Chapter Text
It never fazed Gandalf that he'd never met his soulmate. Of course he has questions, hundreds of them, but he's never brought himself around to caring enough to ask them.
He's always been interested in his mark, especially the colour. A bright green line of words that wrap around his wrist. Every other child's wrist in his town had red words wrapped around it, and every child knew those words off by heart after looking at mirrors and asking others what they say.
Gandalf doesn't know what his words say. He'd never bothered to find out. Something in him never felt like finding romance. Companionship, yes. But romance and sexual desire never interested him.
Over the years he'd see fellow classmates squeal with excitement when another would say the words written on their wrist, and Gandalf always watched in fascination when the bonded pair would touch hands and the words would glow before snaking up their arm to rest on the underside of their forearm, easy to read and bare to the world. All of the words were red though, and Gandalf would always glance down at his green words before tugging his sleeve down to hide them before carrying on with his work.
It never bothered him until others started asking about it in college. What did the green mean? Couldn't he just change the colour? Why does he not even care? Doesn't he want to find his soulmate and just settle down? Have a family? Maybe it meant he was different, too different, and soon Gandalf was self conscious enough he wore long sleeves all the time to hide his mark and never spoke to the others.
He just didn't have an interest, he knew. He just didn't want to be involved in all this soulmate lover thing.
Eventually college was finished though and Gandalf left the small town he grew up in and hit the big city with a degree in one hand and something to prove in the other. He founded a publishing agency with a handful of others from a book club he'd joined during his final year of college, hired many a good employee, became well know and well famous... yet he still wore long sleeves and never talked about his mark.
He wasn't ashamed... just hurt.
He doesn't care that he's never met his soulmate, but he does care that it’s not normal. He doesn't want a green mark, he doesn't want any mark. He'd rather have no soulmate than this blasted curse of a green mark that earns him odd looks and whispers.
One of his employees sees it one day though, the young man Thorin Oakenshield. Gandalf is in a meeting with him and Gandalf's sleeve hitches up enough that his bright green soul-mark stands out brightly against his black sleeve and catches Thorin's eye.
Gandalf resists the urge to tug it down nervously as he waits for Thorin's reaction, but he's surprised when Thorin only regards it briefly before smiling at him.
"One of the lucky ones then, huh?" he asks, and Gandalf sits confused. Of all things he'd consider the mark, lucky is not one of them.
"You know what it means?" Gandalf reluctantly asks. It's the first time he's gotten a positive, or well neutral reaction to his mark. Thorin pauses in his writing for a moment and glances at Gandalf with a furrowed brow.
"You don't?" he questions, and the look on Gandalf's face must be enough as Thorin silently puts his pen down and fixes a small smile on his face. "It means a platonic bond, Mr. Grey-"
"Gandalf."
"-which means that your soulmate is out there, but they're more of a... well, a friend." Thorin looks lost for a moment before he clucks his tongue as he seems to gather his words properly. "Red words mean a romantic bond, like my own," and he pulls back his own sleeve to show Gandalf red words wrapped around his wrist, "purple words, like my cousin has, are family bonds. Balin and our cousin, Dain, are exceptionally close. Blue words, well, I don't really know what blue words mean. But my friend Nori has them, and I have… a suspicion as to what they mean. Black words..." Thorin trails off for a long moment and Gandalf has half a mind to reach over to touch his hand in reassurance but Thorin looks up at him with a grim look on his face before he can. "Black words mean a severed bond."
Gandalf feels an ache all of a sudden at those words, and he can't stop himself from asking, "how do you know?"
"My sister," Thorin answers quietly, and they both share a mutual moment of silence. Gandalf can't help but think about the poor lady somewhere with a black mark, and he wonders about the story behind the black words.
It's not his place to ask though, and instead he sits quietly and waits for Thorin to compose himself.
"Green words though," Thorin finally says, "means a platonic bond. You're not destined for a lover, Mr. Grey. But you are destined for a very good friend."
Those words are all that Gandalf ever needed to hear, he realizes, and he glances down to look at his wrist, lingering on the word "beautiful" scrawled across it. He can't help but feel a heavy weight he didn't know he was carrying lift from his chest.
"How do you know these things?" he quietly asks, and Thorin shrugs.
"Family experience," he answers, "one of my good friends works in the Bonding Office. It's his job to know all of the colours and meanings. There is more, but I can only remember a handful."
"Family experience?"
Thorin smiles. "As I said, we have red, black, purple and green words in my family. My brother had yellow words before he died, but we don't know what they mean. Nori is working on finding out what yellow means, but he hasn't found others with the same colour yet."
