At night, beneath the dazzling neon lights, the colorful nightlife of Gotham City, a place known for its wholesome citizens, was finally beginning.
Meanwhile,
At a sidewalk table outside an open-air bar, a place specially meant for middle-aged and elderly people who liked peace and quiet, sat an old man with a head of snow-white hair and beard. He wore a white robe and cloak, and beside him leaned a long, white "walking stick" that looked as though it had been made from some unknown material and crafted in one seamless piece. He was quietly drinking alone and puffing away at the pipe in his hand.
He had already turned down several invitations to drink together from elderly Gotham citizens who had tried to get acquainted or strike up a conversation. He simply sat by himself at the little table without saying a word.
Well, it wasn't as if he had money to buy drinks...
But he had a gold coin from the Dwarves of Lonely Mountain—one of the treasures he'd acquired back when he'd gone with a certain Hobbit and a bunch of reckless Dwarves to successfully provoke the dragon Smaug! He'd stuffed a few coins into his pockets at the time, and still hadn't spent them all. That was how he'd managed to exchange some for enough green bills at a pawnshop in this wholesome city to scrape by.
Then, after using the Scepter at his side to physically persuade a bunch of foolish thugs who'd tried to rob an old man of his money, he'd come here to drink alone...
That's right, he was the White Wizard, Gandalf!
He was a Maia from Aman, west of the sea beyond Middle-earth, in the western part of Arda. He was also a lesser god, originally named Olorin, and called