A golden meteor suddenly streaked across the night sky, then vanished just as quickly over the Central Plains.
The humans who occasionally saw this golden meteor didn't pay much attention to it, simply treating it as an ordinary shooting star.
The romantic and artistic Elves, on the other hand, made their humble wishes upon the meteor, while the Dwarves tried to pinpoint its landing spot, hoping to find meteorite iron.
The gray-robed wizard, with his wise blue eyes, watched the direction where the golden meteor fell, a pipe clutched in his mouth, his aged face showing a contemplative expression, remaining silent for a long time.
"An alien star falls, Golden Grace shall rise."
"Is it a friend, or a foe?"
Finally, the gray-robed wizard left this question hanging, then galloped away on his horse in the opposite direction of the meteor's fall.
— — — — — —
The Shire, Hobbiton
It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon, peaceful, lively, and filled with the aroma of afternoon tea pastries.
Bilbo Baggins, as a hobbit, should have been leisurely enjoying grilled sausages, toast, cookies, and black tea inside his Bag End at this moment, savoring the delicious and sweet blend of these foods in his mouth, before finally sitting in his rocking chair and letting out a satisfying burp, the highest praise for his afternoon tea.
But now, wearing a brown shirt and black bell-bottoms, the endearing and somewhat clumsy Bilbo stood frowning outside his Bag End.
Not only that, but a circle of equally frowning relatives, friends, and neighbors stood outside his lush green doorway.
Bilbo and the other hobbits all looked towards the grass-covered earthen roof of Bilbo's house.
"Bilbo, perhaps you should climb up and see what's going on? After all, it's your roof, isn't it?" a sharp-voiced female hobbit suggested.
She wore a dark yellow dress and a black hat, but her gaze towards Bilbo was full of schadenfreude.
Bilbo pointed back unceremoniously, "Don't think I don't know what you're thinking, Lobelia! You're definitely planning to sneak into my house and steal my silver spoons after I get stabbed by that inexplicable armor on the roof! You tried to do that last time and I caught you."
The other hobbits watching burst into laughter, making Lobelia lose face.
She said, somewhat exasperated, "But this thing fell on your roof, you'll have to deal with it sooner or later."
Bilbo shrugged, "That's none of your concern. Perhaps this armor that fell on my roof is simply a gift from the heavens. Oh, maybe I should sell it to a wizard, it might fetch a good price. Then I can use that money to buy more cheese and sausage…"
"Clang—"
Perhaps the armor on the roof heard Bilbo's plans for its disposal; a part of its arm moved, emitting a metallic sound.
The noisy chatter outside Bilbo's house instantly fell silent, and even the two bickering Bagginses closed their mouths, their hearts beating faster with tension.
However, the armor made no further movement, allowing the holding-their-breath Bilbo to let out a huge sigh of relief.
Then he turned, just about to say something to the gathered relatives, friends, and neighbors, when he realized that these Hobbits had, at some point, run off without a trace, leaving a mess behind.
Like sunflower seed shells and fruit peels.
Bilbo sighed, then took a deep breath, looked at his house's roof, and bravely said, "Alright, alright, let me see what exactly dares to crash onto the Baggins' roof!"
He returned to Bag End, grabbed his usual frying pan for cooking fish and sausages, climbed onto the roof, and approached the motionless armor.
Bilbo tiptoed carefully, saying like a fluffy hamster trying to be intimidating, "You'd best not provoke the Bagginses. Our family is the fiercest in all of Hobbiton. I'll use my frying pan to knock off your helmet, then kick off your boots with my foot."
It was a humanoid, full-face armor completely encased in an unknown silver-white metal. The helmet had intricate, branch-like carvings, and plumes like snowy wolf fur cascaded down its back.
The silver shoulder plates on both sides also had exquisite carvings, though the shapes on them resembled some kind of leaf.
Areas not covered by armor, such as the face and upper chest, were wrapped in chainmail, making it impossible to see whether there was a person or some other rotten corpse inside.
Perhaps this was an Elf?
Bilbo thought to himself, looking at the clearly well-crafted armor.
This made him a little scared but also a little excited, because Bilbo had never seen an Elf before, only knowing of this race from books.
He even closed his eyes and gently tapped the chest of this mysterious silver-white armor with his frying pan, which still carried a hint of sausage aroma, but the other party showed no reaction.
Bilbo quickly retracted the frying pan, blinked, and showed a thoughtful expression.
Then he mustered his courage, went to the helmet, and pulled it off forcefully.
"Oh, my goodness…"
Bilbo exclaimed, looking at the unconscious human face revealed after the helmet was removed.
It was the face of a young human, with handsome features and short black hair.
However, his lips were somewhat purple, and his complexion was pale, looking like he desperately needed a comfortable bed, a burning fireplace, and hot milk and vegetable soup to warm his body.
He had originally thought there was no living creature inside the armor, but it turned out there was a living human after all.
Bilbo's first reaction was: How did he survive falling from such a height?
His second reaction was: How do I move it from the roof into the house?
Bilbo never considered leaving the other party there. As a Hobbit, he was very kind at heart.
So, the master of Bag End glanced at his slightly sloped roof, then at the unpaved ground beneath his roof, and his eyes darted around.
While struggling to pull the armor, which was nearly twice his height, he mumbled, "Anyway, you fell from such a great height in the sky, so this short distance should be fine, right?"
After Bilbo finished speaking, he placed the helmet back on the head of the unconscious human.
To ensure it was secure, he even patted it twice more.
"Three, two, one, up!"
As Bilbo exerted all his might, there was a clang, and the armored human on his roof was pushed by Bilbo to the ground, landing right in front of the door.
"Whew, well, it looks like you're lucky, you don't have to get more mud on you."
