All the Hobbits who witnessed this scene stared wide‑eyed, as though caught in a waking dream.
From the high ground, Rory Brandybuck, the head of the family, fixed his gaze on the lone figure below. Shock and awe were written plainly across his face. He had always known Robert was a Wizard, but he had never imagined such terrifying power. Beneath that wondrous and overwhelming magic, Robert moved through the Huorn tree‑men as if strolling through a garden path, unstoppable wherever he went.
At that moment, Rory could not help but feel a pang of regret. He regretted that he had not tried harder to befriend the Wizard earlier. At the same time, envy crept into his heart—envy toward Drogo Baggins, that fortunate fellow who had lived with Robert for so long. Even if they were not formally friends, their relationship must have been deep.
With such a powerful Wizard standing behind him, who in the Shire would dare to look down on Drogo?
As these thoughts turned in his mind, Rory Brandybuck found himself considering another idea. Perhaps it would not be a bad thing, he thought, to allow his daughter, Dorlothea, to interact more with that young Wizard in the future.
Time passed, one agonizing moment after another.
On the battlefield, Robert was panting heavily, exhaustion clear on his face. He had long since lost count of how many Huorn tree‑men he had subdued. The petrified forms now stood like ordinary, motionless trees, transforming what had once been an open, grassy field into a dense and unnatural forest.
His throat burned as if scorched, nearly unable to produce sound, and the magic within his body was close to being drained dry. Every breath felt heavy, and his limbs trembled with fatigue. Even so, the result of his struggle was undeniable.
Robert had succeeded.
The tree‑men had been stopped. They had failed to cross the High Hedge and enter Hobbit territory.
Yet despite this apparent victory, Robert did not relax his guard for even a moment.
Rumble!
The earth shook violently beneath their feet.
From the depths of the Old Forest, an enormous presence emerged, sweeping aside everything in its path. Trees were uprooted, branches shattered, and the dense woods were forcibly torn open, a wide road plowed through them by sheer, monstrous force.
Bathed in the flickering firelight, the behemoth finally revealed its true form.
It was Old Man Willow—the ancient terror that dwelled at the very heart of the Old Forest.
Its exterior was blackened and partially carbonized, its branches withered and yellowed with age. In the swaying darkness and firelight, it resembled a colossal monster baring its fangs and claws. A low, grating hum emanated from its massive trunk, filled with pure, seething malice.
Robert's eyes narrowed sharply.
Old Man Willow had come out in person.
Even more terrifying was the sight of its roots. Compared to its already enormous trunk, the roots were even larger—nearly a dozen times thicker—snaking across the ground like the limbs of a gigantic octopus. With casual brutality, it wielded them to smash aside every tree that dared block its advance.
In that instant, Robert felt it.
An invisible gaze locked onto him, heavy with murderous intent.
There was no doubt about it now.
Old Man Willow's target was him.
Robert tensed, forcing his weary body into a battle‑ready stance. Every instinct screamed danger.
The ancient tree did not slow down. Its massive roots dug into the earth and surged forward relentlessly, reaching the High Hedge in moments. With terrifying ease, the roots pierced the hedge, ripping it apart as if tearing paper.
Gasps of horror echoed among the Hobbits. Faces drained of color as despair took hold. Compared to this monster, the earlier Huorn tree‑men seemed like nothing more than children's toys. How could anyone possibly stop such a thing?
Standing directly in its path, Robert felt the pressure double, then triple, crushing down on him.
"Protego! Petrificus Totalus—Petrificus Totalus!"
He cast a Shield Charm around himself while shouting the incantations one after another. His voice was dry and hoarse, stretched far beyond its limits. With every spell, a bitter, metallic taste filled his mouth.
Even so, the results were grim.
Petrificus Totalus could restrain Old Man Willow for only a few fleeting breaths before the ancient monster shattered the spell through sheer force. Massive roots and thick branches slammed down again and again, crashing into the translucent shield around Robert.
Each blow made the shield flicker and dim, cracks spreading through the magical barrier like spiderwebs. It looked ready to shatter at any moment.
The Hobbits watching from afar felt their hearts leap into their throats.
Robert endured in silence. Old Man Willow's resistance to magic was terrifyingly high, and its physical strength was even worse. Every strike carried immense power, and even the Shield Charm could not hold much longer.
Seeing the situation turning critical, Robert shouted toward the high ground where the Brandybuck family stood.
"Quickly! Throw the oil barrels and wine barrels toward me!"
The Brandybucks hesitated, confusion rippling through the group as they looked to their family head for guidance.
Rory Brandybuck did not hesitate.
Seeing Robert locked in a desperate struggle with the ancient terror, he immediately gave the order. "Launch all the oil and wine barrels! Aim for the Wizard!"
"Fire!"
With the command, the catapults released their payloads. Wooden barrels shot through the air like cannonballs, arcing toward Robert and Old Man Willow.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Robert's hoarse voice rang out once more.
The descending barrels froze in mid‑air.
With a sharp motion of his finger, he redirected them. They slammed into Old Man Willow's massive body, bursting apart and drenching the ancient tree in oil and wine.
"Incendio."
A small flame blossomed at Robert's fingertip. With a flick of his wrist, the flame flew forward and landed squarely on the soaked trunk.
Fire erupted instantly.
Old Man Willow was engulfed in roaring flames, transformed into a towering inferno. The blinding light illuminated all of Buckland and could even be seen clearly from Frogmorton across the Brandywine River.
A shrill, agonized shriek tore through the night as the ancient tree thrashed wildly, its branches and roots flailing in a futile attempt to extinguish the fire. But it was useless. The flames clung to it like living things, burning hotter and fiercer by the second.
The intense heat scorched the surrounding grass and leaves, curling them into ash as waves of heat rolled outward.
Robert watched the struggle in silence, his face expressionless.
Yet inside, his vigilance reached its peak.
He knew better than to underestimate an enemy like this.
"Wuwuwu—!"
The roots and branches rapidly carbonized, cracking and popping, their sounds resembling mournful, tortured cries.
An unseen pair of eyes, filled with hatred and resentment, fixed themselves on Robert.
A massive fissure split open along the trunk, like the gaping mouth of a giant.
From within it came a strange, piercing melody.
The sound carried powerful magic, suppressing every other noise, until it felt as though nothing existed between heaven and earth except that dreadful tune.
Robert's expression changed instantly. He clapped his hands over his ears.
It did nothing.
The melody ignored all physical barriers, pouring directly into his mind like a demonic whisper. His thoughts grew tangled, his consciousness blurring, as though another will were trying to seize control of his body.
With a sharp crack, Robert slapped himself hard across the face.
The pain barely helped.
Gritting his teeth, he made a desperate decision and plunged his left hand directly into the flames.
"Aaah!"
The searing pain tore a cry from his throat, but it worked. His fading consciousness snapped back into clarity.
Robert stood panting, barely holding himself together.
The Hobbits, however, were far less fortunate.
Under the influence of the eerie melody, their eyes grew dull and unfocused. Like puppets with severed strings, they began to walk slowly toward Old Man Willow.
Robert's heart sank.
If they reached the burning tree, they would be crushed by its dying thrashes—or burned alive in the raging fire.
Old Man Willow intended to drag everyone down with it.
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