In the silent, chaotic void between worlds, a golden meteor streaked across the fabric of countless universes, blazing a trail toward the unknown depths. As it passed by one particularly magnificent reality, a supreme will from within cast its gaze outward. The will was ancient and vast, carrying with it a celestial melody—sacred, majestic, and absolute.
With but a single glance, it pierced the meteor's golden shell, seeing the soul within.
In an instant, the meteor's trajectory shifted, pulled irresistibly into this new universe. Its arrival was like an unprecedented note joining a grand symphony, adding a touch of nimble unpredictability to the world's timeless music.
…
"Hello? Sir, are you awake?"
A gentle voice slowly pulled him from the depths of a profound sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a dense, green forest canopy against a clear blue sky. The second thing he saw was a man—a very short man—peering down at him with a worried expression.
He felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Wasn't he just sleeping in his bed at home? Why was he lying on the grass in the middle of a forest? And who was this stranger?
His mind was a whirlwind of questions, and the most immediate one slipped out.
"Who… who are you?"
"Oh! I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins, at your service, sir," the small man replied politely.
Bilbo Baggins? The name sounded incredibly familiar.
Suddenly, a realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief. How was he able to understand this man perfectly? The language they were speaking felt as natural to him as his own mother tongue, flowing from his lips without a single thought.
Startled, he scrambled to his feet and found that Mr. Baggins barely came up to his waist.
A dwarf? No, that wasn't quite right.
Looking closer, he saw that the little fellow had subtly pointed ears. His wide, bare feet were covered in thick, curly brown hair, with tough, leathery soles. This was no race he had ever seen in his own world.
But that name… Bilbo Baggins. An absurd, impossible guess formed in his mind.
"You're a hobbit?!" he exclaimed.
The simple hobbit just nodded sincerely. "Of course."
"Then where is this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Why, you're in the Shire! Hobbiton, to be precise, sir."
His heart sank. It was true. All of it.
My God, what in the world happened? One moment he was falling asleep, the next he'd been thrown across time and space into one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable.
This was a land of orcs and trolls, of elves and ancient evils. A world where wizards who were practically demigods walked the earth, where dragons slept on mountains of gold and Balrogs slumbered in the deep. Beyond them were the Valar, the god-like guardians of the world, and even the creator god, Ilúvatar, himself.
How could an ordinary person possibly survive here? This wasn't just a challenge; it was hell-difficulty from the very start.
Bilbo watched the man's expression shift rapidly from confusion to terror to despair, like a canvas being painted by a mad artist. He cautiously took a few steps back. This big fellow seemed… a little unstable. But as a kind and decent hobbit, he couldn't just leave someone in distress.
"Uh, sir? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied with a bitter smile, trying to get a grip on himself. "I just… can't find my way home."
"You're lost, then?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "Perhaps you could buy a map in town? I hear they sell maps of the lands beyond the Shire."
He shook his head, a genuine wave of despair washing over him. "My home is very, very far away. So far, I don't think I'll ever see it again."
Bilbo looked completely bewildered, unable to grasp the kind of distance the man was talking about. But seeing the profound loneliness and sadness clouding the stranger's face, the kind-hearted hobbit felt a pang of sympathy and fumbled for a way to comfort him.
"Well, um, sir… I mean… perhaps you'd like to come to my home for a bit?"
He looked up, a flicker of surprise cutting through his sorrowful expression. Being stared at so intensely made Bilbo feel a little awkward.
"It's just, we don't get many outsiders here in the Shire," the hobbit stammered. "If you have nowhere else to go, you could stay with me for a few days. Just until you get your bearings."
Immediately, a look of immense gratitude spread across the man's face, and he eagerly accepted. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins. Thank you for your kindness. You are a truly good person!"
Bilbo flushed, embarrassed by the praise. "It's nothing, really. Well then, please follow me, sir."
With that, he shouldered his fishing rod—which was more than twice his height—picked up his bucket of fish, and started leading the way.
Walking behind the hobbit, the man let the sad expression fall from his face, replaced by a quiet sigh of relief. While his emotions had been genuine, he had certainly exaggerated them for Bilbo's benefit. He needed to gain the hobbit's sympathy, to secure shelter. After all, he was utterly alone in this strange, new world. If no one took him in, he'd be sleeping in the wilderness, vulnerable to dangers he couldn't even imagine.
Besides, as far as he knew, Bilbo Baggins was, in a sense, one of the main characters of this world's epic saga. Sticking close to him would surely provide more opportunities and choices for whatever came next.
They followed a winding path past quaint hobbit-holes. The homes were just as he'd imagined: burrowed into the sides of green hills, with round, brightly painted wooden doors and lovely gardens bursting with colorful flowers. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.
The hobbits they passed peeked over their garden fences, curiously eyeing the tall human following Bilbo. Uncharacteristically, Bilbo didn't stop to greet his neighbors, instead quickening his pace ever so slightly. The man, however, didn't mind the stares at all, offering friendly smiles and nods to the curious hobbits.
Soon, they arrived at a particularly fine hobbit-hole at the end of the lane. A wooden sign on the gate read: "Bag End." This was Bilbo Baggins' home. Its garden was immaculate, clearly tended to with great care and pride.
"I apologize, sir, I forgot to ask your name," Bilbo said as he unlocked his round, green door. "What should I call you?"
"My name is…" he began, but as he was about to say his old name, a strange jolt went through his mind. A new name, foreign yet familiar, surfaced from nowhere and tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.
"...Alden."
Alden? Where did that come from? he thought, stunned. It felt as if that had always been his name.
Bilbo didn't notice his guest's internal shock. "Alright then, Alden. Please mind your head when you come in," he said, walking inside. "As you can see, we hobbits don't build for the stature of Big Folk."
"Bang!"
Distracted, Alden walked straight into a low-hanging wooden beam. He yelped, clutching his forehead in pain.
"Oh dear! Mr. Alden, are you alright?" Bilbo asked, a hint of a suppressed smile on his face.
"I'm fine!" Alden grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. He had no time to ponder the mystery of his new name. This hobbit-hole was clearly not designed for someone of his height, and he was forced to stoop as he moved, constantly wary of hitting his head again.
Deciding to worry about it later, he found a chair and carefully sat down. Bilbo bustled straight into the kitchen to prepare something for his unexpected guest.
As Alden sat there, taking in the cozy, cluttered room, a transparent panel of text materialized in the air before him.
[The Traveler's System: Location registered: The Shire - Hobbiton - Bag End.] [Would you like to check in?]
Alden stared, his jaw dropping. "What the hell is that?!"
From the kitchen, Bilbo's head popped out. "Is something the matter, Mr. Alden?"
"No… nothing at all!" Alden stammered, quickly shaking his head as he realized the hobbit couldn't see the strange message floating in front of him.
"Hey Guys Support Me By Throwing Powerstones"
Ignore Word Count Below
In the silent, chaotic void between worlds, a golden meteor streaked across the fabric of countless universes, blazing a trail toward the unknown depths. As it passed by one particularly magnificent reality, a supreme will from within cast its gaze outward. The will was ancient and vast, carrying with it a celestial melody—sacred, majestic, and absolute.
With but a single glance, it pierced the meteor's golden shell, seeing the soul within.
In an instant, the meteor's trajectory shifted, pulled irresistibly into this new universe. Its arrival was like an unprecedented note joining a grand symphony, adding a touch of nimble unpredictability to the world's timeless music.
…
"Hello? Sir, are you awake?"
A gentle voice slowly pulled him from the depths of a profound sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a dense, green forest canopy against a clear blue sky. The second thing he saw was a man—a very short man—peering down at him with a worried expression.
He felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Wasn't he just sleeping in his bed at home? Why was he lying on the grass in the middle of a forest? And who was this stranger?
His mind was a whirlwind of questions, and the most immediate one slipped out.
"Who… who are you?"
"Oh! I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins, at your service, sir," the small man replied politely.
Bilbo Baggins? The name sounded incredibly familiar.
Suddenly, a realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief. How was he able to understand this man perfectly? The language they were speaking felt as natural to him as his own mother tongue, flowing from his lips without a single thought.
Startled, he scrambled to his feet and found that Mr. Baggins barely came up to his waist.
A dwarf? No, that wasn't quite right.
Looking closer, he saw that the little fellow had subtly pointed ears. His wide, bare feet were covered in thick, curly brown hair, with tough, leathery soles. This was no race he had ever seen in his own world.
But that name… Bilbo Baggins. An absurd, impossible guess formed in his mind.
"You're a hobbit?!" he exclaimed.
The simple hobbit just nodded sincerely. "Of course."
"Then where is this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Why, you're in the Shire! Hobbiton, to be precise, sir."
His heart sank. It was true. All of it.
My God, what in the world happened? One moment he was falling asleep, the next he'd been thrown across time and space into one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable.
This was a land of orcs and trolls, of elves and ancient evils. A world where wizards who were practically demigods walked the earth, where dragons slept on mountains of gold and Balrogs slumbered in the deep. Beyond them were the Valar, the god-like guardians of the world, and even the creator god, Ilúvatar, himself.
How could an ordinary person possibly survive here? This wasn't just a challenge; it was hell-difficulty from the very start.
Bilbo watched the man's expression shift rapidly from confusion to terror to despair, like a canvas being painted by a mad artist. He cautiously took a few steps back. This big fellow seemed… a little unstable. But as a kind and decent hobbit, he couldn't just leave someone in distress.
"Uh, sir? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied with a bitter smile, trying to get a grip on himself. "I just… can't find my way home."
"You're lost, then?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "Perhaps you could buy a map in town? I hear they sell maps of the lands beyond the Shire."
He shook his head, a genuine wave of despair washing over him. "My home is very, very far away. So far, I don't think I'll ever see it again."
Bilbo looked completely bewildered, unable to grasp the kind of distance the man was talking about. But seeing the profound loneliness and sadness clouding the stranger's face, the kind-hearted hobbit felt a pang of sympathy and fumbled for a way to comfort him.
"Well, um, sir… I mean… perhaps you'd like to come to my home for a bit?"
He looked up, a flicker of surprise cutting through his sorrowful expression. Being stared at so intensely made Bilbo feel a little awkward.
"It's just, we don't get many outsiders here in the Shire," the hobbit stammered. "If you have nowhere else to go, you could stay with me for a few days. Just until you get your bearings."
Immediately, a look of immense gratitude spread across the man's face, and he eagerly accepted. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins. Thank you for your kindness. You are a truly good person!"
Bilbo flushed, embarrassed by the praise. "It's nothing, really. Well then, please follow me, sir."
With that, he shouldered his fishing rod—which was more than twice his height—picked up his bucket of fish, and started leading the way.
Walking behind the hobbit, the man let the sad expression fall from his face, replaced by a quiet sigh of relief. While his emotions had been genuine, he had certainly exaggerated them for Bilbo's benefit. He needed to gain the hobbit's sympathy, to secure shelter. After all, he was utterly alone in this strange, new world. If no one took him in, he'd be sleeping in the wilderness, vulnerable to dangers he couldn't even imagine.
Besides, as far as he knew, Bilbo Baggins was, in a sense, one of the main characters of this world's epic saga. Sticking close to him would surely provide more opportunities and choices for whatever came next.
They followed a winding path past quaint hobbit-holes. The homes were just as he'd imagined: burrowed into the sides of green hills, with round, brightly painted wooden doors and lovely gardens bursting with colorful flowers. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.
The hobbits they passed peeked over their garden fences, curiously eyeing the tall human following Bilbo. Uncharacteristically, Bilbo didn't stop to greet his neighbors, instead quickening his pace ever so slightly. The man, however, didn't mind the stares at all, offering friendly smiles and nods to the curious hobbits.
Soon, they arrived at a particularly fine hobbit-hole at the end of the lane. A wooden sign on the gate read: "Bag End." This was Bilbo Baggins' home. Its garden was immaculate, clearly tended to with great care and pride.
"I apologize, sir, I forgot to ask your name," Bilbo said as he unlocked his round, green door. "What should I call you?"
"My name is…" he began, but as he was about to say his old name, a strange jolt went through his mind. A new name, foreign yet familiar, surfaced from nowhere and tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.
"...Alden."
Alden? Where did that come from? he thought, stunned. It felt as if that had always been his name.
Bilbo didn't notice his guest's internal shock. "Alright then, Alden. Please mind your head when you come in," he said, walking inside. "As you can see, we hobbits don't build for the stature of Big Folk."
"Bang!"
Distracted, Alden walked straight into a low-hanging wooden beam. He yelped, clutching his forehead in pain.
"Oh dear! Mr. Alden, are you alright?" Bilbo asked, a hint of a suppressed smile on his face.
"I'm fine!" Alden grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. He had no time to ponder the mystery of his new name. This hobbit-hole was clearly not designed for someone of his height, and he was forced to stoop as he moved, constantly wary of hitting his head again.
Deciding to worry about it later, he found a chair and carefully sat down. Bilbo bustled straight into the kitchen to prepare something for his unexpected guest.
As Alden sat there, taking in the cozy, cluttered room, a transparent panel of text materialized in the air before him.
[The Traveler's System: Location registered: The Shire - Hobbiton - Bag End.] [Would you like to check in?]
Alden stared, his jaw dropping. "What the hell is that?!"
From the kitchen, Bilbo's head popped out. "Is something the matter, Mr. Alden?"
"No… nothing at all!" Alden stammered, quickly shaking his head as he realized the hobbit couldn't see the strange message floating in front of him.
In the silent, chaotic void between worlds, a golden meteor streaked across the fabric of countless universes, blazing a trail toward the unknown depths. As it passed by one particularly magnificent reality, a supreme will from within cast its gaze outward. The will was ancient and vast, carrying with it a celestial melody—sacred, majestic, and absolute.
With but a single glance, it pierced the meteor's golden shell, seeing the soul within.
In an instant, the meteor's trajectory shifted, pulled irresistibly into this new universe. Its arrival was like an unprecedented note joining a grand symphony, adding a touch of nimble unpredictability to the world's timeless music.
…
"Hello? Sir, are you awake?"
A gentle voice slowly pulled him from the depths of a profound sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a dense, green forest canopy against a clear blue sky. The second thing he saw was a man—a very short man—peering down at him with a worried expression.
He felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Wasn't he just sleeping in his bed at home? Why was he lying on the grass in the middle of a forest? And who was this stranger?
His mind was a whirlwind of questions, and the most immediate one slipped out.
"Who… who are you?"
"Oh! I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins, at your service, sir," the small man replied politely.
Bilbo Baggins? The name sounded incredibly familiar.
Suddenly, a realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief. How was he able to understand this man perfectly? The language they were speaking felt as natural to him as his own mother tongue, flowing from his lips without a single thought.
Startled, he scrambled to his feet and found that Mr. Baggins barely came up to his waist.
A dwarf? No, that wasn't quite right.
Looking closer, he saw that the little fellow had subtly pointed ears. His wide, bare feet were covered in thick, curly brown hair, with tough, leathery soles. This was no race he had ever seen in his own world.
But that name… Bilbo Baggins. An absurd, impossible guess formed in his mind.
"You're a hobbit?!" he exclaimed.
The simple hobbit just nodded sincerely. "Of course."
"Then where is this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Why, you're in the Shire! Hobbiton, to be precise, sir."
His heart sank. It was true. All of it.
My God, what in the world happened? One moment he was falling asleep, the next he'd been thrown across time and space into one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable.
This was a land of orcs and trolls, of elves and ancient evils. A world where wizards who were practically demigods walked the earth, where dragons slept on mountains of gold and Balrogs slumbered in the deep. Beyond them were the Valar, the god-like guardians of the world, and even the creator god, Ilúvatar, himself.
How could an ordinary person possibly survive here? This wasn't just a challenge; it was hell-difficulty from the very start.
Bilbo watched the man's expression shift rapidly from confusion to terror to despair, like a canvas being painted by a mad artist. He cautiously took a few steps back. This big fellow seemed… a little unstable. But as a kind and decent hobbit, he couldn't just leave someone in distress.
"Uh, sir? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied with a bitter smile, trying to get a grip on himself. "I just… can't find my way home."
"You're lost, then?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "Perhaps you could buy a map in town? I hear they sell maps of the lands beyond the Shire."
He shook his head, a genuine wave of despair washing over him. "My home is very, very far away. So far, I don't think I'll ever see it again."
Bilbo looked completely bewildered, unable to grasp the kind of distance the man was talking about. But seeing the profound loneliness and sadness clouding the stranger's face, the kind-hearted hobbit felt a pang of sympathy and fumbled for a way to comfort him.
"Well, um, sir… I mean… perhaps you'd like to come to my home for a bit?"
He looked up, a flicker of surprise cutting through his sorrowful expression. Being stared at so intensely made Bilbo feel a little awkward.
"It's just, we don't get many outsiders here in the Shire," the hobbit stammered. "If you have nowhere else to go, you could stay with me for a few days. Just until you get your bearings."
Immediately, a look of immense gratitude spread across the man's face, and he eagerly accepted. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins. Thank you for your kindness. You are a truly good person!"
Bilbo flushed, embarrassed by the praise. "It's nothing, really. Well then, please follow me, sir."
With that, he shouldered his fishing rod—which was more than twice his height—picked up his bucket of fish, and started leading the way.
Walking behind the hobbit, the man let the sad expression fall from his face, replaced by a quiet sigh of relief. While his emotions had been genuine, he had certainly exaggerated them for Bilbo's benefit. He needed to gain the hobbit's sympathy, to secure shelter. After all, he was utterly alone in this strange, new world. If no one took him in, he'd be sleeping in the wilderness, vulnerable to dangers he couldn't even imagine.
Besides, as far as he knew, Bilbo Baggins was, in a sense, one of the main characters of this world's epic saga. Sticking close to him would surely provide more opportunities and choices for whatever came next.
They followed a winding path past quaint hobbit-holes. The homes were just as he'd imagined: burrowed into the sides of green hills, with round, brightly painted wooden doors and lovely gardens bursting with colorful flowers. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.
The hobbits they passed peeked over their garden fences, curiously eyeing the tall human following Bilbo. Uncharacteristically, Bilbo didn't stop to greet his neighbors, instead quickening his pace ever so slightly. The man, however, didn't mind the stares at all, offering friendly smiles and nods to the curious hobbits.
Soon, they arrived at a particularly fine hobbit-hole at the end of the lane. A wooden sign on the gate read: "Bag End." This was Bilbo Baggins' home. Its garden was immaculate, clearly tended to with great care and pride.
"I apologize, sir, I forgot to ask your name," Bilbo said as he unlocked his round, green door. "What should I call you?"
"My name is…" he began, but as he was about to say his old name, a strange jolt went through his mind. A new name, foreign yet familiar, surfaced from nowhere and tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.
"...Alden."
Alden? Where did that come from? he thought, stunned. It felt as if that had always been his name.
Bilbo didn't notice his guest's internal shock. "Alright then, Alden. Please mind your head when you come in," he said, walking inside. "As you can see, we hobbits don't build for the stature of Big Folk."
"Bang!"
Distracted, Alden walked straight into a low-hanging wooden beam. He yelped, clutching his forehead in pain.
"Oh dear! Mr. Alden, are you alright?" Bilbo asked, a hint of a suppressed smile on his face.
"I'm fine!" Alden grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. He had no time to ponder the mystery of his new name. This hobbit-hole was clearly not designed for someone of his height, and he was forced to stoop as he moved, constantly wary of hitting his head again.
Deciding to worry about it later, he found a chair and carefully sat down. Bilbo bustled straight into the kitchen to prepare something for his unexpected guest.
As Alden sat there, taking in the cozy, cluttered room, a transparent panel of text materialized in the air before him.
[The Traveler's System: Location registered: The Shire - Hobbiton - Bag End.] [Would you like to check in?]
Alden stared, his jaw dropping. "What the hell is that?!"
From the kitchen, Bilbo's head popped out. "Is something the matter, Mr. Alden?"
"No… nothing at all!" Alden stammered, quickly shaking his head as he realized the hobbit couldn't see the strange message floating in front of him.
In the silent, chaotic void between worlds, a golden meteor streaked across the fabric of countless universes, blazing a trail toward the unknown depths. As it passed by one particularly magnificent reality, a supreme will from within cast its gaze outward. The will was ancient and vast, carrying with it a celestial melody—sacred, majestic, and absolute.
With but a single glance, it pierced the meteor's golden shell, seeing the soul within.
In an instant, the meteor's trajectory shifted, pulled irresistibly into this new universe. Its arrival was like an unprecedented note joining a grand symphony, adding a touch of nimble unpredictability to the world's timeless music.
…
"Hello? Sir, are you awake?"
A gentle voice slowly pulled him from the depths of a profound sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a dense, green forest canopy against a clear blue sky. The second thing he saw was a man—a very short man—peering down at him with a worried expression.
He felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Wasn't he just sleeping in his bed at home? Why was he lying on the grass in the middle of a forest? And who was this stranger?
His mind was a whirlwind of questions, and the most immediate one slipped out.
"Who… who are you?"
"Oh! I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins, at your service, sir," the small man replied politely.
Bilbo Baggins? The name sounded incredibly familiar.
Suddenly, a realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief. How was he able to understand this man perfectly? The language they were speaking felt as natural to him as his own mother tongue, flowing from his lips without a single thought.
Startled, he scrambled to his feet and found that Mr. Baggins barely came up to his waist.
A dwarf? No, that wasn't quite right.
Looking closer, he saw that the little fellow had subtly pointed ears. His wide, bare feet were covered in thick, curly brown hair, with tough, leathery soles. This was no race he had ever seen in his own world.
But that name… Bilbo Baggins. An absurd, impossible guess formed in his mind.
"You're a hobbit?!" he exclaimed.
The simple hobbit just nodded sincerely. "Of course."
"Then where is this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Why, you're in the Shire! Hobbiton, to be precise, sir."
His heart sank. It was true. All of it.
My God, what in the world happened? One moment he was falling asleep, the next he'd been thrown across time and space into one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable.
This was a land of orcs and trolls, of elves and ancient evils. A world where wizards who were practically demigods walked the earth, where dragons slept on mountains of gold and Balrogs slumbered in the deep. Beyond them were the Valar, the god-like guardians of the world, and even the creator god, Ilúvatar, himself.
How could an ordinary person possibly survive here? This wasn't just a challenge; it was hell-difficulty from the very start.
Bilbo watched the man's expression shift rapidly from confusion to terror to despair, like a canvas being painted by a mad artist. He cautiously took a few steps back. This big fellow seemed… a little unstable. But as a kind and decent hobbit, he couldn't just leave someone in distress.
"Uh, sir? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied with a bitter smile, trying to get a grip on himself. "I just… can't find my way home."
"You're lost, then?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "Perhaps you could buy a map in town? I hear they sell maps of the lands beyond the Shire."
He shook his head, a genuine wave of despair washing over him. "My home is very, very far away. So far, I don't think I'll ever see it again."
Bilbo looked completely bewildered, unable to grasp the kind of distance the man was talking about. But seeing the profound loneliness and sadness clouding the stranger's face, the kind-hearted hobbit felt a pang of sympathy and fumbled for a way to comfort him.
"Well, um, sir… I mean… perhaps you'd like to come to my home for a bit?"
He looked up, a flicker of surprise cutting through his sorrowful expression. Being stared at so intensely made Bilbo feel a little awkward.
"It's just, we don't get many outsiders here in the Shire," the hobbit stammered. "If you have nowhere else to go, you could stay with me for a few days. Just until you get your bearings."
Immediately, a look of immense gratitude spread across the man's face, and he eagerly accepted. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins. Thank you for your kindness. You are a truly good person!"
Bilbo flushed, embarrassed by the praise. "It's nothing, really. Well then, please follow me, sir."
With that, he shouldered his fishing rod—which was more than twice his height—picked up his bucket of fish, and started leading the way.
Walking behind the hobbit, the man let the sad expression fall from his face, replaced by a quiet sigh of relief. While his emotions had been genuine, he had certainly exaggerated them for Bilbo's benefit. He needed to gain the hobbit's sympathy, to secure shelter. After all, he was utterly alone in this strange, new world. If no one took him in, he'd be sleeping in the wilderness, vulnerable to dangers he couldn't even imagine.
Besides, as far as he knew, Bilbo Baggins was, in a sense, one of the main characters of this world's epic saga. Sticking close to him would surely provide more opportunities and choices for whatever came next.
They followed a winding path past quaint hobbit-holes. The homes were just as he'd imagined: burrowed into the sides of green hills, with round, brightly painted wooden doors and lovely gardens bursting with colorful flowers. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.
The hobbits they passed peeked over their garden fences, curiously eyeing the tall human following Bilbo. Uncharacteristically, Bilbo didn't stop to greet his neighbors, instead quickening his pace ever so slightly. The man, however, didn't mind the stares at all, offering friendly smiles and nods to the curious hobbits.
Soon, they arrived at a particularly fine hobbit-hole at the end of the lane. A wooden sign on the gate read: "Bag End." This was Bilbo Baggins' home. Its garden was immaculate, clearly tended to with great care and pride.
"I apologize, sir, I forgot to ask your name," Bilbo said as he unlocked his round, green door. "What should I call you?"
"My name is…" he began, but as he was about to say his old name, a strange jolt went through his mind. A new name, foreign yet familiar, surfaced from nowhere and tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.
"...Alden."
Alden? Where did that come from? he thought, stunned. It felt as if that had always been his name.
Bilbo didn't notice his guest's internal shock. "Alright then, Alden. Please mind your head when you come in," he said, walking inside. "As you can see, we hobbits don't build for the stature of Big Folk."
"Bang!"
Distracted, Alden walked straight into a low-hanging wooden beam. He yelped, clutching his forehead in pain.
"Oh dear! Mr. Alden, are you alright?" Bilbo asked, a hint of a suppressed smile on his face.
"I'm fine!" Alden grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. He had no time to ponder the mystery of his new name. This hobbit-hole was clearly not designed for someone of his height, and he was forced to stoop as he moved, constantly wary of hitting his head again.
Deciding to worry about it later, he found a chair and carefully sat down. Bilbo bustled straight into the kitchen to prepare something for his unexpected guest.
As Alden sat there, taking in the cozy, cluttered room, a transparent panel of text materialized in the air before him.
[The Traveler's System: Location registered: The Shire - Hobbiton - Bag End.] [Would you like to check in?]
Alden stared, his jaw dropping. "What the hell is that?!"
From the kitchen, Bilbo's head popped out. "Is something the matter, Mr. Alden?"
"No… nothing at all!" Alden stammered, quickly shaking his head as he realized the hobbit couldn't see the strange message floating in front of him.
In the silent, chaotic void between worlds, a golden meteor streaked across the fabric of countless universes, blazing a trail toward the unknown depths. As it passed by one particularly magnificent reality, a supreme will from within cast its gaze outward. The will was ancient and vast, carrying with it a celestial melody—sacred, majestic, and absolute.
With but a single glance, it pierced the meteor's golden shell, seeing the soul within.
In an instant, the meteor's trajectory shifted, pulled irresistibly into this new universe. Its arrival was like an unprecedented note joining a grand symphony, adding a touch of nimble unpredictability to the world's timeless music.
…
"Hello? Sir, are you awake?"
A gentle voice slowly pulled him from the depths of a profound sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a dense, green forest canopy against a clear blue sky. The second thing he saw was a man—a very short man—peering down at him with a worried expression.
He felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Wasn't he just sleeping in his bed at home? Why was he lying on the grass in the middle of a forest? And who was this stranger?
His mind was a whirlwind of questions, and the most immediate one slipped out.
"Who… who are you?"
"Oh! I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins, at your service, sir," the small man replied politely.
Bilbo Baggins? The name sounded incredibly familiar.
Suddenly, a realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief. How was he able to understand this man perfectly? The language they were speaking felt as natural to him as his own mother tongue, flowing from his lips without a single thought.