— — — — — —
When the tarnished awoke from his coma, he was greeted by a gentle orange light, the peaceful chirping of insects at night, and the scent of herbs.
The brown wooden ceiling was lit by a black metal chandelier, but the tarnished found it to be very close to him.
He was covered by a clean white blanket that only reached his upper body, and his white wolf war ghost armor had been removed and neatly placed on a small cabinet at the foot of the bed, leaving him only in a black undershirt.
As for his lower body, his two legs, they were placed on a velvet-padded chair by someone he didn't know.
Because the bed he was lying on was also very short.
"Clink, clank."
A sound like chopping vegetables came from elsewhere, accompanied by the aroma of meat, and the tarnished was certain someone was cutting a piece of savory, delicious sausage.
He tried to sit up, but his body felt as if it had fallen apart; after a few struggles, he went from lying down to sitting on this bed that didn't fit his size.
Where am I? Was I saved by the demi-humans?
No, demi-humans wouldn't have such a clean and tidy living environment... and they certainly wouldn't save me while I was unconscious and put me on a bed.
They would only treat someone like me, who had passed out, as an unexpected meat feast.
Then he saw a human, whose height only reached his waist, and who was as tall as a demi-human, walk out with a smiling face, carrying a tray.
He was wearing clean and tidy clothes, a brown waistcoat and shorts.
But...
The tarnished's gaze shifted to the other person's feet—they were large feet covered in a lot of brown hair, not something a normal human would have.
And such large feet were on a person half his height, and without shoes.
So, is it still a demi-human? A demi-human wearing clean and tidy clothes? But I've never seen a demi-human with a human face.
Just as the tarnished fell into doubt, the person saw him sitting on the bed, his head almost touching the ceiling, and showed a happy expression: "Oh, my friend, you're finally awake. Do you know, you've been sleeping in my bed for two whole days. If it weren't for your chest still rising and falling, I would have thought you were already dead."
The tarnished showed an apologetic expression: "I'm sorry, kind stranger. But may I ask, where am I now? Am I in the city of Leyndell on the Altus Plateau, or in a small town in the Liurnia Lake?"
Bilbo widened his eyes slightly, looked around, especially at the window to his right, and after confirming he was still in Hobbiton, he said: "No, neither of those places you mentioned. This is where we Hobbits gather, called Hobbiton. If you want to know the name of this land, it's called the Shire."
Then Bilbo walked straight over and placed the tray he was holding on the low table beside the bed.
At least for the tarnished, this table was low.
But for Bilbo, it was definitely just right.
"I've made dinner, but I'm not very good at taking care of the sick. Can you eat these things?" Bilbo took out one of the dishes from the tray; it contained cod fillets carefully pan-fried in butter, the fat emitting a pleasant aroma.
The tarnished was about to raise his hand when intense pain enveloped his entire body again.
Seeing this, Bilbo immediately realized something was wrong and quickly said: "Sorry, sorry, I forgot you fell from such a height; you must have broken bones all over. Although I haven't taken care of anyone before, seeing as you fell on my roof, I'll reluctantly help feed you."
"No." The tarnished shook his head, then endured the pain to raise his right hand and made a few grasping motions in the air.
Then a glass bottle shaped like a tear-drop abruptly appeared in his hand, with a layer of bright red liquid at the bottom.
Good, there's still one last sip.
The tarnished sighed in relief, then raised the tear-drop bottle high and drank the remaining red liquid in one gulp.
A familiar warmth instantly enveloped the tarnished's body, and the injuries that had caused unbearable pain disappeared within a few short seconds.
His pale face became rosy, his black pupils were no longer weak, and he stood up from the bed.
"Thud--"
"Ow."
Then the tarnished's head hit the chandelier above, and he cried out in pain.
Bilbo opened his mouth, swallowing the words he had been about to say to stop the other person from standing up.
He cleared his throat and said: "You humans are indeed a bit too tall to move around in a Hobbit's home, so please sit down. Oh, I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Bilbo Baggins, and yours?"
Then Bilbo curiously pointed at the tear-drop bottle in the tarnished's hand: "How did you make that appear just now? Is it a wizard's alchemical potion? Are you a wizard? Like Gandalf the Grey who comes back here to set off fireworks on New Year's?"
The tarnished was a bit bewildered by Bilbo's questions; he had never met anyone so talkative.
He thought for a second, then decided to answer the other person's first question: "I, I don't remember my name very clearly. But I remember others calling me 'The tarnished,' meaning a graceless person who has lost his Golden Grace..."
"I don't know that Gandalf you mentioned. As for this tear-drop bottle, although I'm not sure what a wizard is, I can confirm it's not an alchemical potion. The liquid here is a form of Golden Grace; as long as you have a breath left, drinking it can quickly restore your body to its healthiest state."
The tarnished glanced at Bilbo, who looked interested, and added: "However, it cannot cure diseases or poisoning. If you were already poisoned, it can only restore your body to its state before poisoning. But the toxins would still remain in your body, and your body would still be harmed by the toxins. If you're asking about its taste, it's a bit like a mix of fruits such as apples, grapes, and strawberries."
Bilbo shook his head: "Oh, actually I don't really care... Well, I do care a little about its taste. But you've already drunk it all, haven't you, Tarnished? How about you first enjoy some of my stored fine wine, and then I can listen to your story over a hearty dinner. Please wait here for a moment, I'll go make some more dinner to celebrate your waking up. We'll also have to think of a better name to call you..."
After he finished speaking, he stood up and, without waiting for the tarnished to say anything, ran to other parts of Bag End on his wide, thick feet.
Is this kind person who saved him a bit too hospitable? The tarnished thought to himself.
He didn't know that Hobbits were such a very hospitable, kind, and peaceful race.
The tarnished, had experienced eight reversals (playthroughs) and all endings. He has never seen such kindness.