Three weeks after Gandalf's visit
The morning Escanor decided to leave Bag End was quiet and melancholic. Bilbo had prepared a particularly hearty breakfast, though they both knew that no amount of food could fill the void his departure would leave.
" Are you sure about this?" Bilbo asked for the tenth time, watching Escanor adjust Rhitta's straps on his back. "You can stay as long as you like. The hobbits are finally getting used to you. Well, most of them."
Escanor smiled, placing a gentle hand on the hobbit's shoulder.
"You've been more than generous, Bilbo Baggins. But we both know I can't stay here forever. The Shire is your home, not mine. And there's a whole world beyond these green hills that I need to see."
"I know," Bilbo sighed. "It's just that... I've gotten used to having company. It's nice not being alone."
"You won't be alone for long," Escanor said mysteriously. "Something tells me you'll soon have more company than you ever wanted."
Bilbo looked at him in surprise, but Escanor simply offered him that enigmatic smile he had perfected in recent weeks.
"Take care, my friend," Escanor said, offering his hand. "And when I return, I look forward to hearing all the stories of your new adventures."
" New adventures?" Bilbo laughed nervously. "I've had my adventure, thank you very much. From now on, it's tea and books for me."
But as Escanor walked along the road leading out of Hobbiton, Rhitta on his back and his armor packed in the luggage Bilbo had insisted on giving him, he couldn't help but smile. He had seen something in the hobbit's eyes, something he recognized even without any memory of his past: the spirit of adventure that never truly disappears, it merely slumbers.
We'll meet again, Bilbo Baggins , he thought. And when we do, we'll both have changed.
The hobbits of the Shire watched from their doorways and windows as the muscular giant walked away. Some felt relief. Others, oddly, felt a pang of loss. For in the few weeks he had been there, Escanor had proven to be courteous, kind, and inexplicably fascinating.
Lobelia Sacovilla-Bolsón, however, simply sniffed with satisfaction.
"It's good that he's gone," he declared to anyone who would listen. "Things can finally go back to normal."
But nothing in Middle-earth would remain normal for long.
Bree, two months later
Rain fell in gray curtains over the town of Bree when Escanor pushed open the door of the Prancing Pony. The interior was warm and noisy, filled with men drinking, laughing, and telling exaggerated stories about their travels.
All conversations stopped when Escanor entered.
It was understandable. Even among the men of Bree, who were used to strange travelers, Escanor stood out. His height, his physique, the way he carried that enormous axe on his back as if it weighed nothing... everything about him screamed "danger."
"Good evening," Escanor said with his characteristic courtesy, addressing the innkeeper. "Do you have a room available and, perhaps, something to eat?"
Cebadilla Mantecona, the innkeeper, blinked several times before regaining his professional composure.
"Yes, sir. We have rooms. Although..." He looked Escanor up and down, "the bed might be a little small for someone of your... build."
"I'll manage," Escanor offered her a reassuring smile. "I've slept in more uncomfortable places."
While Cebadilla prepared his room, Escanor sat in a corner, noticing how the other guests gradually resumed their conversations, although several continued to steal glances at him.
"Hey, stranger," a man called from a nearby table, his voice slightly slurred by alcohol.
Where are you from? I've never seen anyone like you around here.
"From no particular place," Escanor replied. "I'm a traveler, nothing more."
" A traveler with an axe the size of a man?" another man laughed. "That's a weapon of war, pal. Are you a mercenary?"
"No," Escanor said, taking the stew Cebadilla had brought him. "I simply believe in being prepared."
"Prepared for what, I wonder," muttered a third man, a rough-looking ranger sitting in the shadows.
Escanor looked at him with interest. Unlike the others, this man didn't seem drunk or curious. He seemed... appraising. As if he were sizing Escanor up as a potential threat or ally.
But before he could say anything, the door of the Pony burst open and three men staggered in, covered in mud and blood.
" Orcs!" one of them gasped. "Orcs on the East Road! They attacked our caravan!"
The innkeeper paled.
—Orcs ? So close to Bree? That hasn't happened in years...
