The moon climbed high above Bag End, its silvery light spilling through the round windows and painting the cozy smial in shades of silver and shadow.
Dinner was long finished. Bilbo, insisting that his guest was far too tall to navigate the cramped confines of a Hobbit kitchen, had bustled off to wash the dishes himself. When he returned, he was munching thoughtfully on a crisp apple.
The man who had fallen from the sky—the Tarnished—sat quietly in the firelight. He had accepted the name Bilbo had given him, a slightly mangled but well-intentioned version of his title. "Tarnes," the Hobbit had called him, and since the sound was close enough, he saw no reason to correct him.
"So, Mr. Tarnes," Bilbo began, his voice full of genuine curiosity, "you say you come from a place called the Lands Between? I must confess, I've never heard of it. I've hardly left the Shire, you see. But sometimes… sometimes I wonder if I should leave my warm bed and see the world beyond Hobbiton." He took a bite of his apple and looked at the stranger with wide, inquisitive eyes. "What do you think? Should I go out and explore?"
Tarnes considered the question, his silence stretching long enough that Bilbo nearly spoke again. "I cannot give you a simple answer, Bilbo," he said at last, his voice a low rumble. "The world beyond is filled with beauty, but it is also fraught with peril. A beautiful memory is something to be cherished for a lifetime, yet a dangerous trial will make you appreciate your home all the more."
His gaze softened as he looked around the Hobbit's hole. "From your kind words and sincere hospitality, I can see you live in a place of incredible peace. I envy you, Bilbo. Truly. I wish my own home was as tranquil as yours."
Bilbo was surprised by the raw envy in the man's voice, the deep and sorrowful weight in his dark eyes. He swallowed the jest that had been on his lips. "Your home will be peaceful again one day, Tarnes," he said gently.
Tarnes offered a faint, sad smile but said nothing more.
Sensing the shift in mood, Bilbo quickly cleared his throat. "Could you… could you tell me more of your adventures, Mr. Tarnes? I'm sure a traveler like you has seen many wondrous things."
Tarnes had no reason to refuse. He leaned back, his eyes distant as he fell into memory. "Of course. But where to begin… Ah, yes." His voice took on a storyteller's cadence.
"O, wayfaring tarnished, ye who have drifted from the fogs of the Lands Between…"
As Tarnes spoke, Bilbo was utterly captivated. He listened, breathless, to tales of the howling gales that whipped through Stormveil Castle, and he worried for the Tarnished as he faced the monstrous cruelty of Godrick the Grafted. He pictured the grand, sweeping waters of Liurnia of the Lakes and sighed at the tragic love between Queen Rennala of the Full Moon and her Carian consort and the lonely vigil of their daughter, the Lunar Princess Ranni.
Tarnes's words painted a vivid tapestry, a world unfurling before Bilbo's very eyes. He spoke of the scarlet rot that bloomed across the Caelid wilds, a testament to the devastating duel between the titan Starscourge Radahn and the peerless Malenia, Blade of Miquella. He recounted the dark conspiracies of Mohg, the Lord of Blood, and the doomed ambition of Rykard, the Lord of Blasphemy, who offered himself to the God-Devouring Serpent in the fiery heart of Mt. Gelmir.
It was a saga richer and more terrifying than anything Bilbo had ever read in a book. A sudden, powerful urge surged through him. He wanted to see these places. He wanted to witness the subterranean splendor of the Eternal Cities, explore the timeless, crumbling city of the Ancient Dragons, and even venture into the Land of Shadow, a place lost to history.
Most of all, Bilbo yearned to see the tree Tarnes spoke of so often—the Erdtree. A colossal, world-spanning tree that reached for the heavens, as dazzling as the sun and as brilliant as the stars, the very source of life and prosperity for his homeland.
Time slipped away. The moon reached its zenith, its light pouring into Bag End as if it, too, were listening to the tale.
"…And so, the Elden Ring was mended, and the Lands Between welcomed a new Elden Lord. That is the story of my home as I know it, Bilbo."
As he finished, Tarnes thought he heard a faint sigh on the wind, a sound that held praise, melancholy, and a deep, cosmic sympathy. Bilbo, however, was still lost in the world of the story, his eyes glazed over. It took a gentle pat on the shoulder from Tarnes to bring him back to his smial.
