Sylas and Arwen's carriage rolled steadily along the East Road, its wooden wheels humming softly against the stone-paved path. The early autumn wind carried a faint chill, and the scent of pine and freshly turned earth drifted through the air.

Their first stop was Bree City, where they spent two pleasant days.

There, Sylas met with Mayor Greamae. The two spoke at length about the previous Wight siege, reviewing the city's defenses and the lessons learned from that harrowing night.

To ensure that such a crisis could never again leave Bree isolated, Sylas personally installed a new Floo Network. Several public fireplaces, including those in the municipal hall, the guard barracks, and the Leaping Horse Inn, were now linked to both Hogsmeade and Hogwarts Castle, creating a permanent emergency communication channel.

Arwen watched as Sylas demonstrated the emerald-green flames of the network to the astonished townsfolk, her eyes full of pride. Bree's people, who once had to rely on riders and messengers, could now summon aid from miles away within moments.

Unlike Hogsmeade, whose charm lay in its magic, tourism, and proximity to the Castle, Bree thrived as a trade hub. The streets were bustling with wagons and merchants, and the markets overflowed with goods from every corner of Middle-earth, Dorwinion wine, Rohan horses, Gondorian steelwork, Shire produce, and even the silks of Harad.

The blend of voices, smells, and colors delighted Arwen, who marveled at how humans and hobbits, dwarves and even a few elves, bartered side by side in peaceful bustle.

After bidding farewell to Mayor, Sylas and Arwen continued westward.

Their next stop was the Barrow-downs. The ancient mounds loomed silent and eerie, their grass-covered stones whispering in the wind. Sylas's expression hardened.

He raised his wand, murmured an incantation, and unleashed Fiendfyre. The serpentine flames slithered across the hills, consuming the long-dead bones and shattered tombs until nothing but ash remained.

"This time," he said quietly, his eyes glinting gold in the firelight, "the Witch-king will find nothing left to desecrate."

Arwen said nothing, she only reached for his hand, and he squeezed hers gently.

As they moved onward, they reached the borders of the Old Forest.

There, the Pegasus, sensing the magic in the air, spread its wings once more. The carriage rose above the trees, gliding low over the canopy of ancient oaks and whispering willows. The forest below stirred, as though the trees themselves had awakened to watch them pass.

Waiting for them at the heart of the forest were Tom Bombadil and Goldberry, who seemed to have sensed their arrival long before. Their small house by the Withywindle River glowed warmly in the twilight.

Tom greeted them with his usual booming laughter, and Goldberry welcomed Arwen with open arms.

The dinner that followed was a feast of colors and flavors, honeyed bread, river fish roasted with herbs, and sparkling golden wine that shimmered like sunlight in the glass.

Arwen and Goldberry became fast friends, their laughter mingling like music as they exchanged stories about rivers, stars, and the gentle magic of growing things.

Sylas, meanwhile, spoke privately with Tom about the One Ring.

"I fear I've troubled you," he admitted. "Sauron won't give up the search. If he realizes the Ring is here, even he might attempt to come himself."

Tom's blue eyes twinkled. "If I don't wish to be found, none shall find me," he said cheerfully. "And even if they do, the forest doesn't take kindly to uninvited guests. Let them try."

Sylas smiled, both reassured and humbled.

After several peaceful days in the Old Forest, Sylas and Arwen bid farewell to Tom and Goldberry, following the gentle curve of the Withywindle River until they reached Buckland, just west of the forest.

There, they visited Drogo Baggins, who was now happily married to Primula Brandybuck, daughter of the Brandybuck Chieftain. Sylas looked at the young couple and smiled, amused by the thought that their child, Frodo, would one day play such a fateful role in history.

The Brandybucks received them with great hospitality. Though the visit was brief, the evening was filled with laughter, food, and tales of old adventures.

The next morning, they departed, traveling north along the Brandywine River, where willows swayed over the water like sleepy guardians. Crossing the Brandywine Bridge, they continued westward through a chain of cheerful Hobbit villages until the familiar sight of Hobbiton appeared on the horizon.

The rolling hills were lush and green, dotted with wildflowers and the round, brightly painted doors of hobbit-holes nestled into the slopes.

"It's so peaceful here," Arwen said, smiling softly as the wind lifted her dark hair.

Sylas wrapped an arm around her waist and nodded. "I agree. It's one of the few places left in Middle-earth untouched by greed or shadow. When I first arrived in this world, it was here I woke, and it was Bilbo who found me and took me in."

He chuckled lightly. "If not for him, I'd probably have starved before I figured out which way was east."

Arwen listened with fond amusement as he recounted his earliest days in Bag End, his confusion, Bilbo's endless hospitality, and how he once mistook a teapot for a cauldron.