" There must have been at least twenty of them!" the man continued . "They killed half our men. We only escaped because... because we left the others behind."
A heavy silence fell over the tavern. Escanor felt something stir in his chest. Anger. Not the burning, uncontrollable anger of a man, but the cold, righteous anger of someone who cannot tolerate unnecessary cruelty.
" Where?" he asked, his voice cutting through the silence like a sword.
The wounded man looked at him, confused.
- That?
" Where are the orcs?" Escanor stood up, and his shadow seemed to grow in the flickering light of the fire.
And how long ago did they attack?
"Less than an hour ago," the man replied. "About three kilometers east, in the ruins near the forest. But sir, there are too many of them. It would be suicide to go there alone!"
"Then it's good," said Escanor, walking towards the door, "that I don't plan to be there for too long."
The shadow ranger stood up abruptly.
—Wait. You don't know what you're doing. Orcs are...
"Creatures of darkness," Escanor interrupted, turning to face him. "Murderers of innocents. Exactly the kind of enemy I've been waiting to find." His eyes flashed with something that made the ranger involuntarily back away. "Stay here if you want. But I'm going."
And with that, he went out into the rain.
The ranger stood there for a full three seconds before cursing under his breath and following him.
The Eastern Ruins, Twenty Minutes Later
The rain had soaked Escanor to the bone, but he barely noticed. His attention was completely focused on the scene before him.
The ruins of what had once been a watchtower stood against the night sky , and around it, a band of orcs celebrated their victory. I could see the bodies of the fallen merchants; I could hear the guttural cries of the orcs as they fought over the loot.
And tied to a post in the center, bleeding but alive, was a young man, little more than a boy.
"Damn," whispered the ranger who had followed him, appearing beside him from behind a rock. "There are at least twenty-five of them. We need to get help..."
"There's no time," Escanor said simply.
—Are you crazy? You can't fight twenty-five orcs alone!
Escanor looked at him, and in the darkness, his eyes began to glow with a soft golden light.
—Look.
Before the ranger could stop him, Escanor walked toward the ruins, each step deliberate and purposeful. He made no attempt to hide. He sought no tactical advantage. He simply walked straight into the horde of orcs as if he were taking a stroll in the park.
The orcs saw him almost immediately. Their shouts of celebration turned into grunts of confusion, then into howls of defiance as they recognized a lone enemy approaching.
" Human!" roared what appeared to be their leader, a massive orc with scars covering his face.
You stupid human! You're going to die!
"No," Escanor said, his voice calm but heavy in the night air. "You will die. All of you will die. For the innocents you killed. For the terror you sowed. And because..."
He stopped twenty meters from them and reached Rhitta.
—Because I am here.
The axe flashed with golden light as he unscrewed it from his back, and suddenly, the entire area was illuminated as if the sun itself had descended from the sky. The orcs shrieked, shielding their eyes from the sudden brightness.
And then Escanor moved.
It wasn't human. It couldn't have been. It moved like lightning, like fire, like the sun's fury made flesh. Rhitta sliced through the air with a hiss that sounded like thunder, and the first orc it reached simply... ceased to exist. It wasn't cut or crushed. It was incinerated, reduced to ashes that scattered in the rain.
To their credit, the orcs tried to fight back. They charged at him in a group, swords and spears seeking flesh.
None of them even came close.
Escanor moved among them like a god of war, each strike of Rhitta eliminating two, three, four orcs at once. His power, Sunshine, roared through his body, turning every movement into a lethal force.
But the most terrifying thing was not his power.
It was under their control.
Every blow was precise. Every movement was deliberate. There was no waste, no excess. Only pure, lethal efficiency.
In less than two minutes, twenty-five orcs had been reduced to smoldering ashes.
Escanor stood in the center of the ruins, Rhitta resting on his shoulder, her body softly glowing with golden light as the rain hissed as it evaporated upon touching her skin.
The ranger slowly emerged from behind the rock, his face a mask of utter astonishment.
" What... what are you?" he whispered.
Escanor turned towards him, and the light in his eyes slowly faded.
"Someone who doesn't tolerate unnecessary cruelty," he replied simply.