Startled, he scrambled to his feet and found that Mr. Baggins barely came up to his waist.
A dwarf? No, that wasn't quite right.
Looking closer, he saw that the little fellow had subtly pointed ears. His wide, bare feet were covered in thick, curly brown hair, with tough, leathery soles. This was no race he had ever seen in his own world.
But that name… Bilbo Baggins. An absurd, impossible guess formed in his mind.
"You're a hobbit?!" he exclaimed.
The simple hobbit just nodded sincerely. "Of course."
"Then where is this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Why, you're in the Shire! Hobbiton, to be precise, sir."
His heart sank. It was true. All of it.
My God, what in the world happened? One moment he was falling asleep, the next he'd been thrown across time and space into one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable.
This was a land of orcs and trolls, of elves and ancient evils. A world where wizards who were practically demigods walked the earth, where dragons slept on mountains of gold and Balrogs slumbered in the deep. Beyond them were the Valar, the god-like guardians of the world, and even the creator god, Ilúvatar, himself.
How could an ordinary person possibly survive here? This wasn't just a challenge; it was hell-difficulty from the very start.
Bilbo watched the man's expression shift rapidly from confusion to terror to despair, like a canvas being painted by a mad artist. He cautiously took a few steps back. This big fellow seemed… a little unstable. But as a kind and decent hobbit, he couldn't just leave someone in distress.
"Uh, sir? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied with a bitter smile, trying to get a grip on himself. "I just… can't find my way home."
"You're lost, then?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "Perhaps you could buy a map in town? I hear they sell maps of the lands beyond the Shire."
He shook his head, a genuine wave of despair washing over him. "My home is very, very far away. So far, I don't think I'll ever see it again."
Bilbo looked completely bewildered, unable to grasp the kind of distance the man was talking about. But seeing the profound loneliness and sadness clouding the stranger's face, the kind-hearted hobbit felt a pang of sympathy and fumbled for a way to comfort him.
"Well, um, sir… I mean… perhaps you'd like to come to my home for a bit?"
He looked up, a flicker of surprise cutting through his sorrowful expression. Being stared at so intensely made Bilbo feel a little awkward.
"It's just, we don't get many outsiders here in the Shire," the hobbit stammered. "If you have nowhere else to go, you could stay with me for a few days. Just until you get your bearings."
Immediately, a look of immense gratitude spread across the man's face, and he eagerly accepted. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins. Thank you for your kindness. You are a truly good person!"
Bilbo flushed, embarrassed by the praise. "It's nothing, really. Well then, please follow me, sir."
With that, he shouldered his fishing rod—which was more than twice his height—picked up his bucket of fish, and started leading the way.
Walking behind the hobbit, the man let the sad expression fall from his face, replaced by a quiet sigh of relief. While his emotions had been genuine, he had certainly exaggerated them for Bilbo's benefit. He needed to gain the hobbit's sympathy, to secure shelter. After all, he was utterly alone in this strange, new world. If no one took him in, he'd be sleeping in the wilderness, vulnerable to dangers he couldn't even imagine.
Besides, as far as he knew, Bilbo Baggins was, in a sense, one of the main characters of this world's epic saga. Sticking close to him would surely provide more opportunities and choices for whatever came next.
They followed a winding path past quaint hobbit-holes. The homes were just as he'd imagined: burrowed into the sides of green hills, with round, brightly painted wooden doors and lovely gardens bursting with colorful flowers. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.
The hobbits they passed peeked over their garden fences, curiously eyeing the tall human following Bilbo. Uncharacteristically, Bilbo didn't stop to greet his neighbors, instead quickening his pace ever so slightly. The man, however, didn't mind the stares at all, offering friendly smiles and nods to the curious hobbits.
Soon, they arrived at a particularly fine hobbit-hole at the end of the lane. A wooden sign on the gate read: "Bag End." This was Bilbo Baggins' home. Its garden was immaculate, clearly tended to with great care and pride.
"I apologize, sir, I forgot to ask your name," Bilbo said as he unlocked his round, green door. "What should I call you?"
"My name is…" he began, but as he was about to say his old name, a strange jolt went through his mind. A new name, foreign yet familiar, surfaced from nowhere and tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.
"...Alden."
Alden? Where did that come from? he thought, stunned. It felt as if that had always been his name.
Bilbo didn't notice his guest's internal shock. "Alright then, Alden. Please mind your head when you come in," he said, walking inside. "As you can see, we hobbits don't build for the stature of Big Folk."
"Bang!"
Distracted, Alden walked straight into a low-hanging wooden beam. He yelped, clutching his forehead in pain.
"Oh dear! Mr. Alden, are you alright?" Bilbo asked, a hint of a suppressed smile on his face.
"I'm fine!" Alden grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. He had no time to ponder the mystery of his new name. This hobbit-hole was clearly not designed for someone of his height, and he was forced to stoop as he moved, constantly wary of hitting his head again.
Deciding to worry about it later, he found a chair and carefully sat down. Bilbo bustled straight into the kitchen to prepare something for his unexpected guest.
As Alden sat there, taking in the cozy, cluttered room, a transparent panel of text materialized in the air before him.
[The Traveler's System: Location registered: The Shire - Hobbiton - Bag End.] [Would you like to check in?]
Alden stared, his jaw dropping. "What the hell is that?!"
From the kitchen, Bilbo's head popped out. "Is something the matter, Mr. Alden?"
"No… nothing at all!" Alden stammered, quickly shaking his head as he realized the hobbit couldn't see the strange message floating in front of him.
In the silent, chaotic void between worlds, a golden meteor streaked across the fabric of countless universes, blazing a trail toward the unknown depths. As it passed by one particularly magnificent reality, a supreme will from within cast its gaze outward. The will was ancient and vast, carrying with it a celestial melody—sacred, majestic, and absolute.
With but a single glance, it pierced the meteor's golden shell, seeing the soul within.
In an instant, the meteor's trajectory shifted, pulled irresistibly into this new universe. Its arrival was like an unprecedented note joining a grand symphony, adding a touch of nimble unpredictability to the world's timeless music.
…
"Hello? Sir, are you awake?"
A gentle voice slowly pulled him from the depths of a profound sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a dense, green forest canopy against a clear blue sky. The second thing he saw was a man—a very short man—peering down at him with a worried expression.
He felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Wasn't he just sleeping in his bed at home? Why was he lying on the grass in the middle of a forest? And who was this stranger?
His mind was a whirlwind of questions, and the most immediate one slipped out.
"Who… who are you?"
"Oh! I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins, at your service, sir," the small man replied politely.
Bilbo Baggins? The name sounded incredibly familiar.
Suddenly, a realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief. How was he able to understand this man perfectly? The language they were speaking felt as natural to him as his own mother tongue, flowing from his lips without a single thought.
Startled, he scrambled to his feet and found that Mr. Baggins barely came up to his waist.
A dwarf? No, that wasn't quite right.
Looking closer, he saw that the little fellow had subtly pointed ears. His wide, bare feet were covered in thick, curly brown hair, with tough, leathery soles. This was no race he had ever seen in his own world.
But that name… Bilbo Baggins. An absurd, impossible guess formed in his mind.
"You're a hobbit?!" he exclaimed.
The simple hobbit just nodded sincerely. "Of course."
"Then where is this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Why, you're in the Shire! Hobbiton, to be precise, sir."
His heart sank. It was true. All of it.
My God, what in the world happened? One moment he was falling asleep, the next he'd been thrown across time and space into one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable.
This was a land of orcs and trolls, of elves and ancient evils. A world where wizards who were practically demigods walked the earth, where dragons slept on mountains of gold and Balrogs slumbered in the deep. Beyond them were the Valar, the god-like guardians of the world, and even the creator god, Ilúvatar, himself.
How could an ordinary person possibly survive here? This wasn't just a challenge; it was hell-difficulty from the very start.
Bilbo watched the man's expression shift rapidly from confusion to terror to despair, like a canvas being painted by a mad artist. He cautiously took a few steps back. This big fellow seemed… a little unstable. But as a kind and decent hobbit, he couldn't just leave someone in distress.
"Uh, sir? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied with a bitter smile, trying to get a grip on himself. "I just… can't find my way home."
"You're lost, then?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "Perhaps you could buy a map in town? I hear they sell maps of the lands beyond the Shire."
He shook his head, a genuine wave of despair washing over him. "My home is very, very far away. So far, I don't think I'll ever see it again."
Bilbo looked completely bewildered, unable to grasp the kind of distance the man was talking about. But seeing the profound loneliness and sadness clouding the stranger's face, the kind-hearted hobbit felt a pang of sympathy and fumbled for a way to comfort him.
"Well, um, sir… I mean… perhaps you'd like to come to my home for a bit?"
He looked up, a flicker of surprise cutting through his sorrowful expression. Being stared at so intensely made Bilbo feel a little awkward.
"It's just, we don't get many outsiders here in the Shire," the hobbit stammered. "If you have nowhere else to go, you could stay with me for a few days. Just until you get your bearings."
Immediately, a look of immense gratitude spread across the man's face, and he eagerly accepted. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins. Thank you for your kindness. You are a truly good person!"
Bilbo flushed, embarrassed by the praise. "It's nothing, really. Well then, please follow me, sir."
With that, he shouldered his fishing rod—which was more than twice his height—picked up his bucket of fish, and started leading the way.
