After purchasing the knives, Sylas reunited with Bilbo, and the two began their walk back to Bag End.
On the way, Bilbo eyed the two cleavers Sylas had strapped to his belt and couldn't help but ask curiously, "Sylas, why did you buy two cleavers? We already have some in the kitchen, don't we?"
Sylas held them up with a grin and struck a dramatic stance. "They're not just cleavers. These are my weapons. From now on, I'll use them to protect myself."
Bilbo blinked, momentarily unable to reconcile the idea of a Wizard with someone wielding butchering tools.
"Well… as long as you like them," he said with a small shrug.
Sylas noticed his expression and chuckled. With a flourish, he flicked both cleavers forward.
They shot through the air with a sharp whoosh, embedding themselves deep into the trunk of an oak tree by the roadside. The blades sank halfway into the wood.
Bilbo's mouth dropped open.
"Swords- no, knives- return to me!"
With a quick flick of his wrist and a focused thought, the two cleavers pulled free from the tree and spun back into Sylas's hands.
Bilbo stood speechless.
Sylas brushed his cloak as if it were nothing, walking away with the air of a mysterious master. But deep down, he was sweating.
'That was way too close. They were stuck deeper than expected. I nearly failed to pull them out. That would've been so embarrassing.'
Back at Bag End, Sylas began a new round of training.
He now focused on refining his control over the twin cleavers, attempting to wield them as natural extensions of his own arms.
Each cleaver weighed about two pounds, just within the upper limits of what he could manage with his current magical strength.
To improve his finesse, Sylas practiced chopping wood using the cleavers through levitation alone.
At first, it was clumsy. The blades wobbled in the air and couldn't keep up consistent momentum. But with persistent effort, Sylas gradually improved. The cleavers struck cleaner, moved faster, and hovered more steadily.
In just a few weeks, he had chopped enough firewood to last through winter.
Bilbo was overjoyed.
While Hobbits valued hard work, they also cherished comfort. Preparing firewood before winter was a chore most would rather delay. Now, thanks to Sylas's magic, it was done far ahead of schedule.
Still, Bilbo couldn't help but watch the flying blades with both awe and concern. The way the cleavers zipped around Sylas made them look like winged predators circling their prey.
It looked both impressive and... incredibly dangerous.
The knives whirled around Sylas for thirty minutes at a time before returning obediently to the leather sheaths at his waist.
By now, Sylas's control had reached a new level. Within a five-meter radius, the cleavers could respond to his commands instantly.
This significantly boosted his combat potential, giving him a reliable form of defense.
Beyond that, his overall magical control had improved greatly. He could now levitate objects weighing up to one hundred pounds, and maintain them for several minutes.
To test this, he decided to give Bilbo a thrill.
One sunny afternoon, Sylas lifted Bilbo into the air, letting him float gently over the garden like a kite in the breeze.
The neighboring Hobbits were stunned.
Bilbo Baggins, flying over the hilltops of Hobbiton, became the talk of the village.
And though Sylas was the true source of the magic, most Hobbits were too wary to approach him. Wizards were rare in the Shire, and not many were brave enough to engage with such mysterious folk.
Still, word spread quickly.
The name "Sylas the Wizard" traveled from Hobbiton across the neighboring villages, whispered with awe and curiosity.
By now, Sylas had been staying at Bag End for nearly two months.
...
One morning, Sylas turned to Bilbo with a gentle expression and said something the Hobbit wasn't expecting.
"Bilbo, thank you for hosting me all this time. You've been more than generous. But I think it's time I continued my journey."
Bilbo blinked in surprise.
"Sylas… have I done something wrong? Is that why you're leaving so suddenly?"
Seeing the worried look on his friend's face, Sylas quickly knelt and placed a comforting hand on Bilbo's shoulder.
"Not at all. You've been a wonderful host. This isn't your fault," he said kindly. "I've just decided it's time I saw more of the world. So far, I haven't gone beyond Hobbiton."
He gave Bilbo a wink and smiled.
"Besides, when I get tired of wandering, I might drop by again for a few days?"
Bilbo's face lit up in relief and he shook his head quickly.
"Of course. You'll always be welcome at Bag End, Sylas."
Still, he asked with some concern, "Do you know where you'll go next?"
Sylas shook his head. "Not exactly. I thought I'd take my time exploring the Shire for now. I'll just follow the road and see where it leads me."
The Shire wasn't small, but it wasn't vast either. Beyond Hobbiton, there were plenty of other Hobbit towns scattered across the land. And with the Hogwarts Sign-In System still active, Sylas hoped there might be more opportunities to trigger it elsewhere.
"Oh, Bilbo," he added, "you know the Shire better than anyone. Any towns you'd recommend I visit?"
The Hobbit's eyes lit up at the question. He quickly shuffled off to his study and returned with a well-worn map. Spreading it out on the table, he pointed excitedly at a marked spot west of Hobbiton.
"If you're staying within the Shire, you absolutely must visit Michel Delving. It's our largest town, the seat of the Mayor, and the heart of trade and commerce around here."
It's in the Westfarthing. It was the administrative center of the Shire and a hub of travel, located along the main East-West Road.
"Sounds perfect," Sylas said. "I'll head there first."
Though reluctant to see him go, Bilbo accepted the decision with grace. Before Sylas left, he packed him a bag full of food, enough to last for days, and pressed a small, heavy pouch of silver coins into his hands.
Sylas tried to refuse, but Bilbo insisted.
"You're starting a journey. You'll need coins. And besides," he added with a smile, "you can pay me back someday."
Sylas accepted the gift silently and tucked it into his cloak. He had no money of his own, and while he hated taking more from Bilbo, he also knew he had no other choice for now.
He made a quiet note in his heart to repay the Hobbit someday, no matter how long it took.
Refusing Bilbo's offer to walk him to the village gate, Sylas cast a light-weighting spell on his pack and slung it across his back. It floated gently behind him, bobbing like a balloon.
With a final wave and a fond farewell, he set off down the lane, alone.
Following the East-West Road, Sylas moved westward. The path was smooth, lined with wildflowers and stone fences, with rolling green hills on either side. He passed a few Hobbit merchants along the way, who stared curiously at the tall Human traveler.
Sylas kept a steady pace, but the day was long, and it wasn't until evening that he reached the outskirts of Michel Delving.
Unlike Hobbiton, the buildings here were larger and built of timber, stone, and brick. It had the bustle of a small city, with broader roads, higher roofs, and a marketplace still glowing with lantern light as the sun dipped below the hills.
As Sylas entered the town, all eyes turned toward him. He was taller than anyone else by at least two feet, and it was clear to every Hobbit nearby that he was not from around here.
One Hobbit, wearing a feathered hat and sporting an impressive mustache, stepped forward. He looked official, perhaps a local guard or a town clerk.
"You there, stranger," he called. "Where are you from, and what brings you to Michel Delving?"