Transmigrate to the world of The Lord of the Rings?

-General-

Zha'Karûn was once a prosperous city, where trade flourished like few other regions. Men from Gondor, Rohan, and various peoples scattered across Middle-earth came to its markets to sell their goods and forge alliances. The city shone with life and hope, a jewel among the lands of the East.

But that prosperity did not last. Western men, seduced by Sauron's poisoned promises, fell to their knees before his shadow. Decay arrived like a storm.

When the servants of the Dark Lord took power, Zha'Karûn changed forever. Merchants and travelers were massacred indiscriminately. The military regime imposed itself with an iron fist. Children were torn from their mothers' arms, raised as soulless warriors, trained to blindly serve the will of the Dark Lord of Mordor.

However, those subjugated by the shadow never imagined what was coming. A creature shrouded in flames, burning with fire from every corner of its body, descended upon the city like a living curse. Its attack was swift and brutal. The sacred place of Zha'Karûn, where weapons blessed by dark fire were once forged, was taken without resistance. No one understood why that beast had chosen to destroy them with such fervor, laying waste to everything in its path.

The creature finally settled in the heart of the city, just below the Sakurai tree, an ancient symbol of life and power. Curiously, despite the scorching fire surrounding it, the tree did not burn. It remained intact, as if something protected it.

Sauron's servants cried out for their master's help, but their pleas were ignored. The Dark Lord was consumed by his war against the free peoples of Middle-earth, and he didn't care about losing another city, even if it was dominated by creatures that once served Morgoth.

Although Sauron was his most loyal apprentice, that didn't give him the right to command the Balrogs, dragons, or salamanders that survived the First Age. These creatures answered only to their true creator, not to anyone who tried to set himself up as their successor.

Now, even after so many years, a person has finally set foot in this fire-ruined city.

...

Aldril looked around with deep sadness. The ancient buildings, in a style reminiscent of houses from the distant Eastern kingdoms—a fusion of Sino-Japanese elegance—lay charred, eaten away by the fire of a violent past. Not even time had managed to erase the black stains that covered their walls, indelible scars of the tragedy from years ago.

The wind carried with it the unmistakable smell of smoke, still lingering after so many years. Every step Aldril took echoed in the deserted city. An almost absolute silence reigned; only the creaking of old wood, shaken by the passing wind, broke the stillness, lending a mournful tone to the atmosphere.

"What a depressing sight..." Aldril murmured, his voice muffled by desolation. His mood swayed like a leaf in the wind, but it sank even further when, in the distance, he spotted petrified figures: silhouettes of innocents frozen in time, trapped in expressions of eternal terror.

Among them, small children whose faces reflected indescribable panic. The worst was seeing a motionless woman, with eyes wide open in a silent scream, clutching a baby in her arms. Both turned to stone, immortalized in their last moment of life.

"A salamander's fire is not like a dragon's. Both can reduce you to ashes, yes, but the salamander... if it wishes, can petrify you. It's an atrocious behavior... And even worse: they are fascinated by their immortalized victims. They consider them sculptures. Trophies they admire, as if the pain of others were a form of art."

Gandalf's words still echoed in his mind. Hearing them from others was one thing... but witnessing it with his own eyes was quite another.

His fists clenched tightly, cracking under the exerted pressure. Anger boiled inside him like a volcano about to erupt. He forced himself to inhale deeply, trying to stifle the growing rage. It wasn't easy.

His draconian blood pulsed with defiance.

Since the First Age, dragons and salamanders had never coexisted peacefully. They were always at war, proud creatures fighting for supremacy, for territory, for instinct. Only Morgoth was capable of controlling them. Without him, they would have annihilated each other.

And now, that displeasure burned in Aldril's veins. Every fiber of his being yearned for the moment to face that large lizard, and that longing grew even more when he saw the large number of petrified people.

He calmed down after several deep sighs. He closed his eyes for an instant, letting the air temper the fire in his blood, and then took a step forward.

He tried not to look at the petrified figures, the innocents turned to stone, but it was impossible. His eyes, though he wished otherwise, drifted to those faces frozen in expressions of terror. So he quickened his pace, clenching his teeth, forcing himself to move forward.

Finally, he reached an area where small flames flickered softly on the ground, like fireflies of fire. They were not natural. He recognized that sign.

Salamanders used their fire in different ways: not just to destroy, but also to guard. If anyone crossed that perimeter, the creature would be alerted immediately. It was a well-placed trap.

This demonstrated what many ignored: that salamanders were more intelligent than dragons. While dragons prided themselves on their brute strength and colossal size, salamanders acted with cunning. They were not mere beasts.

Without wasting any more time, Aldril stepped forward, deliberately crossing the salamander's fire.

The reaction was immediate.

The creature, hidden deep within the city, perceived the crossing. Not just from the disturbed heat, but from something deeper... a premonition, an instinct that warned it of imminent danger. What had just passed through its flame was not common. It was not weak.

It wasn't until it discerned a figure approaching with firm steps that it understood. That presence ignited something ancient within it: a fervent hatred for the small ape before it.

"So... a human," the salamander said in a deep voice, rough like broken embers. Its enormous body slowly straightened, each movement deliberate. It knew what it was doing. Its slowness was not clumsiness, but calculated intimidation.

"No... you're not human," the salamander growled, bringing its fiery face closer with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. "I can smell the blood of elves in you... but, above all, I feel the essence of dragons in your veins. It's as if you've absorbed everything from one... as if you've devoured it from within."

The creature straightened completely, displaying its infernal splendor. Its massive, burning body completely obscured the sun illuminating the ruins of Zha'Karûn, casting a fiery shadow over Aldril.

"Well..." Aldril replied with a half-smile, "you can feel it now. You're not the first lizard I've killed, and I doubt you'll be the last."

The provocation took effect instantly.

The salamander roared with fury, a deafening sound that shook the earth and split the city's silence like thunder.

"Not even that damned fire-spitting brat from Erebor dared to speak to me with such arrogance!"

Its eyes blazed with rage, and its fire became more vivid, more voracious.

**

Filthy orcs!! We have returned! just as Sauron did, we will rise up and turn the whole of Middle-earth upside down, we will have all the races in the palm of our hands.

"[email protected]/Mrnevercry"