knock comes as Bilbo settles down with a good book. At first he thinks he has imagined the sound, but then it comes again, a ‘rat-a-tat-tat’ on the window pane. Angrily, he storms to the door, almost afraid it might be one of his old friends. But it is far worse.

“Bilbo Baggins, my old friend!”

“No! None today thank you! I will have no more adventures! Whatever it is, you will not rope me in this time!”

He slams the door shut, just like he should have done the last time the wizard came to his door.

Gandalf the Grey taps the window with his staff mouthing something through the glass, but Bilbo ignores him. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure, oh yes, an adventure. I will never forgive you for your adventure, good sir.

“Be off with you! I need no more daring escapades, no more hairy situations and NO MORE HEARTBREAK!”

The meddlesome wizard does not press further, and Bilbo is left alone with his thoughts once again.

It is dark when he hears the third knock. The weather has worsened considerably, it’s now rainy and windy, stormy conditions for the Shire. It reminds Bilbo of the Storm Giants in the mountains and their terrible battle. He remembers a pair of warm, rough hands holding him tight, keeping him safe…

He is awake, staring blankly at the patterned drapes around his small warm bed, and when the knock comes it startles him. He rolls out of the quilt and shrugs on his patchwork dressing gown, shivering as he slides into his slippers. The little hobbit makes his way to the round door, ready to unleash a tirade of fury upon whoever it is this time. But when he opens the door he forgets everything.

A gust of wind blows raindrops onto his nice clean doormat, dampening the carpet. Bilbo doesn’t care.

“But…but you were dead.”

“No. Not quite.”

Thorin Oakenshield stands in the doorway, his majestic profile framed by the turbulent skies. He smiles softly, his blue eyes warm as he gazes at the hobbit. At his hobbit.

“I came back for you.”

At one point, the Beatles were very taken with the idea of sponsoring and starring in a film adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings—their favourite book at the time. (They even picked roles for themselves: Paul was to have played the hobbit hero, Frodo Baggins; Ringo his faithful retainer, Sam; John the slimy and accursed Gollum; and George, the wise wizard Gandalf.) John—whose favourite movie at the time was 2001: A Space Odyssey—went so far as to meet with Stanley Kubrick to interest him in the possibility of directing the Tolkien film. The interview, however, went poorly, and John came away wondering aloud how the man who’d directed 2001 could be so “nowhere”.

In any event, the whole project finally collapsed when Apple approached Tolkien’s agent. We were told, to everyone’s enormous disappointment, that the film rights—which had gone unsold since The Lord of the Rings’ mid–1950s publication—had been snapped up barely twenty-four hours earlier by United Artists.

—  Pete Shotton, John Lennon: In My Life. (1983)

squire-reblogs  asked:

Hi, you're taking prompts? I hope my wonť be too angsty for you. I keep imagining what would happen if Thorin in an Nobody Dies AU found Bilbo's ring. In his clothes, whatever. And Bilbo found him holding it in hand and going absolutely monstrous the way he does in LOTR. And Thorin horrified/ashamed because he would see how he must have looked in the ramparts scene to Bilbo. I wish my English was my first language but I keep hoping someone (you, pleeease) would write this... thanks!

I really wanted this to be my thousandth post on this blog so I waited a little bit, I hope you don’t mind. It’s just I really wanted my 1k post to be something special and I really loved this prompt.

Thorin thought they would be happy. He had envisioned this scene countless times, him and Bilbo side by side in Erebor. He thought they’re life would be late nights coming out of the Mountain to look at stars, early morning kisses, and afternoon gardening. They had those things but there was a heaviness in the air to it all. Thorin could feel it with every breath he took. It was in the quiet moments that the silence between them seemed to be the loudest, pressing its way between them and making its presence known.

He thought that Bilbo had forgiven him, but perhaps there were still remnants of before the battle that lingered between them. Thorin tried his best to redeem himself, spending his free time attending to Bilbo. Thorin even had a royal garden made at the base of the mountain for Bilbo, gave him beads of silver and gold, robes in royal blue. At night he would whisper to him. You are more precious to me than all this kingdom, I would do whatever you ask of me. Bilbo would always just smile and kiss Thorin’s lips but never once did he ask for anything.

Thorin could see the weariness in Bilbo’s eyes, the shadow lurking over him. It was in the way he stood when he thought he was alone, as if there was a rock on his back pressing him into the ground. It was in those moments that Thorin would see Bilbo’s hand slide into his pocket, his small fingers touching something in there.

It happened one day during a council meeting, Bilbo to the right of Thorin. They were discussing expanding patrols further out, almost to the borders of the Mirkwood when he saw Bilbo slip his hand into his waistcoat. Thorin kept his gaze on Bilbo whom he realized was no longer mentally in the room. His eyes were far off, body void of any moment save for small breaths. Thorin looked away then, ready to hurry the meeting along.

They parted after that Bilbo saying that he needed to lie down. Thorin didn’t argue nor protest but let Bilbo go on his way.

“Bilbo is keeping something from me.” Thorin ran his fingers along the spine of a book as he tried not to show how much the words he spoke bothered him.

“What do you mean?” Balin looked up from the text he was reading.