Gandalf nods slowly before he raises his head and offers Thorin a small smile. "I have a request of you, Thorin," he starts, and Thorin just laughs and starts to scribble onto a nearby piece of paper.
"I'll contact Dori and Oin and see if they can do lunch."
The two of Thorin's family members are in fact free for lunch, and Gandalf feels a bit nervous as he follows Thorin from the building and down the road to a small cafe. This is the first time some of his questions are going to be answered, that he's actual going to voice his concerns. It's nerve-wracking but also exciting, and Gandalf has a small bounce in his step at the thought of finally understanding.
He can tell who they are almost as soon as they walk into the cafe. They're the only two people laughing loudly with matching bright green words drawn over their exposes left forearms, and Gandalf instantly feels comfortable at finally finally seeing more people with this bizarre green mark on their arms.
Thorin herds him over and claps the other two on the shoulders. "This, my dear cousins," he says, "is Gandalf."
One of them, the youngest of the pair, gives Gandalf a large grin as he stands up to give Gandalf a hearty handshake. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gandalf," he says, "my name is Dori."
"It's just Gandalf, dear fellow," Gandalf can't stop himself from saying, but he shakes Dori's hand back and turns to the other one sitting at the table. He looks grumpy but he still sticks his hand out for Gandalf to take.
"Oin," he grunts, and Dori groans as he gestures for Gandalf to sit down. Thorin has disappeared, and Gandalf looks for him only to see him at the counter giving Gandalf a small smile and thumbs up.
"Don't worry about him," Dori is saying, and Gandalf looks back at him to see Dori waving a hand at Oin, "he's a grumpy old blodger. Always has been, ever since we were children."
"You've known each other for that long?" Gandalf asks with a raised eyebrow. Dori grins and holds out his arm for Gandalf to read.
"Since that day in the sandpit where I asked him if I may borrow his shovel and he said-"
"'Bugger off'," Gandalf reads out and Dori laughs at his surprise.
"He's latched onto me since then," Oin mutters from beside Dori, "can't shake the rat off."
"You'd miss me too much," Dori snorts and elbows Oin roughly until the two start bickering about something. Gandalf doesn't listen that closely, just watches the two in fascination. They're like an old married couple, is all he can think. There's affection and fondness in their voices as they insult each other, but there's not a hint of romance… just pure comfortableness.
It's something Gandalf hadn't realised he craved. Comfort and companionship.
"You alright?" Thorin asks as he drops down into the seat beside him with a tray laden with coffees and sandwiches. Gandalf just nods mutely and keeps watching Dori and Oin with a smile.
Yes, this is exactly what he wants.
He asks them later, when they've stopped bickering, what a green worded bond is all about. Dori does most of the explaining, Oin just choosing to munch on Dori's uneaten sandwiches when his friend isn't looking. He pitches in with ideas every now and again though, and Gandalf soon finds that a green worded bond is exactly what he wants.
It's acceptance. It's companionship. It's friendship and love without expectations. It's everything that Gandalf has ever wanted and for once Gandalf actually looks down at the words written on his wrist and thinks that maybe he would actually like to meet his soulmate.
Later than night he looks at the words written on his wrist properly and pieces the disjointed words together.
Isn't that a beautiful sight?
It's typical though that as soon as Gandalf decides that he wants to actually find his soulmate, it doesn't happen. He becomes more sociable though, now that he is no longer wary of people thoughts on his coloured mark. He joins Dori and Oin in their social circle, becomes close to Thorin and meets his family, improves the editing company as well as he can and even expands it overseas. He lives his life as wonderfully as possible, and some part of him is always looking out for his soulmate somewhere.
But not once does he come across someone who says those exact words. He's heard variations. People say the word “beautiful” even once and he’s glancing their way. His friends are sympathetic to him, especially as those around him find their own soulmate while Gandalf doesn’t, but Gandalf doesn’t want their sympathy.
He hits his seventieth birthday faster than he’d expected. Soon after words like “old” and “retirement” start to hit his ears from where they’re whispered in the corridors of his building. Thorin insists that they have no meaning behind them, but they leave an effect on Gandalf that he doesn’t care to admit.
It’s decided when he hits seventy-two that retirement is for him, and he hands the company over to Thorin before he packs his bags and boards the first flight he can find.
Thorin is, of course, disapproving, and he manages to convince Gandalf into accepting partnership for the next three years. Gandalf has to think about it but eventually he agrees after the two of them have wrangled the terms down to the a three year contract where they're partners, but Gandalf doesn't have to come home unless Thorin needs him further.
Then Thorin surprises Gandalf when he asks to take the first jump with him. They take a plane up to the peak of the country and spend a few days near a quiet lake. Gandalf realizes that Thorin probably needed the time away as well, and he thinks about Thorin's brother having passed only a few months earlier and he completely understands.
