"Dad!" Elseth and Elroth had already spotted their arrival and ran over, beaming with joy.
Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin also stood up immediately. Even the usually mischievous Merry and Pippin became a bit shy in front of Bilbo, Gandalf, and Sylas.
"Sylas, Gandalf, let me introduce everyone," Bilbo said.
He pointed to the tallest hobbit among them, a young lad with golden curls and bright blue eyes.
"This is Meriadoc Brandybuck of Buckland. He's the only son of Saradoc Brandybuck, the Master of Buckland, and Frodo's cousin."
Being formally introduced to Sylas and Gandalf made Merry straighten his back. His eyes shone with excitement and admiration.
"Lord Sylas, please call me Merry. It's an honor to meet you!"
Sylas' lips lifted in a small smile at the boy's enthusiasm. "Hello, Merry. I know your grandfather and father well. I visited Buckland before, and they helped me greatly. How are they now?"
"They're both very well!" Merry answered quickly, even more excited. "My grandfather and father often talk about your deeds. They said you helped Buckland when the Old Forest attacked, and they even called you 'The Treefellr'!"
Hearing that old nickname, Sylas' mouth twitched.
Back then, young and impulsive, he had provoked the Huorns of the Old Forest. He managed to drive them back, but the then–Master of Buckland, Merry's grandfather, had jokingly given him that rather lumberjack-like title.
Sylas looked at Merry for a moment, then flicked his hand and produced a dagger, offering it to him.
"Since this is our first meeting, consider this a gift. May it protect you in times of danger."
The dagger was one of the four blades recovered from the Barrow-downs, forged by Cardolan smiths specifically to fight the Witch-king of Angmar, carrying the power to wound evil spirits.
In the original timeline, Merry used this very kind of dagger to break the Witch-king's enchantment and help Éowyn defeat him on the Pelennor Fields.
Merry stared at the elegant willow-leaf blade, its red-and-gold serpentine engraving gleaming, and the black scabbard adorned with gems. He was instantly mesmerized.
"This… this is for me?" he asked in disbelief.
Sylas nodded. "I used this dagger in the past. It was forged by Cardolan craftsmen. I no longer need it, so I'm giving it to you. Use it well."
Merry accepted it with barely restrained joy, drawing it partway from the sheath and admiring the cold gleam.
"Thank you, Lord Sylas! I'll treasure it, I promise!"
Bilbo and Gandalf exchanged a surprised look.
Gandalf especially knew exactly what the dagger was capable of, and silently wondered if Sylas had foreseen something.
Frodo, Sam, and Pippin all stared at the dagger with open envy. The craftsmanship, the inlaid gems, the flawless steel, it was clearly no ordinary weapon.
Bilbo then gestured to another hobbit.
"This is Peregrin Took of Tuckborough, son of Paladin Took II, the Thain of the Shire, and cousin to both Frodo and Merry."
Pippin straightened up as if reporting to a king, nervous and excited."Lord Sylas, hello! You can call me Pippin. My father told me about you, he said when you visited the Tooks, you even showed him some amazing magic!"
Sylas smiled gently at the eager youngster.
"I remember your father when he was about your age. It's hard to believe he already has a son so grown. Time truly flies. And your grandfather and father, are they well?"
Pippin lowered his head a bit. "My grandfather passed away in 2982… before I was born. But my father is well. He's always remained in Tuckborough."
Sylas paused, his expression softening with sorrow.
He remembered his first days in Middle-earth, when Paladin Took, Pippin's grandfather, had warmly welcomed him in Tuckborough and even gifted him a pony cart. That cart had carried him all the way to Rivendell during the quest to the Lonely Mountain.
The cart, the ponies, and the people who helped him… all gone now.
For the first time in a long while, Sylas felt the full weight of time's cruelty.
No wonder elves chose seclusion. Watching short-lived friends grow old and die while they themselves remained unchanged. It was a grief mortals rarely understood.
Paladin had only met Sylas once, and although Sylas felt a moment of sadness, he didn't dwell on it for long.
But the encounter inevitably brought his thoughts back to his own family.
Sylas was deeply grateful that his wife, Arwen, was an elf with eternal life; he never had to fear losing her to age.
Their two children, Elseth and Elroth, had inherited her elven blood. As half-elves, they too would live eternally unless they chose to renounce that gift and live as mortals.
And even then, Sylas still possessed the Elixir of Life, enough to ensure that he would never face the sorrow of outliving his own children.
As long as his family remained together, Sylas felt that even a lifespan stretching through ages would never be lonely.
Drawing himself out of his thoughts, he glanced at Pippin. The young hobbit was desperately trying to appear calm, but his eyes betrayed him, hopeful, bright, and undeniably covetous.
Sylas almost laughed. He didn't even need Legilimency to know exactly what was running through the boy's mind.
Amused rather than annoyed, Sylas flicked his hand and produced another dagger.
"Pippin, is it? This dagger is for you. Use it well."
Pippin's entire face lit up.
Having just seen Merry receive a remarkable blade, he had secretly been praying for the same blessing, and now he had it.
He accepted the weapon with both hands, almost trembling with excitement, thanking Sylas repeatedly in that charming, earnest way unique to hobbits.
His innocence made Sylas, Bilbo, and Gandalf all smile.
Then Sylas turned his gaze to Sam.
Among the four hobbits, Sam alone had stayed quiet. His eyes clearly held envy, yet he tried to suppress it with humility and restraint.
Samwise Gamgee wasn't of noble blood like Merry or Pippin.He was simply the gardener of Bag End, brought into Frodo's life by circumstance rather than lineage.
He had no grand ambitions, only the modest, honest dreams of a peaceful life: tending gardens, marrying the woman he loved, raising a family.
But he also possessed a quality shining brighter than any lineage:unshakeable loyalty.
Sam would one day walk beside Frodo through death, darkness, and despair, never abandoning him, not even when Frodo, twisted by the Ring, pushed him away.
Sam would face Shelob to save him, carry him up the slopes of Mount Doom, and even briefly hold the Ring without ever succumbing to its corruption.
Sylas already knew the measure of this hobbit's heart.
So he pulled out another dagger, the third of the set, and offered it to Sam.
Sam froze, wide-eyed. He had not expected anything.
He was not a Brandybuck or a Took. He had no grand deeds or legendary relatives.
"F-for me, sir?" he stammered softly.
Sylas nodded gently. "For you. May it protect you when the time comes."
Sam's face flushed with emotion, and he accepted the blade with both hands, bowing deeply.
Finally, there was Frodo.
Sylas had already given Frodo a gift earlier, the enchanted Leaf brooch. But he still drew out the final dagger, the last of the four blades taken from the Barrow-downs long ago.
He placed it into Frodo's hands.
"Yours as well," Sylas said quietly.
Thus, the four blades forged by ancient Cardolan smiths, weapons destined to stand against the Witch-king, returned to the hands of four hobbits who would one day need them.
...
STONES PLZZZ
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