"My word," Bilbo breathed, blinking his weary eyes. He looked at Tarnes with newfound awe. "Your adventures are beyond anything I could have imagined. If you wouldn't mind, could I… could I write these stories down? To pass on to my descendants?"
Tarnes nodded. "Of course, Bilbo. I would be honored. If you find any details unclear, I can help you fill them in."
A contented smile spread across Bilbo's face. He glanced out the window and realized how late it had become. A great yawn escaped him. "Goodness, look at the time. Let's stop here for tonight. You keep this bed, Mr. Tarnes; I'll rest in my parents' old room. Good night."
With that, the Hobbit shuffled off.
"Good night, Bilbo. May the moonlight illuminate your dreams."
A wave of exhaustion washed over Tarnes. He carefully settled his tall frame onto the small bed and, within moments, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Then, he was no longer in the Hobbit's home.
He stood in a realm of pure, endless white. Before him was a figure of similar stature, a bearded man with a kingly crown and a powerful build, who regarded him with a gentle gaze. As Tarnes looked upon him, a name bloomed in his mind, ancient and absolute.
Eru Ilúvatar. The One. The Creator of this world.
Tarnes felt a strange sense of familiarity. "This isn't our first meeting, is it?" he asked.
Ilúvatar smiled and nodded. "No. When you fell from the void into my world of Arda, I saw you. But your origins were a mystery, so I did not wake you. I merely granted you the gift of tongues, so you might speak with the peoples of this land."
A cold dread seized Tarnes. "You mean… this isn't the Lands Between? I can't go back?"
"Even I cannot find the coordinates of your home beyond the Outer Gates," Ilúvatar replied, his voice calm but final.
A profound sorrow welled up inside Tarnes, a grief so vast it threatened to consume him.
But then, Ilúvatar spoke again, his words a spark in the darkness. "But your homeland is within you."
Tarnes looked at him, confused.
Ilúvatar raised a hand and pointed to the Tarnished's chest. "My sight perceives all. Everything of your home is there, within that ring of gentle, golden light."
The Elden Ring? Inside me?
Tarnes looked down. As if summoned by his gaze, a great ring composed of interwoven golden arcs emerged from his chest, pulsing with a soft, warm light. He focused his mind upon it and saw everything: the Lands Between, its people, its creatures, its very essence, all held in a state of suspended time, perfectly preserved within the Great Rune.
"The tale you shared tonight filled a silence in the Song," Ilúvatar's voice echoed in the white space. "It was a melody of novelty and satisfaction. Therefore, I will allow you to rebuild your home and compose your own music within this world."
The Elden Ring faded back into his chest. Tarnes looked up at the Creator, his eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you."
"My words are not yet finished, visitor from another star," Ilúvatar said, his tone growing serious. "I permit you to compose your music, but you must not disrupt the Music I have already written. In Arda, some things are destined to be. You may play a magnificent part, but you cannot steal the stage and become the master of the performance."
"I only wish to rebuild my home," Tarnes replied with sincerity, "and protect her with my life."
"Then go to the southwest of Middle-earth, to the lands of Minhiriath. There are woodlands there, laid barren by the fires of the First Age. There, you may begin anew," Ilúvatar instructed. "At the end of this Age, I will aid you. Your home will be set apart, hidden by my power as a great island in the sea. Your deeds will become myth among Men, and perhaps, one day, those who hear your epic will sail out in search of your shores. Are you satisfied with this curtain call?"
The Lands Between had always been a continent surrounded by the sea. Tarnes found no fault in this. He nodded his assent.
Ilúvatar's expression softened. "Then farewell, visitor from a fallen star. May we meet again in the final chorus of the Song."
With a wave of the Creator's hand, the white world dissolved, and Tarnes felt his consciousness rushing back.
He opened his eyes to the crisp sound of birdsong and the warm morning sun on his face.
"Ah! You're awake, Tarnes!" Bilbo's cheerful voice called out from across the room. He was holding a tray, a wide smile on his face. "I was just about to wake you. Did you sleep well? I've made breakfast! Fresh fruit, fluffy bread, and some delicious bacon and fried eggs."
The Hobbit's boundless enthusiasm was a balm to his soul. Tarnes smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile. He returned the greeting and joined Bilbo for a hearty breakfast.
Later, as Bilbo sat on his doorstep enjoying the sun and puffing on his pipe, Tarnes spoke. "I believe it is time for me to leave, Bilbo."
Bilbo was startled, taking the pipe from his lips. "So soon? You could stay a few more days, you know. There's plenty of food in the pantry."
