Hobbit and Lord of the Rings oneshots, Book 1

There and Back Again (No one in particular) (Part3!)

Thorin sat beside (y/n), thinking intensely. "So," he finally concluded, "these two men did not steal the Arkenstone?"

"Right," his wife confirmed, Sherlock and John nodding along with her.

"And they are not from Middle Earth, even though that sounds a bit like witchcraft to me.." Thorin murmured the last bit.

"Something like Gandalf would do, yes," (y/n) finished for him. "I cannot deny that I have thought that this might be his doing."

"Gandalf?" Sherlock asked confusedly. "Who's Gandalf?"

Thorin turned to his human guest, who sat across from him and beside John on another stone bench. "Gandalf the Grey, wandering wizard." Sherlock nodded and Thorin turned back to you. "At least the Arkenstone is safe once more. But what will we do about these..humans?" the King under the mountain asked, more out of curiosity than disgust at the mention of their kind.

"I don't know," (y/n) said thoughtfully. "Gandalf comes and goes as he pleases, there's no telling where he might be and if we'll see him again for another age!"

"Maybe he's come just in time to help," an elderly voice spoke from behind a garden pillar. An old, grey-bearded man in a grey cloak and pointed grey hat stepped out from behind the pillar, and everyone looked quickly in his direction. He walked slowly towards them with the help of his large wooden staff, and the royal couple beamed at the sight of him.

"Gandalf!" (Y/n) exclaimed joyously and got up to greet him. Thorin instantly stood up and took (y/n)'s arm to assist her, but she swatted him away. "I can walk myself, Thorin. I'm with child, not crippled." Thorin shrugged and let his wife waddle to Gandalf, who also didn't let her get very far, seeing as he strode faster to get to her side.

"My dear (y/n)!" the old wizard said cheerfully as he carefully hugged the pregnant queen. "How lovely to see you again! And it's good to see you again as well, Thorin," he said, addressing the King under the mountain, who nodded respectfully in return. Gandalf straightened, looking the two visitors over from head to toe. "And who are these gentlemen?"

Sherlock plastered on a gracious smile, "I am Sherlock Holmes, sir, this is my companion, John Watson. We are from London, England."

Gandalf mulled this over, mumbling to himself and nodding occasionally. "Mmnmm..alright," he groaned, finally finished with his brooding. "These two men are of no more use to us, although they were very helpful in returning the Arkenstone, and for that we are eternally grateful." He bowed low at this, towards Sherlock and John, who seemed puzzled. Neither of them knew what to do, and knew even less what to do once Thorin and (y/n) also bowed themselves (again, (y/n) not being able to bow very far in her condition).

"I will send you to your homeland, hopefully there will be no..complications.." Gandalf continued as he straightened his old back.

Sherlock almost looked frightened for a second. "What?"

"Oh..uh-uhm..nothing!" Gandalf wheezed, tightening his grip on his wooden staff in preparation to send the pair home. "Just don't move." He began to speak in another language that no one present could understand but him, and the wind picked up. The wind turned bright blue and swirled around Sherlock and John in a tornado-like form, and they began to disappear.

"Farewell, Bilbo Baggins!" the old wizard cried out, and Sherlock and John looked at him in confusion as they quickly faded into the atmosphere.

"What?" John yelled, quite perplexed.

Gandalf shook his head. "Nothing, sorry!"

The two men were gone, and so was the wind. All was back to normal.

Gandalf walked ahead of Thorin and (y/n), all of them headed into the city of Erebor.

(Y/n) turned to her husband, who's arm she had her own linked with, and smiled softly. "I'm glad we have the Arkenstone back. It's quite a relief."

Thorin shook his head. "Truly I too am glad that it has been returned to us, but there is a treasure that is worth more than all the wealth in Erebor, even Erebor itself."

(Y/n) furrowed her eyebrows, confused. "And what is that, my love?"

He turned his majestic gaze to (y/n), which never failed to make her weak in the knees. "You, amrâlime." (Please tell me if I've used that word wrong)

(Y/n) blushed deeply and tightened her grip on her husband's arm, turning her attention to the paved walkway. "You always were a hopeless romantic, Thorin. My One." She smiled peacefully at him, and he returned the gesture.

Meanwhile, in London...

"Sherlock, did you understand any of what just happened?"

"No."