I groaned as I rolled out of bed, arms and back aching despite my rest. Still, I forced myself up and dressed in the same clothes I'd worn every day for the past three and a half months before exiting and locking my room behind me.
I ate a quick meal of poached eggs with a mead to wash it down at the Prancing Pony's bar before leaving the inn and making for the forge I was currently working at. "Another day, another dollar," I whispered tiredly to myself with a sigh.
A few people I passed nodded to me, while others regarded me with a level of wariness they didn't bother giving to their fellows. I understood, as I was a stranger. Still, I figured my work ethic would've earned me at least a little respect.
I, Henry Smythe, am something of an anomaly in Middle Earth. Not in the grand scheme of things, because there are many like me, but I am unique in this particular universe. It is rather lonely to think about, at times, but I've come to terms with it. I have the opportunity of a lifetime, after all. A very, very long lifetime.
I've always been a bit of a craftsman, you see? Ever since I was a kid, I enjoyed working with my hands - creating things. This hobby followed me into adulthood, when I met my unfortunate demise.
Yup, I've died before. A classic case of reincarnation, following a traumatic accident. In my case, my father thought it would be funny to place a 'fake' claymore in front of my door when I was visiting him and my mother. Long story short, it wasn't fake, and I woke up an instant later in an old man's bed. Talk about a rude awakening. It only took a few questions to determine my location - Bree, year 2746 of the Third Age, on Middle Earth.
Yeah, I was in Lord of the Rings about 273 years before the Fellowship of the Ring takes place, and 195 years before the quest to reclaim Erebor from Smaug. In other words, it would be a while before I got to participate in anything huge.
Why was I so certain I would? I was only a human, after all, and not of Dùnedain blood, so how could I possibly see such events? Because I'm special, of course. At least, I am since I was transmigrated.
I glanced down at my hand, whereupon a ring was worn. Irremovable by any means, which was fortunate for me given its importance.
There exists a concept in 'other world' fiction. That of a 'cheat' held by a main character or a class of characters that allows them to take the lead, regardless of racial, social, or class discrepancies. And I, my friends, happened to be in possession of one.
A seemingly-ordinary ring on my finger, made of black stone with an onyx line around the center. No, it's not a ring of power, though I suppose it could be considered a 'powerful ring'. It gave me a power archetype that would easily class me as a powerhouse in a world like Arda, even if it didn't fit the setting.
I rubbed my thumb along it, and an image filled my mind.
[Skills]
It turned my life into a video game.
Nodding upon seeing the progress I had made, I rubbed the ring again and the image vanished from my mind.
Indeed, by simply rubbing the ring, the onyx line would begin to glow with a purple light and images would be projected into my head. Ones of screens and dropdowns - all with the purpose of making me more powerful. Those I currently had access to were the [Skills], [Shop], [Inventory], and [Magic] menus. Each was relatively self-explanatory, but I'll explain them anyways.
The [Skills] menu kept track of my worldly skills, but only of the craftsmanship variety. Carpentry, sewing, smithing, tanning, drawing, cooking, calligraphy, programming- those kinds of things. I had done a decent amount of everything in my past life, so most of my crafting skills were at least C-Tier, which was average. Smithing and sewing were actually B-Tier.
Skills were ranked from F-Tier, which was equivalent to zero knowledge of a subject, to S-Tier, which represents absolute mastery. The concept of cultivating my crafting skills seemed to be the basis of my ring's power, so I called it the Ring of Formation.
The [Shop] menu allowed me to sell anything for a number of 'credits' which I could then use to purchase stuff from Arda and Earth, so long as it wasn't too complex. I couldn't purchase a copy of the One Ring, for instance, nor could I buy carbon nanotubes. Pure carbon and other elements at reasonable prices. At least, I assumed they were reasonable.
There were other things, too, of course, like an artifact called a Fire-Taker, which sampled fire and could reproduce it upon command in small quantities.
The [Inventory] was just like from a video game, allowing me to store things in a pocket space beyond the reach of anyone else. The weight I could carry was the only limitation, which was entirely dependent on how much magic I channeled into the ability. It was a constant sap on my maximum throughput, limiting how much magic I could channel if only by a little. I could increase or decrease this sap if I needed to carry more or less, up to my own discretion.
That brings us to the [Magic] menu, which was basically a skill tree for magical abilities. I could spend credits - the same ones from the shop - to purchase abilities like
There was also
I arrived at the smithy and didn't bother checking with the owner, simply looking at the list on the table and getting to work. I heated some things in the forge and sharpened others on a grindstone. When the metal was hot, I would pound it into shape, and work a handle in the lathe while waiting for the metal to reheat.
My already-aching body would only pain me more as I labored in the forge for several hours before sitting down on a log bench for a break. Waving my hand, a loaf of bread appeared therein, fresh and soft; quickly devoured in my hunger.
I could do some interesting stuff with my ring, but it all relied upon credits. I had tried a few methods of earning credits in the couple weeks I had been in Bree; collecting herbs in the forest around the town, selling currency earned through odd jobs; buying knick-knacks from passers-by and selling those; but nothing paid more than things I made myself. This all but confirmed the purpose of my ring, so I found my way to the nearest smithy and started helping them out.
Once I had proven my skill, I was able to work out a deal that would have me complete a quota of whatever they needed from me that day before I was allowed to use the forge for whatever I wanted. I had to use my own materials, of course, but I still made a major profit.
Every day, I would pound out a few horseshoes, sharpen some pickaxes and axes, and make some nails for my employers before taking out a 1-lbs iron bar I bought from my ring's shop and turning it into five or six throwing knives. Each one would sell for forty credits, which would buy me another two iron bars for 100 credits each.
According to my mental math, this made the exchange rate between credits and Castars 200:1. I compared this to the price of a 1-lbs ingot of gold, and was surprised to see it only cost 5,000 credits. A Castar was a decent amount of money for a peasant, though.
I got up after sufficiently resting and took out my own materials to get to work, making my knives as I usually did.
Three ingots turned into sixteen knives, all of which sold to the shop for 640 credits making for 340 in profit. That, minus whatever I would spend on food and lodging, was my average day for the past two months.
[Credits: 20,127]
That was the fruit of my labor. Sixty days of grueling work, for this. Why was I saving up so much? To set up a base of operations, of course. I would need a workshop of my own, if I wanted to get anything done, and as much as I liked Bree… it stunk like shit everywhere.
Personally, I prefer to be someone calmer - more green when I do my crafts. I like a medieval town as much as the next guy, but Bree isn't where I'd prefer to cultivate my power. So, I bought everything I needed for a trip, and left Bree behind, heading for the ideal place for me.
The Shire.