When the willow branches sprouted buds, when the snow by the roadside had completely melted, and when fresh green grass revealed itself beneath, Dale welcomed a joyous day: Bain's wedding was being held in the great hall.
In the presence of relatives and friends, the tall and handsome young man and the pure, beautiful maiden made their vows. They exchanged rings, binding themselves for life.
Beside them, Bard, dressed very formally, led the applause, a kindly smile on his face.
Other friends, family, and even some townsfolk who had come to join the celebration also clapped along, helping to lift the atmosphere.
By all rights, at a wedding ceremony, the newlyweds standing in the spotlight should have been the focus of everyone's attention.
Yet, on their other side stood someone who could not possibly be ignored, and many people's gazes kept drifting over there.
"Good, very good."
Garrett clapped his hands too, offering his blessing.
At the same time, he sank into memories. He recalled the first time he met the boy, he had only been eleven or twelve, craning his neck to look up at him, his eyes full of innocence and wonder. He had only to extend his hand slightly downward to ruffle his hair.
Now, the boy had grown so tall that he had to reach up to pat his shoulder.
In his eyes, there was now maturity and steadiness, along with confidence and ambition.
That was what growth meant.
After the ring exchange, Bain led his wife down the aisle, walking past friends and townsfolk until they came before Bard, embracing him warmly.
With that, Bain was now considered a man with his own household, formally independent, with a family of his own.
Bard's face was full of pride and relief, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening as he smiled.
After embracing Bard, Bain brought his wife to Garrett. Together, they bowed in respect.
Just as Bain hesitated a little, Garrett spread his arms first and drew the young man into a hug.
Bain blinked, then quickly smiled in response.
Yes, Garrett was never some distant, haughty figure.
Not only for him, for any ordinary resident who suddenly wanted to hug him, Garrett probably wouldn't refuse, so long as their intentions weren't malicious.
Bain subtly raised his hands a little higher.
After the hug, Garrett gently nudged Bain and his wife forward, letting them continue on their way.
"Go on, live well," he said softly. "Come back anytime, we'll all be here."
Bain looked at him, and nodded.
As the newlyweds walked away, he arched his brow. He suddenly noticed Bain's expression seemed a little uneasy, especially his hand, which looked slightly red.
He glanced down at his Dragonflame Steel armor.
Ah, he'd forgotten to change. That hug just now must have burned the boy a little.
Ahem. Well, let's just call it a test of his willpower.
That was how Garrett consoled himself.
As the evening breeze drifted through the bustling, brightly lit banquet hall, the grand and joyous wedding finally drew to a close.
After spending some time in Dale, Garrett set out once more for the Lonely Mountain.
That place, truly, had gone through many trials. It had already been rebuilt twice.
Wandering through the brand-new halls and structures, Garrett looked around from side to side, nodding in approval.
"Very solid."
"Of course it's solid."
Thorin replied with a touch of helplessness, "We deliberately changed parts of the structure. Next time, even if another dragon or a Balrog comes, it won't be able to simply smash its way out by brute force."
"In addition, we've prepared quite a few weapons to deal with such enormous enemies. Next time, if there is a next time, whoever invades here will taste their power."
There probably won't be a next time, Garrett silently answered in his heart.
Since the Balrog's death, the Dwarves had felt no further disturbances. With its head mounted upon the city walls, even if the cold-drakes of the Northern Wastes suddenly went mad and tried to fly over en masse to pick a fight, they'd still have to think twice about whether they could stand against the Balrog-slayer.
Barring any surprises, the Dwarves would now develop in peace, at least without facing foes beyond their ability to handle.
After a circuit of the Lonely Mountain, his short visit and inspection came to an end.
Garrett once again stepped through his Nether portal, returning to Wayfort.
When the weather shifted from warm to sweltering, and then from sweltering to cool and refreshing, everyone knew the season of both harvest and decline, autumn, was arriving at a steady pace.
In mid-September, he mounted his horse and rode westward, heading straight for the Shire.
Naturally, his destination was Bag End in Hobbiton.
---
Knock, knock, knock...
The door creaked open.
Bilbo looked up.
"Oh, Garrett! Long time no see!"
Overjoyed, he threw himself into a hug, and Garrett hastily switched to a different suit of armor, lest the elderly Hobbit get burned.
"Long time no see, Bilbo," Garrett bent slightly to return the hug.
"Seeing you still so lively and full of energy puts my mind at ease."
"I'm doing very well!" Bilbo replied firmly, though his face now showed more obvious wrinkles.
"Ha! I'm at just the right age, when a Hobbit has the most strength."
"Well, don't stand out there on the doorstep. Come in. You've come at just the right time, I was about to sit down for a lovely afternoon tea."
Without waiting, Bilbo turned back and bustled toward the kitchen.
"At your service," Garrett nodded slightly and stepped inside.
The moment he spoke those words, Bilbo's movements paused ever so slightly.
A look of nostalgia crossed his face.
"It's been so long since I last saw them," he said while sorting through the fresh groceries he'd just brought home. "It's been nineteen years since I last saw Balin and Gandalf. I've been counting the days."
"They must be very busy. But speaking of it, I've actually been planning to visit them next year..."
"Oh, right."
As Garrett was glancing at the empty room he himself had once stayed in, Bilbo suddenly asked, "What brings you here so suddenly?"
Garrett turned back, walked to his side.
"Take a guess."
He simply looked at Bilbo, who tightened his face and stared back at him.
The two of them stood motionless, staring at one another for quite a while.
"Pfft."
"Hahaha..."
Garrett was the first to break, laughing out loud.
"I wouldn't forget an old friend's birthday."
The moment he said that, Bilbo's face lit up with delight, the sternness gone.
"Oh, I knew it!"
As Gollum's certified riddle master, his mind was still sharp. But there are some things that, if you say them aloud, they're no longer surprises.
As always, Garrett did not disappoint.
It was September 21st. Bilbo's birthday would be tomorrow, September 22nd.
That night, Garrett stayed in the room Bilbo had always kept for him. The next day, he unpacked a great spread of specialties brought from Dale and the Lonely Mountain.
Blueberry pies, lemon cakes, apple crisps, marzipan, cherry tarts, cream crams, honey bread, massive cuts of roast meat with bones, and all kinds of sauces...
And finally, when Garrett placed the large cake he had personally baked right in the center of the table, the entire surface was completely covered.
"How are we ever going to eat all this!"
Bilbo found himself with the happiest kind of dilemma.