Seeing Karl head to the centre of the square, to a more open space, he drew the steel sword from his back. Bilbo quickly said: "Excuse me, my friend needs my help!"
Then he turned to the table and picked up a few more apples with his right hand. Gandalf remained silent, simply standing quietly to the side, leaning on his staff. He glanced at the apples Bilbo held — about three or four — and then looked toward Karl in the centre of the arena. A keen gaze appeared in his eyes as he considered a few apples flying through the air.
This could hardly be called superb swordsmanship, and it was far from the title of "master." Even ordinary people who trained regularly could do this if they were focused. Find the right trajectory, calculate the right moment, and cut it with a single strike. Only those who knew nothing of swordsmanship and had never trained would find this impressive, but if this was all there was to it...
Gandalf pondered what he wanted to see from this man who called himself a witcher and might belong to the royal house of Númenor. Was he truly as he claimed, or was he just a wandering adventurer skilled at boasting?
In the centre of the arena, Karl was ready, holding his sword in one hand, its point angled diagonally toward the ground. "Are you ready, Bilbo?" Karl asked, not loudly but clearly enough to cut through the festival noise and reach Bilbo's ears.
Bilbo nodded vigorously, holding an apple in each hand as if about to throw them. Karl gave a slight nod, and Bilbo immediately tossed an apple as a test. Without much effort, the apple traced a low, flat arc, moving slowly and in the right direction.
Gandalf watched the apple fly toward Karl, already formulating thoughts in his mind. With that speed and trajectory, anyone with basic training could easily hit the target. If this "witcher" needed to take even that seriously, then his so-called "mastery of swordsmanship" was simply a joke.
But in the next second, Karl's actions made him pause slightly. Facing the flying apple, Karl did not swing his sword to cut it down as Gandalf had expected. Instead, he calmly turned his wrist and pivoted, the sword following his movements. Rather than delivering a chopping blow, he neatly struck the underside of the apple with the flat of the blade.
With a soft thud, the apple changed direction and shot upward. It rose about three metres above Karl's head, then began to fall. This swordsmanship... Gandalf frowned. It wasn't just chopping; it was precise control. But what was he going to do? Break the apple and then slice it? That would be meaningless.
Puzzled, he watched Karl closely, observing every move.
Karl nodded to Bilbo, who, though puzzled, followed Karl's instructions and threw the apple faster. This time he put a little more force into it, and the apple flew faster, along a slightly different trajectory. Karl did not chop. Instead, he pivoted again, the blade tracing a silver arc in the firelight, and precisely struck the second apple. With another soft sound, the second apple shot into the air, joining the first.
Then came the third, the fourth... Bilbo's movements grew more skilled, and the speed and angle of his throws began to vary. Sometimes two objects were thrown at once, sometimes they followed different trajectories. The apples in his hands disappeared one by one, scattering into the air. In a matter of seconds, he had thrown all the apples from the table.
At this moment, nine apples hung in the air, falling at different heights and speeds. Karl gently struck the apples with the blade or pommel of his sword just before they touched the ground, sending them back into the air. Sometimes with a light tap, sometimes with a side strike, and the nine apples were under his control. A dynamic cycle formed in the air: objects rose and fell, but none touched the ground.
Gandalf's eyes widened slightly; this was not an apple-chopping performance, but juggling. No, it was more complex than juggling. Juggling used special props, and the throws and catches had a fixed rhythm and trajectory. Karl was dealing with unpredictable apples and had to precisely anticipate the force and angle of each strike to send the apple back to the right height and position.
Moreover, he used only one hand and a sword, and the hobbits watching from the sidelines had already noticed the commotion. The crowd dancing around the bonfire gradually dispersed, their curious gazes turning to the centre of the field. Children crowded around the stage, craning their necks to watch the apples flying through the air, exclaiming in amazement.
"He's making the apples fly!"
"Look at him! He almost dropped it, but he saved it!"
"How did you do that?"
Gandalf ignored the whispers around him, his gaze fixed on Karl's wrist and blade. Each strike had to be perfectly timed; too hard, and the apple would fly too high and become uncontrollable; too soft, and he wouldn't be able to catch the next one. This control...
Just as Gandalf was secretly assessing him, Karl seemed to think maintaining the status quo was not enough, so he continued to spin the steel sword with one hand, keeping the nine apples aloft. Suddenly, the blade shifted and lightly nicked the surface of the nearest falling apple. A very thin slice of peel was removed from the apple, spinning as it fell to the ground.
Gandalf was stunned. Multitasking? No, it was triple-tasking. Maintaining the circulation of the apples, assessing the force of each strike, and peeling — all while the apples were in motion — was crucial. At this moment, Gandalf's previous suspicions about Karl's boasting vanished without a trace.
His expression became serious, and the hand holding his staff unconsciously tightened its grip. Because, setting aside swordsmanship, the ability to multitask and control one's strength was something that some people never achieved, even until their death. This was not just about skill, but also exceptional reaction speed, insight, and self-control.
"On the arena," Karl continued, "his blade traced thin lines of light through the air."
With each light touch, a piece of apple peel was sliced off, paper-thin curls spinning and falling away. He was peeling nine apples simultaneously, but at different speeds; some were already more than half-peeled, while others had only just begun. Karl stared intently at the apples, his sword moving between them at a speed that made it almost impossible to see its trajectory.
"Wow..." Bilbo was stunned and nearly dropped the empty plate he was holding.
The surrounding hobbits also fell silent; only the crackling of the bonfire and the soft rustle of the wind in the trees could be heard. All eyes were fixed on the flying, gleaming sword and the apples.
While Gandalf was secretly amazed, Karl seemed to think the speed was not high enough. The two hands that had been alternately turning the sword hilt suddenly withdrew one hand, and his free right hand reached behind his back. With a soft ring, the second sword was drawn, and then Karl began to swing both swords simultaneously.