Perhaps it wouldn’t be long before Thorin departed for the lands of Men, but likely not just yet.

At this time, he harbored only one obsession: to reclaim Erebor. Ever since he inherited the title of King under the Mountain from the line of Durin, the desire to retake his homeland had grown stronger, consuming his thoughts day and night.

That said, aside from his burden of grief, he remained quite composed. He possessed all the dignity and skills that a rightful king should have.

The dragon was still distant from his reach.

They had only glimpsed each other briefly, and there was nothing more to be said.

Garrett returned to the inn and remained several more days, observing the customs and culture of the dwarves, wandering through the marketplace, and purchasing various local specialties.

He also acquired considerable lapis lazuli.

This beautiful blue stone was produced in modest quantities among the dwarves, but demand wasn’t particularly high. From his observations, it was primarily used for decorative flooring or wall inlays. He managed to obtain a substantial amount without great expense.

And so he wandered, explored, and absorbed the atmosphere until the final silver coins in his purse were nearly depleted. Only then did he prepare for his return journey.

Thus, his expedition to the Blue Mountains had reached its conclusion.

“Ah, what a shame! Our drinking champion prepares to depart. You’re the finest drinker among Men I’ve ever encountered. Please tell me your name so I might remember you properly.”

Upon learning that the human traveler was about to leave, the innkeeper personally emerged to bid him farewell.

To be fair, the innkeeper possessed a wonderfully adaptable nature, courteous when circumstances required, but just as boisterous as his fellow dwarves when the moment called for celebration.

“Garrett,” he left his name.

“Garrett, indeed… I’ll remember that well. You’re welcome to return anytime. Ha! Next time, if fortune permits, let’s share another drinking contest.”

Next time… Who could say when that might be.

—

Without lingering sentiment, Garrett mounted his horse and rode along the mountain road toward home.

As soon as he departed the protected region where the dwarves dwelt, he donned his full armor. Riding through the wilderness in his silver-grey mail, he appeared as someone not to be challenged lightly.

Common brigands or solitary wandering orcs would likely avoid him at first sight.

Garrett was no longer the inexperienced adventurer who had first departed the Shire. He’d traveled many leagues, witnessed considerable bloodshed. He no longer possessed the patience to deal with bandits who might be lurking in the shadows. In any location where danger might await, he wore his armor without hesitation.

At present, he clearly valued safety and efficiency over mere appearance. Not that the armor was unattractive, truly.

The journey proceeded without significant incident.

A breeze passed by, carrying autumn’s chill.

By the banks of the River Lhûn, he knelt and dipped a finger into the water.

“It’s getting cold.”

Autumn was approaching.

—

Far away in the Shire, Bilbo was experiencing the same realization.

He wrapped himself in a warm coat and sat within his comfortable home, gazing at the stars through the window while smoking a pipe filled with Old Toby.

“Not bad at all. Really quite pleasant. Here, I need only look up to see the stars, look down to see the garden, the lawn, and the little stream.”

And beside him burned a cheerful fireplace. Even winter wouldn’t prove so disagreeable. With such a peaceful existence, what more could one desire?

He wondered how Garrett was faring now. Hopefully, his journey was proceeding smoothly.

Some time had passed since Garrett’s departure, but the tales he’d shared still echoed in Bilbo’s mind. Garrett had mentioned his destination was the Blue Mountains to the west, that must truly be a magnificent realm.

With such thoughts, he felt his eyelids grow heavy, and soon retired to bed.

—

The following morning, someone was rapping at the front door.

Knock knock knock.

“Just a moment, one moment! Let me turn this rasher first. Oh, I wasn’t expecting anyone at this hour…”

Creak.

As footsteps approached, the door opened.

Hearing these familiar words, Garrett couldn’t help but experience a peculiar sense of repetition. It seemed that next time, he’d need to visit when Bilbo wasn’t in the middle of preparing breakfast.

“Garrett! You’ve returned already? Come in, come in, I’m making breakfast. Care to join me for a bite?”

“Haha, I’ll gladly take you up on that,” Garrett said without hesitation. He entered the home naturally, and under Bilbo’s expectant gaze, took the cooking utensils and began preparing the meal himself.

Moments later, Bilbo sat contentedly in his chair, face glowing with satisfaction from the excellent food, releasing a pleased sigh. He didn’t wish to move so much as an inch.

Every time Garrett visited, he ended up feasting magnificently.

But Garrett didn’t remain long.

After breakfast, plus accompanying Bilbo through second breakfast and luncheon, he was ready to return home.

Bilbo appeared disappointed.

But before departing this time, Garrett presented him with a gift.

“These are local specialties I brought back from the dwarven halls in the Blue Mountains. Consider them a token of gratitude for always taking care of me.”

He produced a large sack and set it on the floor with a solid thud.

Wasn’t this “token” a bit too much?

Bilbo glanced at the hefty burlap sack, then looked up at Garrett.

“Oh… that’s exceedingly kind of you. But truly, you needn’t have bothered. I’m simply pleased when you come to visit.”

He said this, but the hobbit still eagerly peered into the sack.

“This is… a sword?”

He curiously extracted a dwarven steel blade. With a sharp shwing, he unsheathed it. The blade reflected his slightly bewildered face, and the cold gleam of its edge made the hobbit, long accustomed to peaceful living, feel rather uneasy.

“I can’t imagine what I’d ever need this for. Perhaps I could use it for chopping vegetables?”

“Use it however you like,” Garrett shrugged.

“Though honestly, it does make a handsome display piece.”

Shaking his head, Bilbo placed the sword on a shelf, treating it as an attractive decoration. Then he delved back into the sack and retrieved a round, dense loaf of bread. He gave it an experimental sniff.

“What might this be?”

“Cram,” Garrett replied. “The dwarven trading caravans brought it back from Dale. It’s a local specialty from those parts. I figured you might find it interesting, so I bought a bit extra.”

It is basically Middle-earth’s version of preserved travel bread, he added silently to himself.

“It keeps for an extraordinarily long time, so you can take your time eating it.”

Though he was already quite full, Bilbo took a bite of the bread called cram.

“Very dense texture, somewhat salty, they must have added preservation salts. Hmm… it has quite a distinctive flavor. Rather invigorating, actually. I find it quite agreeable,” he nodded, clearly approving of the provisions.

“As long as you’re happy.”

In his perception, Garrett always arrived and departed so swiftly, never lingering for extended periods. It felt like mere moments before he had vanished again, disappearing over the horizon with his fully armored mount.

Taking another bite of cram, Bilbo regarded the large sack of bread and scratched his head thoughtfully.

“Wait a moment… Garrett didn’t specify how long these actually keep. ‘Extraordinarily long,’ but precisely how long might that be?”

Garrett truly didn’t concern himself much with preservation periods. After all, once something entered his inventory, it became essentially imperishable.

—

After leaving the Shire, Garrett paused briefly in Bree, making inquiries and purchasing a huge collection of books, then acquiring two sheep from a nearby farmer and leading them along the road.

It mattered little whether they were rams or ewes, wool-bearing or otherwise, as long as they were fed wheat, they would eventually multiply.

“Home at last…”

Opening the gates to his stronghold, he settled the two sheep within and immediately conducted a thorough inspection of his territory. Everything remained exactly as he’d left it, save for the crops now ready for harvest, nothing had changed.

Now, it was time for serious work to begin.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep