Chapter 27: The Ghost in the Hearth （炉火旁的幽灵）
The first few days were a blur of tears, laughter, and endless questions. His father, Borin Baros, clung to him as if he might vanish into smoke. Neighbors and friends from the village streamed into the smithy, their faces a mixture of relief and avid curiosity. They brought stew, fresh bread, and apple pies. They clapped Leon on the back, called him a lucky lad, and marveled at his safe return. The story he had rehearsed in his mind—a simplified, sanitized version of getting lost, hiding, and eventually being found by a patrol—was met with gasps and sympathetic nods.
头几天是在泪水、欢笑和无休止的问题中模糊度过的。他的父亲博林·巴洛斯紧紧抓着他，好像他会化作烟雾消失一样。村里的邻居和朋友们涌进铁匠铺，脸上混杂着宽慰和热切的好奇。他们带来了炖菜、新鲜面包和苹果派。他们拍着里昂的背，说他是个幸运的孩子，对他安全归来表示惊叹。他在心里排练过的故事——一个简化、净化的版本，关于迷路、躲藏，最终被巡逻队发现——引来了惊呼和同情的点头。
"It's a miracle, son," Borin would say, his voice thick with emotion, his hand never straying far from Leon's shoulder. "A true miracle from the Light."
“这是个奇迹，儿子，”博林会说，声音因激动而哽咽，手总是不离里昂的肩膀。“圣光带来的真正奇迹。”
Leon smiled and nodded, playing the part of the grateful, chastened son. But behind the smile, a chasm was opening. Their words felt like they were describing someone else's adventure, a simple tale of a boy lost in the woods. They had no concept of the scale, the terror, the beauty. They saw his return as an end to the story. For Leon, it felt like the beginning of a new, more isolating chapter.
里昂微笑着点头，扮演着感激、受教训的儿子的角色。但在微笑背后，一道鸿沟正在裂开。他们的话听起来像是在描述别人的冒险，一个孩子在森林里迷路的简单故事。他们无法理解那规模、那恐惧、那美丽。他们把归来看作是故事的结局。对里昂来说，这感觉像是一个新的、更孤独篇章的开始。
He tried to slip back into his old life. He helped his father at the forge, pumping the bellows and fetching tools. But the rhythm felt alien. The heat from the forge, which had once been comforting, now felt stifling. The familiar clang of hammer on anvil, which had been the soundtrack of his childhood, now sounded harsh and repetitive. His hands, which had learned to set snares and grip a knife for dear life, felt clumsy holding a blacksmith's tongs.
他试图重新融入旧生活。他在铁匠铺帮父亲干活，拉风箱，拿工具。但节奏感觉很陌生。锻炉的热量，曾经是那么令人安慰，现在却令人窒息。熟悉的锤子敲打铁砧的声音，曾是他童年的背景音，现在听起来刺耳而重复。他的双手，学会了设陷阱、为活命而握紧刀，现在拿着铁匠钳却感觉笨拙。
He walked the familiar lanes of Goldshire. The children he had played with seemed younger, their games of tag and stick-fighting trivial and foolish. He listened to the adults gossip about crop yields and the price of iron ingots. Their concerns felt microscopic, insulated from the vast, dangerous world he knew existed just beyond the Elwynn tree line.
他走在闪金镇熟悉的小路上。他曾一起玩耍的孩子们似乎更小了，他们的捉人游戏和木棍打斗显得琐碎而愚蠢。他听着大人们闲聊庄稼收成和铁锭价格。他们的忧虑显得微不足道，与他所知的、就在艾尔文森林边缘之外存在的那个广阔而危险的世界隔绝开来。
At night, lying in his own bed—the bed he had dreamed of during so many cold, hard nights—he couldn't sleep. The silence was deafening. It was the wrong kind of silence. It was the silence of safety and containment, not the watchful, living silence of the ancient forest. He missed the scent of pine needles and damp earth. He missed the sound of an owl hunting in the dark. He missed the feeling of Iris's presence nearby, a calm, steady force in the shadows.
晚上，躺在自己的床上——那个他在许多寒冷、艰苦的夜晚梦寐以求的床上——他无法入睡。寂静震耳欲聋。这是错误的寂静。是安全和禁锢的寂静，不是古老森林那种警觉、充满生机的寂静。他怀念松针和潮湿泥土的气味。他怀念猫头鹰在黑暗中捕猎的声音。他怀念艾莉丝在附近的感觉，黑暗中一股平静、稳定的力量。
He took out the antler every night, holding it in the moonlight that streamed through his window. It was his secret, his touchstone to a reality that felt more genuine than the one he was living. He thought of Iris. Was she back in Teldrassil? Was she looking at the same moon? Was she as trapped by the familiar as he was?
他每晚都拿出那根鹿角，在透过窗户洒进来的月光下握着它。这是他的秘密，是他通往一个感觉比他现在生活更真实的现实的试金石。他想念艾莉丝。她回到泰达希尔了吗？她也在看同一个月亮吗？她也像他一样被熟悉的事物所困吗？
One afternoon, a week after his return, he was mending a fencepost for a farmer on the edge of the village. The work was simple, manual. As he hammered a nail, a movement in the distant tree line of the Whispering Woods caught his eye. A flicker of grey. His heart leaped into his throat, his body tensing instantly. His hand went to his belt, where his knife was no longer kept. It was just a deer, bounding away into the shadows.
他回来一周后的一个下午，他正在为村边一个农夫修理篱笆桩。这活简单，是体力活。他正敲着钉子，远处低语森林林线的一个动静吸引了他的目光。一道灰色的影子一闪而过。他的心一下子提到了嗓子眼，身体瞬间绷紧。他的手摸向腰带，他的刀已不在那里。那只是一头鹿，跳进了阴影里。
He stood there, hammer in hand, breathing heavily. The farmer looked at him strangely. "You alright, lad? Jumpy as a cat."
Leon forced a smile. "Fine. Just... thought I saw something."
The farmer chuckled. "Nothing in those woods but rabbits and the odd wolf pup. Nothing to worry about."
他站在那里，手里拿着锤子，呼吸沉重。农夫奇怪地看着他。“你没事吧，孩子？紧张得像只猫。”
里昂挤出一个微笑。“没事。只是……以为看到了什么。”
农夫笑了。“那林子里除了兔子和偶尔的小狼崽，啥也没有。没啥好担心的。”
Nothing to worry about.The words echoed in Leon's mind. How could he explain that he had seen things that would haunt their dreams for years? That he knew the difference between a wolf pup and a worg on the hunt? He went back to his work, the hammer blows feeling hollow. He was a ghost in his own life, a visitor from a war-torn world pretending to be a simple village boy. The adventure was over, but the return was proving to be the greatest challenge of all.
没啥好担心的。这句话在里昂脑海中回响。他该如何解释他见过会让他们做多年噩梦的东西？他如何解释他知道小狼崽和捕猎中的座狼之间的区别？他继续干活，锤子敲打的声音感觉空洞。他是自己生命中的幽灵，一个来自饱受战火世界的访客，假装成一个单纯的乡村男孩。冒险结束了，但回归正被证明是最大的挑战。