“He’s been different, quiet. There is a shadow hanging over him, I can sense it every time he walks into a room. There is a darkness that is clinging to him.” Thorin could feel frustration building in him now that he was speaking the words out loud. He wanted nothing more than for Bilbo to be happy but all his efforts didn’t seem to make a difference. Whatever this darkness was Thorin wanted to make sure it never made its presence known amongst them.

“He’s been through a lot Thorin, perhaps that….” Thorin cut Balin off, he refused to think that this darkness was because of him.

“I have apologized a thousand times over and there is not a day that goes by that I do not think of what happened on the rampart. It haunts me but I try to raise above it. If that is what Bilbo is holding onto, what is causing this chasm between us then I do not know what to do.” His voice broke on the last word. He was King under the Mountain and rarely did he let others hear of distress in his voice.

“Then maybe you are right, maybe it is something else but you will never find out of you sneak around this place seeing what he is up to. I’ve seen you before, watching him as he wanders these vast halls. That will not get you anywhere, you would be much better off speaking to him.” With that Balin left the library, hoping that Thorin would think about his words.

Thorin had waited, spent his days watching Bilbo, learning his daily patterns and movements. He needed to know what was in Bilbo’s waistcoat. He was certain that it had something to do with the ache in his chest whenever Bilbo was around.

There was a night where Bilbo had taken off his clothes, leaving them on the wooden trunk at the edge of the bed. He had gone off to bathe for the night thinking that Thorin would be tied up with duties.

Thorin snuck into the room, going straight for the waist coat. He paused for a moment, his hands lingering on the soft fabric. It was different from most dwarves clothes, made of softer material. Thorin held it close to him, the scent of their garden lingering in the fabric.

He hesitated, ready to put the waistcoat down. He thought of being in the garden with Bilbo, a straw hat placed on his head as his hands worked meticulously with flowers and herbs. His breath caught when he remembered Bilbo’s hair in the sun, tints of red, how it reminded him of the first days of autumn.

The cloud above him was too much to overcome the pleasant memories, it was a sickness crawling its way inside of him and taking root. He could think of little else except these days.

Thorin reached into the pocket, his fingers grasping a cool metal band. He pulled it out and set a perfectly crafted gold ring in the middle of his palm. There were no marks or tarnish on it, it looked as if it were a simple gold band. Thorin could tell that there was much more to it than that. As it sat on the center of his palm he could feel a heaviness to it, as if this object was slowly pulling every happiness out of him.

“What are you doing?” Bilbo’s raised voice cut through his speculations.

“Looking to see what it is that you keep reaching for in your pocket.” Thorin closed his hand around the band.

“That is mine, you need to put it back.”

“It is just a gold band, of what significance does it have to you?” Thorin knew that he should drop the conversation, give Bilbo back the ring and try to go back to how things were. But there was something pushing him to question this madness.

“I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you. Just because it is gold does not mean that it is yours and I’ve been keeping it from you so you don’t try to toss it in with your gold hoard.” Bilbo was standing inches away from Thorin, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Thorin was taken aback. “You know that I have moved all of the gold down into the tunnels. You know that I do not wish to look upon the metals or gems in that hoard. Not after…not after what happened.”

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose letting out a deep breath. “I know, I’m sorry I said that. Look can I just have the ring back? I doesn’t mean much ok, I found it in the goblin tunnels and I’ve held onto it all this time. As a reminder.”

Bilbo held out his hand as Thorin looked at him with hesitation. “No good can come from an item found in a liar of goblins.”

“Will you just give me the ring?!” Bilbo shouted as he lunged towards Thorin, his hands reaching for the clenched knuckles around the ring. Bilbo dug his nails into Thorin’s skin, using all of his body to try to pry his fingers open.

Bilbo was no match to fight off Thorin but Thorin did not wish to try to fight him off. Thorin look at Bilbo then, how the color of his eyes no longer seemed blue. There were shadows that were now evident underneath, striking against his fair skin. Thorin thought then of the rampart, of the rage he felt that day. Betrayal singing through his veins. He remembered grabbing Bilbo, pressing him down against the wall as he attempted to throw him over. Most of all he remembered how Bilbo didn’t look afraid, just hurt and surprised. Thorin wondered if that was how he looked now.

His hand dropped then, fingers coming lose as the ring clattered to the floor. Metal against stone was the only sound in the room as Thorin and Bilbo looked at each other. Thorin was sure that their looks were mirror images of each other. Shock, hurt, and resentment all rolled into one.

Bilbo bent down, picking up the ring and slipping it into the pocket of his trousers.

“I do not wish to see that ring again.” Thorin pushed past Bilbo leaving him in their chambers.

“What are you sending the raven out for?” Fili asked as he stood with Thorin on the rampart.

“I need to send word to Gandalf.” Thorin looked out at the setting sun, dark clouds rolling in over skies of orange.

“Gandalf? What do you need the wizard for?”

“I fear dark times may be ahead of us.” Thorin let the raven go then, watching it soar off into the oncoming storm.

anonymous asked:

Maybe Sir Ian WAS at that Wellington bar. He's Gandalf, one of the greatest wizards of all time, and JK Rowling told us right from book 1 that electronic devices go haywire around magic... Then again staffs/magical orbs probably weren't HD during Middle Earth times either. Then again, the interference could be due to Ian's Magneto background... lol potato camera problem solved, now lets solve the mystery of Atlantis #i'mjokingforanyone whoseriouslydidn'tgetthatwasalltongueincheek

i like when fandoms collide.