After purchasing the blades, Robert met up with Bilbo, and the two returned together to Bag End.
Along the way, Bilbo kept glancing at the pair of cleavers in Robert's hands. Finally, unable to contain his curiosity, he asked, "Robert, why did you buy two cleavers? Don't we already have plenty at home?"
Robert raised the cleavers and assumed a chopping stance, his expression suddenly serious.
"These aren't cleavers," he said firmly. "They're my weapons. I'll be using them to fight enemies in the future."
Bilbo opened his mouth, then closed it again. For a moment, he simply stared at Robert, clearly unable to reconcile this image with that of a wizard who stayed in his hobbit hole, drank tea, and discussed meals.
"Well… if you like them, that's fine," Bilbo finally said, shrugging.
Seeing Bilbo's helpless expression, Robert couldn't help but smile faintly.
Without warning, the two blades shot out of his hands with a sharp whoosh. They flew straight ahead and embedded themselves deeply into an oak tree by the roadside, nearly half of each blade disappearing into the trunk.
Bilbo froze on the spot.
"Sword—ah, wait," Robert corrected himself hastily. "Blade, come!"
At his command, the cleavers trembled, then tore themselves free from the oak with a harsh scraping sound. In the blink of an eye, they flew back into Robert's hands, spinning once before settling perfectly into his grip.
Bilbo stared, completely dumbfounded.
After finishing his little demonstration, Robert brushed the dust from his sleeves and walked on as if nothing had happened, his posture relaxed and confident, like that of an unfathomable master.
Only he knew the truth.
Inside, Robert secretly wiped away a bead of cold sweat.
The blades had sunk far deeper than he had intended. Pulling them out had taken nearly all his magical control, and he had been only a step away from losing face entirely.
That was close, he thought.
After returning to Bag End, Robert immediately began a new round of training.
This time, he focused on controlling the two cleavers with greater precision, striving to make them respond as naturally as his own arms. Each cleaver weighed about two pounds, which was already near the limit of what he could comfortably manipulate with his current magical strength.
To improve his control, Robert chose the most practical method possible—he used the flying cleavers to chop firewood.
At first, the process was extremely difficult. His concentration wavered easily, and he could only maintain control for a short time before becoming exhausted. The blades sometimes moved too slowly, sometimes too erratically, and occasionally threatened to veer off course entirely.
Still, Robert persisted.
Day after day, he practiced without complaint. Gradually, the burden lessened. The cleavers became steadier, faster, and more obedient. What once required intense focus now felt increasingly natural.
The result was that Bag End's supply of firewood for the coming winter was completed far earlier than usual—and there was still plenty left over.
Bilbo was overjoyed.
Although hobbits cherished comfort and a peaceful life, they were by no means fond of hard labor. Preparing enough firewood for winter was always an exhausting task. Having it finished early lifted a considerable weight from Bilbo's mind.
However, whenever Bilbo watched the two cleavers flying around Robert—moving so fast that they became little more than blurs, cutting through the air with sharp whistling sounds—his joy was mixed with unease.
He was constantly worried that Robert might lose control and injure himself.
It looked far too dangerous.
After half an hour of intense movement, the two blades finally slowed, circling Robert one last time before flying back and plunging neatly into the sheaths at his waist.
At this point, Robert's control over the flying blades had reached the level of effortlessness. Within a five-meter radius, the blades could reach any point almost instantly at his command.
This marked a fundamental change in Robert's combat capability. At the very least, he now possessed a reliable means of self-defense.
Moreover, through continuous practice, Robert discovered that his magical control had improved in other ways as well. He was now able to levitate an object weighing up to one hundred pounds and sustain it for a reasonable length of time.
Naturally, Bilbo was the first to benefit from this development.
One afternoon, Bilbo found himself floating in the air like a kite, laughing loudly as Robert carefully controlled his ascent and descent.
The neighboring hobbits soon noticed.
Before long, Bilbo's "flight" above the rolling hills of Hobbiton became a local spectacle. Many hobbits witnessed it with their own eyes, and for a time, Bilbo became something of a celebrity in the area.
Of course, Robert—the one responsible for all of this—did not escape attention either.
However, due to his identity as a wizard, no one dared approach him directly. Whispers spread instead, traveling from Hobbiton outward through the Shire.
Thus, the title Wizard Robert slowly began to circulate.
Two months passed in the blink of an eye.
One day, Robert suddenly informed Bilbo of his decision to leave.
"Bilbo, thank you for hosting me for so long," Robert said sincerely. "I'm afraid it's time for me to say goodbye."
Bilbo was caught completely off guard.
"Robert, did I do something wrong?" he asked anxiously. "Was my hospitality lacking in some way? Why are you leaving so suddenly?"
Seeing Bilbo's distress, Robert quickly bent down and patted his shoulder reassuringly.
"Relax, my friend. You've done more than enough. This has nothing to do with you."
He smiled warmly.
"I'm just planning to travel around and see more of the world. After all, aside from Hobbiton, I haven't been anywhere else yet."
Robert winked playfully.
"And of course, if I ever get tired of traveling, I might come back and stay here for a few days. You won't turn me away then, will you?"
Bilbo immediately shook his head.
"Of course not, Robert. You'll always be welcome here."
Still, he couldn't help asking, "Where do you plan to go?"
"I don't have a fixed plan," Robert replied. "I'll decide as I go. For now, I won't be traveling too far—just around the Shire."
The Shire was neither vast nor small. Besides Hobbiton, it contained many other towns inhabited by hobbits. Robert hoped to explore them and see whether he could gain anything from visiting new places.
"Oh, right," Robert added, "you're very familiar with the Shire. Are there any places you'd recommend?"
Hearing that Robert intended to remain within the Shire, Bilbo visibly relaxed.
He hurried into his study, rummaged through a stack of papers, and returned with a map of the Shire, spreading it across the table.
"If you're traveling within the Shire," Bilbo said, pointing to the map, "the first place I recommend is Great Smials. It's the capital and absolutely worth visiting."
He indicated a location west of Hobbiton.
As Bilbo explained, the Shire was divided into four regions: the North, South, East, and Westfarthing. Hobbiton lay near the center, within the Westfarthing. Great Smials, the Shire's capital, was also located there.
It housed the Mayor's office and served as the commercial and trade hub of the region. The main East Road passed directly through it, making travel convenient.
"Alright," Robert said decisively. "Great Smials it is."
Though reluctant to part, Bilbo personally prepared Robert for his journey.
Before Robert left, Bilbo packed a large bundle of food and pressed a heavy bag of silver coins into his hands—more than enough to last him for some time.
Robert wanted to refuse, but he was currently penniless. In the end, he accepted Bilbo's kindness and silently vowed to remember this friendship.
Declining Bilbo's offer to escort him to the edge of town, Robert cast a levitation spell on his luggage. The bundle became weightless as he slung it over his shoulder and set off alone.
Leaving Bag End behind, Robert passed through Hobbiton and followed the East Road westward.
The road was smooth and wide, flanked by beautiful pastoral scenery. From time to time, hobbit merchants and travelers passed by, casting curious glances at the tall human among them.
Although Robert walked briskly, the journey still took a full day.
By the time he arrived at Great Smials, night was already falling.
The town's architecture differed noticeably from Hobbiton's. The buildings were taller and larger, constructed from wood, brick, and stone. It felt far more like a proper city.
As soon as Robert entered, the surrounding hobbits turned to stare.
A hobbit with a handlebar mustache, wearing a hat adorned with a blue feather, stepped forward and addressed him.
"Outsider," he said cautiously, "where do you come from, and what business do you have in Great Smials?"