Chapter 1: Sign-in to the Shire
In the boundless void of chaos, where time and space lost all meaning, a golden meteor streaked across the darkness. It carried with it a soul from countless universes away, moving at a speed that defied comprehension, as if fleeing something—or being summoned.
As the meteor passed by a vast and magnificent universe, a supreme will within the cosmos slowly turned its gaze upon it.
Music followed.
Sacred, majestic, and ancient beyond measure, the melody resonated through the fabric of existence itself. It was the Great Music—the harmony that had shaped stars, worlds, and destiny. Within that harmony, every note had its place.
Yet now, something unfamiliar had appeared.
With a single glance, the supreme will perceived the truth of the golden meteor. It did not belong to this universe, nor to its original design. It was an outsider—an anomaly.
And so, the melody shifted.
The meteor's trajectory changed abruptly, as if seized by an invisible hand, and it was drawn irresistibly into this universe. A new note echoed through the Great Music—faint, discordant, yet full of potential. It added a spark of liveliness to the otherwise solemn symphony, like an unexpected improvisation in an ancient composition.
Then, darkness.
"Hey, sir, wake up!"
The voice was soft but urgent.
Robert stirred, consciousness returning in fragments. His head felt heavy, as though he had slept far too long. Slowly, he opened his eyes.
Green.
That was the first thing he noticed—endless green. Towering trees, lush grass, and sunlight filtering gently through leaves swaying in the breeze. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of earth and plants.
He was lying on the ground.
Startled, Robert pushed himself up slightly and froze. Standing a short distance away was a small figure, looking at him with open concern.
"Are you alright, sir?" the figure asked.
Robert blinked, his thoughts sluggish. He was supposed to be at home—sleeping in his bed. Why was he outdoors? And who was this stranger?
Suppressing his confusion, he spoke instinctively.
"Who are you?"
The small person hesitated for a moment, then replied politely, "I'm Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins, sir."
Bilbo Baggins.
The name struck something deep in Robert's mind.
Before he could process it fully, another realization hit him even harder.
He understood every word.
That alone should have been impossible. His English had barely been passable back in school, yet now the words sounded as natural as his native tongue. Even more disturbingly, when he spoke, he spoke the same language—fluently, effortlessly, as if he had known it all his life.
Heart pounding, Robert sat up and finally took a proper look at the person in front of him.
Bilbo was less than half his height.
At first glance, Robert wondered if he was a dwarf—but that didn't seem right. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the figure's slightly pointed ears, round face, and large bare feet, thick with calluses and covered in light fur.
This was no human race he had ever seen.
A ridiculous yet unavoidable conclusion formed in his mind.
"You're… a Hobbit?" Robert asked carefully.
Bilbo's eyes widened slightly, and he nodded with simple sincerity. "Yes. That's right."
Robert's heart sank.
"Then where is this place?" he asked, already dreading the answer.
"This is the Shire," Bilbo replied. "Hobbiton, in the Shire."
That was it.
Any lingering hope Robert had vanished completely.
Good heavens—this wasn't a dream.
He had transmigrated.
And not just anywhere, but into Middle-earth.
A world filled with Orcs, Trolls, Elves, and Dwarves. A world where Wizards walked openly, where Dragons slept atop mountains of gold, where Balrogs lurked in the depths, and where beings like the Maiar and Valar—creatures bordering on divinity—shaped the fate of the world.
And above them all was Ilúvatar, the Creator Himself.
How was an ordinary man supposed to survive here?
This was nothing short of a nightmare—hell-difficulty mode from the very beginning.
Bilbo watched the tall human before him as his expressions shifted rapidly, from shock to despair to silent dread. The Hobbit unconsciously took a few steps back.
This fellow… he seems a bit unstable, Bilbo thought.
Still, Hobbits were kind by nature, and Bilbo in particular couldn't bring himself to abandon someone who looked so lost.
"Uh… sir?" Bilbo said gently. "Are you feeling alright?"
Robert forced a smile, though bitterness crept into his eyes. "I'm fine. I just… can't find my way home."
"You're lost?" Bilbo asked in surprise. "If that's the case, you could buy a map in the village. They sell maps that go beyond the Shire."
Robert shook his head slowly. "My home is very far away. So far that I may never be able to return in this lifetime."
Bilbo stared at him blankly, unable to imagine such a distance. Yet the loneliness in Robert's voice was unmistakable, and it stirred something in the Hobbit's heart.
"Well… um…" Bilbo hesitated, rubbing his hands together. "If you have nowhere else to go, perhaps you'd like to be my guest for a few days?"
Robert looked up sharply, genuine surprise flashing across his face.
Bilbo grew flustered under the gaze. "You see, we don't get many outsiders in the Shire. And… well, it wouldn't be right to leave you alone."
Relief washed over Robert.
"Thank you, Mr. Bilbo Baggins," he said sincerely. "You're truly a good person."
Bilbo coughed awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by the praise. "Ahem—then please, follow me."
He slung his fishing rod—nearly twice his own height—over his shoulder, picked up his bucket, and began leading the way.
Walking behind him, Robert let out a quiet sigh of relief.
His sorrow earlier hadn't been entirely fake, but he had indeed exaggerated it. Alone in an unfamiliar world, survival came first. Gaining Bilbo's sympathy and shelter was the most reasonable choice.
More importantly, Bilbo Baggins was—by all definitions—a protagonist of this world. Staying close to him meant opportunity.
As they walked along the winding path, Hobbit holes appeared on both sides. The houses were built into hills, with grassy roofs, round wooden doors painted in soft colors, and vibrant gardens blooming with flowers. They looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.
Hobbits peeked out curiously, whispering among themselves as they saw the tall human following Bilbo. Bilbo, unusually quiet, avoided eye contact and quickened his pace.
Robert, however, smiled and nodded cheerfully at anyone who looked his way.
Soon, they arrived at a well-kept hill at the end of the road. A wooden sign hung by the gate, bearing two simple words:
Bag End
"This is my home," Bilbo said.
The garden was neat and lovingly maintained. As Bilbo opened the round door, he suddenly remembered something.
"Oh! I forgot to ask—what is your name, sir?"
"My name is Robert—er…"
Suddenly, another name surfaced in Robert's mind, and before he could stop himself, he spoke it aloud.
"Robier."
The name felt natural, as though it had always belonged to him.
Robert was shaken. When had this happened? Had the world itself altered his identity?
Bilbo noticed nothing unusual. "Alright then, Mr. Robier. Please mind your head when you come in. Humans are much taller than us."
"Bang!"
Robert slammed his head directly into the doorframe.
Clutching his head, he groaned in pain.
"Oh dear! Are you alright?" Bilbo asked, trying—and failing—to hide a laugh.
"I'm fine," Robert muttered, rubbing his head.
Bending low, he entered the Hobbit hole, careful with every step. Giving up on thinking too deeply about his situation, he found a seat and collapsed into it.
Bilbo disappeared into the kitchen to prepare refreshments.
Then—
A translucent panel suddenly appeared before Robert's eyes.
[Hogwarts Sign-in System detected]
[Location: Shire – Hobbiton – Bag End]
[Do you wish to sign in?]
"What the hell?!" Robert exclaimed.
Bilbo poked his head out. "Is something wrong, Mr. Robier?"
"N-nothing!" Robert said quickly, shaking his head.
The panel remained, glowing softly.
Robert stared at it, his heartbeat quickening.
In this dangerous world…
He wasn't alone after all.
FOR MORE CHAPTERS
patreon.com/Johnybairstow