Walking behind the hobbit, the man let the sad expression fall from his face, replaced by a quiet sigh of relief. While his emotions had been genuine, he had certainly exaggerated them for Bilbo's benefit. He needed to gain the hobbit's sympathy, to secure shelter. After all, he was utterly alone in this strange, new world. If no one took him in, he'd be sleeping in the wilderness, vulnerable to dangers he couldn't even imagine.
Besides, as far as he knew, Bilbo Baggins was, in a sense, one of the main characters of this world's epic saga. Sticking close to him would surely provide more opportunities and choices for whatever came next.
They followed a winding path past quaint hobbit-holes. The homes were just as he'd imagined: burrowed into the sides of green hills, with round, brightly painted wooden doors and lovely gardens bursting with colorful flowers. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.
The hobbits they passed peeked over their garden fences, curiously eyeing the tall human following Bilbo. Uncharacteristically, Bilbo didn't stop to greet his neighbors, instead quickening his pace ever so slightly. The man, however, didn't mind the stares at all, offering friendly smiles and nods to the curious hobbits.
Soon, they arrived at a particularly fine hobbit-hole at the end of the lane. A wooden sign on the gate read: "Bag End." This was Bilbo Baggins' home. Its garden was immaculate, clearly tended to with great care and pride.
"I apologize, sir, I forgot to ask your name," Bilbo said as he unlocked his round, green door. "What should I call you?"
"My name is…" he began, but as he was about to say his old name, a strange jolt went through his mind. A new name, foreign yet familiar, surfaced from nowhere and tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.
"...Alden."
Alden? Where did that come from? he thought, stunned. It felt as if that had always been his name.
Bilbo didn't notice his guest's internal shock. "Alright then, Alden. Please mind your head when you come in," he said, walking inside. "As you can see, we hobbits don't build for the stature of Big Folk."
"Bang!"
Distracted, Alden walked straight into a low-hanging wooden beam. He yelped, clutching his forehead in pain.
"Oh dear! Mr. Alden, are you alright?" Bilbo asked, a hint of a suppressed smile on his face.
"I'm fine!" Alden grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. He had no time to ponder the mystery of his new name. This hobbit-hole was clearly not designed for someone of his height, and he was forced to stoop as he moved, constantly wary of hitting his head again.
Deciding to worry about it later, he found a chair and carefully sat down. Bilbo bustled straight into the kitchen to prepare something for his unexpected guest.
As Alden sat there, taking in the cozy, cluttered room, a transparent panel of text materialized in the air before him.
[The Traveler's System: Location registered: The Shire - Hobbiton - Bag End.] [Would you like to check in?]
Alden stared, his jaw dropping. "What the hell is that?!"
From the kitchen, Bilbo's head popped out. "Is something the matter, Mr. Alden?"
"No… nothing at all!" Alden stammered, quickly shaking his head as he realized the hobbit couldn't see the strange message floating in front of him.
In the silent, chaotic void between worlds, a golden meteor streaked across the fabric of countless universes, blazing a trail toward the unknown depths. As it passed by one particularly magnificent reality, a supreme will from within cast its gaze outward. The will was ancient and vast, carrying with it a celestial melody—sacred, majestic, and absolute.
With but a single glance, it pierced the meteor's golden shell, seeing the soul within.
In an instant, the meteor's trajectory shifted, pulled irresistibly into this new universe. Its arrival was like an unprecedented note joining a grand symphony, adding a touch of nimble unpredictability to the world's timeless music.
…
"Hello? Sir, are you awake?"
A gentle voice slowly pulled him from the depths of a profound sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a dense, green forest canopy against a clear blue sky. The second thing he saw was a man—a very short man—peering down at him with a worried expression.
He felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Wasn't he just sleeping in his bed at home? Why was he lying on the grass in the middle of a forest? And who was this stranger?
His mind was a whirlwind of questions, and the most immediate one slipped out.
"Who… who are you?"
"Oh! I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins, at your service, sir," the small man replied politely.
Bilbo Baggins? The name sounded incredibly familiar.
Suddenly, a realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief. How was he able to understand this man perfectly? The language they were speaking felt as natural to him as his own mother tongue, flowing from his lips without a single thought.
Startled, he scrambled to his feet and found that Mr. Baggins barely came up to his waist.
A dwarf? No, that wasn't quite right.
Looking closer, he saw that the little fellow had subtly pointed ears. His wide, bare feet were covered in thick, curly brown hair, with tough, leathery soles. This was no race he had ever seen in his own world.
But that name… Bilbo Baggins. An absurd, impossible guess formed in his mind.
"You're a hobbit?!" he exclaimed.
The simple hobbit just nodded sincerely. "Of course."
"Then where is this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Why, you're in the Shire! Hobbiton, to be precise, sir."
His heart sank. It was true. All of it.
My God, what in the world happened? One moment he was falling asleep, the next he'd been thrown across time and space into one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable.
This was a land of orcs and trolls, of elves and ancient evils. A world where wizards who were practically demigods walked the earth, where dragons slept on mountains of gold and Balrogs slumbered in the deep. Beyond them were the Valar, the god-like guardians of the world, and even the creator god, Ilúvatar, himself.
How could an ordinary person possibly survive here? This wasn't just a challenge; it was hell-difficulty from the very start.
Bilbo watched the man's expression shift rapidly from confusion to terror to despair, like a canvas being painted by a mad artist. He cautiously took a few steps back. This big fellow seemed… a little unstable. But as a kind and decent hobbit, he couldn't just leave someone in distress.
"Uh, sir? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied with a bitter smile, trying to get a grip on himself. "I just… can't find my way home."
"You're lost, then?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "Perhaps you could buy a map in town? I hear they sell maps of the lands beyond the Shire."
He shook his head, a genuine wave of despair washing over him. "My home is very, very far away. So far, I don't think I'll ever see it again."
Bilbo looked completely bewildered, unable to grasp the kind of distance the man was talking about. But seeing the profound loneliness and sadness clouding the stranger's face, the kind-hearted hobbit felt a pang of sympathy and fumbled for a way to comfort him.
"Well, um, sir… I mean… perhaps you'd like to come to my home for a bit?"
He looked up, a flicker of surprise cutting through his sorrowful expression. Being stared at so intensely made Bilbo feel a little awkward.
"It's just, we don't get many outsiders here in the Shire," the hobbit stammered. "If you have nowhere else to go, you could stay with me for a few days. Just until you get your bearings."
Immediately, a look of immense gratitude spread across the man's face, and he eagerly accepted. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins. Thank you for your kindness. You are a truly good person!"
Bilbo flushed, embarrassed by the praise. "It's nothing, really. Well then, please follow me, sir."
With that, he shouldered his fishing rod—which was more than twice his height—picked up his bucket of fish, and started leading the way.
Walking behind the hobbit, the man let the sad expression fall from his face, replaced by a quiet sigh of relief. While his emotions had been genuine, he had certainly exaggerated them for Bilbo's benefit. He needed to gain the hobbit's sympathy, to secure shelter. After all, he was utterly alone in this strange, new world. If no one took him in, he'd be sleeping in the wilderness, vulnerable to dangers he couldn't even imagine.
Besides, as far as he knew, Bilbo Baggins was, in a sense, one of the main characters of this world's epic saga. Sticking close to him would surely provide more opportunities and choices for whatever came next.
They followed a winding path past quaint hobbit-holes. The homes were just as he'd imagined: burrowed into the sides of green hills, with round, brightly painted wooden doors and lovely gardens bursting with colorful flowers. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.
The hobbits they passed peeked over their garden fences, curiously eyeing the tall human following Bilbo. Uncharacteristically, Bilbo didn't stop to greet his neighbors, instead quickening his pace ever so slightly. The man, however, didn't mind the stares at all, offering friendly smiles and nods to the curious hobbits.
Soon, they arrived at a particularly fine hobbit-hole at the end of the lane. A wooden sign on the gate read: "Bag End." This was Bilbo Baggins' home. Its garden was immaculate, clearly tended to with great care and pride.
"I apologize, sir, I forgot to ask your name," Bilbo said as he unlocked his round, green door. "What should I call you?"
"My name is…" he began, but as he was about to say his old name, a strange jolt went through his mind. A new name, foreign yet familiar, surfaced from nowhere and tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.
"...Alden."
Alden? Where did that come from? he thought, stunned. It felt as if that had always been his name.
Bilbo didn't notice his guest's internal shock. "Alright then, Alden. Please mind your head when you come in," he said, walking inside. "As you can see, we hobbits don't build for the stature of Big Folk."
"Bang!"
Distracted, Alden walked straight into a low-hanging wooden beam. He yelped, clutching his forehead in pain.
"Oh dear! Mr. Alden, are you alright?" Bilbo asked, a hint of a suppressed smile on his face.
"I'm fine!" Alden grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. He had no time to ponder the mystery of his new name. This hobbit-hole was clearly not designed for someone of his height, and he was forced to stoop as he moved, constantly wary of hitting his head again.
Deciding to worry about it later, he found a chair and carefully sat down. Bilbo bustled straight into the kitchen to prepare something for his unexpected guest.
As Alden sat there, taking in the cozy, cluttered room, a transparent panel of text materialized in the air before him.
[The Traveler's System: Location registered: The Shire - Hobbiton - Bag End.] [Would you like to check in?]
Alden stared, his jaw dropping. "What the hell is that?!"
From the kitchen, Bilbo's head popped out. "Is something the matter, Mr. Alden?"
