"You mean to say you went to the East and back within a year and even took part in a war?"
As soon as this question was asked, Bard couldn't help but turn his head.
Even Fíli, who was about to leave, stopped and came back.
"Though it's a bit one-sided, that's not entirely wrong," Garrett replied.
"Alright then."
Gandalf couldn't help but light his pipe and asked, "Then could you tell me what exactly happened over there?"
"You were involved in that great war, weren't you?"
Garrett nodded and said, "It's a bit complicated to explain. I'm not sure if you still remember one of the Blue Wizards from over there, Alatar."
"Alatar..."
Gandalf frowned, trying hard to recall.
"Oh, him. The last time I heard that name was a very long time ago, so long I almost forgot. I've never inquired about news from the Far East. Was he faring well over there?"
"Hard to say."
Garrett began to explain slowly, how Alatar had found him and Halbarad, how they disrupted the Easterlings' army gathering, returned to Khand to prepare defenses, and how he had fought against Sauron's influence but was somewhat corrupted in the process.
Gandalf and the two others at the table listened intently, afraid to miss any details.
"He had mastered a kind of magic that could manipulate hearts and minds. The ruler of Khand was under his control for many years."
Upon hearing this, Gandalf commented, "Perhaps his intentions were good, but as you said, his methods weren't exactly righteous."
"He strayed from the path."
Gandalf sighed and suddenly thought of that type of bewitching magic.
It seemed familiar.
Magic that could twist a person's mind with mere words, even altering their perception for life... Why did it sound so much like Saruman's Voice of Command?
"He learned it from Saruman," Garrett reminded him.
Gandalf lowered his head in thought.
Just as he suspected.
"Saruman should never have taught him that. He must be corrected."
"He already has been. The ruler of Khand is back to normal, no need to worry. And Alatar has regained his clarity, he's broken free from Sauron's shadow."
"That's good. I knew things wouldn't go too far astray with you there."
But regarding Alatar, Garrett had other thoughts.
He asked, with deeper meaning, "Can a wizard betray their mission?"
"It is possible," Gandalf replied. "They, including Saruman, came to this land many years before I did. In the long years of living among mortals, no one can guarantee they won't lose their way."
"Our memories of home are vague at best, and the little longing that remains is constantly challenged."
Gandalf felt a deep empathy for Alatar's ordeal.
In the lands west of Mordor, there were still many Free Peoples, enough room to maneuver between factions and resist the darkness.
But in the Far East, it was nearly all enemy territory. One could only imagine how difficult it must have been to carry out resistance deep in the enemy's strongholds.
"They are worthy of admiration."
"Let me guess," Gandalf said. "In the end, you used Khand as your base, helped them defend the royal city, and repelled a three-sided coalition?"
"You got about half of it right."
"Oh?"
Everyone perked up their ears to hear the rest.
"At that time, Khand's ruler had already recovered, but Khand had become an enemy, so Mordor, the Easterlings, Khand, Harad... Everyone present, I fought them all."
Bard couldn't help but turn his head to look at Garrett again. His understanding of his own lord deepened once more.
Though he wasn't sure how vast the dark forces beyond Mordor were, it sounded like their numbers were at least in the tens of thousands.
Tens of thousands of troops, defeated just like that?
He suddenly recalled the recent expedition to Goblin-town.
Back then, they had mobilized 3,500 soldiers, all equipped with the finest armor and the sharpest weapons the city could offer. In any realm, that would be a force to be reckoned with.
But compared to the war in the Far East, that suddenly felt... rather small.
If that force had been thrown onto a battlefield against a three-way allied army, they likely wouldn't even make a dent.
Their armor might offer good protection, sure, enough to handle goblins or the relatively poor Mount Gundabad orcs, but Mordor's orcs, Uruks, those giant beasts, and sun-resistant, steel-armored Olog-hai? That was a whole different matter.
And that wasn't even counting the Easterlings' grenadiers and cavalry, or the Haradrim's mûmakil.
Just imagining that battlefield was enough to make one despair.
Beside Bard, Fíli's eyes had stopped blinking, clearly, his mind was struggling to process everything.
The man and the dwarf exchanged a glance, and both could read the same realization in the other's eyes:
If that three-way allied army had marched on Dale and Erebor instead of Khand, defending would've been nearly impossible.
Even with the massive, dozens-of-meters-high walls of Dale's stronghold, it would have been tough.
"Oh right, among those who fought were Khamûl, the Nazgûl lieutenant, and three other Nazgûl. One of them was taken down by Halbarad, he helped ease some of the pressure for me."
Well, that did it.
Without Garrett or a wizard present, just one Nazgûl screaming on the battlefield would've halved their morale on the spot.
To ordinary people, those things were simply unbeatable.
Alright then.
Bard understood now.
No wonder this fellow had seemed so casual in battle, turns out he was used to fighting in massive wars. No wonder he didn't take Goblin-town seriously at all.
Sure, underestimating the enemy wasn't ideal, but...
He kept thinking.
Looking back, during that whole campaign, though there was a bit of an unexpected start and Garrett's words often seemed dismissive of the enemy, when it came to tactics and actions, whenever Bard or the dwarves made suggestions, Garrett always chose the most reliable and thorough course of action.
His tone may have been dismissive, but his actions were anything but careless.
That kind of behavior...
Unaware of Bard spacing out, Garrett continued talking about the details.
Gandalf listened quietly, his expression focused and unreadable.
But the fact that he had let his pipe burn out without noticing betrayed the truth, inwardly, he wasn't as calm as he seemed.
"Good. Very good."
When Garrett finished his story, Gandalf finally noticed that his pipe had gone out.
No wonder it had lost its flavor.
"Ahem."
He cleared his throat to get everyone's attention and said, "Alright, got it. None of this surprises me in the least."
"I thought you'd stay in your territory, perhaps focus a bit on domestic matters. But clearly, I underestimated how devoted you still are to adventure."
"Alatar and..." Gandalf seemed to hesitate a moment, took a puff of his pipe, and continued, "and Pallando, yes, that's the name. I hope the two of them fare well."
"Just to be cautious, let me ask..."
He leaned forward a little.
"Where are you planning to go next?"
"Uh, I want to go home, I mean, back to my stronghold. I brought back quite a few exotic crop seeds from the East and South. Right now, I just want to plant them."
Sugarcane, cacti, various grains...
Sugar, paper, dyes, knowledge, wine...
Each one of those meant a new avenue of production.