The Dragon-Slaying Wizard Gandalf [Seeking Recommendation Tickets]

Watching Morgan being personally invited by Thorin Oakenshield to join the expedition team, Gandalf let out a long sigh of relief.

He had watched the entire process, from Morgan being looked down upon by Thorin Oakenshield step by step, to him angrily rebuking Thorin Oakenshield and threatening to challenge him, then giving the other party a way out by changing his opponent, and finally easily defeating the dwarf Kili. Not only did this make Thorin Oakenshield apologize in person and invite Morgan to join the team, but it also showcased his strength to the group of dwarves and himself.

After such a series of maneuvers, Morgan's status in the team would henceforth be no lower than any of the dwarves.

In the days to come, no one in the team would be able to look down on him or dare to underestimate him.

One had to know that due to their nature, the dwarf race valued strength more than any other.

Previously, he had only thought that this lad Morgan was very strong.

He hadn't expected this kid's brain to be just as sharp.

From beginning to end, aside from being prompted by Morgan to speak up halfway through, he had barely said a word.

This was far better than what he had previously told Morgan about joining the team based on his recommendation.

Morgan's exceptional performance made Gandalf think of Bilbo.

He was also someone he wanted to recommend for the team.

Recalling the attitude of Thorin Oakenshield and the dwarves toward Bilbo earlier, Gandalf felt a bit uneasy.

However, with him around, Bilbo would certainly be able to join the team.

It was just that before that, he still had to get the little fellow to agree.

Thinking of this, Gandalf pulled out his pipe once again.

Back inside Bilbo's Bag End.

The dwarves had not yet fully recovered from the competition just now and remained in high spirits.

Even Bilbo, who had been feeling depressed and unhappy, was in a much better mood now that he had won some money and was infected by the lively atmosphere.

The party that had been interrupted resumed.

Watching large quantities of various foods and drinks being moved out of the pantry, Bilbo gritted his teeth to console himself: "Since it's already unavoidable, I might as well be generous about it; it can also show the hospitality of a Hobbit."

Thinking this way, Bilbo's bleeding heart seemed to feel a bit better.

Soon, the long table used for the banquet was filled with all kinds of food.

Looking at the dozen or so dazzling varieties of food before him—smoked fish, smoked meat, smoked sausage, smoked ham, cheese, white bread, dried tomatoes, dried persimmons, dried mushrooms, and more—along with several types of wine, including red wine and fruit wine, Morgan finally gained some understanding of the Hobbit's—no, Bilbo's—family wealth.

This was not a food reserve that an ordinary family could possess.

The dwarves' predatory style of moving things quickly filled the entire dining table.

The group of dwarves took their seats, and Morgan sat down beside Gandalf.

Dwarves didn't stand on ceremony when dining; they started eating as soon as they sat down.

Morgan didn't hold back either; in this world, there was no such thing as dieting.

For most people, being able to eat their fill once a day was already quite good.

Morgan had a vast amount of plot memory in his mind and knew that the days ahead on the expedition would be plenty miserable.

If he didn't eat now, when would he?

Smoked fish, smoked meat, smoked ham, smoked sausage, cheese—Morgan gorged himself on various high-calorie foods.

He didn't refuse the fruit wine or red wine either.

You have to admit, these smoked meats had a unique flavor.

In any case, Morgan felt he could eat this for a long time.

Although Morgan was drinking and eating meat in large gulps, his table manners were far better than those of the dwarves.

The dwarves not only made a ruckus singing while eating, but they could also dance on the dining table, for heaven's sake.

At this moment on the table, a young dwarf about the same age as the dwarf Kili, but slightly shorter and with golden hair braided into several small pigtails, was wiggling his butt in the middle of the long table.

The surrounding dwarves were waving their knives and forks to beat out various rhythms on the tableware, laughing and shouting in accompaniment.

Fortunately, Morgan had eaten until he was seven or eight parts full, and he really had no desire to continue eating.

So, holding a tall wooden mug filled with fruit wine, he leaned back on the bench just like Gandalf, watching the excited performance of the dwarves.

"Interesting, isn't it."

"Once you get to know them, you'll grow fond of them."

Gandalf raised his glass to clink with Morgan's, laughing as he spoke.

"A bit noisy, perhaps, but they're alright."

"I imagine that as long as you're with them, you'll never be bored."

Morgan took a long gulp of fruit wine and nodded.

"It seems you've already started to get used to them."

Hearing Morgan's words, Gandalf turned his head in surprise and smiled at him.

Morgan raised his glass to clink with Gandalf's once more and continued, "Tell me about the company. I've heard you mention it, but I know nothing of the commission, which isn't ideal for the work I have ahead."

"That is not something I can explain in a moment."

"Wait a little longer; you will know soon enough."

Gandalf shook his head, signaling for Morgan to continue watching the dwarves' performance.

The feast lasted for quite some time.

By the time the meal ended and the table was cleared, it was already the dead of night.

Watching the group of dwarves sitting solemnly around the long table, Morgan knew the main event was about to begin.

"Any news from the Ered Luin council?"

"Are they all gathered?"

Balin, the white-bearded dwarf, spoke first.

Thorin Oakenshield nodded, "Yes, envoys from all seven kingdoms have arrived."

Dwalin, a dwarf of equal standing to Balin, spoke up immediately, "What did the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?"

"Will Dain be joining us?"

Thorin Oakenshield shook his head, "They will not come. They say this is our quest, and ours alone."

As his words fell, all the dwarves fell silent.

At this moment, Gandalf stood up, gathered the candles on the table together, and produced a yellowed roll of parchment.

Unfolding the parchment, it clearly depicted mountain ranges, rivers, forests, and wastelands—it was a map.

"Far to the East, over mountain and river, through forest and wasteland, there lies a mountain: the Lonely Mountain."

"Yes, Kili has seen the signs, and the signs say the time has come."

"When the thrush flies to the Lonely Mountain, just as the prophecy foretold."

"When the birds of old fly once more to Erebor, the reign of the beast shall end."

The dwarves spoke one after another, clearly familiar with the prophecy.

"Beast? What beast?"

Bilbo, drawn in by the conversation, suddenly asked.

"A dragon, the fire-breathing dragon Smaug, the most cruel and terrifying calamity of that age!"

"I'm not afraid of him; I'll make him taste the bite of dwarven steel!"

"Don't even think about it. It's too difficult. Even with an army, it would be hard, let alone with just a dozen of us—and not even the best or smartest dozen at that."

"Hey, what do you mean by that? Who are you calling stupid?"

"We aren't stupid."

"We have a bounty hunter now, and Gandalf the Wizard."

"Gandalf has killed hundreds of dragons in his time."

"Uh, no, wait, I, I didn't mean to say that."

"How many?"

"What?"

"Gandalf, how many dragons have you actually killed?"

"Cough, cough, cough."