Chapitre 147: Chapter 147: The Beauty of the Shire and the Final Oil Lamp
Early Autumn Morning
A slight chill lingers in the air.
In the morning light, a winding gravel path stretches quietly through the green fields. Sunlight filters through sparse clouds, casting dappled patterns on the ground.
On either side of the road, golden waves ripple across vast rice paddies as the rice stalks bend, seemingly whispering to the earth mother. A gentle breeze rustles through the fields, producing a soft, soothing sound. Occasionally, a sparrow flits by, its cheerful chirps adding a touch of life to the tranquil scene.
At the end of the path, a simple horse-drawn carriage approaches from afar.
The driver, a young man in a light blue robe, leans casually against the carriage rail, engrossed in a thick book he holds in his hands, unconcerned about the horse's direction.
"Ino, how much longer do we have to travel?" A young, curious voice comes from inside the carriage.
"Almost there! Almost there!" Ino closes his book with a sigh.
Middle-earth seems exceptionally vast.
Despite traveling with an elderly woman and a young child, making for a slower pace, this journey has already taken three months. Even now, they haven't yet reached the Shire.
Though the journey is monotonous, it has been rewarding.
Not only has Ino had the time to thoroughly read the "Standard Book of Spells" given to him by Draco, but the passage of time has also led to significant growth in his passive magic power. Over the nearly one year spent traveling from Mirkwood to Minas Tirith and now on the road, Ino has noticed a remarkable increase in his magical abilities. Reflecting on Professor Flitwick's previous assessment that he had the magic power of a fourth-year student, Ino now realizes he has surpassed that of a seventh-year graduate, approaching the level of a fully-fledged adult wizard.
Even more exciting is that this isn't his limit. Being in his second year at Hogwarts means his magic will continue to grow with time.
"Just accumulating experience might make me a legendary wizard..." Ino muses.
He shifts his gaze to the horizon, where low hills come into view. What's more striking are the small door frames and windows nestled in the hillsides.
"Mrs. Julia! Lily! We've arrived, we're at the Shire!"
Bag End
Bilbo Baggins rubs his eyes in disbelief. If he hadn't just turned fifty, he would have thought he was experiencing vision problems.
"Is it really you, Ino?"
Seeing the young man nod slightly, Bilbo rushes over excitedly.
"Hahaha! My old friend! If it weren't for you pulling me out of that forest, I would have been spider food long ago. You wouldn't believe what happened next..."
In the cozy but low-ceilinged Bag End, Ino sits quietly, listening to Bilbo recount his adventures.
It seems Bilbo has felt somewhat lonely over the years. Like someone who has seen the world and then returned to a quiet village, feeling out of place. Ino's arrival fills that void, prompting Bilbo to spill stories he'd kept bottled up for decades.
"You know, in all these years, only Gandalf occasionally visits me! I thought you'd forgotten about me! Today, I'm so happy..."
Bilbo's tone is a mix of sorrow and joy, the true essence of bittersweet emotions.
"Don't be sad, my old friend. I'm here now, and I plan to settle down here," Ino interrupts Bilbo with a smile.
"Settle down? Not leaving?" Bilbo stands up excitedly, pacing the room.
"I'll still leave occasionally! But I want to establish a home here, and I'll return periodically."
Ino glances at the table where an elderly woman and a young girl sit.
"I'll handle it! Leave it to me," Bilbo says, rushing toward the door, seemingly oblivious to the late hour.
Winter in the Shire
Winter in the Shire is a season of joy and festivities.
After the autumn harvest, the good-natured Hobbits gather to sing and dance, making every day full of joy and fulfillment.
Not far from Bag End, a somewhat unique house is brightly lit and filled with laughter. The house, built in the traditional Hobbit style with an additional two-story wooden structure, stands out in the neighborhood.
Inside, Ino and Bilbo chat leisurely, while Lily plays with several children. Meanwhile, Mrs. Julia packs food into a basket.
"Aren't you coming to the party? Still playing? Still chatting?" Mrs. Julia's raspy voice cuts through.
"Let's go! Don't want to keep everyone waiting," Ino stands up, taking the basket of food.
Tonight is special; the old year ends, and the new one begins.
Thus, the Hobbits, who love a good time, each bring food to the Shire's square for a grand feast that lasts until dawn.
As Ino rises, Bilbo jumps off his chair, a hint of melancholy in his voice, "Gandalf probably won't come this year! Maybe next year, or the year after, but eventually, he'll come to the Shire before the new year to light up beautiful fireworks for everyone."
"My friend, Gandalf isn't the only wizard!" Ino laughs, drawing his wand from his sleeve.
End of the Third Age, 2971
All the Hobbits in the Shire experienced an unforgettable New Year's Eve.
Dazzling and lifelike fireworks, countless delicious candies, small snow castles, tall snow slides, and gentle yet exotic animals for riding made the night magical.
Late at night, Ino gently places the sleeping Lily in bed. The little girl, exhausted from a day of fun, had fallen asleep on the back of a small unicorn.
After settling Lily, Ino steps outside.
"Are you leaving? Don't underestimate an old lady's intuition!" Mrs. Julia sits quietly in the living room.
Seeing Ino's silence, she walks to a cabinet and returns with an old oil lamp.
"This isn't anything valuable, but I have nothing else to give you! Take it; it might light your way at night."
A Path Near the Shire.
In the pitch-black night, the faint light from an oil lamp illuminates a small circle around it.
Moments later, the light and the figure holding the lamp vanish, leaving the surroundings to return to normal.
Despite the late hour, the faint sounds of Hobbits' laughter can still be heard carried by the wind.
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone