In LOTR with Harry Potter system

On the road west of the Shire.

Sylas and Gandalf were sitting in a cart pulled by a pony.

Their journey was to the Blue Mountains.

After the evil dragon Smaug occupied the Lonely Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield led the dwarven refugees from the Lonely Mountain to settle in the Blue Mountains.

Gandalf needed to deliver the relic entrusted to him by Thráin II to Thorin Oakenshield, who resided in the Blue Mountains.

As for Sylas, he accompanied Gandalf, ostensibly to meet the heir of the Durin Dwarves, but in reality, he wanted to check in and sign in at the Blue Mountains.

"Gandalf, there are only two of us in the expedition team now. Are you sure you can persuade Thorin Oakenshield to go to the Lonely Mountain?" Sylas asked Gandalf, while using Petrificus Totalus to stop two Mandrakes that were uncomfortable from being shaken and trying to burrow out of the soil, preventing them from causing trouble.

Gandalf puffed on his pipe, smiling confidently, "I'm quite confident in my eloquence. Besides, the Lonely Mountain is the homeland of the Durin Dwarves. After being occupied by the evil dragon for so many years, I believe they, who have been displaced, will be willing to reclaim their home."

After speaking, he looked at the two Mandrakes petrified by Sylas, shaking his head with some sympathy, "Poor fellows, why did you bring them? Wouldn't it be better to leave them in the greenhouse for Bilbo to take care of?"

Sylas looked at him speechlessly, "I wouldn't dare to entrust Mandrakes to Bilbo. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'd find his corpse when I returned!"

The Mandrakes were about to mature at any time, and the sound they emitted would be fatal. Even he had to handle them carefully, let alone entrust them to Bilbo.

The Blue Mountains, where Thorin Oakenshield resided, were located west of the Shire, not far away. Gandalf and Sylas walked for a week before arriving at the foot of the Blue Mountains.

After the evil dragon Smaug occupied the Lonely Mountain, the Durin Dwarves were forced to flee, constantly moving from place to place, and finally settled in the Blue Mountains.

The Blue Mountains once had two dwarven city-states, Belegost and Nogrod, but they gradually declined and became desolate, leaving behind many mine tunnels that extended deep into the mountain. The exiled Durin Dwarves lived in these mine tunnels, and a small town formed in front of the caves.

Sylas accompanied Gandalf to the Durin dwarven settlement.

This was his first time seeing Dwarves.

He looked at everything around him, feeling very new.

The Dwarves' height was only slightly taller than that of Hobbits, reaching only Sylas's waist.

However, unlike Hobbits, Dwarves had rugged appearances, broad shoulders and waists, and full beards. Even female Dwarves had beards.

Sylas was amazed. If it weren't for being able to distinguish them by clothing, he wouldn't even be able to tell the Dwarves' genders.

The Dwarves also curiously scrutinized Sylas and Gandalf, these two tall strangers.

Gandalf didn't mind the curious stares from the surrounding Dwarves. He even greeted a few of them warmly as he passed.

"We're looking for Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield. Could you tell me where he is?" he asked one of the nearby Dwarves.

The Dwarf gave Gandalf and Sylas a brief once-over, then casually jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"He's in the back forge. If you've got business with him, head that way."

Gandalf nodded his thanks and gestured for Sylas to follow him toward the innermost blacksmith shop.

As they entered, a wave of heat rolled over them from the roaring furnace. Sparks flew in the air, dancing like fireflies in the dim forge light. The rhythmic sound of hammer striking metal echoed off the stone walls.

At the center stood a broad-shouldered Dwarf, stripped to the waist beneath a heavy leather apron. Muscles rippled along his arms as he brought his hammer down again and again on a glowing iron billet. His long black hair and thick beard glistened with sweat, but his expression remained focused, intense.

Gandalf raised his hand in greeting.

"Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, grandson of Thrór," he began with respectful formality. "Allow me to introduce myself—Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey."

He then turned and motioned to Sylas beside him. "And this is Sylas, a fellow traveler and wizard."

Thorin gave no indication that he'd heard them. He kept hammering, his eyes locked on his work.

Unbothered, Gandalf wandered a little deeper into the forge. He picked up a broad, well-balanced sword from a nearby rack and gave it a few experimental swings.

"Dwarven craftsmanship truly is superb," he remarked aloud. "Not inferior even to the Elves in many respects."

"Hmph."

At the mention of Elves, Thorin finally grunted, pausing mid-swing. His voice was gruff, edged with disdain.

He looked up at last, casting a cold, suspicious glance at the two visitors.

"What do you want with me?" he asked curtly.

Gandalf didn't waste time.

"Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf began solemnly, "as the rightful heir of the Durin line, are you willing to shoulder your legacy, reclaim your ancestral home, and retake the Lonely Mountain?"

Thorin paused, lowering his hammer. He gave Gandalf a cold stare and replied with a sneer, "Do you not know that the Lonely Mountain is held by a dragon? Smaug the Terrible. The Durin Dwarves are scattered, weakened. Do you truly believe we can duel with a dragon?"

Gandalf calmly shook his head. "To my knowledge, the dragon has been dormant for decades. You do not need to face it directly. What I ask is simple: recover the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain. With that sacred gem in your hands, you can unite the exiled Dwarves. They will rally to you. With their strength, you can raise an army and retake what was stolen."

A flicker of something passed through Thorin's eyes, curiosity, or perhaps hope, but it quickly vanished beneath his guarded expression. He crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze at Gandalf.

"You're so eager to help us," he said. "What do you want in return?"

"I want nothing for myself," Gandalf replied plainly. "My concern lies with the growing shadow. The Orcs are on the move, organized, numerous. That means a leader is rising. If they were to ally with the dragon… it would be a disaster for all of Middle-earth. I need Smaug dealt with before that danger becomes reality. And for that, I need the Dwarves to be strong."

Thorin turned his eyes toward Sylas, who had remained silent throughout the exchange. "And him? What's his role in this?"

Sylas met Thorin's gaze without flinching, his tone cool. "Don't worry about me. I came because Gandalf invited me. Your kingdom and your mountain are none of my business. I won't interfere unless I have to."

Thorin scowled at the tone, but before he could respond, Gandalf stepped in with a firm voice.

"Sylas is no ordinary traveler. He helped the Hobbits defeat the Huorns of the Old Forest. He braved the Barrow-downs alone, faced the barrow-wights, and walked away unscathed. His name is already known across the wilds of Eriador. I daresay… his magic is beyond what i can achieve."

"If you want to reach the Lonely Mountain safely, or even face the dragon, Sylas is your best assurance," Gandalf said with quiet conviction.

Thorin's expression shifted at Gandalf's words. The doubt in his eyes gave way to something more solemn as he turned his full attention to the black-robed wizard beside him.

Gandalf's name carried weight across all the Free Peoples—Dwarves, Elves, and Men alike. Though he was more often seen as a wandering sage, weaving alliances and whispering counsel in times of need, few dared question the depth of his wisdom or the extent of his power.

And if such a figure placed his trust in Sylas… Thorin knew better than to take that lightly.