"Burp."
On Bilbo's birthday evening, seated contentedly at the table, he let out a satisfied belch, then cast an appreciative glance at the food still remaining on the various platters and dishes scattered across the surface. Over half the feast remained untouched.
"Absolutely delicious, but I genuinely cannot eat another bite. Though..." He paused, considering thoughtfully. "I believe I could manage one more small glass of wine, actually."
He looked toward Levi with hopeful eyes. "What about you? Care to join me?"
"Pour me one as well," Levi replied, reclining comfortably in his chair with visible reluctance to move.
His appetite was considerably smaller than Bilbo's, which explained why the majority of food that had disappeared from the table came directly from the hobbit's legendary stomach. Even the most capacious hobbit appetite had its limits when confronted with an entire table laden with enormous roasted meat joints and oversized cakes.
For once, Bilbo's legendary appetite had surrendered.
The wine arrived with a gentle clink of glasses. Levi sipped it carefully and discovered it came from a different source than Roadside Keep's vineyards. The flavor was distinctly different yet no worse than what his own cellars produced, which he found quite remarkable. A worthy discovery.
"Truly excellent wine," Bilbo murmured contentedly.
Night deepened around them as the hours passed peacefully. Eventually, Levi settled into a chair on Bag End's front courtyard, sampling the wine while gazing upward at the luxuriant starry sky stretching endlessly overhead.
Among the countless stars scattered across the darkness, one in particular stood out with unmistakable brilliance. It shone with such intensity it dominated the night sky.
The Star of Hope. Or more precisely, Eärendil's Star.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't truly a star in the conventional sense. The brilliant light emanating from it came from a Silmaril that Eärendil wore eternally upon his forehead. Beyond the World's distant gates in the heavens, Eärendil piloted what was deemed the most beautiful ship ever fashioned. The Vingilot constantly circled the world in endless patrol.
Eärendil was also Elrond's father.
For countless ages, Elrond had silently watched his twin brother, who chose to become mortal, and then generation after generation of his descendants grow old, wither, and perish from unforeseen misfortune. Who could truly say what emotions filled him on clear nights when he accidentally raised his head, gazing at that shining star with full knowledge of its significance?
Elrond's entire existence was saturated with tragedy and parting, overflowing with suffering from countless losses. Yet he remained ever strong, ever kind, ever steadfast despite the weight he carried.
Levi's gaze followed that star of Eärendil in the sky above, moving at an almost imperceptible pace across the heavens, while his mind wandered through many stories and histories he'd learned across the years.
This lord of Rivendell carried within him bloodlines from the three great Elven families combined with three great human families, plus a trace of Maiar heritage that ran through his veins. His father was the legendary savior Eärendil himself, yet departed from him when Elrond was merely two years old. His mother, at his sixth year, was forced to leap into the sea to end her life during a catastrophic attack on their home. He and his twin brother were subsequently adopted by the enemy who had driven their mother to that tragic fate.
This enemy didn't abuse them, strangely enough, but instead cared for them with deliberate attention, creating complex and contradictory emotions between them. Yet later, this maternal enemy also faced the harsh judgment of fate. Tormented by unbearable pain and consuming remorse, transformed into something like a wraith wandering the seashore eternally, singing dirges of anguish, never returning to the mortal world again.
None knew his ultimate end or destiny.
But it could be confirmed that because of this figure's sudden departure, Elrond lost family once more. Another connection severed by forces beyond his control. His entire existence overflowed with loneliness, profound pain, and permanent farewells from those he loved, never seeing them again in this world.
This fellow really is utterly wretched, Levi murmured, shaking his head slowly while sighing toward that distant star. He gradually closed his eyes, his consciousness drifting away as he settled more deeply into the chair's comfort.
Without fully realizing it, sleep claimed him there in the courtyard.
Creak.
A tiny sound, barely audible, startled him awake.
The sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.
When Levi opened his eyes, he discovered that someone had placed a blanket on him during the night. In the courtyard ahead, a figure was carefully inserting a letter into Bilbo's mailbox. The mailman seemed startled by Levi's movement.
"My sincere apologies. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to wake you. I attempted to be very quiet with my delivery."
"No matter at all. I shouldn't have fallen asleep out here anyway," Levi replied, waving his hand dismissively.