The road wound upward toward Hobbit Hill, the heart of Hobbiton. The smell of grass and tilled soil filled the air, and the sunlight glimmered off the round green door at the top.

Their carriage came to a gentle halt before the familiar gate of Bag End.

Outside, in a wicker chair by the garden path, Bilbo Baggins sat peacefully in the afternoon sun. He had a folded parchment in one hand and his ever-present pipe in the other, puffing contentedly as smoke rings drifted lazily into the air.

Bilbo's eyes widened the moment he saw the tall white steed pulling the carriage.

It was unlike any horse he'd ever seen, pure white, shimmering like moonlight, its coat almost glowing under the afternoon sun. It stepped so lightly that its hooves barely seemed to touch the ground, as though gravity itself had forgotten it.

When the carriage stopped in front of Bag End, Bilbo frowned in puzzlement. There was no driver, no coachman, no reins moving on their own. The whole thing stood still, elegant and silent.

Then the door opened.

Out stepped Sylas and Arwen.

"Sylas! Arwen!" Bilbo exclaimed, his face lighting up like the morning sun. He tossed aside his parchment and pipe and hurried down the path, his round belly wobbling slightly as he went. "How in the Shire did you two end up here?"

Sylas jumped down from the carriage, turned, and helped Arwen descend, her silver gown brushing against the grass. Hugging Bilbo tightly, he laughed. "We're on our honeymoon, old friend! Passing through the Shire, and I couldn't resist visiting you. Hope you'll still let us in?"

"Let you in?" Bilbo beamed. "My dear friend, you're the best surprise I've had in years! Of course you're welcome, come, come inside!"

At the round green door, he looked up at Arwen apologetically. "Mind the beam, my Lady. This house isn't exactly built for tall folk. Sylas and Gandalf both cracked their heads here once!"

Arwen smiled gracefully, ducking her head. "Thank you, Master Bilbo. I'll be careful."

Sylas, grinning, made sure to lower his head as well, recalling his first painful encounter with that same doorframe.

Once inside Bag End, Sylas discreetly flicked his wand. The ceiling expanded upward, the walls stretching ever so slightly until the cozy hobbit-hole felt far less cramped.

Bilbo bustled about happily, laying out everything from seed-cakes and honey tarts to cold meats, cheeses, and mugs of ale. At one point, he even tried to dash off to the market for fresh vegetables, until Sylas gently stopped him.

"You've done more than enough already, Bilbo," Sylas said warmly. "Sit and enjoy with us."

The three spent hours reminiscing. Arwen listened with genuine amusement as Bilbo retold stories of Sylas's first days in the Shire, his confusion about teapots, his fascination with gardening, and the time he nearly caused an explosion trying to make toast with magic.

Bilbo's laughter filled the little hobbit-hole like music.

They stayed three days in Hobbiton.

Each morning, they walked the green hills together, Sylas and Arwen hand in hand, Bilbo trotting cheerfully beside them. They visited the Market, sampled pies and ale, and watched children roll down grassy slopes.

Arwen was utterly enchanted by the peaceful beauty of the Shire, the slow pace of life, the cheerful hobbits, the smell of fresh earth and flowers.

When it was time to leave, Bilbo was reluctant to let them go. He stood at his garden gate, waving as the carriage started down the hill.

From Hobbiton, they traveled on through the Shire's heart, passing through Michel Delving, where they stayed briefly before continuing westward. The land grew quieter as they neared the sea, and soon the road ended at the shimmering waters of the Gulf of Lune, the Grey Havens.

There, Círdan the Shipwright welcomed them personally. The old Elf, silver-bearded and serene, stood on the pier surrounded by the sound of waves and gulls.

Behind him, the harbor was lined with sleek white ships, their masts rising like silver spears against the horizon. But what drew Sylas's and Arwen's attention most were the steam-powered vessels, great ships whose engines hissed softly, combining elven magic with mortal ingenuity.

Sylas marveled at how far the Elves had advanced in such a short time. These enchanted steamships used magical flame that never died, burning endlessly as long as there was water to feed the boilers. They no longer depended on wind or crew, making voyages faster and safer.

The teleri eleves skilled in navigation, now sailed further and wider in the ocean.

Since Aman, where Valinor is located, was moved into another dimension by Ilúvatar, the Creator God, only by taking the Straight Road could one reach Valinor. Otherwise, sailing west would only lead back to the starting point.

Because the current world of Arda is spherical. And besides Middle-earth, this world also has the legendary Land of the Sun and Land of Darkness.

The Land of the Sun is also known as the Far East, a continent in the Far East of Arda, corresponding to Aman in the far west, separated from Middle-earth by the East Sea, and is the land of sunrise.

The Land of Darkness, on the other hand, is a continent formed by the splitting of Middle-earth during the War of Wrath, located southeast of Middle-earth, a land whose conditions are entirely unknown, existing only in name.