A large tent had been set up at the gathering place. Elders sat on benches, drinking beer and chatting about trivial matters. Young hobbits danced to cheerful country music. Children darted around the crowd, laughing and playing.
Compared to the lively gathering, Bag End was quiet.
Bilbo wore a pale yellow shirt, looking exactly as he had decades ago, healthy, agile, and unchanged. Only his demeanor had shifted; time had polished him, giving him a calm and settled air.
He sat on the sofa, reminiscing as he read through his adventure journal filled with memories from the Lonely Mountain expedition.
A sudden knock sounded at the door of Bag End.
A young hobbit entered, handsome, bright-eyed, with thick, curly brown hair.
"Uncle Bilbo, the feast has started. Everyone is waiting for you," Frodo said with a smile.
Bilbo turned, his eyes filled with affection. He placed a golden turquoise leaf bookmark between the pages, closed the book, and replied, "I celebrate my birthday every year. What does it matter if I'm a little late?" He looked toward the fireplace with anticipation. "Besides, all my guests haven't arrived yet. I'll go when they get here."
"Guests? More guests are coming today?" Frodo asked in surprise.
"Of course. Otherwise, why would I hold a birthday feast? Do you think I enjoy chatting with those neighbors who are always trying to snoop around my property?"
Frodo ignored that comment and instead asked, "Uncle, who exactly are you waiting for? Why are you sitting here so seriously?"
Before Bilbo could answer, the fireplace flames suddenly turned green.
Bilbo's eyes brightened. He stood up quickly. "Our guest has arrived!"
Before he finished speaking, a beautifully delicate child stepped out of the green fire.
He looked about eleven or twelve years old, with long black hair tied back by an elegant silver headband. His skin was snow-white, and though his features were soft enough to blur gender, there was a faint hint of boyishness. In the dim night, he seemed to glow faintly.
He stepped from the fireplace and greeted them with graceful politeness. "Uncle Bilbo, happy birthday."
"Elseth!" Bilbo exclaimed joyfully. "I'm so glad you could come!"
He hugged the child, who was nearly as tall as him, with clear affection.
"Where are your father and the others? In the back?"
Elseth, who liked Bilbo very much, nodded. "My father and Elroth are right behind me, Uncle Bilbo. This is a birthday gift for you. I hope you like it."
He extended a small gift box.
Bilbo was delighted. "Oh, dear Elseth, I'll love anything you give me."
He opened the box and found a small vial filled with golden liquid. He froze in surprise.
"What is this?"
"It's a Felix Felicis potion I brewed. It brings good luck for twenty-four hours."
"This is incredibly precious," Bilbo murmured, hesitating to accept it. He understood its value well. He had once used a small vial that Sylas gave him when Frodo was lost. He remembered the experience clearly, finding Frodo quickly, and the entire day unfolding with uncanny luck.
"Take it, Bilbo. This is Elseth's heartfelt gift. He spent more than half a year preparing this for your one hundred and eleventh birthday," Sylas's voice said from the fireplace.
He stepped out of the green flames with a smile, his young daughter Elroth beside him.
"Sylas! Elroth! You're here!" Bilbo said happily.
"Happy birthday, Uncle Bilbo! I have a gift for you too!" Elroth let go of Sylas' hand, ran out of the fireplace, and pulled a gift box from her pocket, much larger than Elseth's.
Elroth looked almost identical to Elseth. The only differences were her gray eyes, her much longer black hair, and the elegant elven circlet gifted to her by her great-grandmother.
Compared to her calm and composed twin brother, Elroth was lively and cheerful. As the younger sister, she was a bright and happy little elf, loved by everyone and always carefree.
Although the Sylas twins were now thirty-eight years old, they still appeared to be around eleven or twelve. They had graduated from Hogwarts the previous year.
Elseth possessed an extraordinary talent for Potions and had been sorted into Basilisk House, where he became the prized student of Headmaster and Potions Professor Allenheis. From enrollment to graduation, he had never encountered a potion he couldn't brew, and he was now attempting to create completely new ones on his path to becoming a Potions Master.
While he excelled in many subjects, displaying even exceptional talent in dark magic, Potions remained his passion and his chosen field of study.
His sister, Elroth, preferred alchemy.
Bilbo opened Elroth's gift box and found a chess set inside.
It was not an ordinary chess set. These pieces were divided into white and black: the white pieces included human kings, elves, and dwarves, while the black pieces were made up of orcs riding dire wolves, trolls, and Ringwraiths.
Once placed on the square board, the pieces came to life, speaking and thinking independently, turning the board into a miniature battlefield.
The orcs and trolls were so realistic, roaring viciously and radiating cruelty, that they startled Bilbo, instantly reminding him of his past encounters with orcs and his kidnapping by trolls during his own adventure.
"Uncle Bilbo, this is a wizard's chess set I made," Elroth explained with a smile. "You can play alone or with someone else. And if you're playing alone, I highly recommend choosing the black side."
"Why the black side?" Bilbo asked, puzzled.
Elroth grinned and winked. "Because when you command the black pieces at random, you can watch the orcs, trolls, and Ringwraiths get beaten up by the white pieces. It's very satisfying. And even if you lose, you won't feel bad."
Bilbo didn't know whether to laugh or scold her, but he still thanked her warmly. "Thank you, dear Elroth. I love your gift."
When it was Sylas's turn to present a gift, he simply pulled out a bottle of potion and said with a warm smile, "My gift is nothing surprising. It's the same as always. Happy one hundred and eleventh birthday, my friend."
Seeing the Elixir of Immortality in Sylas's hand, Bilbo gasped in amazement. "This gift is something countless people dream of. It's more precious than any surprise."