Chapter 308: Advancement
Frodo's parents were rescued, sparing him from an orphan's fate.
Hearing the rangers' report, Levi leaned back.
A weight lifted from his heart.
Yes, those two rangers were exactly the ones he had assigned.
Of course, the Shire hadn't only recently had rangers. For many years, ever since Roadside Keep's influence spread throughout the Shire, naturally, some rangers had begun regular patrol duties.
They investigated the forces around Roadside Keep by routine, while actively countering spies Saruman placed to prevent his schemes.
Alongside this, almost instinctively, the rangers quietly safeguarded the Shire's safety without drawing attention.
It wasn't just Levi's orders that prompted the rangers to save that couple—it was because rangers had long patrolled secretly across the Shire. It simply took Levi's mention for them to pay more attention to that river this year.
In fact, if not for the Took couple's drowning incident, most Shire folk would have been unaware of the rangers' presence.
In any case, the outcome was good.
One less tragedy in the world.
People continued their lives, walking day after day on their own paths.
For Levi, who had grown used to peaceful days, this year was not wholly calm.
Thengel could no longer hold on.
Upon arrival in Rohan, Levi found him barely able to open his eyes.
Facing Levi, still as young as decades before, Thengel wore a calm expression.
Seated on his throne, in the great hall, his eyes glimmered with distant memories.
"The times I miss most are our journeys together, especially the ruckus we caused here in the hall… hahaha…"
Watching the exhausted but laughing old man, Levi was momentarily speechless.
He didn't offer a golden apple or healing potion as before.
For many years, he'd done so repeatedly, only to be refused every time.
Some things he could not change.
People said this legendary lord possessed remedies for all diseases, healing magic that could save even those whose necks had been broken.
This was true.
Yet only to a point.
Life itself was neither disease nor injury—it could not be held back.
Amid Thengel's laughter, Levi sat on the steps by the throne, sighing,
"I, too, miss those journeys."
The laughter faded.
Thengel suddenly said,
"I truly want to taste your soup again."
"I know, Levi."
Before Levi could respond, Thengel changed the subject:
"I know my soups are hard to swallow. I remember you threw out that bowl once."
"That was sad, but it's understandable. Sometimes people just can't do something well."
"I made many soups after, but only my wife and I drank them."
"Ah… Morwen… She's the only one who tolerated my whims."
"I went before her, but thankfully we still have our children and their company, so I'm not lonely."
Levi looked down at the floor, silently listening.
The hall grew quiet.
After a moment, a sharp intake of breath rose.
Levi lifted his head to the weak figure.
"Actually… I improved the recipe a bit. It might be barely drinkable now. Sadly, I have no chance to make it again…"
He sighed deeply.
At the same time, noises came from outside.
"Théoden, Morwen, and the others have arrived."
"Let me speak with them again."
Levi stood, leaving the remaining time to Thengel's family.
Stepping out, a voice called suddenly from behind.
"Farewell, old friend."
"…Farewell, old friend."
Thengel's wife and children passed Levi entering the hall.
Levi neither heard nor saw what they said.
But moments later, sobbing rose from within.
Only then did Levi take a deep breath, step forward, and depart.
Silent and soundless.
In 2980, Thengel, the sixteenth king of Rohan, passed away.
During his reign, Rohan prospered, and no enemy breached its borders.
Théoden succeeded him as the seventeenth king.
"Wait!"
Outside the Golden Hall in Rohan's capital, just as Levi was about to leave, a voice called him.
He turned to see a palace guard holding a bowl of soup.
"This is King Thengel's gift for you."
Levi took the steaming bowl, breathed in, and smiled.
No strange odor.
It seemed Thengel really had worked hard improving it.
Levi raised his head and drank—
Pffft!
He was fooled.
Time flew by, and many days passed.
Whenever he looked up at the sky, Levi would stare blankly, struck by the surreal feeling that a year had slipped by in an instant, only to eat and blink again, and another year would be gone.
If he took another nap, he might awaken to find seven or eight years had passed.
There's a saying—only the first leaves the deepest impression.
Long ago, Levi wondered why elves, when facing a dwarf or human, always recalled their ancestors rather than the person before them, as if they recognized only generations past.
Even Gandalf did this, always looking ahead, not at the present.
Now thinking back, Levi felt some understanding.
When seeing Théoden, he first thought of Thengel, then the infamous old king Fengel.
Seeing Denethor, he thought of Ecthelion and even earlier Turgon.
Seeing Bain and Brand, he thought of Bard.
Those from the past—or more precisely, Levi's own era—left the deepest impressions due to shared experiences.
Though many years had passed, Levi still mostly remembered these families by the originals who knew him.
The younger generation had their stories, but Levi was not part of them.
His perception of time blurred, and in a blink, his friends had passed.
Only their descendants stood now, calling him uncle or grandfather.
He could only look at the next generation's familiar faces as Elrond had when first meeting Thorin, greeting, "I know your ancestors; you have their spirit."
Perhaps the young would accomplish great feats to be remembered, but still,
The most familiar and frequent memories remained with the first group.
The further back, the deeper the impression.
Though they were long gone.