"No… nothing at all!" Alden stammered, quickly shaking his head as he realized the hobbit couldn't see the strange message floating in front of him.
In the silent, chaotic void between worlds, a golden meteor streaked across the fabric of countless universes, blazing a trail toward the unknown depths. As it passed by one particularly magnificent reality, a supreme will from within cast its gaze outward. The will was ancient and vast, carrying with it a celestial melody—sacred, majestic, and absolute.
With but a single glance, it pierced the meteor's golden shell, seeing the soul within.
In an instant, the meteor's trajectory shifted, pulled irresistibly into this new universe. Its arrival was like an unprecedented note joining a grand symphony, adding a touch of nimble unpredictability to the world's timeless music.
…
"Hello? Sir, are you awake?"
A gentle voice slowly pulled him from the depths of a profound sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a dense, green forest canopy against a clear blue sky. The second thing he saw was a man—a very short man—peering down at him with a worried expression.
He felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Wasn't he just sleeping in his bed at home? Why was he lying on the grass in the middle of a forest? And who was this stranger?
His mind was a whirlwind of questions, and the most immediate one slipped out.
"Who… who are you?"
"Oh! I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins, at your service, sir," the small man replied politely.
Bilbo Baggins? The name sounded incredibly familiar.
Suddenly, a realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief. How was he able to understand this man perfectly? The language they were speaking felt as natural to him as his own mother tongue, flowing from his lips without a single thought.
Startled, he scrambled to his feet and found that Mr. Baggins barely came up to his waist.
A dwarf? No, that wasn't quite right.
Looking closer, he saw that the little fellow had subtly pointed ears. His wide, bare feet were covered in thick, curly brown hair, with tough, leathery soles. This was no race he had ever seen in his own world.
But that name… Bilbo Baggins. An absurd, impossible guess formed in his mind.
"You're a hobbit?!" he exclaimed.
The simple hobbit just nodded sincerely. "Of course."
"Then where is this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Why, you're in the Shire! Hobbiton, to be precise, sir."
His heart sank. It was true. All of it.
My God, what in the world happened? One moment he was falling asleep, the next he'd been thrown across time and space into one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable.
This was a land of orcs and trolls, of elves and ancient evils. A world where wizards who were practically demigods walked the earth, where dragons slept on mountains of gold and Balrogs slumbered in the deep. Beyond them were the Valar, the god-like guardians of the world, and even the creator god, Ilúvatar, himself.
How could an ordinary person possibly survive here? This wasn't just a challenge; it was hell-difficulty from the very start.
Bilbo watched the man's expression shift rapidly from confusion to terror to despair, like a canvas being painted by a mad artist. He cautiously took a few steps back. This big fellow seemed… a little unstable. But as a kind and decent hobbit, he couldn't just leave someone in distress.
"Uh, sir? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied with a bitter smile, trying to get a grip on himself. "I just… can't find my way home."
"You're lost, then?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "Perhaps you could buy a map in town? I hear they sell maps of the lands beyond the Shire."
He shook his head, a genuine wave of despair washing over him. "My home is very, very far away. So far, I don't think I'll ever see it again."
Bilbo looked completely bewildered, unable to grasp the kind of distance the man was talking about. But seeing the profound loneliness and sadness clouding the stranger's face, the kind-hearted hobbit felt a pang of sympathy and fumbled for a way to comfort him.
"Well, um, sir… I mean… perhaps you'd like to come to my home for a bit?"
He looked up, a flicker of surprise cutting through his sorrowful expression. Being stared at so intensely made Bilbo feel a little awkward.
"It's just, we don't get many outsiders here in the Shire," the hobbit stammered. "If you have nowhere else to go, you could stay with me for a few days. Just until you get your bearings."
Immediately, a look of immense gratitude spread across the man's face, and he eagerly accepted. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins. Thank you for your kindness. You are a truly good person!"
Bilbo flushed, embarrassed by the praise. "It's nothing, really. Well then, please follow me, sir."
With that, he shouldered his fishing rod—which was more than twice his height—picked up his bucket of fish, and started leading the way.
Walking behind the hobbit, the man let the sad expression fall from his face, replaced by a quiet sigh of relief. While his emotions had been genuine, he had certainly exaggerated them for Bilbo's benefit. He needed to gain the hobbit's sympathy, to secure shelter. After all, he was utterly alone in this strange, new world. If no one took him in, he'd be sleeping in the wilderness, vulnerable to dangers he couldn't even imagine.
Besides, as far as he knew, Bilbo Baggins was, in a sense, one of the main characters of this world's epic saga. Sticking close to him would surely provide more opportunities and choices for whatever came next.
They followed a winding path past quaint hobbit-holes. The homes were just as he'd imagined: burrowed into the sides of green hills, with round, brightly painted wooden doors and lovely gardens bursting with colorful flowers. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.
The hobbits they passed peeked over their garden fences, curiously eyeing the tall human following Bilbo. Uncharacteristically, Bilbo didn't stop to greet his neighbors, instead quickening his pace ever so slightly. The man, however, didn't mind the stares at all, offering friendly smiles and nods to the curious hobbits.
Soon, they arrived at a particularly fine hobbit-hole at the end of the lane. A wooden sign on the gate read: "Bag End." This was Bilbo Baggins' home. Its garden was immaculate, clearly tended to with great care and pride.
"I apologize, sir, I forgot to ask your name," Bilbo said as he unlocked his round, green door. "What should I call you?"
"My name is…" he began, but as he was about to say his old name, a strange jolt went through his mind. A new name, foreign yet familiar, surfaced from nowhere and tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.
"...Alden."
Alden? Where did that come from? he thought, stunned. It felt as if that had always been his name.
Bilbo didn't notice his guest's internal shock. "Alright then, Alden. Please mind your head when you come in," he said, walking inside. "As you can see, we hobbits don't build for the stature of Big Folk."
"Bang!"
Distracted, Alden walked straight into a low-hanging wooden beam. He yelped, clutching his forehead in pain.
"Oh dear! Mr. Alden, are you alright?" Bilbo asked, a hint of a suppressed smile on his face.
"I'm fine!" Alden grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. He had no time to ponder the mystery of his new name. This hobbit-hole was clearly not designed for someone of his height, and he was forced to stoop as he moved, constantly wary of hitting his head again.
Deciding to worry about it later, he found a chair and carefully sat down. Bilbo bustled straight into the kitchen to prepare something for his unexpected guest.
As Alden sat there, taking in the cozy, cluttered room, a transparent panel of text materialized in the air before him.
[The Traveler's System: Location registered: The Shire - Hobbiton - Bag End.] [Would you like to check in?]
Alden stared, his jaw dropping. "What the hell is that?!"
From the kitchen, Bilbo's head popped out. "Is something the matter, Mr. Alden?"
"No… nothing at all!" Alden stammered, quickly shaking his head as he realized the hobbit couldn't see the strange message floating in front of him.
In the silent, chaotic void between worlds, a golden meteor streaked across the fabric of countless universes, blazing a trail toward the unknown depths. As it passed by one particularly magnificent reality, a supreme will from within cast its gaze outward. The will was ancient and vast, carrying with it a celestial melody—sacred, majestic, and absolute.
With but a single glance, it pierced the meteor's golden shell, seeing the soul within.
In an instant, the meteor's trajectory shifted, pulled irresistibly into this new universe. Its arrival was like an unprecedented note joining a grand symphony, adding a touch of nimble unpredictability to the world's timeless music.
…
"Hello? Sir, are you awake?"
A gentle voice slowly pulled him from the depths of a profound sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a dense, green forest canopy against a clear blue sky. The second thing he saw was a man—a very short man—peering down at him with a worried expression.
He felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Wasn't he just sleeping in his bed at home? Why was he lying on the grass in the middle of a forest? And who was this stranger?
His mind was a whirlwind of questions, and the most immediate one slipped out.
"Who… who are you?"
"Oh! I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins, at your service, sir," the small man replied politely.
Bilbo Baggins? The name sounded incredibly familiar.
Suddenly, a realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief. How was he able to understand this man perfectly? The language they were speaking felt as natural to him as his own mother tongue, flowing from his lips without a single thought.
Startled, he scrambled to his feet and found that Mr. Baggins barely came up to his waist.
A dwarf? No, that wasn't quite right.
Looking closer, he saw that the little fellow had subtly pointed ears. His wide, bare feet were covered in thick, curly brown hair, with tough, leathery soles. This was no race he had ever seen in his own world.
But that name… Bilbo Baggins. An absurd, impossible guess formed in his mind.
"You're a hobbit?!" he exclaimed.
The simple hobbit just nodded sincerely. "Of course."
"Then where is this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Why, you're in the Shire! Hobbiton, to be precise, sir."
His heart sank. It was true. All of it.
My God, what in the world happened? One moment he was falling asleep, the next he'd been thrown across time and space into one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable.
This was a land of orcs and trolls, of elves and ancient evils. A world where wizards who were practically demigods walked the earth, where dragons slept on mountains of gold and Balrogs slumbered in the deep. Beyond them were the Valar, the god-like guardians of the world, and even the creator god, Ilúvatar, himself.
How could an ordinary person possibly survive here? This wasn't just a challenge; it was hell-difficulty from the very start.
Bilbo watched the man's expression shift rapidly from confusion to terror to despair, like a canvas being painted by a mad artist. He cautiously took a few steps back. This big fellow seemed… a little unstable. But as a kind and decent hobbit, he couldn't just leave someone in distress.
