Standing beside Paladin Took, Sylas silently whispered within his mind:
"Sign in."
[Sign-In Successful! Congratulations! You have obtained: Prank Spells – Bringing a Little Fun to Your Life!]
Sylas blinked in surprise.
Prank Spells? The title alone piqued his curiosity. He couldn't help but smile, but seeing as he was currently a guest in someone's home, he decided it was best to save the reading for later, when he had a bit more privacy.
Paladin then introduced his family with warm pride.
"This is my wife, Rosalie. And this little whirlwind is my son, Paladin the Second."
Sylas offered a respectful nod and a polite smile. "It's an honor to meet you all. I'm Sylas, a humble traveler and Wizard."
His gaze lingered on the young boy, no older than seven, with a mop of golden curls and bare feet dusted in soft, honey-colored fur. It didn't take long for Sylas to put the pieces together.
So this boy will one day grow up to be the father of Peregrin Took.
Though he hadn't yet encountered any members of the famed Fellowship, fate had brought him close, close enough to glimpse the family roots of one of Middle-earth's future heroes.
Rosalie was gentle and gracious. After serving Sylas a plate of sweet biscuits and a warm cup of spiced tea, she retreated to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner.
Paladin the Second, however, was already bouncing with excitement.
The curious lad couldn't seem to take his eyes off the tall Wizard who towered over their Hobbit-sized home.
"Mister Sylas," the boy blurted out with wide eyes, "what sort of Magic do you know?"
"Mind your manners, lad," Paladin chided gently, casting an apologetic glance to their guest. "Please excuse him. He's still learning not to speak out of turn."
Sylas chuckled. "No harm done. Curiosity is a good trait for a Took, after all."
Truthfully, by this point, showing a bit of Magic had become a familiar routine for him. Ever since arriving in the Shire, it seemed every new village expected a performance, he might as well start charging admission someday.
He lifted his hand slowly and made a subtle circling motion with his fingers. To little Paladin's astonishment, he began to float—gently rising off the ground as if lifted by an invisible breeze.
"Wha—? I'm flying!" the boy cried, kicking his feet joyfully in the air.
He twirled midair with giddy laughter while his father looked on in stunned silence, mouth slightly agape.
"I'll set him down safely," Sylas said with a grin, gently lowering the giggling child to the floor again.
Later that evening, after a hearty supper filled with roast meats, mushroom pies, and sticky toffee pudding, Sylas was shown to a comfortable guest room deep within the Great Smials.
Once alone, he finally summoned the prize from earlier.
With a flick of his wrist, the enchanted tome appeared before him: "Prank Spells – Bringing a Little Fun to Your Life."
Sylas opened the cover with a mix of curiosity and amusement. The more he read, the more delighted he became.
As the name suggested, the book was a collection of mischievous but harmless hexes, straight from Hogwarts' rich magical tradition. Among them were:
Densaugeo – to wildly enlarge someone's front teeth.
Tarantallegra – the dancing jinx, which sent the victim's legs into a furious, involuntary jig.
Rictusempra – the tickling charm, perfect for pranksters.
Flagrate – to write glowing, fiery letters in midair.
Locomotor Mortis – the infamous Leg-Locker Curse.
Though the spells in the Prank Spells book seemed silly at first glance, fit more for classroom mischief than real danger, Sylas knew better.
To someone without magic, even a harmless hex could have extraordinary effect. And in a world like Middle-earth, where no one expected such things, even the simplest jinx could become a marvel.
He couldn't wait to try them out.
But for the time being, good sense prevailed. He was, after all, a guest in the home of the Tooks, and pranking one's hosts wasn't the wisest way to repay Hobbit hospitality.
So, with great restraint, he set the book aside.
Over the next few days, Sylas was introduced to more members of the Took family, with Paladin Took proudly guiding him through the winding halls of the Great Smials. The Took clan was enormous, numbering in the hundreds, and each branch had carved out its own cozy corner of the hill.
To Sylas's surprise, the Tooks welcomed him warmly. Every family invited him to their table, offering pies and pastries, stews and sweetmeats, with a cheer that made him feel like a beloved cousin rather than a mysterious Wizard.
One evening, a feast was held in the Great Smials banquet hall in his honor.
The hall buzzed with energy. Laughter echoed off the timbered walls, long tables sagged under the weight of food, and music filled the air with the sound of fiddles and flutes.
But Sylas found himself the center of a different kind of attention.
Before him stood a line of Hobbit children,dozens of them, waiting in eager anticipation, their eyes shining with mischief and wonder.
"Alright, who's first?" Sylas asked, his voice rich with amusement.
