Harry Potter: The Bard of Hogwarts

The peaceful Shire.

In the middle of a lush apple orchard.

Ino sat alone under a tree, using a delicate sword to carve a piece of ivory.

The ivory was a 'friendly' gift from the Haradrim, and the sword he was using was also a trophy of war, the Morgul Blade, once wielded by the Witch-king of Angmar.

As for the Sword of the Slayer, he had returned it to Gandalf after the battle, just as he had refused it a hundred years ago.

...

Six months had passed since the Battle of Pelennor Fields, and over four months since the One Ring was destroyed.

After the Battle of Pelennor Fields, Gondor and Rohan had launched another attack on Mordor, after a brief rest.

This seemingly futile attack succeeded in drawing Sauron's attention.

And then, everything unfolded as in the stories. Frodo, living up to everyone's expectations, destroyed the One Ring in Mount Doom.

The story had ended.

The epic saga that spanned the Second and Third Ages had finally reached a satisfying conclusion.

After declining Théoden's invitation, Ino returned to the Shire, where he had his house and friends.

The land he once used to grow pipe-weed had been cleared by the White Witch and was now replaced by this verdant apple orchard.

...

Bag End.

As a former legend, a hundred years had finally caught up with Bilbo, who now appeared elderly.

As a former bearer of the One Ring, he had unnaturally extended his lifespan, but with the destruction of the Ring, this Hobbit, forgotten by time, was finally reclaimed by it.

After finishing his daily work in the orchard, Ino pushed open the door to Bag End.

"What are you trying to prove? If I'm not around, you should ask Frodo to help you."

Seeing the aged Bilbo, Ino couldn't help but wave his wand to stop him from attempting to cook.

"I'm not too old to move!" Bilbo replied, full of defiance.

But soon, Bilbo's tone shifted to one of sorrow, "Frodo is in worse shape than I am. Who knows what he's been through."

"Everything will be fine! Trust me," Ino said, patting Bilbo on the shoulder.

He had seen Frodo's condition. Having been stabbed by the Witch-king of Angmar with the Morgul Blade, the curse within the blade had already spread through Frodo's body, despite the destruction of the Ring.

When it came to such cursed injuries, Ino was powerless. Healing spells and essence of dittany were only effective on physical wounds.

Of course, if Fide were a normal phoenix, everything would be easier.

But life wasn't full of 'ifs', and Frodo could only endure the pain while waiting to journey to the Undying Lands in the West.

After comforting his old friend, Ino used magic to start preparing their dinner.

For the past six months, he had been living at Bag End, given Bilbo's frail condition.

...

Half an hour later.

An array of exquisite dishes began to float out from the kitchen.

At the dining table, Ino looked at the elderly figure across from him.

"Old friend, let me tell you a story."

"Hey, that sounds nice," Bilbo replied, picking up on the conversation.

"I vaguely remember when we first met, you said you were a bard, but I didn't pay much attention then. All my focus was on those delicious sweets."

Bilbo spoke haltingly, as if extracting long-buried memories.

"So, I never really told a proper story..."

Ino sighed softly. The suitcase in the bedroom opened on its own, and a stack of bound parchment and an automatic writing quill floated out together.

"This story begins in the Shire, the homeland of the Hobbits..."

...

Time slipped away like fine sand through fingers, disappearing silently in the wind.

A week passed in a blur.

During the past week, Ino watered the apple orchard during the day or chatted with Lina. The rest of the time, he stayed at Bag End, telling stories to the two Hobbits.

Yes, besides Bilbo on the first day, Frodo joined them on the second day.

And the story he told was simple: the adventures of the uncle and nephew.

From the unexpected visit of the dwarves to Bag End to the destruction of the One Ring a hundred years later.

The story didn't focus on grand epic scenes but rather on the tales of ordinary people.

Ino narrated his experiences in Middle-earth from his own perspective.

Amidst the melodious sound of a lyre, the past seemed to come alive once again.

Woodland elf Doris, old Gondorian woman Julia, young Lily, brave but short-sighted Théodred, and the five thousand old and young Rohirrim...

Each of them was a story, and they were all protagonists in their own right.

In the traditional view of a bard, a story is just a story; it only varies in length, not in greatness.

"...The Fellowship completed their mission, the One Ring was destroyed in Mount Doom, and Frodo and Sam returned to their beautiful, prosperous Shire."

As the last note fell, Ino felt the tug of return once more.

Coincidentally, it was as if it had been waiting for him to finish the story.

But this time, he didn't rush to leave. He waved his hand, and the bound stack of parchment flew to Frodo.

"I know you're also writing a story, so I'm giving this to you. The stories of Middle-earth should be told in Middle-earth."

Ino smiled at Frodo, then looked around Bag End once more.

The next time he returned to Middle-earth, this place would undoubtedly have changed.

"Are you leaving again?" Bilbo keenly sensed the nostalgia.

"Yes, the story here has ended. I need to go tell stories elsewhere."

Ino stood up and gently embraced his old friend.

"Leaving is good!" Bilbo agreed with a nod.

"The Shire is not your destination, but it will always be your home."

As he spoke, Bilbo slowly got up and walked toward the room.

Moments later, he emerged holding an old brass key.

"I originally planned to give this to you when we parted, but who would have thought you'd leave so soon."

Bilbo laughed heartily and placed the brass key on the table.

"This is the key to Bag End. I said the Shire is your home. Frodo and I will leave Middle-earth, but Bag End needs a caretaker. As you said, it's the starting point of the story."

"Alright!" Without hesitation, Ino picked up the key from the table.

"When the Fourth Age begins, and I've recorded enough stories, I'll come find you."

"I'll be waiting for you in the West, in Valinor! It's been a long time since I've felt this way. It feels like a new adventure is about to begin."

Despite his over a hundred years and frail appearance, Bilbo's eyes shone with the vigor of his younger days at that moment.