CHAPTER 136: LETTER

Bilbo was stunned by the news.

He immediately turned to Sylas with genuine gratitude in his eyes.

If Sylas had not placed that little protective curse on the lock before leaving, then by the time Bilbo returned, everything in Bag End would have been hauled away.

Of course, with the wealth he now possessed, he could have bought the whole of the Shire and still had coin to spare. But every single item inside Bag End carried its own history and sentiment, things far beyond price.

After hearing the full story, Bilbo thanked Fatbo and led Sylas and Legolas through the garden gate.

He had just fished the key from his pocket when he hesitated, glancing sidelong at Sylas with narrowed eyes.

"Sylas... you did remove the curse on the door, didn’t you? I would rather not walk in covered head to toe in hair."

Sylas’s mouth twitched, a flicker of regret crossing his face.

It seemed Bilbo was no longer so easy to prank.

With a resigned sigh, Sylas pulled out his wand, gave it a neat flick, and lifted the minor curse from the lock.

Bilbo exhaled in relief, giving his friend a look that was half exasperation, half amusement.

"Childish."

He turned away without further comment, unlocking the round green door and ushering Legolas inside, reminding him to mind his head.

Sylas, invitation or no, stepped in as though he owned the place, crossing to the hearth and lighting the fire with a casual wave of his hand.

"Scourgify!"

Just as Bilbo picked up a broom to sweep, Sylas’s cleaning charm whisked away every speck of dust and cobweb in sight.

Seeing this, Bilbo set the broom aside. "I will put the kettle on. Then I need to go into the market, there is not a scrap of food left in the pantry."

Sylas’s eyes slid to Legolas, who was awkwardly stooping under the low ceiling. "Bilbo, do you mind if I make a little more headroom in here?"

Bilbo chuckled ruefully. "Hobbit-holes are rather unkind to you and Elves. Go on, Sylas, work your magic."

Sylas waved his wand again, weaving an undetectable extension charm that lifted the ceilings and widened the space without changing the cosy feel of the smial.

Afterwards, Bilbo set out for the market, with Sylas and Legolas accompanying him.

For Legolas, who had spent his life under the great boughs of Mirkwood, the bustling Hobbiton market was a delight. Every stall, every cart of vegetables and jars of honey seemed to catch his interest.

Before long, word spread like wildfire: Bilbo Baggins, the neighbour they all thought long dead, had returned. And not alone, but in the company of an Elf and a Wizard, no less. Curious eyes followed them everywhere, whispers trailing in their wake.

The next day, Bag End was anything but quiet.

Bilbo’s cousin Otho Sackville-Baggins arrived, and with him, the ever-scheming Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, who had once tried to claim Bag End for herself.

Bilbo froze. Lobelia stood in the lane looking utterly wild, her entire face and hands covered in thick, luxuriant hair.

The moment she spotted Bilbo, her eyes lit up in desperate relief, and she all but ran to him.

"Bilbo! Please, you must help me! Look at me, I am a disgrace! I cannot show my face anywhere like this!" she cried, wringing her hands. "Please, have pity, lift this dreadful curse!"

Bilbo’s expression cooled. Though he was not without compassion, he was not inclined to waste it on those who had earned their trouble.

"If you had not gone about declaring me dead and tried to auction off my home, Lobelia," he said sharply, "you would not be in this situation to begin with."

"Besides, I do not know magic, so how could I lift the curse for you?" Bilbo asked bluntly.

Lobelia, unwilling to give up, quickly protested. "We did not do it on purpose. You were gone for so long without a word. We truly thought you were dead and feared that your house might be taken over by strangers. We only wanted to help look after it."

Her tone softened into a pleading whine. "Cousin Bilbo, please, I beg you to ask that wizard friend of yours to lift this curse. I know he has magic. I promise, once it is gone, I will never trouble you again!"

As she spoke, she gave Otho Sackville-Baggins a sharp pinch, urging him to speak up. Otho immediately joined in, nodding quickly and swearing they would never again try to claim Bilbo’s property or Bag End.

Bilbo hesitated. He had no fondness for the pair, but his kinder instincts stirred. A few months of humiliation seemed punishment enough.

He turned to Sylas. "Sylas?"

Sylas had little interest in meddling with Bilbo’s family squabbles, but since Bilbo asked, he stepped forward, flicked his wand, and cast a short incantation toward Lobelia.

Bilbo and the onlookers glanced at Lobelia, who appeared exactly the same, and then back at Sylas in confusion.

Had he simply refused to help?

"She will not grow any more hair," Sylas explained calmly. "As for what is already there, she will need to shave it off herself."

Otho and Lobelia exchanged an uneasy glance but dared not challenge him. They might bluff and argue with Bilbo, but in front of Sylas’s sharp, knowing gaze, their courage vanished.

