The tables, chairs, bookshelves, cabinets... all the furniture was made of ordinary wood, without any gold or silver adornments. But every piece was exquisitely designed and polished to a smooth, mirror-like surface. The mortise and tenon joints fit together perfectly, demonstrating the highest level of craftsmanship from the maker. All the furniture was clearly made by a single person in a unified style, giving the impression of a cohesive work of art.
This was not the Elven style. Elven craftsmanship was exquisite but more intricate, with a love for carving patterns and inlaying gems. This was not the Dwarven style; Dwarven furniture was heavy and practical, prioritising strength and durability.
Gandalf's gaze shifted to the wall, where a row of dark wood weapon racks stood. Neatly arranged on top were various types of weapons, including the paired swords used during the Summer Solstice festival. A war hammer, a round shield, a pair of daggers, a longbow, and a corresponding quiver. Nearby, on a weapon stand, hung a suit of golden full plate armour.
Gandalf's breath caught slightly; these armour pieces... they were too exquisite. The overall colour was golden, but it was a warm golden hue, reminiscent of an autumn wheat field. The armour was covered in intricate patterns, but what struck him most was its thickness, or rather, its thinness. From the side, the thickness of all the parts — chest, back, arm guards, leg guards — was astonishingly slight. Yet the metallic texture and sheen clearly indicated that this was not ordinary thin sheet iron. The joints had a biomimetic layered structure, like the segments of a shrimp's shell, providing protection without restricting movement. The method of donning and removing was also unique: a construction with pins and original buckles at several key points. Simply fasten the buttons; no one's help was needed to dress.
If Karl had crafted all of this himself... Gandalf's opinion of Karl quietly rose a notch or two. Carpenter, stonemason, weaponsmith, armourer, architect, master swordsman... This witcher's ability to multitask surpassed that of any human. Even among the nearly immortal Elves, very few could achieve such a high level of proficiency in so many fields simultaneously.
"Mr. Gandalf?" Karl's voice brought him back to reality.
Gandalf turned and saw Karl carrying a plate of vegetables and placing it on the table beside him. On the plate were various fresh vegetables: bright green lettuce, sliced tomatoes, grated onion, corn kernels, and carrot slices. The salad was drizzled with a light golden dressing, emitting a faint fruity sweet-and-sour aroma.
"Try it. The hobbits in the Shire love it. I grew it myself," Karl said with a smile.
Gandalf nodded slightly, picked up a wooden toothpick lying nearby, speared a piece of lettuce, dipped it in the dressing, and put it in his mouth. In the next moment, his eyes lit up. The lettuce was fresh and crisp, with a unique sweetness. The freshness of the vegetables was incomparable to those sold in the market. Gandalf ate the entire plate of fruits and vegetables, piece by piece, almost unconsciously. When he put down the last wooden toothpick, still covered in dressing, he realised that Karl had not eaten a single bite; he just sat across from him, silently watching.
Gandalf coughed slightly awkwardly: "Forgive me, Mr. Karl."
"I never thought fruits and vegetables could be so delicious raw. Please excuse my rudeness."
Karl waved his hand, an understanding smile on his face: "I understand. Everyone says that."
It was true. Over the past six months, every hobbit who had tasted Karl's vegetables had praised them. Now, whenever Karl brought vegetables to the market, they were always sold out first. Some hobbit women even came specially to ask for advice on planting methods. However, no matter how hard they tried, the harvest they grew was never as good as Karl's.
Gandalf nodded, and his expression gradually became serious. He silently added another talent to Karl's list: perhaps he was a cook and a gardener. This mysterious witcher was truly a polymath. If he joined the expedition company, his role in the team would be second only to that of the main member, Thorin Oakenshield. In some ways, he was capable of far more than Thorin. Thorin was a leader, a warrior, and a dwarf prince, but Karl... Karl seemed to be able to do everything. In Karl's eyes, Thorin seemed to possess only the status of a prince.
Gandalf gathered his thoughts and decided to get down to business. He placed his hands on his staff, leaned forward slightly, and looked directly at Karl.
"Mr. Karl, I believe Bilbo mentioned something to you earlier about adventures?"
"Yes, he said there was a wizard who had difficulty walking, but was thinking of going on an adventure." Karl nodded.
"Ahem, ahem..." Gandalf choked slightly, and his white beard trembled. He shook his head helplessly: "Bilbo, that boy... always so straightforward."
Karl smiled but said nothing.
Gandalf adjusted his posture, his voice becoming serious: "So, would you be interested in joining a company of adventurers?"
"An expedition whose goal is to reclaim the lost kingdom of the dwarves."
"At the end of the adventure, you could receive a substantial reward, as well as... knowledge."
He deliberately slowed his speech on the last two words, watching Karl closely to gauge his reaction.
Karl met Gandalf's expectant gaze but did not answer immediately. He turned his head to look at the row of weapons on the wall, and then at the suit of golden armour. Then, turning back, he slowly said: "Mr. Gandalf, let's speak frankly."
"Of course," Gandalf nodded.
"Wealth no longer concerns me."
"Look at my home, look at my life — you should understand that I lack neither money nor ambition for luxury."
Gandalf said nothing, merely listening silently.
"And knowledge does indeed contain elements that interest me..."
"But that knowledge is almost entirely in the hands of a very small number of people."
He paused, looking directly into Gandalf's eyes: "I don't think they would be willing to share that knowledge with me."
"Can you convince them? Can you persuade them to open their library to me?"
Gandalf fell silent, his thoughts racing. Karl was right; truly ancient knowledge belonged only to the chosen few. Moreover, another question arose: what exactly was Karl's "interest"? He used the word too broadly. If it was legitimate historical research or the study of magic, that might be permissible. But what if it was forbidden knowledge or secrets that could harm others? As a Maia, he guided the beings of Middle-earth according to the requirements of the Valar. He could not unconditionally promise to share knowledge if that knowledge might be used for improper purposes...
Seeing Gandalf's silence, Karl immediately understood his concern.