Then he walked over to the young man tied to the post, severing his bonds with a simple touch of his overheated hand. The boy fell forward, sobbing with relief and terror.
"You are safe," Escanor said gently, his voice so different from the relentless warrior of moments before.
You can return to Bree now.
—I... thank you... thank you... —the boy could barely speak.
"Don't thank me," Escanor said. "Just live. Live well. That's thank you enough."
The ranger helped the boy to his feet, but his eyes never left Escanor.
" What's your name?" he finally asked.
—Escanor.
—Just Escanor? No last name, no home?
"Only Escanor," he confirmed. "And my home is wherever I choose to be."
The ranger studied him for a long moment.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Ranger of the North. And I have walked these lands for many years, fighting the darkness wherever I find it. But never—" he shook his head—"never have I seen anything like what you have just done."
"Then I hope," Escanor said, "that you never have to see it directed against someone who doesn't deserve it."
"Like me," Aragorn smiled slightly. "What will you do now?"
Escanor looked east, where he knew the shadows of Mordor loomed in the distance.
"To travel. To learn. To fight wherever necessary." He turned to look at Aragorn. "And perhaps, one day, to find answers to questions I don't yet know how to ask."
"Then I wish you luck on your journey, Escanor," Aragorn said. "And if you ever need allies... the Rangers of the North will remember this night. We will remember the man who shines like the sun and fights like a god of war."
"I am not a god," Escanor corrected. "Just a man with a gift. And the responsibility to use it wisely."
He started walking west, back to Bree, but stopped and looked back.
—Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Something tells me we shall meet again. And when we do... I hope we'll fight on the same side.
"Like me," Aragorn replied.
And as Escanor disappeared into the rainy night, the ranger stood there, staring at the ashes of twenty-five orcs and wondering what kind of force had entered Middle-earth.
The following months
News of the battle at the Eastern Ruins spread like wildfire. Merchants carried it from town to town, bards set it to song, and with each retelling, the story grew more fantastical.
Some said he was a wizard. Others insisted he was an elf from ancient times. A few whispered he was something else entirely, something that did not belong in Middle-earth.
But everyone agreed on one thing: he was called Escanor, and where he walked, darkness fled.
In Edoras, the capital of Rohan, Escanor helped defend a village from a band of marauding orcs. The Rohirrim, famed horsemen, watched in awe as this strange warrior routed enemies that would have required twenty of their best men.
" Who is he?" Théodred, son of King Théoden, asked his father.
"I don't know," Théoden replied, watching Escanor refuse any reward. "But the gods have smiled upon us by bringing him here tonight."
In Black Forest, Escanor encountered an elven patrol commanded by a blond-haired warrior named Legolas.
"You are unusual for a mortal," Legolas observed, studying Escanor with the sharp eyes of his people. "There is something about you... like ancient light captured in mortal form."
"And you're younger than I thought elves would be," Escanor replied. "Although I suppose 'young' is relative for your people."
Legolas laughed, a sound like wind chimes.
"I like you, human. Few dare to joke with the Eldar. If you ever need aid in Mirkwood, ask for Legolas Greenleaf. The guards will let you pass."
In the Blue Mountains, Escanor drank with dwarves and proved that he could match any of them beer for beer, which earned him their immediate and boisterous respect.
" To Escanor!" toasted a dwarf named Glóin. "The only human who can drink like a dwarf and fight like ten!"
" For Escanor!" the hall chanted.
And in every place he visited, in every battle he fought, Escanor felt something inside him stir. Not memories, exactly, but... familiarity. As if he had done this before, in another life. As if protecting the weak, fighting the darkness, shining like the sun in the darkest places... was simply who he was.
Not the Lion of the Sin of Pride in the arrogant sense.
But in the sense of someone who took pride in doing what was right. Who took pride in their strength, but only because that strength allowed them to protect others. Who wore their power not as a crown, but as a burden they had chosen to bear with dignity.
But on quiet nights, when he was alone under the stars, Escanor sometimes felt a pang of... something. Loneliness? Longing? He couldn't name it.
