At the end of the year 2948, Wayfort opened a program in nautical studies, with Lindon’s navigators and sailors serving as instructors.

From then on, a few Elves could be seen within Wayfort’s halls.

By nature, Elves are more accustomed to quiet, serene environments; they prefer not to enter bustling cities or crowded places. Even when they do gather, say, to hold a feast or celebrate a festival, it is usually among their own kindred.

In fact, the Elves who came to Wayfort to lecture had been told beforehand: if they found the environment unsuitable, they could request to return at any time.

Yet, so far, not a single Elf had expressed a desire to leave.

Partly it was curiosity about the outside world. No matter how beautiful Lindon’s scenery might be, one eventually grows weary of it; a change of surroundings brings fresh perspectives.

And partly, it was curiosity about the new legends of this age. Many instructors volunteered to come, wishing to see the landscapes of Garrett’s domain for themselves.

The results were somewhat unexpected.

As for scenery, Wayfort was in no way inferior to any elven realm. As for atmosphere, the Elves initially struggled with life away from their kindred, and with the frequent, close contact with Men.

But after some time, they found the Men here were actually quite agreeable, especially their spirit, which felt very different from the Men the Elves had known before. That indescribable vigor was infectious.

It was… surprisingly pleasant.

What’s more, there was unlimited wine. The taste was exceptional, truly one of Middle-earth’s finest vintages.

Ah, what a brew.

With the opening of nautical studies, the Craftsmen’s Academy also gained a new branch: naval engineering.

Knowledge and expertise needed for river and sea voyages were steadily accumulating.

So time passed peacefully, until the arrival of the year 2949.

The snow mixed with mud on the ground melted away. Looking at the damp earth, many folk came back to themselves.

A new year had come again.

Life was calm and steady, but in places unknown to most, bursts of commotion would suddenly erupt, startling those nearby.

Such as at the Lonely Mountain.

A not-very-tall figure suddenly ran out, with another figure chasing closely behind.

“Balin, where are you going? Come back!” Thorin shouted as he pursued.

“He’s calling for you.”

On horseback, Gandalf glanced back at Balin, who had just climbed up behind him, then at Thorin, who was rapidly approaching.

“Go, Gandalf, go! I refuse to stay here any longer!”

Balin clutched Gandalf’s robes anxiously, urging him on.

“Very well then, hold fast.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the powerful thrust of acceleration came; Gandalf gave a rueful smile as he spurred the horse forward, leaving only a distant silhouette.

Thorin attempted to keep pursuing, but long-distance running was always a challenge for Dwarves.

“Huff… huff—”

He gasped heavily, shaking his head repeatedly.

“Why run so fast? It’s not as if I wouldn’t grant you leave. Can you not trust me just a little?”

But Balin was destined not to hear those words.

“This is freedom, then, Gandalf?”

“Perhaps it is.”

“By Durin’s beard, could you please cease imitating those Elves’ manner of speaking? Every time you ask them if something is right or wrong, they always answer, ‘Perhaps.'”

Pfft.

Unable to contain it, Gandalf laughed, his beard flying as he chuckled.

“A most astute observation.”

When that topic ended, Balin asked again, “So where might we be headed?”

“Well… let me see. I was planning to travel west of the Misty Mountains. What think you?”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Balin poked his head out from behind and said, “It’s been some time since I last visited the Blue Mountains. I wonder how many of our kinsmen remain there. And Bilbo, since we parted at Erebor after the battle, I haven’t seen him again. I’d like to visit him, see how he fares these days.”

“Ah, excellent. In that case, we’re headed in the same direction.”

Gandalf nodded.

“Bilbo…”

He recalled, then said, “He’s doing quite well. The last time Wayfort held a great feast, he attended. Appeared in excellent spirits.”

“Don’t mention that, Gandalf.”

At the mention of a Wayfort banquet, Balin’s face darkened.

“Such an important gathering, and Thorin and the others actually had the gall to leave me behind!”

“Outrageous! Simply unconscionable!”

Gandalf chuckled knowingly.

Remembering the Dwarves lying sprawled about the floor in drunken stupor, he said, “It may not have been such an unfortunate thing, at least you preserved your dignity.”

“What do you mean?”

So Gandalf recounted the amusing incidents from the banquet.

“I had no notion.”

Balin’s expression grew grave.

“They never spoke of any of this to me.”

“Ha! How disgraceful, losing to Elves in a drinking contest, of all things. Just wait until I see them again, I’ll have words aplenty.”

At last, the old Dwarf felt he had gained the upper hand.

—

Rumble, rumble…

At the entrance to Lake-town, the great lift began to rise, carrying wizard and Dwarf swiftly to the starting point of the Sky Road, Midway Station.

Taking in the lively bustle around him, Balin’s gaze drifted to the forests below, and he could not help but sigh.

“Marvelous. I could nearly make my home here.”

“Then do you mean to stay here awhile?”

“No, no need.”

Balin shook his head quickly.

This place was far too close to the Lonely Mountain. Better not risk settling down and being dragged back against his will.

“Then let us be off. Scenery such as this won’t be wanting on the road, you’ll have plenty to enjoy.”

Unfolding the map he carried, Gandalf pointed to a clearly hand-drawn mark indicating the Sky Road.

“If all goes well, we should reach the Carrock settlement before nightfall. Oh, you may not have been there. It’s the newest settlement of Beorn’s folk, built near the great rock. We can rest there for the night, then on the second day reach Goblin-town, though they call it Halfway Point now. By the third day, we’ll arrive at Wayfort…”

At the mention of the third day, Gandalf fell silent for a long while, as though struck by a thought.

“In times past, this journey would have taken me at least a month afoot.”

“Enough reminiscing. Let’s be away.”

Balin urged from behind.

“Aye, aye… no need to hurry, Master Balin. The weather is fair, the road is smooth, time is plentiful, we can afford to travel at our leisure.”

“That’s wonderful.”

Balin smiled genuinely.

“Ah… travel and peace.”

And indeed, as Gandalf had said, when night fell they arrived near Carrock.

As they stepped off the main road, Balin cried out in surprise.

“What is that?” He pointed toward a towering figure on the rocky heights.

Following the gesture, Gandalf’s expression softened.

“It’s Beorn. That is his custom.”

Gandalf tilted his chin upward, indicating: “Look, the night sky is clear, the moon unobscured by clouds. A fine evening to come out and gaze upon it, wouldn’t you say? Some say Beorn can read omens in the moon, for he sometimes watches it throughout the night. Others say he simply rests up there, since even after gazing at the moon all night, he shows no trace of weariness come morning.”

“And you? What think you he’s doing?” Balin asked Gandalf.

“Me…?”

Gandalf pondered, then replied, “I believe he may be reflecting on something, life, the nature of things, perhaps. The moon brings clarity to his thoughts.”

“There are always wonders in this world,” Balin said with a sigh.

Meanwhile, Beorn, gazing at the moon atop Carrock, was indeed deep in thought.

“What I’m wondering is, why have my bees grown as large as a man’s head?”

—

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Completed at Chapter 405!

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