"Uh, sir? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied with a bitter smile, trying to get a grip on himself. "I just… can't find my way home."
"You're lost, then?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "Perhaps you could buy a map in town? I hear they sell maps of the lands beyond the Shire."
He shook his head, a genuine wave of despair washing over him. "My home is very, very far away. So far, I don't think I'll ever see it again."
Bilbo looked completely bewildered, unable to grasp the kind of distance the man was talking about. But seeing the profound loneliness and sadness clouding the stranger's face, the kind-hearted hobbit felt a pang of sympathy and fumbled for a way to comfort him.
"Well, um, sir… I mean… perhaps you'd like to come to my home for a bit?"
He looked up, a flicker of surprise cutting through his sorrowful expression. Being stared at so intensely made Bilbo feel a little awkward.
"It's just, we don't get many outsiders here in the Shire," the hobbit stammered. "If you have nowhere else to go, you could stay with me for a few days. Just until you get your bearings."
Immediately, a look of immense gratitude spread across the man's face, and he eagerly accepted. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins. Thank you for your kindness. You are a truly good person!"
Bilbo flushed, embarrassed by the praise. "It's nothing, really. Well then, please follow me, sir."
With that, he shouldered his fishing rod—which was more than twice his height—picked up his bucket of fish, and started leading the way.
Walking behind the hobbit, the man let the sad expression fall from his face, replaced by a quiet sigh of relief. While his emotions had been genuine, he had certainly exaggerated them for Bilbo's benefit. He needed to gain the hobbit's sympathy, to secure shelter. After all, he was utterly alone in this strange, new world. If no one took him in, he'd be sleeping in the wilderness, vulnerable to dangers he couldn't even imagine.
Besides, as far as he knew, Bilbo Baggins was, in a sense, one of the main characters of this world's epic saga. Sticking close to him would surely provide more opportunities and choices for whatever came next.
They followed a winding path past quaint hobbit-holes. The homes were just as he'd imagined: burrowed into the sides of green hills, with round, brightly painted wooden doors and lovely gardens bursting with colorful flowers. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.
The hobbits they passed peeked over their garden fences, curiously eyeing the tall human following Bilbo. Uncharacteristically, Bilbo didn't stop to greet his neighbors, instead quickening his pace ever so slightly. The man, however, didn't mind the stares at all, offering friendly smiles and nods to the curious hobbits.
Soon, they arrived at a particularly fine hobbit-hole at the end of the lane. A wooden sign on the gate read: "Bag End." This was Bilbo Baggins' home. Its garden was immaculate, clearly tended to with great care and pride.
"I apologize, sir, I forgot to ask your name," Bilbo said as he unlocked his round, green door. "What should I call you?"
"My name is…" he began, but as he was about to say his old name, a strange jolt went through his mind. A new name, foreign yet familiar, surfaced from nowhere and tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.
"...Alden."
Alden? Where did that come from? he thought, stunned. It felt as if that had always been his name.
Bilbo didn't notice his guest's internal shock. "Alright then, Alden. Please mind your head when you come in," he said, walking inside. "As you can see, we hobbits don't build for the stature of Big Folk."
"Bang!"
Distracted, Alden walked straight into a low-hanging wooden beam. He yelped, clutching his forehead in pain.
"Oh dear! Mr. Alden, are you alright?" Bilbo asked, a hint of a suppressed smile on his face.
"I'm fine!" Alden grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. He had no time to ponder the mystery of his new name. This hobbit-hole was clearly not designed for someone of his height, and he was forced to stoop as he moved, constantly wary of hitting his head again.
Deciding to worry about it later, he found a chair and carefully sat down. Bilbo bustled straight into the kitchen to prepare something for his unexpected guest.
As Alden sat there, taking in the cozy, cluttered room, a transparent panel of text materialized in the air before him.
[The Traveler's System: Location registered: The Shire - Hobbiton - Bag End.] [Would you like to check in?]
Alden stared, his jaw dropping. "What the hell is that?!"
From the kitchen, Bilbo's head popped out. "Is something the matter, Mr. Alden?"
"No… nothing at all!" Alden stammered, quickly shaking his head as he realized the hobbit couldn't see the strange message floating in front of him.
In the silent, chaotic void between worlds, a golden meteor streaked across the fabric of countless universes, blazing a trail toward the unknown depths. As it passed by one particularly magnificent reality, a supreme will from within cast its gaze outward. The will was ancient and vast, carrying with it a celestial melody—sacred, majestic, and absolute.
With but a single glance, it pierced the meteor's golden shell, seeing the soul within.
In an instant, the meteor's trajectory shifted, pulled irresistibly into this new universe. Its arrival was like an unprecedented note joining a grand symphony, adding a touch of nimble unpredictability to the world's timeless music.
…
"Hello? Sir, are you awake?"
A gentle voice slowly pulled him from the depths of a profound sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a dense, green forest canopy against a clear blue sky. The second thing he saw was a man—a very short man—peering down at him with a worried expression.
He felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Wasn't he just sleeping in his bed at home? Why was he lying on the grass in the middle of a forest? And who was this stranger?
His mind was a whirlwind of questions, and the most immediate one slipped out.
"Who… who are you?"
"Oh! I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins, at your service, sir," the small man replied politely.
Bilbo Baggins? The name sounded incredibly familiar.
Suddenly, a realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief. How was he able to understand this man perfectly? The language they were speaking felt as natural to him as his own mother tongue, flowing from his lips without a single thought.
Startled, he scrambled to his feet and found that Mr. Baggins barely came up to his waist.
A dwarf? No, that wasn't quite right.
Looking closer, he saw that the little fellow had subtly pointed ears. His wide, bare feet were covered in thick, curly brown hair, with tough, leathery soles. This was no race he had ever seen in his own world.
But that name… Bilbo Baggins. An absurd, impossible guess formed in his mind.
"You're a hobbit?!" he exclaimed.
The simple hobbit just nodded sincerely. "Of course."
"Then where is this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Why, you're in the Shire! Hobbiton, to be precise, sir."
His heart sank. It was true. All of it.
My God, what in the world happened? One moment he was falling asleep, the next he'd been thrown across time and space into one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable.
This was a land of orcs and trolls, of elves and ancient evils. A world where wizards who were practically demigods walked the earth, where dragons slept on mountains of gold and Balrogs slumbered in the deep. Beyond them were the Valar, the god-like guardians of the world, and even the creator god, Ilúvatar, himself.
How could an ordinary person possibly survive here? This wasn't just a challenge; it was hell-difficulty from the very start.
Bilbo watched the man's expression shift rapidly from confusion to terror to despair, like a canvas being painted by a mad artist. He cautiously took a few steps back. This big fellow seemed… a little unstable. But as a kind and decent hobbit, he couldn't just leave someone in distress.
"Uh, sir? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied with a bitter smile, trying to get a grip on himself. "I just… can't find my way home."
"You're lost, then?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "Perhaps you could buy a map in town? I hear they sell maps of the lands beyond the Shire."
He shook his head, a genuine wave of despair washing over him. "My home is very, very far away. So far, I don't think I'll ever see it again."
Bilbo looked completely bewildered, unable to grasp the kind of distance the man was talking about. But seeing the profound loneliness and sadness clouding the stranger's face, the kind-hearted hobbit felt a pang of sympathy and fumbled for a way to comfort him.
"Well, um, sir… I mean… perhaps you'd like to come to my home for a bit?"
He looked up, a flicker of surprise cutting through his sorrowful expression. Being stared at so intensely made Bilbo feel a little awkward.
"It's just, we don't get many outsiders here in the Shire," the hobbit stammered. "If you have nowhere else to go, you could stay with me for a few days. Just until you get your bearings."
Immediately, a look of immense gratitude spread across the man's face, and he eagerly accepted. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins. Thank you for your kindness. You are a truly good person!"
Bilbo flushed, embarrassed by the praise. "It's nothing, really. Well then, please follow me, sir."
With that, he shouldered his fishing rod—which was more than twice his height—picked up his bucket of fish, and started leading the way.
Walking behind the hobbit, the man let the sad expression fall from his face, replaced by a quiet sigh of relief. While his emotions had been genuine, he had certainly exaggerated them for Bilbo's benefit. He needed to gain the hobbit's sympathy, to secure shelter. After all, he was utterly alone in this strange, new world. If no one took him in, he'd be sleeping in the wilderness, vulnerable to dangers he couldn't even imagine.
Besides, as far as he knew, Bilbo Baggins was, in a sense, one of the main characters of this world's epic saga. Sticking close to him would surely provide more opportunities and choices for whatever came next.
They followed a winding path past quaint hobbit-holes. The homes were just as he'd imagined: burrowed into the sides of green hills, with round, brightly painted wooden doors and lovely gardens bursting with colorful flowers. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.
The hobbits they passed peeked over their garden fences, curiously eyeing the tall human following Bilbo. Uncharacteristically, Bilbo didn't stop to greet his neighbors, instead quickening his pace ever so slightly. The man, however, didn't mind the stares at all, offering friendly smiles and nods to the curious hobbits.
Soon, they arrived at a particularly fine hobbit-hole at the end of the lane. A wooden sign on the gate read: "Bag End." This was Bilbo Baggins' home. Its garden was immaculate, clearly tended to with great care and pride.
"I apologize, sir, I forgot to ask your name," Bilbo said as he unlocked his round, green door. "What should I call you?"
