After buying the knives, Darian reunited with Bilbo, and together they returned to Bag End.
On the way, Bilbo glanced at the two bone-chopping knives Darian had bought and couldn't help but ask, curious,"Darian, why did you buy two bone-chopping knives? Don't we already have some at home?"
Darian held the knives up, striking a martial stance."These aren't for chopping bones," he said with a smirk. "They're my weapons! From now on, I'll use them to defend myself against enemies!"
Bilbo opened his mouth but said nothing, unable to reconcile this image with the one he had of a Wizard.
"As long as you like them," he finally muttered.
Noticing Bilbo's puzzled look, a faint grin curved Darian's lips.
With a sharp whoosh, the two knives flew from his hands and embedded themselves into the trunk of a nearby oak tree, their blades sinking halfway into the wood.
Bilbo stood frozen in shock.
"Knives—uh, return!"
With a soft shhhing, the blades tore themselves free from the tree and flew back into Darian's hands.
Bilbo was utterly speechless.
After the performance, Darian casually brushed off his sleeves and strode forward like a true master.But inwardly, he was sweating bullets.
"They got stuck too deep… I almost couldn't pull them out. That was close."
Back at Bag End, a new phase of training began.
Darian focused on controlling the two bone-chopping knives, aiming to make them move as if they were extensions of his own arms.
Each knife weighed about two catties—just within the limits of his magical control.
To refine his skill, he began using them to chop firewood.
The process was grueling. At first, he could only sustain the effort for a short while, but as he persisted, the knives became easier to control and faster to react.
In the end, Bag End's entire winter stock of firewood was prepared early, with some even left over.
Bilbo was delighted. Hobbits, while lovers of comfort, were not fond of hard labor—especially not chopping wood.
Now that it was done early, he was more than happy.
Still, whenever he saw the two flying knives zipping through the air around Darian—only heard by their sharp whooshes—Bilbo couldn't help but worry.
He feared Darian might lose control and get hurt.
The knives danced around Darian for a full half hour before returning neatly to the sheaths on his belt.
By then, Darian had developed full control: within a five-meter radius, the knives could strike instantly at will.
It marked a turning point in his power—a real self-defense mechanism.
With more practice, Darian even managed to levitate a hundred-pound object and hold it for a period of time.
Bilbo was the first to "benefit"—he was lifted into the air like a kite, floating above the hills of Hobbiton.
The neighboring Hobbits saw this and were amazed. For a while, Bilbo became a local celebrity, soaring above the land like a balloon at a festival.
Naturally, Darian—the "Wizard responsible"—drew attention too.
But because of his mysterious identity, no one dared to approach him.Still, word spread quickly, and the name "Darian the Wizard" began to echo across the Shire.
Darian had stayed at Bag End for two months when, one morning, he suddenly announced his departure.
"Bilbo, thank you for hosting me for so long. But I think it's time I moved on."
Bilbo looked taken aback."Did I do something wrong, Darian? Are you upset?"
Darian bent down and patted his shoulder."Not at all, my friend. You've been wonderful. I just… want to see more of the world. Aside from Hobbiton, I've seen nothing yet!"
He gave a wink.
"Don't worry—I'll come back when I get tired of traveling. You'll still have me, won't you?"
Bilbo instantly nodded."Of course! You'll always be welcome here."
Still, he asked with concern:"Where will you go first?"
Darian shrugged."I don't have a plan. I'll go where the wind takes me. But for now, I'll stay within the Shire."
The Shire, though small, had many Hobbit settlements beyond Hobbiton.
"Oh! Bilbo, you know the Shire better than anyone. Got any towns you recommend?"
Relieved that Darian wasn't going far, Bilbo rushed to his study and pulled out a large map of the Shire.
Spreading it on the table, he pointed westward.
"Start with Great Hole Town. It's the capital of the Shire—definitely worth visiting."
The Shire was divided into four districts: Eastfarthing, Westfarthing, Southfarthing, and Northfarthing.
Hobbiton, located centrally, belonged to Westfarthing.
Great Hole Town, also in the Westfarthing, was home to the Mayor's office and a thriving trade hub, with the main East-West Road running through it.
"Alright, Great Hole Town it is," Darian declared.
Though reluctant, Bilbo helped him prepare for the journey—packing food and a pouch full of silver coins.
Darian tried to refuse, but he had no money, so he accepted it with quiet gratitude.
He mentally etched Bilbo's kindness deep in his heart.
Refusing Bilbo's offer to accompany him to the village, Darian cast a floating spell on his luggage and set off alone, his weightless bag hovering behind him.
The journey was long but peaceful. He followed the East-West Road, the countryside stretching around him in a serene blur of green and gold.
Hobbit merchants and travelers passed him, all eyeing him curiously—clearly a human outsider.
Despite his pace, it took him the entire day to reach Great Hole Town by nightfall.
The architecture was different here: taller buildings made of wood, stone, and brick, giving it more of a "city" feeling than Hobbiton's cozy hills.
As he walked through the gates, Hobbits stopped and stared at the tall figure.
A mustached Hobbit, with a blue feather in his hat, stepped forward.
"Outsider, where do you come from? What business do you have in Great Hole Town?"