It was as if her soul remembered something her mind had forgotten. Someone she had loved. Someone she had lost.
Who were you? she wondered, gazing at the stars. And will I ever find you again?
The stars did not answer. They just shone, distant and beautiful, as they had shone for ages before he was born and as they would shine for ages after he was gone.
And so the year passed.
They called him Escanor the Wanderer. The Lion of the Sun. The Radiant Warrior. The Golden Protector.
But to himself, he was still simply Escanor. A man with unanswered questions and a purpose he felt but couldn't fully name.
At least, not yet.
The Region, One Year Later
When Escanor finally returned to Hobbiton, he was welcomed as a conquering hero. Even Lobelia had to admit (though only to herself) that his presence brought a sense of security.
Bilbo opened the door to Bag End with a huge smile.
—Escanor ! By all the barrels in the Shire, you really are back!
"I told you I would," Escanor smiled, more relaxed than he had been in months. "And I hope there's still room for me on that couch."
"Always," Bilbo ushered him in. "And you must tell me everything! I've heard the stories, of course. You seem to have become quite famous."
"Infamous, perhaps," Escanor said, settling into his familiar spot. "But the stories are exaggerated, I'm sure."
"Oh, don't doubt it," Bilbo said, starting to make tea. "I have a dwarf friend who came by last month. Balin, his name. He told me you drank Glóin under the table and then carried three drunken dwarves back to their beds without breaking a sweat."
"That's... relatively accurate," Escanor admitted.
" And the Rohirrim are writing songs about you!" Bilbo was clearly enjoying this. "'The Lion That Shines Like the Sun,' I think it was called. Horrid meter, but the sentiment was lovely."
Escanor laughed, a warm and genuine sound.
—I missed this. Your company, Bilbo. Your home.
—And I'll have yours —Bilbo handed her a cup of tea—. Bag End has been far too quiet without you.
Although... —her expression turned mysterious— something tells me that's about to change.
—Oh ? Why?
—Because Gandalf came through here last week. And when I mentioned that I expected you back soon, he gave me this look. You know the one I mean. The look that says, "I'm up to something, and it's going to involve some unwanted adventures."
Escanor felt something stir in his chest. Anticipation, perhaps. Or destiny calling.
— Did he say what he was plotting?
"Not explicitly. But he mumbled something about dwarves, a mountain, and 'the pieces finally falling into place.'" Bilbo shuddered. "Honestly, I hope it doesn't mean what I think it means."
—And what do you think it means?
"I'm about to be swept away on another adventure," sighed Bilbo. "And you, my friend, probably are too."
Escanor looked out the window at the evening sky. The sun was setting, painting the clouds gold and crimson.
"Then so be it," he said softly. "I've spent a year learning about this world, building my strength, forging alliances. If Gandalf has an adventure in mind... I think I'm ready."
—Even if it involves dragons?
Escanor smiled, and there was something almost predatory about that smile.
—Especially if it involves dragons.
Bilbo stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head with exasperated affection.
"You're mad. Completely mad. Which, I suppose, means you'll fit right in with Gandalf and whoever else he's planning to recruit for this scheme."
"Probably," Escanor said, taking a sip of his tea. "But Bilbo, promise me something."
- That?
—If Gandalf comes with an adventure... if he asks you to go... say yes.
—What ? Why on earth would I do that?
"Because"—Escanor looked at him with eyes that had seen too much in too little time—"you have the heart of a hero, Bilbo Baggins. And the world needs heroes. Even heroes who prefer tea to swords."
Bilbo opened his mouth to protest, then closed it . Something in Escanor's words rang true, though he didn't want to admit it.
"I'll... think about it," he finally said.
—That's all I ask.
That night, as Escanor lay on his familiar sofa, staring at the ceiling of Bag End, he felt something settle within him. His year of wandering was over. He had learned about Middle-earth, about its peoples, about its dangers.
He had built a legend, yes. But more importantly, he had found purpose.
To protect. To defend. To shine light in dark places.
And soon, very soon, I would have the opportunity to do exactly that on a scale I couldn't yet imagine.
The Lion of the Sin of Pride was ready.
Adventure awaited.