“You seem to have won the hearts of the people,” Gandalf said with a cheerful smile.

“Most of the time, I don’t even know how I earned such respect,” Garrett said with a hint of something deeper: “Maybe it’s fortune, or something else?”

“If it had been someone else, would the outcome have been the same?”

“No, Garrett.”

Gandalf firmly and decisively rejected Garrett’s suggestion, then added, “The same thing, in different hands, can produce different effects, leading to different outcomes.”

“It’s like a magical ring that can make someone invisible. In the hands of someone with ill intent, it might only create another thief, a robber, or an assassin, an instrument of harm.”

“But in the hands of a hobbit, it becomes a tool for helping others, something that brings comfort. There are things that can make their wielder incredibly powerful… so powerful, beyond what this world can contain… But destroying everything isn’t a good thing, nor is it enjoyable, right?”

Garrett chuckled.

“Well, you’re right. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

Gandalf lit his pipe and walked with Garrett out of the city walls, heading toward the great gate of Erebor, carved into the mountainside.

In Middle-earth, wizards have the legal and formal right to “observe proceedings,” and grey-robed figures were always seen in the halls of kings.

Today was no exception.

Upon hearing that Garrett had arrived, Thorin didn’t simply sit and wait in the throne room, he came to the entrance to greet him personally.

“How have you been lately, Garrett?”

Thorin gave a small smile as he welcomed him.

“Not bad, things have gone quite smoothly. How about you?”

“Other than some supply concerns, everything is well.”

“Our long-exiled kinsmen are returning, the mines echo with activity again, the forges blaze with new purpose, and the rail systems are serving their function. Everything is progressing in a positive direction.”

As he spoke of recent events, he led Garrett and Gandalf to a comfortable sitting area and poured them each a cup of warming tea. Clearly, he was receiving them as friends, not as subjects before a king.

“I heard you’re facing some challenges.” Garrett spoke first. “Is it a problem with ore supplies?”

He hadn’t forgotten that, to defend the city, he’d practically emptied Erebor’s mineral stores. A shortage of minerals now would be understandable.

“No.”

Thorin shook his head.

“Minerals are abundant in the Mountain. We have the manpower, the tools, and the wealth to operate. Increasing the reserves isn’t difficult. What troubles us most right now is food.”

Food?

Garrett raised an eyebrow.

Wasn’t that supposed to be the most plentiful resource?

Clearly noticing Garrett’s confusion, Thorin said with a slightly embarrassed expression, “You might not realize, but our food production is actually quite limited. After all, we live within the Mountain, where there’s no sunlight. Most of our food comes from trade. There are very few ways we can produce food ourselves.”

“A few underground farms lit by glowing gems, some mushrooms growing in the tunnels, fish in the underground rivers, and roots of certain hardy plants… But that’s not enough to feed all the dwarves. These can serve as emergency supplies, but we can’t rely on them forever.”

“Isn’t there Dale?”

Garrett gestured outside. “Dale’s food production is so high, they could feed ten times the current population. You won’t run out of food.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to discuss.”

Thorin said, “It’s thanks to the grain trade with Dale that we’ve survived this winter. I want to establish a long-term partnership with Dale.”

He finally revealed the true purpose of this conversation.

Garrett looked slightly puzzled.

“Of course that’s fine. You just need to speak with Bard directly. I’ve already handed over the management of this region to him.”

“We have spoken.”

Thorin replied, “But he said that for the final decision, he still needed to consult the lord, meaning you.”

“He has full authority. I thought you two had already agreed… whatever, I approve.”

Garrett didn’t bother arguing further. He could tell that Bard still hadn’t fully adjusted to his role as the “highest regional authority.”

“That’s excellent news.”

Thorin let out a sigh of relief and said, “We wouldn’t presume to ask for those magical seeds, just a stable grain trade would be enough. I believe our friendship can endure…”

“Why not?”

Garrett shook his head and replied, “There’s nothing to be afraid of, just some crop seeds. If something can improve everyone’s life, why should we be hesitant?”

“If you need them, take them and plant them. Oh, but keep in mind: aside from me, they can only be cultivated within my territory.”

“You can send people over to participate in the farming.”

“What?” Thorin’s head buzzed as he listened to Garrett.

Those powerful magical seeds, he was simply giving them away?

What was the condition?

He instinctively asked, “So… what do we need to provide?”

“Labor. Didn’t I just say?”

Garrett tapped the table. “Even magical seeds need to be planted. You don’t think they’ll just transform into food if you leave them sitting on a table, do you? Unless your table can sprout crops.”

“No, of course I understand seeds need planting. I meant… you’re just giving them to us without asking anything in return?”

“We have treasure, tools, equipment, if there’s something needed, we can call on craftsmen to make it. Or we can provide some kind of annual tribute…”

“No need,” Garrett waved his hand.

Those things didn’t really matter to him.

But after a moment’s thought, he recalled something.

Erebor and Dale, due to their geographical proximity, had been closely tied in cooperation for hundreds of years.

The dwarves’ forging skills were unmatched. Many would spend fortunes trying to obtain a single masterwork.

Dale, on the other hand, had a large population, lived in prosperity, and had a highly developed agriculture and livestock industry.

The dwarves had great craftsmanship but produced almost no food. Men, with less refined skills, respected dwarvish craftsmanship, and just so happened to have surplus food.

Each side had something the other needed. This created a strong collaborative model: the Men provided food, while the dwarves offered weapons, tools, and crafts. Through this exchange, the quality of life on both sides improved significantly.

This model of cooperation could continue even today.

After all, people needed occupations, and learning specific skills was essential for that. Much of Erebor’s technology was also worth studying. If the two sides could build deeper cooperation, many things in the future would become much more convenient.

“Just like the old days,” he voiced his thoughts and shared his perspective.

Thorin thought for a moment, then nodded, “That makes sense. We’ll regularly send craftsmen to teach their skills without holding anything back, to help Dale’s people gain employment, in exchange for the right to use the magical seeds.”

“Then it’s settled.”

A far-reaching partnership was reached in just a few words. No disputes, no haggling, no tension.

Just a simple: “You said it, I think it sounds good, let’s do it.”

This wasn’t a turbulent negotiation; neither side even cared that much about exact profits. In fact, rather than a “transaction,” it was more like a “cooperative effort.”

Labor exchanged for labor. Value traded for value. Mutual integration.

Shared prosperity.

No money was involved, at that moment, such an intermediary felt unnecessary.

—

From Thorin’s memories of his youth, about 200 years ago…

When my grandfather once again became King under the Mountain, the Men from the south deeply respected him. They slowly migrated upstream along the River Running, settling in the valley near the Mountain and building a cheerful settlement called “Dale.”

Generations of kings came to us to hire craftsmen, even the least-skilled ones received generous rewards.

Many fathers would plead with us to take their sons as apprentices, offering us many things in return, especially food. So we never had to grow crops ourselves or forage for food.

—

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