The mailman's voice had indeed been extremely quiet. When the mailman arrived before Levi without his noticing, it spoke to the hobbits' remarkable ability to move silently when they chose. One should know that Levi had spent most of these recent years positioned at battlefield centers, fighting nearly continuously in various conflicts. Though few things could genuinely threaten him, he still maintained basic alertness. Any unnatural disturbance would normally draw his immediate attention.
But this hobbit's stealth had escaped even his awareness entirely.
"Excuse me, are you that 'Levi'?" the hobbit mailman asked carefully after completing his task.
"I am," Levi confirmed with a nod.
"It really is you! I've heard countless stories about you throughout the Shire!"
The mailman became noticeably excited, his small frame practically vibrating with energy. He fumbled around on himself for several moments before eventually producing a small, worn notebook he carried close.
"Um, could I possibly ask for your autograph? I know this request might seem impolite, but my children absolutely adore hearing the stories about you. If they could see this..." He trailed off, becoming self-conscious. "If my behavior has offended you, please just pretend you didn't hear this request."
Speaking himself into visible embarrassment, the mailman lowered his head and began withdrawing his hand.
At that moment, Levi stood and gently took the notebook from his nervous hands.
"Where should I sign?"
"Yes! Right here!" the mailman exclaimed.
So Levi wrote his name with a bold, confident flourish across the designated page.
While returning the notebook, he also slipped the delighted mailman several small pastries wrapped carefully.
"For your children. Specialty confections from Dale. They should enjoy them."
"Thank you so much!" The mailman clutched the notebook and wrapped pastries gratefully, bowing with genuine emotion.
"My home is in the Eastfarthing north of Hobbiton. Should you happen to pass by that region, I would be absolutely delighted to host you as my guest."
"Good. I shall remember that," Levi replied with a warm smile, parting cordially with the mailman.
After leaving Bilbo's home, the mailman opened his notebook, carefully reading the signature while adding detailed notes.
"The Lord of the North, the legendary Levi who strikes fear into the hearts of evil forces, proved to be an extremely friendly and gracious person. When I requested his autograph, he not only readily agreed but even gifted me several pastries to bring home to my children. They will certainly be overjoyed tonight."
He paused, reconsidering, then added additional notes. "However, one curious point remains. What exactly is his relationship with Bilbo Baggins? I've heard that Bilbo participated in an extraordinary adventure decades ago. Perhaps they encountered each other during that time."
In the Shire, 'Bilbo of Bag End with his inexplicable wealth' was already a mysterious figure of considerable intrigue.
Now his mystique gained yet another layer, appearing even more enigmatic and difficult to understand.
The mailman pondered these questions briefly, then shook his head and stopped recording, choosing to focus on completing his regular work instead.
He looked at the small gift obtained from Levi, feeling genuinely that today was a day particularly filled with hope and good fortune.
"Bilbo, your mail has arrived!"
In the courtyard, Levi opened the door and called inside.
"One moment, I'm coming!"
Bilbo hurriedly served the breakfast he'd just cooked onto a plate, set down the cooking pot with care, and came outside quickly.
"Let me see, then. Hmm..." He slowly read the letter's signature carefully.
"Frodo Baggins. From Buckland, Brandy Hall," he murmured thoughtfully.
"Oh?" Reading further, Bilbo's expression shifted to show genuine interest.
After a moment, Bilbo nodded with obvious recognition.
"They remain as hospitable and generous as ever. That's very much in character for them."
"What is it, Bilbo?" Levi asked, feeling curious about the letter's contents and Bilbo's reaction.
"A banquet invitation from a fairly close cousin of mine. Frodo Baggins," Bilbo explained. "Just yesterday, his child was born. Quite coincidentally, this newborn child shares my birthday. Born on the twenty-second of September."
Bilbo's mood seemed somewhat complicated, a mixture of nostalgia and emotion crossing his weathered features.
"They're planning to follow Gerontius Brandybuck's example, hosting a grand feast at Brandy Hall to celebrate the child's healthy birth and arrival into the world."
"Let me see what the letter states. This child already has a name assigned to them. The letter mentions it clearly. He's called Frodo. Frodo Baggins," Bilbo said, his voice carrying a note of strange significance.
Truly a good name, Levi observed.