The Lord of the Rings : The Journey of a Transmigrator

I stood there, smack in the middle of Bilbo's living room, and I was one breath away from cracking my skull on the ceiling. Honestly — who builds a roof at six foot one? Hobbits, clearly. Cozy for them. Concussive for me.

"Thorin," I said, arms crossed, "you asked Gandalf to find someone who could retrieve the Arkenstone. He brought you Mr. Baggins. And yet here you all are, looking at him like he's going to faint at the first sight of a spider."

The Dwarves didn't answer. They just kind of... chewed their cheese bread in brooding silence. Couldn't tell if they were thinking or digesting.

"If you want my opinion," I continued, "I'd personally recommend Bilbo as our fifteenth member."

I rested a hand on his shoulder. He blushed — like, full-on tomato mode. But he didn't back away. That was a good sign.

Gandalf puffed on his pipe and nodded. "He's far stronger than he seems. Even he doesn't know it yet. The Tooks have adventure in their blood. Trust him. All he lacks is confidence."

I nodded. "And besides, who else is going to sneak through a gold-filled tunnel without waking up a dragon the size of a small mountain? Not me. I've got too much cape."

Thorin's eyes moved from Gandalf, to me, to Bilbo, and back again — like a pendulum deciding whether or not to detonate. At last, he sighed.

"Very well. We'll do as you suggest."

He turned to Balin. "Bring the contract."

Now, I expected a document. A small one. A few pages. Maybe a wax seal.

What I got was a bureaucratic monstrosity.

Balin returned with a scroll longer than a troll's bedtime story — easily five feet of tiny, overly-legal text that probably included clauses like 'In the event of death by dragon, you waive all rights to complain.'

Bilbo's face turned a very alarming shade of pale.

"Is that... the contract?"

"It's the short version," Balin said, with a straight face. Dwarves have a dark sense of humor.

I signed it. Without hesitation. Not because I didn't understand the risks — but because I did. I wasn't here for gold or glory. I was here for something else. To find a place in a world I wasn't born into. To protect people who might need it. And maybe, just maybe, to prove that I wasn't just some kid who fell through a portal by accident.

Thorin eyed me as I passed him the quill. His expression was… conflicted. Suspicious. Respectful. Like he couldn't quite decide if I was brave or just clinically insane.

"I cannot guarantee your safety," he finally said.

"I'll take responsibility for Mr. Baggins," I replied. "He'll come back in one piece. You have my word."

Gandalf smiled behind his pipe. And for once — I swear I saw it — Thorin smiled too. Barely. A half-smile. A flicker. But it was there.

Then we heard it: PLOP.

Everyone turned. Bilbo had fainted. Like, full-on swoon. He hit the floor like a dropped teacup.

Gandalf picked him up gently and settled him into a chair. Bilbo blinked, groaned, and then spotted the contract again. His face did a full cycle: pale, red, green, and back to pale.

He looked like someone who just realized he'd agreed to babysit a dragon. For free.

"I… do I really have to sign that?" he whispered.

"You don't have to prove anything tonight," I said quietly. "Think it over. Sign it because you want to — not because someone pushed you."

I left the room to give him space. Gandalf stayed, naturally, blowing smoke rings shaped like sailing ships. Because of course he did. The man had flair.

I passed Thorin and Balin in the hallway. Thorin was holding the key to Erebor with a kind of reverence, like it was more sacred than the crown he didn't have yet.

Neither of us said a word. We didn't need to.

Back in the corner of the living room, I sat down and summoned my mental interface — the strange, elven system gifted to me by Elrond after my first month in Rivendell. It wasn't magic. Not exactly. It was... mine. A legacy of another world.

---

Edward Highland

Class: Ranger

Telekinesis [Level 1] — 150 meters, up to 3,000 kg

Mental Fortitude [Level 1] — Resistance to psychic intrusion

Elven Swordsmanship [Level 3] — Fast, precise combat style

Elven Archery [Level 2] — Expert with elven bows

Active Quests

Main Quest: An Unexpected Journey

Side Quests: Evenstar, Elven Silmaril

---

It was crazy. This world wasn't made for me. And yet… I was carving out a space. Eight months of training in Rivendell, skirmishes with wargs, near-death experiences — and a title that meant something: Ranger. Not bad for a kid from London who once failed gym class.

The house was finally quiet. The Dwarves were snoring in harmony. Gandalf was meditating in a chair with his eyes closed, his beard twitching with each breath.

And Bilbo?

He was still staring at the contract, lips moving silently, like he was trying to negotiate with destiny.

He'd sign. I knew he would. Because Bilbo Baggins was more than tea, biscuits, and fluffy slippers.

He had Took blood in him.

And Took blood? It's wildfire beneath the lawn.