Tarnes smiled. "I know you speak the truth, my friend. But I had a dream last night. A voice told me to go south of the Shire, to a place where I can rebuild my home."
Hearing this, Bilbo's reluctance gave way to excitement for his new friend. "South of the Shire! That is a long journey indeed. From the maps I've seen, you should head east from here, find the Brandywine River, and follow it south. You will eventually reach a region called Minhiriath."
He hopped to his feet. "Wait here! I have a map!"
He scurried back inside Bag End and returned moments later with a rolled-up, new-looking map. Unfurling it, he explained, "I bought this from a traveling merchant a few years ago. The world outside shouldn't have changed too much." He pointed out the Shire and their destination. "Here we are in Hobbiton. You'll want to head this way…"
Bilbo meticulously traced the route for Tarnes, his finger moving with a practiced familiarity, as if he had planned this very journey for himself a thousand times.
Tarnes listened intently, then accepted the map. "Thank you, Bilbo. Once my home is rebuilt, you will be my first guest."
"Of course!" Bilbo beamed. "I am eager to see this Erdtree of yours." He then slapped his forehead. "I almost forgot! The journey to Minhiriath is long. I must pack you some provisions! And you'll need a sturdy backpack." He eyed Tarnes. "I'd recommend you stop in Bree and buy a horse. But be wary of the Barrow-downs on the way. I've heard tales of wights haunting those hills."
"Your preparing food is more than enough, Bilbo," Tarnes replied. "As for a mount, you needn't worry. I have a spectral steed I can summon with a whistle."
"Oh, right! I got a bit carried away," Bilbo chuckled. "I'll go pack those rations for you."
While Bilbo bustled about, filling a large pack with sausages, cheese, bread, and dried fruit, Tarnes donned his silver-white armor, leaving his wolf-plumed helmet off.
"I truly do not know how to thank you," Tarnes said, looking at the sack of food that was nearly as tall as the Hobbit himself.
"Nonsense," Bilbo said with a wave. "This is payment for the wonderful stories. I wish you a smooth journey, Mr. Tarnes, and may your homeland rise again in the southern lands."
Tarnes nodded. He set the great helmet on his head, then raised his fingers to his lips and blew a piercing, ethereal note. With a shimmer of blue light, the spirit steed Torrent appeared, its horns curling gracefully from its head.
"Amazing!" Bilbo exclaimed, his eyes wide. "So this is the spirit steed you mentioned! May I… may I touch him?"
"Of course," Tarnes said, strapping the food pack securely to Torrent's saddle. "He is very gentle."
Bilbo cautiously waved. "Hello there, lovely horse. May I give you a pat?"
Torrent huffed softly and lowered his head, nudging against Bilbo's outstretched hand. Overjoyed, Bilbo stroked the steed's neck, then pulled an apple from his pocket. "Shire-grown! Sweet and juicy!"
Torrent gently took the apple and began to munch on it contentedly.
"If all horses were as good-natured as yours," Bilbo said wistfully, "I might consider taking up traveling myself."
Tarnes swung himself into the saddle and smiled down at the Hobbit. "That day may yet come, Bilbo. When my home is rebuilt, I will ride Torrent back and invite you to see the world with me. If you still have the desire."
"It's a deal," Bilbo said cheerfully. "I will wait for your invitation."
Before leaving, Tarnes paused. "You saved me, gave me shelter, and fed me. I cannot leave without returning the favor."
He reached out, and as if from thin air, a pendant inlaid with four red amber stones and a brass dagger with an intricate leaf pattern on its blade appeared in his hand. He dismounted, knelt, and offered them to Bilbo.
"This is a Red Amber Medallion; wearing it will grant you greater vitality. And this is a Brass Dagger, a weapon once carried by the royalty of my homeland. Should you ever find yourself in dire need, bring this dagger to my lands, and my people will aid you. But be careful—it is exceptionally sharp."
Bilbo accepted the gifts, the dagger feeling like a short sword in his Hobbit-sized hands. "I will treasure them, Tarnes."
Tarnes smiled, stood, and mounted Torrent once more. "Then farewell, my friend, Bilbo Baggins. May the Erdtree watch over you."
"Goodbye, Mr. Tarnes!" Bilbo called out, watching as the armored figure and his spectral steed rode away down the lane. "May your journey be swift and safe!"
***
(End of Chapter)
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