Capítulo 158: Thorin
Early the next morning, as Wayne prepared to depart, he was surprised to see Bilbo approaching from the village, leading a horse significantly taller than himself. Reaching Wayne's cabin, Bilbo coughed sheepishly, looked up at the much taller witcher, and said, "Hey! Wayne, it occurred to me yesterday that you don't seem to have a suitable horse. Traveling on foot to Bree would be dangerous and take a long time. This is the largest Shire horse my uncle, Old Baggins, ever had. Although it still seems a bit small for you, it's the largest horse we hobbits have."
Bilbo scratched his head. He wasn't experienced in befriending outsiders but had a kind heart. "Don't refuse. Having a horse is better than running on two legs." Bilbo's muddy feet and dew-stained clothes indicated he had been busy since morning.
Looking at the well-behaved Shire horse with its white coat and black spots, Wayne nodded with appreciation. "Thank you, my friend. You're very thoughtful." He patted Bilbo on the shoulder, but then shook his head regretfully. "However, it's not that I want to reject your kindness. Haven't you always been curious about how I came to your Shire from afar? You don't think I walked here from another country, do you?"
A mysterious smile played on Wayne's lips. He took out a small patterned pouch from around his neck. Under Bilbo's shocked gaze, he reached into the pouch and pulled out a huge, ornate rolled-up blanket. As Wayne tossed the blanket onto the ground, it unfurled automatically, hovering a few inches above the ground, rippling slightly like waves.
"Whoa! Wayne! What's happening?" Bilbo exclaimed. "You pulled such a large blanket from a small pouch, and it's floating! What is this? It's amazing!"
Bilbo was astounded by the magical flying carpet. While wizards were legendary in Middle-earth, encountering one who could perform such magic was rare. Wayne smiled and waved his hand, indicating it was nothing to fuss over. He stepped onto the floating carpet and sat cross-legged in its center.
"My friend, I didn't tell you before because I didn't want to overwhelm you with surprises," Wayne explained. "I'm actually a witcher, an expert in dealing with dangerous creatures. This under my feet is a magic flying carpet. It can take me to the skies, allowing me to travel quickly across the world."
"Aren't you curious about the sword on my back? That's my weapon, my aid in slaying monsters. So, your worries are unnecessary. I don't need horses, and no wild beast can harm me. I'll reach Bree much faster than you think."
The flying carpet was about one meter wide and two meters long, only two centimeters thick. Despite its delicate appearance, it easily supported Wayne's weight, rising and falling with his control.
Bilbo's mouth gaped open in astonishment. After a few moments, he slowly closed it and circled the carpet several times, wanting to touch it but not daring. In a high-pitched voice, he exclaimed, "Oh my goodness! This is incredible! The hobbits in Hobbiton won't believe you can fly on a blanket! This must be witchcraft! I've heard legends and read about wizards. When I was a child, a white-bearded wizard used to visit us and set off fireworks."
"Although I don't remember his appearance or name, you said you're a witcher. Could it be that, like a wizard, a witcher can also use magic?" Bilbo inquired, his excitement evident.
Wayne reached out to calm Bilbo's surprise, jokingly saying, "While a witcher and a wizard are different professions, I can indeed use some magic." He paused, then offered, "By the way, I'm about to leave. Would you like to try flying before I go? You're my friend, and I'm happy to offer."
Unfortunately, Bilbo was only forty years old and still had many more years to live. Despite the desire in his eyes, the hobbit's natural timidity made him hesitant. In the end, Mr. Baggins circled Wayne's flying carpet three more times, reached out to touch the ornate patterns, and shook his head. "Perhaps another time, Wayne. You're on your way; I won't delay you any longer," he said, as if comforting himself. "But when you return from Bree, you must let me experience your magic and ride on this flying carpet. I want to know what it feels like to fly like a bird."
Wayne shook his head regretfully. He bid farewell to Bilbo, then controlled the flying carpet to circle Baggins twice before ascending hundreds of meters into the air. Under Bilbo's fascinated gaze, he soon left Hobbiton and disappeared into the sky.
As he soared at a height of 100 meters, Wayne couldn't help but feel a pang of emotion. Princess Jaina of Azeroth was truly ingenious. The magic flying carpet she had crafted for a certain dutiful son was more useful than he had imagined.
Flying on the carpet was stable, fast, easy to control, and didn't consume much magical energy. With Wayne's current reserves, he could fly continuously for a whole day without needing rest. The only downside was the lack of chaos magic in Middle-earth. After depleting his magic, Wayne could only rely on potions or natural replenishment through rest and food, making the Witcher Signs a last resort in combat, best used sparingly. Fortunately, he still had the Dolan Ring, a magical item that restored magical energy through killing, providing a way to accelerate recovery when needed.
Bree was a very old town, originally a human settlement. However, due to wars, invasions, and migrations in the second and third ages, it had become a diverse town with hobbits, dwarves, and humans. Its numerous craftsmen and residents made it a prominent trading hub in the Bree-land region, frequented by travelers and merchants from various kingdoms.
In Bree's largest blacksmith shop, the dwarf prince Thorin Oakenshield focused on forging goods for sale, his mind preoccupied with thoughts. Since the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain fled south, they had been working for others under Thorin's leadership, gradually improving their lives from initial hardship to stability.
Unfortunately, the small number of female dwarves hindered the group's population growth. Moreover, the south wasn't ideal for dwarves, lacking a territory of their own amidst the numerous humans, hobbits, and other races. Prince Thorin longed for his former home, the Lonely Mountain. The ancestral desire to reclaim it, passed down through generations, had become his most cherished wish.
However, Thorin saw no way to defeat the immense, invulnerable dragon Smaug. The dwarf prince struck the iron repeatedly, the powerful force creating showers of sparks. A steel dagger gradually took shape under his hammer. Several dwarf apprentices nearby, working the bellows, watched in awe of their prince's skill.
Suddenly, exclamations erupted from outside the blacksmith shop. Thorin, standing at the door, looked towards the source of the commotion. A rectangular, purple-gold blanket descended from the clear sky. A strong man jumped off the blanket, landing near the shop. The man looked around, then waved at the floating blanket. It rolled up and flew into his hand. Finally, under the astonished gazes of onlookers and Thorin, the man took out a small pouch and, seemingly through magic, stuffed the meter-long rolled-up blanket inside.
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