"Welcome, my good guest!"
The woman rose from her chair, her steps light and graceful as she moved past the clay pots scattered at her feet. With a charming smile, she hurried toward him.
"I am Goldberry, Daughter of the River. Old Tom said a young wizard has come to the forest. We haven't had guests here in a long time. You must be starving—come quickly and have something to eat!"
"At your service, Lady Goldberry. I am the wizard Robert." Robert bowed slightly, his expression solemn.
Tom Bombadil's identity remained a mystery, and the lady before him, who looked like an Elf, seemed equally enigmatic. According to the songs of Buckland, Goldberry was the daughter of the Willow River's River-woman, a water nymph. One day, when Tom passed by the river, she had playfully tugged his beard and dragged him into the water. From that moment, Tom fell in love with Goldberry, and not long after, they were married and had lived together in a small cottage by the Willow River ever since.
Whether the Buckland songs were entirely true was uncertain, but there was no doubt that Goldberry had a deep connection with the Willow River.
Seeing Robert's solemn demeanor, Goldberry paused, then a bright smile bloomed on her face.
"What a gentlemanly young man! Please, don't be so reserved. This is Tom Bombadil's home, and all friendly guests are welcome."
After inviting him to sit at the dining table, Tom entered, introducing himself with cheerful pride:
"Ah, it seems you've already met, but I must formally introduce you. This is my beautiful wife, Goldberry. She is my companion, the source of my joy! I truly cannot imagine how dull life would be without her by my side!"
Goldberry, sitting beside Tom, smiled gently, her eyes full of love. She took his hand and said, "Oh, Tom, I love you very much too. I cannot imagine life without you—it would be so dark!"
Watching the two express their affection as if no one else existed, Robert silently put down the roasted sausage in his hand. He felt a little too full, and perhaps a bit superfluous.
Eventually, the couple remembered their guest. Showering him with gooey affection, they enthusiastically served him every delicacy they had until Robert could eat no more. Only then did they stop, regretfully letting his plate remain full but untouched.
After the meal came conversation. Tom, like a cheerful child unaware of sorrow, recounted in a poetic tone the trees, flowers, and leaves he had seen. Everything he described seemed to come alive in vivid color. Goldberry was a perfect listener; she gazed at her husband with tender, focused eyes, fully absorbed in his stories.
Robert found himself drawn into their world. As Tom narrated, vivid scenes arose in his mind. He felt as if he were witnessing a tree's growth, a flower's bloom, a leaf's withering, even merging into the natural world itself—becoming wind, stone, and tree. In that realization, Robert's soul seemed to break free of its shackles. His spirit grew purer and stronger, his magical power surged, and his latent abilities expanded at a breathtaking speed.
The magic affected the house itself. Lush greenery sprouted from the floor, wooden furniture like tables, chairs, and benches rooted and flourished, and countless flowers bloomed on the walls. Even the water lilies in the clay pots blossomed. The transformation spread outside; the lawn and garden rapidly grew into a small paradise.
Emerging from this wondrous state, Robert looked around. He seemed to be in a garden, a green forest, surrounded by countless plants. Watching Tom and Goldberry examining the newly grown flora on the table, he felt flustered and quickly apologized.
"I'm so sorry, Tom, Lady Goldberry. I didn't mean to… I don't know what happened."
Tom interrupted him cheerfully, "No need to apologize, Robert! I like it this way! Look, we are surrounded by flowers and greenery. Isn't this wonderful?"
Plucking a golden marigold, he tucked it behind Goldberry's ear. "My dear, this flower suits you best!"
"Thank you, dear," Goldberry said, smiling even more gently. She turned to Robert, her eyes full of warmth, "Please don't worry, Robert. In fact, I should thank you. My water lilies have all bloomed—this is truly wonderful!"
Seeing their joy and acceptance, Robert finally relaxed. Feeling the abundant energy and recalling the miraculous state he had experienced, he was both excited and amazed. He realized that the transformation had occurred after listening to Tom's stories—a moment of enlightenment that brought profound change to his spirit and magic.
Standing, he solemnly bowed to Tom. "I don't know how to express my gratitude. Robert is willing to serve you!"
Tom waved his hand, utterly unconcerned. "I've told stories to many guests, but none had your experience, so no thanks are necessary. Besides, haven't you already thanked me? Look around!" He pointed to the flourishing plants, his blue eyes sparkling. "This is the best gift."
Though Robert stopped his verbal thanks, he carried his gratitude silently in his heart. He knew that with Tom's power, repayment was unnecessary—but if an opportunity arose, he would give his utmost.
Late that night, after bidding farewell, Robert was led to the guest room. The soft bedding made him drowsy. His hazy gaze fell upon the tree-heart by the bed. Tomorrow, he thought, he would ask Tom about carving it. Slowly, he drifted into sleep.
The next morning, Robert awoke to the sound of beautiful singing. After breakfast, he finally asked Tom about the iron-hard tree-heart, hoping to carve it himself into a wand.
Tom examined the tree-heart, flicked it, and nodded. "Ah, Old Man Willow's tree-heart. It is indeed an excellent material for wand-making. I can carve it myself, but I imagine you would like to do it."
Robert nodded; crafting his own wand was important to him.
"Do you have any sharp tools to cut this?" he asked.
Tom casually picked up a dinner knife. As easily as cutting soft bread, he sliced off a section of the tree-heart and handed it to Robert.
"Sharpness matters little to me. I don't have divine weapons here, but this should be enough for you."
Robert, astonished, tried cutting with the ordinary dinner knife. Not a single mark appeared. The task was beyond him. Had he to seek a divine weapon to craft a wand from this tree-heart?
Tom smiled knowingly. "There is a place where such tools exist."
Robert's hope surged. "Where?"
Tom pointed to the mountain behind the house. "The Barrow-downs. Many Númenóreans are buried there. I once saw the weapons they forged—they could cut iron like mud. For humans, these are divine weapons and can help you."
Robert's eyes lit up, but Tom's tone darkened. "The Barrow-downs are overrun by dark forces. Barrow-wights roam freely. It is dangerous. I would not recommend going."
Robert nodded slowly, understanding the peril. Yet his desire to carve the wand himself only grew stronger.
FOR MORE CHAPTERS
patreon.com/Johnybairstow