After leaving the Shire, Gandalf, together with Garrett, went to The Prancing Pony and found Aragorn, who was resting there.

This fellow seemed to be quite idle lately, so…

“There is something I need your help with.”

And just like that, Aragorn was recruited by Gandalf.

The two left the inn and headed east, beginning to search for certain traces. During their investigation, they heard a name from the Rangers who patrolled the wilderness:

Gollum.

“I have met him before,” Gandalf said, falling into deep thought. “I never expected that this wretched creature I have always ignored would turn out to be the key to everything. I truly underestimated him. I should never have let him wander freely back then.”

A few months later, he returned to The Prancing Pony.

“You are saying that the ring Bilbo had came from Gollum?”

“Exactly,” Garrett replied, dispelling Gandalf’s doubts.

“I never heard Bilbo mention that. I had always thought he just found it somewhere in a cave.”

Garrett said meaningfully, “In a sense, you could say he found it.”

“Very well, let us not speak in riddles between ourselves,” Gandalf sighed. “So Gollum also knows that this ring, which might be the One Ring, is in the Shire. This cannot be allowed to spread. Otherwise, it will attract unwanted attention. If that happens, the Shire could…”

“Nothing will happen to the Shire,” Garrett interrupted calmly, glancing at a daily report while sipping his tea. “I gave my word. This region has been under the Rangers’ watch for decades. If necessary, I can mobilize several legions at once. There will be no surprises. Even if all nine Nazgûl came forth leading tens of thousands of soldiers, I would not let them cross The Prancing Pony. All evil ends here. This is the line of final defense.”

“Good, good. I trust you,” Gandalf nodded repeatedly. “I can see how well-fortified this place is, strong forces to the east, south, and north. To break through these defenses, the enemy would have to be able to fly…”

Garrett waved his hand dismissively.

“If they can fly, I shall personally shoot them down.”

“Very well then, I can rest easy.”

After confirming the situation, Gandalf wasted no time. He immediately set off again for the great wilderness to the east, where he found the Ranger squad leader stationed there.

“Tell me, where did Gollum go?”

The captain replied, “South. He crossed the wild, entered the Brown Lands, and waded through the Dead Marshes. Beyond that, we lost track of him. That is outside our surveillance range. Perhaps you could ask the Rangers of Gondor.”

Upon hearing this, Gandalf’s expression grew grave.

Beyond the Dead Marshes, that was Mordor itself.

Following the trail, he hurried south without rest until he reached the wilds of Ithilien.

There he met Boromir, stationed at Osgiliath.

“Greetings, Boromir, son of Denethor. I seek some information,” he greeted the tall, handsome young Man warmly, but Boromir’s response was rather cold, because his father had forbidden him to speak with the wizard.

Carrying the prejudice passed down from his father, Boromir replied in a calm, detached tone, “I am sorry, Mithrandir, but I have never met this Gollum you speak of. That must have been something that happened long ago. My men and I, these seasoned soldiers behind me, only recently arrived at the front lines. Perhaps you could ask in Minas Tirith. Some of the old Rangers and veterans who have retired there might know something.”

After offering Gandalf the minimum courtesy and saying what needed to be said, he did not continue the conversation. He simply turned back to his own duties, barely paying the wizard any further attention.

Gandalf sighed softly.

Boromir, after all, the young Man was still young. He could not quite hide what was in his heart, that faint trace of awkwardness and distance.

It was obvious he did not wish to deal with him any more than necessary.

Even so, compared to the Steward of Gondor himself, the young Man’s attitude was not so terrible. At least he still held a basic respect for his elders.

With that, Gandalf left Osgiliath quietly and made his way toward Minas Tirith.

“Are you the wise Grey Wanderer, Gandalf?”

To his surprise, as soon as he arrived in the White City, a young Man came up to him at once.

“Faramir. My name is Faramir. It is an honor to meet you, Mithrandir.”

Faramir greeted him warmly, introducing himself with a polite bow.

“You seem to be here on some important business. Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

“Indeed, I do have some matters to attend to.”

Looking at the young Man before him, whose features resembled Boromir’s almost perfectly, yet carried a gentler air, Gandalf could not help stroking his beard, eyes full of admiration.

Faramir was clearly different from his brother.

The two of them had endless things to discuss, endless questions to ask and answer. Gandalf was never impatient. Whatever Faramir wanted to know, he told him openly, explaining everything he could to satisfy the young Man’s curiosity.

In return, Faramir did much to help him. He hosted Gandalf with great courtesy and personally sought out retired soldiers and Rangers from years past to gather information on Gollum.

“Careful, gentle, kind, and yet not lacking in courage.”

The more he saw of the young Man, the more fond of him he became.

His gaze upon Faramir was like that of a teacher looking at his finest student, full of warmth and affection.

“Who would have thought Denethor could have such a good-natured son? Remarkable. I cannot let his father ruin him.”

After finishing his inquiries about Gollum in Gondor, he stayed for a while longer, mainly to spend more time with Faramir.

During that time, Faramir learned much. He cherished every moment with Gandalf, eager to absorb all the wisdom he could.

Until Denethor found out.

Just moments before, the Steward had been proud of his elder son’s achievements at the front. Then he turned around and felt as though the sky had fallen. His younger son, consorting with that wizard?

“I will not have that old grey meddler corrupting my boy. Do not speak with that old Man so much. I do not want to see him.”

“Yes, Father,” Faramir replied earnestly.

But some things cannot be forbidden.

No matter what Denethor said, he still greeted Gandalf warmly whenever he saw him. To Denethor, it felt like punching a pillow, utterly powerless.

What else could he do?

So be it.

He was not pleased.

Fortunately, Gandalf did not linger long. Perhaps realizing that his presence was causing trouble for Faramir, he soon chose to leave of his own accord.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep