He had seen many soldiers, but few could wield a weapon at such an "artistic" level. And the most terrifying thing was... Gandalf felt a chill run down his spine; this ability was used in combat. Whoever could quickly slice the flesh from eight apples could then take up a sword and strike an enemy. And what if those paper-thin slices of fruit were replaced by flesh and blood?
After the initial shock, Gandalf's thoughts raced. His resolve to invite the witcher to join his company only strengthened. The expedition to the Lonely Mountain was sorely lacking in strong warriors, and Thorin and his companions were excellent dwarven fighters. But the trials might involve not only dragons, but also orcs and fierce wolves. If only one master swordsman could accompany them...
Gandalf composed himself, took a bite of the apple, chewed slowly, and quickly formulated a plan. Bilbo Baggins, a boy whose coming of age he had watched. His heart yearned for adventure, but it was hidden beneath a comfortable life. With a little help, they could persuade him to join. But this witcher... Gandalf glanced at Karl, who was talking with other hobbits, and knew little about him.
Moreover, there was a natural ease in his manner and speech, like that of an aristocrat or a scholar. What could attract such a man? Wealth or power? The other man didn't seem poor. Reputation? Witchers seemed to be modest by nature. A thirst for adventure? Possibly, but not certain. Perhaps... knowledge? A flicker passed through Gandalf's eyes.
Witchers had to deal with all kinds of monsters, so he might be interested in things related to monsters and magic. Or something more practical, like powerful weapons or rare materials?
As Gandalf pondered, he watched Karl, now surrounded by hobbits. They all bombarded him with questions, and Karl answered patiently and gently, without a trace of arrogance. He admired this approachability even more. Truly powerful people often fell into two categories: those who were aloof and treated ordinary people like ants, and those with the spirit of equality, without arrogance based on power — more valuable and reliable.
"Mr. Wizard?" a voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts.
Gandalf looked down and saw Bilbo standing beside him. He was still holding half an apple, his face flushed with excitement. "Did you see that? Mr. Karl's swordsmanship! I've never seen anything like it... anything like it..."
Bilbo couldn't find the right words, so he just raised his hands in the air. "Those apples were flying through the air, and then they were cut... Did you see that?"
"Yes, I saw it. Truly a magnificent performance. Your friend is indeed extraordinary." Gandalf smiled, his eyes beneath his grey brows gleaming with wisdom.
At the edge of the square, Karl answered a hobbit child's question. "Yes, a sword needs care, just like a friend. If you treat it well, it will protect you when needed."
Gandalf listened silently, lightly tapping his staff on the grass, then returned to the centre of the clearing and raised it again. This time, instead of setting off fireworks, he made the crystal at the tip of his staff emit a soft white light. The light gradually spread, and images appeared within it: fluttering butterflies, streams, and blooming flowers. The hobbits fell silent, gazing in awe at this wondrous spectacle. Bilbo was also stunned, momentarily forgetting the conversation that had just taken place.
The illusion gradually faded, Gandalf put away his staff, and bowed to the crowd. The hobbits burst into enthusiastic applause and cheers. "How beautiful..." Bilbo exclaimed, his gaze still fixed on the remaining sparks of light in the air.
Gandalf began to move away from the crowd, but stopped as he passed by Karl and Bilbo. Gandalf turned to Karl, his gaze calm, but Karl could feel the keen attention in it.
"This gentleman is quite unlike the inhabitants of the Shire. I am Gandalf, a wandering wizard..." Gandalf said with a smile.
"Karl, a traveller, temporarily staying in the Shire." Karl extended his hand.
The moment their hands clasped, Gandalf noticed that this man's hands bore no calluses. Strange, very strange.
"Mr. Karl. You call yourself... a witcher? That is a very rare profession in Middle-earth."
"This profession is quite common in my hometown."
"Forgive my boldness, but may I ask where that is?"
"Across from Middle-earth lies a continent called Terra, separated by a vast ocean and many mountain ranges."
Gandalf stroked his beard, a thoughtful look in his eyes. Terra? What place? Never heard of it. Across the continent lay Valinor, inhabited only by the Valar, and in the sea lay the long-sunken homeland of the Númenóreans.
"So, what are your plans? Continue travelling, or...?"
"For now, I'll take a break. The Shire is a wonderful place, quiet and beautiful. I plan to stay here for a while."
"Mr. Karl, you are a very capable man."
"I'm afraid I won't be able to live a peaceful life forever; fate always has its plans."
Gandalf's words were quite profound. Karl smiled: "Perhaps, but at least we can enjoy the peace and joy of the present moment."
"Well said! Well then, I won't disturb you any further. Happy holidays!" Gandalf laughed heartily.
Gandalf turned and walked away, his robes fluttering in the night wind, soon disappearing into the crowd.
Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief: "Talking to wizards is always exciting, isn't it? They seem to be able to read minds."
"In a sense, yes," Karl said quietly, following Gandalf's path with his gaze.
---
After the Summer Solstice celebration, Gandalf disappeared, as he always did when he came to the Shire, without saying goodbye or farewell. Only in the hobbits' memories did the dazzling spectacle of the fireworks remain, and the topic of the Grey Wizard lingered as a subject of conversation.
Karl was not surprised by this; on the contrary, he had expected it. The company heading to the Lonely Mountain was led by dwarves, and the reward was given to them as well. Gandalf could only guide and advise; he could not directly force Thorin to change his decision. Gandalf was a Maia, sent by the Valar to Middle-earth to guide the living and fight against darkness. However, their power was strictly limited, and the Valar did not allow the Maiar to directly interfere in the fate of mortals. To move things forward, only suggestions, valuable advice, and, when necessary, assistance were needed.
Thorin had only one vacancy, so Gandalf would think twice before recruiting anyone. They needed people who could truly help the company, not become a burden.
Time inexorably slipped away — from the lush summer greenery to the golden hues of autumn, and then to the stillness of winter. Finally, spring arrived, and more than half a year had passed.
Karl sat on a chair before the fireplace, facing the leaping flames. On his fingertips, a tiny golden lightning bolt jumped and writhed, taking various forms at his own will.