"Gandalf, it's been a long time!"
At night, a group of dwarves ascended the heights of Dale and entered the grand hall used for hosting guests, arriving to attend this rare gathering.
"Oh, how glad I am to see you at a time like this," the white-bearded Balin said as he gave Gandalf a warm embrace.
"You wouldn't believe how restless I've been lately. I've been itching to get out and stretch my legs. A few days ago, when I heard Garrett was going to attack Goblin-town, I even put my armor on! But luck was not on my side, I was the only one who drew the 'stay behind' lot."
"That's truly unfortunate, Balin."
Gandalf paused for a moment, then said, "But once I finish what I'm dealing with, you can join me on my next journey."
"That's wonderful!"
Hearing Gandalf say this instantly lifted Balin's spirits.
"Come on, the food's ready, and Garrett brought some excellent wine!"
Bofur came over to call them, and the two headed over immediately.
Before long, the dwarves had all taken their seats, and the hall filled with noise, songs, laughter, and the occasional clink of glasses and tankards colliding.
Buzz.
Foamy traces of ale danced in the air. That was the dwarves' special "drinking horn," a vessel for both drinking and toasting, quite an amusing custom.
"Let me toast to your victory."
In the hall, Gandalf found Garrett and clinked glasses with him.
Garrett raised his tankard and took a sip.
"What are your plans lately?"
"Me..."
At that moment, Gandalf still hadn't fully recovered from what had happened in the East, especially concerning the Blue Wizard. The use of the Voice of Command and the near descent into corruption had sounded an alarm for him.
Thinking of this, he lowered his voice and said, "I feel like something troubling is brewing. Perhaps... perhaps there are some clues to be found with Saruman."
"My instincts tell me this isn't over."
"It's not a good situation, and honestly, I'd rather not deal with it, but I think I can no longer afford to ignore certain signs from Saruman."
"I see," Garrett nodded.
As one of the Istari sent to Middle-earth to oppose Sauron, at least, that's how he saw himself, Gandalf had always maintained a steady and gentle demeanor.
Because of that, when Lady Galadriel proposed that he lead the White Council, he declined. He worried that his wisdom might not be sufficient for such a great responsibility.
Whether out of jealousy or ambition, Saruman volunteered to take the position of leader of the White Council.
He was eager to prove that his power and wisdom surpassed Gandalf's, though Gandalf himself had no interest in such comparisons.
The more someone lacks something, the more they tend to emphasize it.
But reality, and events, always prove that some things cannot be obtained by demanding or claiming them.
When the Istari arrived in Middle-earth, Círdan the Shipwright, bearer of Narya, chose to entrust the ring to Gandalf. When the White Council was formed, Lady Galadriel, bearer of Nenya, also recommended Gandalf as its leader.
Even before arriving in Middle-earth, another Vala, equal in rank to the one Saruman served, had said: even though Gandalf was chosen later, that didn't make him any less important.
With all this, one can imagine Saruman's mindset. His thirst for power and authority grew year by year, as did his jealousy and desire for control.
As for Saruman's subtle and not-so-subtle targeting of him, Gandalf had always chosen to ignore and avoid it, so long as the mission was accomplished, he didn't care what Saruman did.
He basically adopted an attitude of enduring everything.
But now...
"Now that I know certain things, I cannot simply close my eyes and pretend they're not happening."
"I have to start paying attention to some of Saruman's actions, even if I cannot do anything about them immediately."
"If there's any action, oh, I mean, if you need help, you can come to me," Garrett said, showing his support for Gandalf's concern.
Gandalf's eyes narrowed slightly, just about to say something, when a loud "clang" came from a table not far away.
Bard collapsed, eyes rolled back, with some ale foam still clinging to his lips.
"Oh!"
The dwarves cheered.
"Winner: Bombur!"
Clearly, after realizing that Garrett couldn't be defeated in drinking, the dwarves had found a new target.
And someone had paid the price.
"This won't do, I need to settle the score!"
Garrett walked over carrying a barrel of ale. "You've knocked out my steward, who's going to handle the work tomorrow?"
Does that mean I have to?
Watching the dining table grow even rowdier with Garrett joining in, Gandalf shook his head.
But...
"It's not so bad."
"If only this peace could last forever."
Will it last forever?
No one knows.
---
The next morning, Bard woke up clutching his head, barely managing to get himself together and make it to the hall's council chamber.
"I really shouldn't have drunk that much..."
Compared to other regions, the affairs of the city of Dale weren't too numerous. With a solid foundation already in place, it continued to thrive day by day, even if the leadership was absent or completely hands-off.
But precisely because of that, this unprecedented prosperity brought new challenges to those who wanted to push it even further.
Maintaining the baseline is easy. Progress and stability, that's the hard part.
When he arrived at the usual place where affairs were handled, he was surprised to find someone had already beaten him there.
It was Garrett. He had been waiting for quite some time, and had already taken care of a few matters.
"Have some milk."
Garrett, studying a map of Dale, gestured toward a cup of milk sitting at the head of the table.
Without hesitation, Bard drank it in one gulp. The headache and dizziness vanished. He was refreshed once more.
"Much better."
Bard felt light all over; the aches and fatigue from the heavy drinking had completely disappeared.
"I saw there's a plan to expand the farmland."
Garrett got straight to the point: "But I think we already have enough wheat and barley. We could try planting something different."
"Like what?"
"Sugarcane. Grapes."
Garrett stood up, and together with Bard, walked past the banquet hall, where some dwarves were still snoring, and made their way to the golden grain fields outside the city.
There, in a newly cultivated patch of moist soil, they planted the first grape seed and set up a vine trellis above it.
That year, Dale welcomed two new crops: grapes and sugarcane.
Not long after, white sugar began circulating in the markets and entered every household, becoming a common sweetener. Pastry chefs and inn cooks began experimenting with new, sugar-sweetened recipes.
At the same time, paper production increased significantly.
Many traveling merchants and wanderers were surprised by the new developments here.
But none were more astonished than the people of Dorwinion.
"Aren't those our grapes?"
"When did they plant so many?!"