"I am!" cried a curly-haired lad at the front.
Sylas smiled and raised his hand. "Tarantallegra!"
A spark of red light flew from his palm, striking the boy squarely.
For a heartbeat, the child froze.
Then, with a jolt, his legs began to jig madly beneath him, flailing about in a wild and unstoppable dance.
"Whoa!" he shrieked, laughing as his feet tapped furiously on the wooden floor.
"Cool!" the children shouted in unison.
"Next!" Sylas called.
"Me! Pick me!" yelled the next child, practically bouncing in place.
"Alright, alright! You'll all get a turn."
He cast the spell again, and another child burst into a gleeful, leg-flailing dance, twirling into the crowd to the roar of applause and giggles.
The line grew even more excited, children pressing forward, cheering him on.
What truly surprised Sylas, though, was the reaction of the adults.
Not only did none of the Took elders try to stop him, they looked just as delighted as the children. A few even seemed on the verge of joining the line themselves.
One portly uncle whispered to his wife, "Do you think he'll cast it on grown-ups too?"
Sylas nearly laughed aloud.
If he had a magical proficiency system like in the books he'd once read back on Earth, he imagined it would be chiming non-stop:
Spell Proficiency +1
...
Sylas didn't linger long in Tuckborough.
Before his departure, the ever-generous Paladin Took gifted him a small pony-drawn carriage, an act of kindness that left Sylas both touched and delighted.
With proper transportation at last, his journey across the Shire would be smoother and far less exhausting.
The pony, a gentle chestnut with intelligent eyes, had been raised by the Tooks themselves. True to Hobbit tradition, it was exceptionally well-mannered and bright. Sylas hardly had to guide it; the creature trotted dutifully down the path of its own accord, content with the open road and the sun on its back.
Seated comfortably in the back of the carriage, Sylas had set up a small travel desk of sorts. A wooden cage sat before him, housing a plump little field mouse, wide-eyed and twitchy. It was a gift of a different sort, one he had specifically requested from Paladin.
Not for companionship, but for practice.
After all, what better test subject than a mouse for perfecting the delicate art of Prank Spells?
Though often dismissed as mere joke magic, these spells held more practical power than most gave them credit for, especially in a world like Middle-earth, where even the simplest hex could throw an unprepared foe into complete disarray.
Densaugeo, for instance, caused one's front teeth to grow uncontrollably, turning speech into a garbled mess. In battle, silencing an enemy before they could utter a command or cast a spell could prove invaluable.
Rictusempra, the Tickling Charm, rendered a target helpless with uncontrollable laughter, leaving them unable to defend themselves.
Tarantallegra, the Dancing Feet Spell, forced the victim's legs into a frenzied, involuntary jig, making them both laughable and useless in combat.
The Leg-Locker Curse, froze the legs completely, great for immobilizing fleeing foes.
And Flagrate, which traced burning lines in the air or against skin, could cause intense pain or mark enemies in a flash of magical fire.
Yes, Prank Spells, despite their whimsical nature, were far more than just schoolyard tricks.
"Rictusempra!"
"Rictusempra!"
...
The carriage rolled gently along the country road, its wooden wheels creaking in rhythm with the pony's soft clip-clop. The countryside around them had shifted, rolling green hills were now dotted with orderly rows of tall, leafy plants.
Sylas didn't notice the change right away, too focused on practicing his spellwork.
"Rictusempra! Rictusempra!"
Over and over, he cast the charm, until his throat grew dry and his wand arm began to ache.
Finally—
"Rictusempra!"
A flash of silver light struck the mouse.
The result was immediate.
The little creature twitched once, then burst into a fit of uncontrollable squeaky laughter, rolling over itself in its cage, paws kicking, tail flicking wildly. It wheezed and writhed in pure ticklish agony, its tiny body shaking like a jellybean in a storm.
"Success!" Sylas cried, nearly leaping up in triumph.
He quickly muttered the counter-spell, canceling the charm just as the mouse began to gasp from exhaustion. The poor thing collapsed in a heap of fuzz and fur, but otherwise unharmed.
Sylas gave a satisfied sigh, wiping his brow.
He had finally done it.
He picked up the reins and gave them a gentle tug.
"Whoa, easy now," he murmured to the pony.
The little cart slowed as Sylas looked out over the horizon.
On either side of the road stretched vast fields of pipe-weed—gold-green stalks swaying gently in the summer breeze.
A familiar, earthy scent filled the air.
"Hmm," Sylas murmured thoughtfully, scanning the far-off rooftops barely visible beyond the fields.
"Are we near Longbottom already?"