"My name is…" he began, but as he was about to say his old name, a strange jolt went through his mind. A new name, foreign yet familiar, surfaced from nowhere and tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.
"...Alden."
Alden? Where did that come from? he thought, stunned. It felt as if that had always been his name.
Bilbo didn't notice his guest's internal shock. "Alright then, Alden. Please mind your head when you come in," he said, walking inside. "As you can see, we hobbits don't build for the stature of Big Folk."
"Bang!"
Distracted, Alden walked straight into a low-hanging wooden beam. He yelped, clutching his forehead in pain.
"Oh dear! Mr. Alden, are you alright?" Bilbo asked, a hint of a suppressed smile on his face.
"I'm fine!" Alden grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. He had no time to ponder the mystery of his new name. This hobbit-hole was clearly not designed for someone of his height, and he was forced to stoop as he moved, constantly wary of hitting his head again.
Deciding to worry about it later, he found a chair and carefully sat down. Bilbo bustled straight into the kitchen to prepare something for his unexpected guest.
As Alden sat there, taking in the cozy, cluttered room, a transparent panel of text materialized in the air before him.
[The Traveler's System: Location registered: The Shire - Hobbiton - Bag End.] [Would you like to check in?]
Alden stared, his jaw dropping. "What the hell is that?!"
From the kitchen, Bilbo's head popped out. "Is something the matter, Mr. Alden?"
"No… nothing at all!" Alden stammered, quickly shaking his head as he realized the hobbit couldn't see the strange message floating in front of him.
In the silent, chaotic void between worlds, a golden meteor streaked across the fabric of countless universes, blazing a trail toward the unknown depths. As it passed by one particularly magnificent reality, a supreme will from within cast its gaze outward. The will was ancient and vast, carrying with it a celestial melody—sacred, majestic, and absolute.
With but a single glance, it pierced the meteor's golden shell, seeing the soul within.
In an instant, the meteor's trajectory shifted, pulled irresistibly into this new universe. Its arrival was like an unprecedented note joining a grand symphony, adding a touch of nimble unpredictability to the world's timeless music.
…
"Hello? Sir, are you awake?"
A gentle voice slowly pulled him from the depths of a profound sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a dense, green forest canopy against a clear blue sky. The second thing he saw was a man—a very short man—peering down at him with a worried expression.
He felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Wasn't he just sleeping in his bed at home? Why was he lying on the grass in the middle of a forest? And who was this stranger?
In the silent, chaotic void between worlds, a golden meteor streaked across the fabric of countless universes, blazing a trail toward the unknown depths. As it passed by one particularly magnificent reality, a supreme will from within cast its gaze outward. The will was ancient and vast, carrying with it a celestial melody—sacred, majestic, and absolute.
With but a single glance, it pierced the meteor's golden shell, seeing the soul within.
In an instant, the meteor's trajectory shifted, pulled irresistibly into this new universe. Its arrival was like an unprecedented note joining a grand symphony, adding a touch of nimble unpredictability to the world's timeless music.
…
"Hello? Sir, are you awake?"
A gentle voice slowly pulled him from the depths of a profound sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a dense, green forest canopy against a clear blue sky. The second thing he saw was a man—a very short man—peering down at him with a worried expression.
He felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Wasn't he just sleeping in his bed at home? Why was he lying on the grass in the middle of a forest? And who was this stranger?
His mind was a whirlwind of questions, and the most immediate one slipped out.
"Who… who are you?"
"Oh! I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins, at your service, sir," the small man replied politely.
Bilbo Baggins? The name sounded incredibly familiar.
Suddenly, a realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief. How was he able to understand this man perfectly? The language they were speaking felt as natural to him as his own mother tongue, flowing from his lips without a single thought.
Startled, he scrambled to his feet and found that Mr. Baggins barely came up to his waist.
A dwarf? No, that wasn't quite right.
Looking closer, he saw that the little fellow had subtly pointed ears. His wide, bare feet were covered in thick, curly brown hair, with tough, leathery soles. This was no race he had ever seen in his own world.
But that name… Bilbo Baggins. An absurd, impossible guess formed in his mind.
"You're a hobbit?!" he exclaimed.
The simple hobbit just nodded sincerely. "Of course."
"Then where is this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Why, you're in the Shire! Hobbiton, to be precise, sir."
His heart sank. It was true. All of it.
My God, what in the world happened? One moment he was falling asleep, the next he'd been thrown across time and space into one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable.
This was a land of orcs and trolls, of elves and ancient evils. A world where wizards who were practically demigods walked the earth, where dragons slept on mountains of gold and Balrogs slumbered in the deep. Beyond them were the Valar, the god-like guardians of the world, and even the creator god, Ilúvatar, himself.
How could an ordinary person possibly survive here? This wasn't just a challenge; it was hell-difficulty from the very start.
Bilbo watched the man's expression shift rapidly from confusion to terror to despair, like a canvas being painted by a mad artist. He cautiously took a few steps back. This big fellow seemed… a little unstable. But as a kind and decent hobbit, he couldn't just leave someone in distress.
"Uh, sir? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied with a bitter smile, trying to get a grip on himself. "I just… can't find my way home."
"You're lost, then?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "Perhaps you could buy a map in town? I hear they sell maps of the lands beyond the Shire."
He shook his head, a genuine wave of despair washing over him. "My home is very, very far away. So far, I don't think I'll ever see it again."
Bilbo looked completely bewildered, unable to grasp the kind of distance the man was talking about. But seeing the profound loneliness and sadness clouding the stranger's face, the kind-hearted hobbit felt a pang of sympathy and fumbled for a way to comfort him.
"Well, um, sir… I mean… perhaps you'd like to come to my home for a bit?"
He looked up, a flicker of surprise cutting through his sorrowful expression. Being stared at so intensely made Bilbo feel a little awkward.
"It's just, we don't get many outsiders here in the Shire," the hobbit stammered. "If you have nowhere else to go, you could stay with me for a few days. Just until you get your bearings."
In the silent, chaotic void between worlds, a golden meteor streaked across the fabric of countless universes, blazing a trail toward the unknown depths. As it passed by one particularly magnificent reality, a supreme will from within cast its gaze outward. The will was ancient and vast, carrying with it a celestial melody—sacred, majestic, and absolute.
With but a single glance, it pierced the meteor's golden shell, seeing the soul within.
In an instant, the meteor's trajectory shifted, pulled irresistibly into this new universe. Its arrival was like an unprecedented note joining a grand symphony, adding a touch of nimble unpredictability to the world's timeless music.
…
"Hello? Sir, are you awake?"
A gentle voice slowly pulled him from the depths of a profound sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a dense, green forest canopy against a clear blue sky. The second thing he saw was a man—a very short man—peering down at him with a worried expression.
He felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Wasn't he just sleeping in his bed at home? Why was he lying on the grass in the middle of a forest? And who was this stranger?
His mind was a whirlwind of questions, and the most immediate one slipped out.
"Who… who are you?"
"Oh! I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins, at your service, sir," the small man replied politely.
Bilbo Baggins? The name sounded incredibly familiar.
Suddenly, a realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief. How was he able to understand this man perfectly? The language they were speaking felt as natural to him as his own mother tongue, flowing from his lips without a single thought.
Startled, he scrambled to his feet and found that Mr. Baggins barely came up to his waist.
A dwarf? No, that wasn't quite right.
Looking closer, he saw that the little fellow had subtly pointed ears. His wide, bare feet were covered in thick, curly brown hair, with tough, leathery soles. This was no race he had ever seen in his own world.
But that name… Bilbo Baggins. An absurd, impossible guess formed in his mind.
"You're a hobbit?!" he exclaimed.
The simple hobbit just nodded sincerely. "Of course."
"Then where is this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Why, you're in the Shire! Hobbiton, to be precise, sir."
His heart sank. It was true. All of it.
My God, what in the world happened? One moment he was falling asleep, the next he'd been thrown across time and space into one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable.
This was a land of orcs and trolls, of elves and ancient evils. A world where wizards who were practically demigods walked the earth, where dragons slept on mountains of gold and Balrogs slumbered in the deep. Beyond them were the Valar, the god-like guardians of the world, and even the creator god, Ilúvatar, himself.
How could an ordinary person possibly survive here? This wasn't just a challenge; it was hell-difficulty from the very start.
Bilbo watched the man's expression shift rapidly from confusion to terror to despair, like a canvas being painted by a mad artist. He cautiously took a few steps back. This big fellow seemed… a little unstable. But as a kind and decent hobbit, he couldn't just leave someone in distress.
"Uh, sir? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied with a bitter smile, trying to get a grip on himself. "I just… can't find my way home."
"You're lost, then?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "Perhaps you could buy a map in town? I hear they sell maps of the lands beyond the Shire."
He shook his head, a genuine wave of despair washing over him. "My home is very, very far away. So far, I don't think I'll ever see it again."
Bilbo looked completely bewildered, unable to grasp the kind of distance the man was talking about. But seeing the profound loneliness and sadness clouding the stranger's face, the kind-hearted hobbit felt a pang of sympathy and fumbled for a way to comfort him.
"Well, um, sir… I mean… perhaps you'd like to come to my home for a bit?"
He looked up, a flicker of surprise cutting through his sorrowful expression. Being stared at so intensely made Bilbo feel a little awkward.
"It's just, we don't get many outsiders here in the Shire," the hobbit stammered. "If you have nowhere else to go, you could stay with me for a few days. Just until you get your bearings."