Chapter 3: Mastering the Magic
He did it!
Corwin's face lit up with delight.
His concentration, however, immediately slipped, and the leaf, losing its invisible support, drifted back to the ground.
He wasn't disappointed. He took a deep breath, calmed his mind, and focused again, willing the leaf to rise.
This time, he managed to hold the control for longer. The leaf danced in the air under his command, swaying and circling until his focus finally faltered and it dropped.
After a few more attempts, with each one lasting longer than the last, Corwin upgraded his target: a small pebble.
Controlling the stone was much harder than the leaf. Corwin felt like he was back at square one; the pebble wobbled precariously and fell much sooner. But the challenge only excited him. He became utterly immersed in the application of his newfound magic, unaware of the passing of time.
It was only when Bilbo appeared that Corwin's practice was interrupted.
Bilbo had been watching the entire process, his eyes wide with amazement.
"Corwin, are you practicing magic?"
Corwin gave an embarrassed nod. Technically, this wasn't magic in the sense of a formalized spell. It was the simplest application of raw magical power to lift an object. The weight he could lift was minuscule, and it certainly wasn't stronger than just picking something up and throwing it by hand. It had zero offensive power.
But to Bilbo, it was the most incredible thing he had ever seen.
"That's absolutely brilliant!"
Bilbo looked at him with an expression of pure admiration, his face beaming with excitement. "Corwin, could you do it again for me? Please?"
"As you wish!"
Corwin felt a thrill at being looked at with such respect. It was time to put on a show for the Hobbit.
He focused his magic. Countless flower petals from the garden rose into the air, swirling around them in a colorful, whimsical ballet.
Bilbo stood speechless, his mouth agape, his eyes wide with awe.
Over the next few days, Corwin spent the majority of his time practicing magical control. He started with small leaves and pebbles, eventually working his way up to lifting objects that weighed nearly five kilograms.
The duration of his control also improved, from just a few minutes to nearly half an hour. He even began multitasking, practicing controlling multiple items at once. This was different from the quick flourish he'd used to lift the petals; this was about sustained, precise control.
The living room of Bag End was a constant whirlwind of floating objects. He started with unbreakable items and eventually moved on to water glasses, teapots, and dinner plates.
Bilbo, having moved past his initial shock, had grown accustomed to the floating chaos. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly lazy, he would simply call out to Corwin to use magic to fetch a distant item for him.
One afternoon, Corwin paused his magical practice. Bag End's pantry was running low, and he needed to go into the village market with Bilbo to restock supplies.
They walked down the winding path from the Hill, passing through the beautiful farmlands of the Shire. They saw a few Hobbits tending to their crops, all of whom stopped to stare curiously at Corwin, the tall human.
Hobbiton had no secrets. Everyone already knew that Bilbo Baggins—the slightly odd, introverted Bachelor of Bag End—had taken in a tall, strange visitor. But because Bilbo generally kept to himself, no one had dared to visit to satisfy their curiosity.
They passed the mill, crossed the double-arched bridge, and soon arrived in the center of Hobbiton. The buildings here were different from Bag End, resembling human architecture but scaled down for Hobbits. It was also home to the only inn in the Shire: The Green Dragon, where Hobbits loved to gather.
The market was bustling. Hobbits hawked their produce and goods, haggling and bartering. Women debated prices, and children happily chased each other through the crowds.
Corwin stood out immediately. Every person they passed stared at him. The adults' gazes were subtle, but the children's were not.
A group of young Hobbits quickly gathered around him. One of them tugged at his clothes, his eyes wide and innocent. "Are you a Man?"
Corwin looked down at the little child who barely reached his knees. He smiled, gently patting the child's head. "Yes, I am."
Bilbo, unwilling to let his friend be underestimated, cleared his throat to draw attention from the surrounding crowd. He puffed out his chest and announced, "Corwin is not just a Man, he's a Wizard!"
"Wow!" The little Hobbits' mouths dropped open in awe.
The adults around them were also stunned, their curiosity mixed with a newfound respect. Wizards, after all, held a powerful, mysterious reputation in Middle-earth.
The children, however, knew nothing of respect. They simply clustered around Corwin, begging to see some magic.
Corwin happily obliged. He pointed at their hats, and the little caps began to flap like birds, spinning in the air above their heads.
The children shrieked in delight, chasing after their fluttering hats. The surrounding Hobbit adults looked on in shock.
Bilbo, thoroughly enjoying the attention, adopted an air of grave importance. "Ahem, Corwin, we should be going."
Corwin chuckled, falling into step behind the Hobbit, who looked like a victorious general leading a parade.
After Bilbo finished his shopping, Corwin stopped by the only blacksmith's shop in Hobbiton. The owner, a burly Hobbit, was surprised to see a Man walk in. He quickly stepped forward. "What can I do for you, sir?"
Corwin scanned the shop. All he saw were farming tools: hoes, axes, and cleavers.
"Do you sell weapons? Like a longsword?"
The owner looked at him strangely and shook his head. "Hobbits don't like war. There's no market for weapons here. We don't sell them."
Corwin was disappointed. "Could I perhaps commission one?"
The owner shook his head again. "I'd like your business, customer, but we've never forged a longsword. We have no experience."
"If you truly want a good, quality blade, I'd suggest going to Bree, east of the Shire. It's a town of Men, and they are excellent at forging weapons. You might find what you need there."
Corwin frowned. According to Bilbo, Bree was about 135 miles from Hobbiton, a journey of at least six or seven days on foot. He had no intention of leaving the Shire just yet.
Since he couldn't get a proper weapon, Corwin settled for two heavy-duty meat cleavers. The blacksmith might not make weapons, but his chopping cleavers were of excellent quality, sturdy and sharp enough to cleave through bone. In the owner's words, a knife from him would last a lifetime.
Corwin was skeptical, but he happily paid the price. As for where the money came from, he had to borrow it from Bilbo. He was penniless, completely reliant on his host, and had no idea when he would be able to repay him.
But the kind-hearted Hobbit didn't mind. He insisted Corwin didn't need to repay him.
Corwin was incredibly grateful. He was so lucky that Bilbo Baggins was the first person he met. Otherwise, his survival would have been a hell of a lot harder.