The Lord of the Rings : The Journey of a Transmigrator

I swear, I'd been standing in the doorway for two minutes — tops — and I had already started a war.

Not my fault, okay?

Seriously, I came in, said good evening, shook hands, didn't step on the rugs, didn't accidentally float a fork — and yet, the Dwarves were already looking at me like I was guilty. Guilty of what? Breathing too confidently. Looking a bit too Elvish. Wearing a cape that actually sat straight. Basically, the trial had begun.

And while I was greeting Bilbo (who looked one step away from a stroke with his thirteen surprise guests), the Dwarves gathered in a corner, whispering like conspirators.

Throwing glances at me. The kind that said: "Who's this guy?" "Why is he clean?" "Isn't he kinda… Elvish?"

Sorry, fellas, my laundry smells good and my ears are round.

Then Gandalf looked at me. You know that teacher look when you're the quiet one but someone next to you sets their homework on fire? That one. His eyes said: "Open the door before I blow this place up."

So I did.

And guess what? It wasn't a sweet old aunt who forgot her pies. It was Thorin Oakenshield.

---

Picture a Dwarf, but make him noble. Charismatic. Surprisingly well-groomed (suspicious, for his kind). His coat alone probably cost more than my horse. He shot me a look that said, in universal body language: "You weren't invited."

And yeah — his eyes did a quick scan of my ears.

Not pointy, dude. Relax.

He stepped in without a word, like he owned the place. Bilbo, who was holding a plate of food, froze. I helped him out with a smile — at least someone in the room wasn't treating me like Rivendell's undercover spy.

Then Thorin grumbled about getting lost. Gandalf mentioned the "tiny symbol" he'd carved into the door.

"But I repainted the door!" Bilbo protested, completely overwhelmed.

Gandalf just shrugged, like vandalizing a Hobbit's property was perfectly reasonable.

And then, introductions began. Gandalf did his little formal speech:

"Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, heir to the throne of Erebor. Bilbo Baggins, our appointed burglar. And Edward Highland, Ranger and... last-minute guest."

I'd have preferred "mysterious and powerful ally," but hey — modesty.

Thorin turned to Bilbo, and the arrogance started to thicken.

"Can you fight? Axe? Sword? Mace? Or do you throw pies at your enemies?"

Bilbo mumbled something about dinner parties. I could tell my poor Hobbit friend was about to lose it. He just wanted a nap, not a recruitment speech for a suicide mission.

And Thorin, with a sneer, said:

"Knew it. He's no burglar. Just a little merchant."

Loud laughter erupted. Bilbo turned as red as a summer tomato. Gandalf sighed through his nose. And me… I started to boil.

Then Thorin looked at me. And I swear, the room temperature dropped ten degrees.

"As for him... What's he doing here?"

"He's not an Elf, I hope?" He said it like being Elvish was a contagious disease.

Gandalf tried to smooth it over:

"Edward is no Elf. He's an ally. He's trained in Rivendell, yes, but—"

Thorin raised a hand.

"I don't want half-Elves or anyone reeking of Lórien leaves in my company. If he can kill a dragon, fine. But I don't trust him."

So yeah… I raised my hand.

"You know what? I don't trust you either. I didn't come to play buddy-buddy with a king without a kingdom. I'm here because a dragon moved into your living room, and apparently, you need help asking him politely to leave."

BOOM. Silence.

And then — shouting explosion.

"How dare you?!" — "He insulted Thorin!" — "I'll slice him in half!" — "Elvish vermin!"

Axes came out. One guy flipped a chair. Another almost fell into the fire.

I drew my sword. Calmly. My Elven blade shimmered just a bit. Not to intimidate. Just… a reminder: I wasn't some green-feathered pigeon.

Didn't need to use it though.

Because Gandalf shifted dimensions.

---

The hearth flames flickered. The air thickened. And Gandalf — the old man with bushy eyebrows and a kindly smile — became… enormous.

His shadow filled the room. His voice cracked like a thunderstorm over the mountains.

"ENOUGH!"

Even my sword trembled. The Dwarves froze. Bilbo ducked behind a bookshelf. I sheathed my blade. Quickly.

And Thorin? He stepped back.

This is why even Elves respect Gandalf. The guy doesn't mess around when peace is threatened.