"So you're saying you went to the East and back within a year, and even took part in a war?"
At that, Bard couldn't help turning his head.
Fíli, who had been about to leave, stepped back inside.
"Though a bit one-sided, that's not an unfair way to put it," Levi said.
"Alright," Gandalf murmured, unable to resist lighting his pipe. The curl of smoke rose, and his eyes sharpened. "Then tell me exactly what happened over there."
"You took part in that great battle, didn't you?"
Levi nodded. "It's a bit complicated. I don't know if you still remember one of the Blue Wizards in the East, Alatar."
"Alatar..." Gandalf furrowed his brows, digging through centuries of memory. "Oh, him. It's been so very long since I've heard that name that I nearly forgot. I never inquired much after the Far East. Has he fared well there?"
"Hard to say."
Levi began to recount: how Alatar found him and Halbarad, how they disrupted the Easterling army's mustering, how the defense of Khand was organized, and how Alatar confronted Sauron's shadow and suffered corruption.
Gandalf and the two by the table listened intently, afraid to miss a single word. The room grew still except for the soft tick of cooling embers in the hearth and the faint scratch of wind against the high windows.
"He commands a magic that beguiles the heart. The King of Khand was under his control for many years," Levi said.
"Perhaps his intent was good," Gandalf judged, "but the method, just as you said, was not just." His gaze dimmed with sorrow. "Gone astray."
Then he paused, hearing echoes in what Levi described. Words that could twist minds and leave impressions that lasted a lifetime. It rang too familiar. Saruman's voice-craft.
"He learned it from Saruman," Levi added.
Gandalf lowered his eyes. "As expected. Saruman should never have taught him that. He must be corrected."
"It's done. The King of Khand has returned to himself. No need to worry. And Alatar is lucid now too, freed from Sauron's shadow, at least for the time being."
"Good." Gandalf nodded. "With your presence there, I expected as much."
Levi looked at him. "Can wizards defect?"
"It's possible," Gandalf replied quietly. "They, including Saruman, came to this land long before I did. In the long years of bearing a mortal shape, no one can guarantee they won't lose their way. Our memory of home grows vague, and what little longing remains is ceaselessly tested."
His tone softened. "Alatar's plight is not hard to imagine. West of Mordor, the Free Peoples still hold ground. One can move between factions, gather allies, and resist the dark. But in the Far East, nearly all are enemies. Living behind hostile lines, resisting in silence for ages, that is not a burden to dismiss."
"They're worthy of respect," Levi said.
"Let me guess," Gandalf continued, a faint curve at the corner of his mouth. "In the end you used Khand as a redoubt and helped them hold the royal city, driving off a three-front coalition."
"You guessed about half right."
"Oh?"
They all leaned forward.
"By then the King of Khand was clear-headed, and Khand had become an enemy." Levi's voice stayed calm, but the air felt tighter. "So, Mordor, Easterlings, Khand, and Harad. Whoever was there, I fought them all."
Bard glanced at Levi, his jaw setting as a new weight settled onto his understanding. He didn't know the exact number of the armies beyond Mordor, but from what he'd heard now, it was not a handful. It was tens of thousands. Tens of thousands repelled.
His thoughts drifted to Goblin-town. They had fielded 3,500 soldiers, all in full armor, armed with the best weapons they could craft. A force no nation would ignore. But compared to that eastern war, it was small, too small. Toss that force into a tri-army battlefield, and they would barely make a ripple.
Armor is strong, yes, but it's one thing to crush goblins and the ragged orcs of Gundabad. Mordor's legions, the Uruks, the beasts, and the sun-hardened Olog-hai in steel—those were another matter entirely. And on top of that, Easterling bombers and cavalry, and Haradrim war-mammoths. Just picturing it made the skin prickle.
Beside him, Fíli's eyes went very wide and stopped blinking. He exchanged a glance with Bard and read the same conclusion:
If that tri-army coalition had marched on Dale and the Mountain instead of Khand, they would have struggled desperately. Even with Dale's towering walls, it was uncertain.
"Right. Khamûl, the Nazgûl lieutenant, was in the fight too," Levi added, almost offhandedly. "Three other Nazgûl as well. One of them, Halbarad took down. Spared me a bit of pressure."
A quiet fell. Without Levi or a wizard present, a single scream from a Nazgûl was enough to halve morale. To ordinary folk, that was an unsolvable terror.
Bard understood. No wonder Levi had fought Goblin-town so casually. He had waded through larger storms and survived. He simply didn't see goblins as enemies, more like an obstacle to clear.
Underestimation was unwise, but…
Bard sifted back through the recent campaign. There had been that reckless jump-start at the gates, yes. His tone had made light of the enemy. His posture had seemed dismissive. But when it came to actual execution, when Bard and the dwarves proposed plans, Levi's choices were always the most secure and the least forgiving. Light words, careful hands.
It seemed…
Unaware of Bard's inspection, Levi continued describing specifics. Where they staged, the fords crossed by night, the way Easterling bombers were screened, the angle of Haradrim elephant charges, the three distinct shifts in momentum, and how Khamûl revealed himself. The scent of desert wind. The ringing of steel on steel. The sting of sand and smoke carried on the rain.
Gandalf listened in silence, eyes lowered to his pipe. His expression showed nothing, but the ash in his bowl had collapsed and cooled. He hadn't drawn a breath of it in some time.
"Good. Very good." When Levi finished, Gandalf lifted the pipe, saw it dead, and smiled faintly in spite of himself. "No wonder it tasted so flat."
He cleared his throat. "Alright, I understand. None of this surprises me. I thought you would remain in your domain and focus, at least for a while, on governance. It seems I underestimated your enthusiasm for adventure."
"Alatar and..." Gandalf paused, fingertips brushing his pouch in thought. He found the name. "Pallando, yes. I hope both see success."
His gaze sharpened. "Out of caution for accidents, let me ask." He leaned forward slightly. "Where do you plan to go next?"
"Home," Levi said. "Roadside Keep."
Bard blinked. Gandalf raised an eyebrow.
"I brought back quite a few curious crop seeds from the East and South, and now I want to plant them."
His list came steady and simple, but each word planted a future.
Sugarcane. Cactus. Grapes.
Sugar. Paper. Dye. Experience. Wine.
Each one a brand-new production line. Each one a new craft. Each one a fresh industry. The scent of boiled syrup and crushed cane. The crisp whisper of paper, white and smooth as winter light. The deep blue stain of dye on fingers. The floral breath of wine blooming in the cask. A future mapped out not with swords but with seeds.
Gandalf's pipe finally drew a bright ember, and he exhaled a slow ring of smoke that floated like a silver crown.
"Plant them well," he said. "Even in an age of iron and shadow, gardens change the world."
If you want, I can scan and clean earlier chapters the same way so there are zero em dashes anywhere.