Seeing the tree heart, Robert's eyes lit up.
He could feel a rich magical aura emanating from it. From the perspective of a wandmaker, this was nothing short of the finest material for wand-making. Not to mention, the tree heart was so long it could yield enough wood for more than a dozen wands.
Robert beamed as he reached out to touch it—but his hand immediately sank into its surface. Its weight and density were like solid stone or gold; he could barely hold it. No wonder it had taken two militiamen to carry it.
After thanking the soldiers and sending them off, Robert examined the tree heart, pondering how best to process it. He estimated it to be about four meters long—far too large to bring into the house, so he left it in the yard for the time being.
Moreover, he didn't need such an enormous piece of wood to make a wand. His plan was to first split the tree heart in half, then cut a smaller section to serve as raw material. But when he tried to make a single cut, there was only a shallow mark.
"Harder than I expected," Robert muttered, slightly dumbfounded. He couldn't fathom how he had managed to split the Old Willow before.
With no other choice, he decided to seek help from a professional carpenter. The Hobbits, who greatly valued Robert as the hero who had helped repel the tree-men, immediately agreed to assist when he explained his problem. They even offered their services for free.
Hours passed, and more than a dozen saws were ruined. Yet, drenched in sweat and shaking from exertion, the Hobbits finally managed to split the tree heart in half.
"Lord Robert, I can only help this much," one carpenter said sincerely. "This tree heart is incredibly hard—no less than raw iron. Ordinary tools won't work if you want to process it further. Only a divine weapon could cut it."
Robert nodded, accepting the advice. Seeing the exhausted carpenter, he felt embarrassed and quietly left a few silver coins on the table before carrying the two halves of the tree heart back to Drogo's house.
Back at the house, Robert stared at the two halves, troubled. Cutting the tree heart in half had been arduous enough; making it into a wand would require even greater precision. It would need not only cutting and carving but also gradually grinding the wood into the perfect shape. Ordinary tools simply wouldn't suffice.
Just then, Rory Brandybuck, who had heard of the tree heart, offered a useful suggestion while inviting Robert to Brandy Hall.
"Robert," Rory said with a chuckle, "you might ask Tom Bombadil for help. He has lived for ages, and his knowledge far surpasses that of anyone else. He's always eager to assist. Perhaps he has a solution for you."
"And haven't you already invited him to be a guest?" Rory continued. "This might be the perfect opportunity."
Robert's eyes brightened. He had almost forgotten about Tom's invitation. Rory was right—an ancient and powerful being like Tom Bombadil might indeed possess a divine weapon capable of cutting through the hard tree heart.
Despite this, Robert did not immediately visit Tom. He remained at Drogo's house, recovering from the after-effects of his magical outburst and practicing wand-making with other types of wood.
As for Drogo Baggins, ever since the banquet, he had fallen head over heels for Dora Brandybuck. He spent his days running to Brandy Hall from dawn to dusk, treating it almost like his own home.
Robert, being single, could only shake his head at Drogo's obsession with romance over friendship and silently wish him luck in winning her heart. He also wondered if Dora, the future mother of Frodo Baggins, would give birth earlier because of his meddling—whether Frodo might arrive in the world sooner than in the original timeline.
A month passed in a flash. After consuming piles of wood, Robert finally completed his first wand.
It was twelve inches long, made of willow, flexible, with a perfectly unobstructed magical circuit—a standard wand.
A smile of satisfaction spread across Robert's face. The sense of accomplishment warmed him from within.
Having successfully made a wand, Robert no longer lingered. After saying farewell to Drogo and Rory Brandybuck, he set off with the tree heart, riding south along the banks of the Withywindle River.
Passing through the river valley where the Old Willow had once stood, he saw it again. The tree remained rooted by the river, showing no signs of disturbance. Only its scorched bark and the lower half of its trunk confirmed that it had been the same Old Willow that had forced him to unleash his magic.
The tree appeared dormant, offering no hostility. A few newly grown green leaves indicated it was still very much alive. Robert glanced at it and moved on, continuing upstream along the river.
Soon, a riverside path appeared. Robert knew he must be close to Tom Bombadil's home.
After an hour, he finally saw a low, cozy house atop a distant hill. Evening had fallen, and warm orange light spilled from the windows and open door, guiding him like a beacon.
Tom Bombadil's house sat at the eastern edge of the Old Forest, bordering the Barrow-downs. Hills rose behind it, and the Withywindle River flowed from the deepest gorge of the Barrow-downs.
The lawn surrounding the house was neatly manicured, and a garden bloomed with countless flowers. A cobblestone path led directly to the front door.
Dismounting, Robert approached and saw Tom standing outside, waiting.
"Welcome, Wizard Robert! Come in quickly! My beautiful wife Goldberry has already prepared dinner, just waiting for you!" Tom exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace him.
Robert was slightly surprised. He hadn't expected them to know of his arrival beforehand.
Tom led Robert inside, then took the pony to the stable. In the living room, the table was laden with delicacies, filling the air with tantalizing aromas.
Seated across from the door was a beautiful woman with shoulder-length golden hair. She wore a dark green gown embroidered with silver threads that shimmered like dewdrops, and a golden belt cinched her waist. At her feet were numerous pottery basins, each filled with water lilies floating gracefully.
Robert took it all in, feeling a sense of peace wash over him.
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