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Kael's heart instantly tightened. The memory of the Old Man Willow's enchanting, deadly song was still fresh, and he braced himself for another assault. However, he quickly realized this new song was not aggressive, but rather, filled with an infectious, unadulterated joy. Listening closely, he identified it as a man's voice. It wasn't a formal song, but a whimsical, arbitrary tune, a self-amused hum that carried on the wind.

Before the singer even appeared, the joyful melody had already arrived, weaving its own magic. The raging wind ceased, the wails and screams of the Huorns fell silent, and even the roaring forest fire began to extinguish itself, the flames receding as if in deference.

Kael's pupils constricted. What kind of power was this? He hadn't detected any fluctuation of magic, yet the rampant fire was gradually being tamed, dying out on its own.

As the singing drew nearer, a figure appeared at the edge of the Old Forest. He wore a tall, battered hat with a wide brim, a long blue feather tucked jauntily into its band. He danced and leaped forward, a whirlwind of joyful energy.

Illuminated by the moonlight and the fading firelight, Kael saw that the newcomer was only slightly taller than a Hobbit, but much shorter than a Man, his race uncertain. He wore a pair of large yellow boots on his sturdy legs, charging along like a stout bull looking for water. The surrounding trees automatically parted for him, creating a path. He was clad in a blue coat, his cheeks as red as ripe apples, a large brown beard covering the lower half of his face, and a pair of piercingly blue eyes that shone brightly in the night.

Kael knew him. Tom Bombadil, one of the most mysterious figures in all of Middle-earth.

In Hobbit songs, there was a tale of "The Adventures of Tom Bombadil." He lived in the Old Forest, never deliberately hiding his existence, and was known to the Hobbits of Buckland. Before the Fellowship of the Ring, when Frodo and his companions entered the Old Forest to evade the Nazgûl and were ensnared by the Old Man Willow, it was Tom Bombadil who appeared and saved them.

Even the One Ring, an object of such power that even a Maia like Gandalf dared not touch it, had no effect on Tom Bombadil. He treated it like a mere trinket, making it appear and disappear at will. When worn on his hand, it had no effect at all, as if it were just an ordinary ring. He could even see Frodo when the Hobbit put on the One Ring and vanished into the shadow world. He was, to put it mildly, an enigma.

If he had not been so utterly disinterested in the war between light and darkness, perhaps the great song of the One Ring would have ended long ago, in the Third Age.

With his arrival, the last of the forest fire reluctantly extinguished, not even a single spark remaining. The Huorns, their branches and leaves burned away, their trunks blackened and charred, had all survived.

"Hey, trees! What are you thinking? You shouldn't be awake!" Tom Bombadil declared, his voice booming with authority. "Go back to your places! Eat your fill of dirt, dig your roots deep, and drink plenty of water! Fall into a deep sleep! Bombadil advises you not to cause any more trouble!"

He spoke to the surrounding trees with a serious, commanding expression. His voice seemed to carry an irresistible power. The trees turned and retreated, returning to the forest to root and sleep, drawing energy from the earth to restore their vitality.

Having done all this, Tom Bombadil returned to his joyful self, dancing and leaping over the fence to stand before the group, greeting everyone with a wide, cheerful smile. "Hello, everyone!"

"Tom, why are you here?" Rory Brandybuck stepped forward, his tone familiar, clearly indicating a long-standing acquaintance.

Tom Bombadil feigned a look of helplessness, complaining in a jesting tone, "Rory, you've caused me a great deal of trouble."

"I was sleeping soundly with my beloved wife when the wailing of the forest woke me. To prevent the trees from disturbing my dear Goldberry's beautiful dream, I had to leave my warm bed and come to resolve this dispute."

Rory Brandybuck explained, "Tom, I'm sorry to have disturbed you and Goldberry's sleep, but these trees attacked our home without reason. We had no choice but to fight back!"

"Oh, by the way," Rory added, "this is Wizard Kael. If it weren't for him, we would have suffered heavy losses today!" He introduced Kael, who was standing nearby, to Tom Bombadil.

Tom Bombadil looked at Kael with keen curiosity, his blue eyes as bright as stars. "I know you," he said, his voice filled with a strange, knowing quality. "A magical Wizard from another land. Your magic is very interesting!"

Kael's heart skipped a beat. Who exactly is this mysterious Tom Bombadil? Does he know about my transmigration?

Kael's mind reeled. He forced himself to remain calm and cautiously probed, "Hello, Mr. Bombadil. I am Kael the Wizard. Do you know where I come from?"

Tom nodded, then shook his head, his gaze sincere and without any hint of concealment. "Tom knows the name of every person, every tree, every stone on the earth. The moment you stepped onto this earth, Tom knew you. But he does not know where you come from."

"Speaking of which," Tom continued, "I've met others who call themselves Wizards like you. They also appeared suddenly on the earth, just like you, but I can tell they came from a different place than you."

Hearing Tom's words, Kael breathed a slight sigh of relief. It was clear that Tom knew he was from outside Middle-earth, but he didn't know he was a transmigrator. As for the other Wizards he mentioned, they had to be Gandalf, Saruman, and the others. Although they called themselves Wizards, they were actually Maia, lesser gods sent by the Valar to aid the inhabitants of Middle-earth in their fight against the Dark Lord Sauron, their powers restricted as they walked the world in mortal guise.

Even though Kael knew Tom wasn't aware of his true identity, he still dared not underestimate him. He was intensely curious about who, or what, Tom Bombadil truly was.

The immortal beings in this world, besides the Valar and Maia, were the Elves, and dark creatures like Dragons and Balrogs. Tom Bombadil was clearly not a Dragon or a Balrog. His height ruled out the possibility of him being an Elf. That left only the Valar and the Maia. But if Bombadil were a Maia, the One Ring, which even a powerful Maia like Gandalf dared not touch, was like a plaything in his hands, completely unaffected. So, the possibility of him being a Maia seemed unlikely.

As for the Valar, besides Melkor, also known as Morgoth, there were fourteen other Valar, all with names, residing in the Undying Lands of Aman. None of them matched Bombadil. Clearly, Tom was not one of the chief Valar.

Kael even entertained the fleeting thought that Tom might be the Creator, Ilúvatar, himself. But based on Tom's previous answer, that didn't fit either. Kael couldn't imagine that Ilúvatar, the Creator God of this world, would be unaware of his existence as a transmigrator. He even suspected that his transmigration might have been the work of this very Creator God.

The final conclusion was that the identity of this mysterious, joyful, and immensely powerful Tom Bombadil remained an enigma.

***

(End of Chapter)

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