On the fourth day in Thorin gets a phone call about his nephew and has to leave early.
Gandalf takes Thorin to the airport himself despite Thorin's protests at the early hour, and Gandalf buys him a coffee Thorin can grumble into while they wait for the boarding signal. He hasn't told Thorin that he's booked his own flight for shortly after, and he decides not to when he sees Thorin winding himself up about his nephew.
He raises an eyebrow though when he comes back from the bathroom to see Thorin flustering over a short blond man, and he sees red letters have traveled up Thorin's wrist to settle on his arm.
Thorin doesn't say anything though and Gandalf watches him go with a small smile. He most likely won't see his friend for a very long time, and he absently rubs his green wrist. Some days he wishes that Thorin was his soulmate, but he knows that the two of them clash too much for it to be so. Instead there's some lucky small blond man somewhere who has Thorin… well, maybe.
He travels for a long time. He tours countries with beautiful gardens, with dedicated temples, with good food and fine company. He visits poor countries, rich countries, old and new countries. He meets new people and sees new places… but it’s all a bit lonely for him so when he decides to expand his horizons and head towards one of the countries furtherest away from his own, he also decides it’ll be his last trip before he heads home. Thorin hasn't needed him in the last two years, but maybe this last year of their partnership agreement Gandalf might actually help out some more.
The Great Wall of "whatever this blasted place is called" had always been a point of fleeting interest. Something that Gandalf would see in movies and TV shows and he would make a mention on how he wished to go there one day. Now that he’s in the country though, he thinks that acting on his wish is the way to go and he joins a tour group heading that way. They’re all a bunch of foreigners like him, and Gandalf doesn’t recognise any of them.
So he glances at all the left arms he can see. He feels a pang at seeing some of the marks are black, and he thinks of young Fili back home who's lost his own soulmate at such a young age. But everyone in the group has either red marks, black marks, and all of them are clearly founded with none of the writing around anyone’s wrists.
There is one man though. He looks around the same age as Gandalf but less put together. In fact, Gandalf is quite surprised at the sight of him. Here he stands dressed neatly and looking tidy, while the other man is wearing a frankly disastrous outfit with large clothing and a funny hat that looks like it has come from Thorin’s friend Bofur’s rather bizarre collection. He looks a proper mess, but on his wrist is bright green words that catch Gandalf’s attention. He lingers on them for a moment, trying to make them out, but he’s hustled along by the tour guide too quickly for him to be able to get a good look.
It doesn’t matter in the end, he thinks with a sigh. He’s much too old now, and he doubts he’s going to find his soulmate in a foreign country of all places. He chooses instead to follow the crowd and walk beside an elderly lady with a tired face and black mark. She’s interesting and kind, and when Gandalf smiles at her, she smiles back.
They reach a point in the tour where the tour guide calls them all to a halt and they all disperse. The elderly lady, named Galadriel as Gandalf had found out, politely asks if Gandalf will take photos of her and Gandalf willingly goes with her. They squeeze between another couple of tourists and Gandalf snaps the photos before handing over his own camera for her to do the same.
He’s smiling at her, trying not to think about how strained it feels on his face, when he feels another person bump into his side. He lets out a little grunt but doesn’t say anything as he waits for Galadriel to take the blasted photo. Finally he hears the click and as soon as she lowers the camera he turns to glare at the person who bumped into him.
It’s the man he noticed before, the one with the green mark still around his wrist, and the man gives him an apologetic smile before he jerks his head out towards the scenery.
“Isn’t that a beautiful sight?” he asks, and Gandalf freezes at the words and the warm feeling that suddenly makes his arm tingle, and his mouth drops open as he regards the other man with a stunned look.
“Isn’t it just?” he can’t stop himself from saying, the words just slipping from his lips and the other man’s answering grin makes Gandalf feel warm and tingly.
Its instinct for him to just extend his left arm and offer his hand to the other man. He can see his wrist just out of the corner of his eye, the green words glowing dimly and the other man grins harder as he reaches out with his own glowing wrist and grabs Gandalf’s hand tightly.
“Radagast,” he introduces himself as their hands touch and there’s a sudden surge of warmth all through Gandalf’s body and his hand tightens on Radagast’s automatically.
“Gandalf,” he says in reply before glancing down at his wrist to see the words starting to unfurl and crawl up his arm. They settle on his forearm brightly, and he glances over at Radagast’s to see the words he’d just said shining on Radagast’s forearm.
“Well, Gandalf,” Radagast chuckles and Gandalf think that this is just perfect, “fancy meeting you here.”