Once they departed, the cluster of nosy neighbors slowly drifted away.

Bilbo gave Sylas a sideways look. "You truly lifted the curse?"

Sylas smiled faintly, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Do you think I tricked them?"

Bilbo shook his head. "No. I only thought, with your skill, you could have removed the hair completely."

"I promised to lift the curse," Sylas said with a shrug, still wearing that playful expression. "I never promised to shave her."

Bilbo understood at once. The image of Lobelia submitting to a barber’s razor flashed through his mind, and though he fought it, the corners of his mouth twitched. Inwardly, he lit a candle for her, hoping she could find someone skilled enough not to take half her scalp with the hair, or she might be hiding indoors for many months yet.

Sylas and Legolas remained at Bag End for three days. Then, with Bilbo watching them go in reluctant farewell, they stepped into the newly connected fireplace and vanished, reappearing instantly at the summit of Amon Sûl.

Sylas felt no particular sense of loss at leaving, for the Floo Network now linked Bag End to the tower. He had even left Bilbo a jar of Floo Powder. Visiting would be quick and simple at any time.

On the first floor of the tower, Sylas emerged from the green flames.

Legolas, who had arrived a few minutes earlier, was speaking with Edward.

The moment Edward saw Sylas step out of the fireplace, his face lit with relief. "Lord Sylas, you are back!"

Sylas nodded. "Anything happen while I was away?"

"Nothing of great note," Edward replied, handing him a folded parchment. "Only that a few more people have arrived in Hogsmeade Village."

"But yesterday, a letter from Dale appeared in the fireplace, sent by someone named Bard using Floo Powder."

"Bard of Dale?" Sylas asked in surprise, taking the envelope with a puzzled expression.

He opened it and quickly understood.

It was not actually from Bard himself, but an invitation from the Dwarves, delivered through Bard.

Since Sylas had not set up a Floo Network connection to the Lonely Mountain, the Dwarves had no direct way to reach him and had to send their message via Bard.

The reason for contacting him was twofold.

First, regarding the Dragon Armor that Lord Dáin Ironfoot of the Iron Hills had promised to forge for Smaug the Dragon.

Second, concerning the construction of the castle. Thorin Oakenshield had once promised Sylas that, in exchange for the sword, he would gather Dwarven craftsmen to build Hogwarts castle for him.

Now Thorin had indeed reclaimed Erebor and become King Under the Mountain. Dwarves from the Blue Mountains and other exiled Durin’s Folk were returning, and Thorin was bound to fulfill his promise.

Reading the letter eased Sylas’s expression.

He turned to Legolas. "I am going to Dale for a while. Do you want to come?"

Legolas shook his head. "I think I will return to Mirkwood for a time."

"Remember to take plenty of Floo Powder," Sylas reminded him.

The Woodland Realm already had connected fireplaces, so with Floo Powder, Legolas could travel easily. Sylas felt no concern about their temporary parting.

After bidding farewell, Sylas took a handful of Floo Powder, tossed it into the fireplace, and called out clearly, "Dale!"

Green flames roared up, and he stepped inside.

After a dizzying spin, he emerged in the fireplace at Dale.

The first thing that caught his eye was the lavish, newly refurbished interior of the living room.

Was this not the home Bard had once given him? Why had it been redecorated?

Still wondering, he stepped outside.

The streets were bustling. The houses around had been rebuilt, shops lined both sides of the road, and merchants called out to customers in lively voices. Humans and Dwarves mingled freely, bargaining and exchanging goods.

Sylas could not help but feel a flicker of admiration. A city once reduced to ashes by dragon fire had come alive again.

Many residents recognized him and greeted him with bows, which drew curious glances from nearby Dwarves. Sylas nodded in acknowledgment and, guided by the locals, made his way to Bard’s residence.

As the Lord of Dale, Bard lived in a fine mansion, with guards posted at the gate.

The guards recognized Sylas at once and straightened sharply before bowing. "Wizard Sylas!"

One guard stepped forward respectfully. "Lord Bard said that if it was you, you may enter without announcement. Please follow me."

"Thank you," Sylas replied, stepping into the newly built residence.

Before he could reach the main hall, Bard himself came out to meet him, smiling warmly. "I did not expect you to arrive so quickly, Sylas. Please, come in!"

"I just saw Bilbo safely back to the Shire," Sylas explained with a smile. "When I returned, I found your letter waiting, so I came straight here. But I must say, the changes in Dale are astonishing. In just a few months, it looks completely transformed. You are clearly leading it well."

Bard now carried himself with the presence of a true lord, majestic, confident, and noble.

...

Stones Plzz

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