Transmigrate to the world of The Lord of the Rings?

[General POV]

In the vast cosmic universe, a spatial rift tore through the fabric of created space, opening wide. From it, a simple and diminutive light shot forth like a bullet. This light, imbued with an entity beyond comprehension, wandered through the boundless expanse of space.

Its destination? Unknown. It traveled like a nascent meteor, passing planets, stars, pulsars, quasars, galaxies, and countless other creations. The sheer velocity of its movement warped space itself.

A strange phenomenon, first noticed by that entity beyond understanding, the one who had shaped all according to its will, creating and destroying at whim. Would this being allow the intruding light to exist within its universe? Initially, such a thing would have been impossible.

An aberration not of its own making! Or so it would have claimed, had it not sensed its essence within that light.

Eru Ilúvatar, as he named himself, the Creator, the Alpha and Omega, immediately perceived this singularity. Why did his essence permeate that soul? Yes, that resplendent light was a soul, foreign to this universe yet, paradoxically, his offspring. Why? The answer was simple. In this universe, he was known as Eru; in another, Yahweh, the name revealed to one of his creations.

Indeed, Eru Ilúvatar was all and none at once. Across the vast multiverses, he was the sole being aware of his alternate forms, a being that encompassed all. And now, a soul, one of his children from another universe, had crossed over.

What would he do? The logical answer was clear: Eru loved all his creations. How could he leave this soul to its fate? In his infinite power, he added a new verse to his Song of Creation.

Although it might seem incongruous for Eru to allow an anomaly within his established Song, his inscrutable designs held a purpose for this foreign soul.

In one universe, the Song of Creation had reached its end. So, what would happen if a verse were altered? He had foreseen it from the moment this celestial verse entered his Song, its beginning, its course, and its conclusion.

"No theme shall be played that does not have its source in me. None may alter the Music against my will; those who try shall be but instruments for creating wonders beyond their own imagining."

Once spoken to Melkor, these words were now echoed to Varda, who, in her fear of this variable in destiny, prayed for answers regarding the great Creator's plans.

And so, like Moses, Elijah, Enoch, David, and Solomon, this soul would become the unconscious messenger of Yahweh's will, though now under a different name, now called Eru Ilúvatar.

----

Now, that soul had landed in Arda with the Creator's aid. The destiny of countless creations, elves, men, dwarves, shifted, a change that unsettled and alarmed Vala Mandos, the lord of eternal rest.

Only Varda, closest to Eru's grace, could partially understand what her Creator intended. The Valar, once indifferent to the happenings of Middle-earth, would now have to turn their attention to this land once more.

But such matters were not the concern of this newly arrived soul, which had now fully regained its brilliance. Buried memories had awakened, adding an imperishable radiance to its shining star-like soul.

Now embodied in the form of a young man of barely 20 years, he possessed an athletic build akin to a peak-condition athlete,vvisible even through his clothing,vand an ethereal beauty, as if blessed by the touch of the elves from birth.

This young man sat calmly on the trunk of a felled tree, gazing at the flames of his makeshift campfire. The fire offered little light, as the night was rendered even darker by his surroundings,va dense forest teeming with vibrant green leaves that blocked the moonlight from illuminating even the faintest glimpse of his vision.

Around him, little could be seen. The campfire barely lit what was necessary, creating a heavy atmosphere that would make anyone else tremble.

Yet, this young man remained unfazed, his face barely illuminated, displaying his ethereal beauty, a face that had brought him much trouble since childhood. In his amber-colored eyes, a piece of meat was reflected in his pupils.

That piece of meat, skewered on a branch, was slowly cooking. To his right, a resplendent silver sword rested beside him, an ever-present companion since childhood. He knew nothing of its origin or why he felt such a profound connection to it.

Yet its magical quality was its ability to warn of nearby danger or hostility, as it was doing now. That silvery-white glow, like moonlight, revealed yellow eyes lurking in the forest's shadows. The movement caught the young man's attention, who, with great composure, turned his gaze toward those watchful yellow eyes.

The glowing eyes slowly approached the young man, who, in response, rose to his feet. Like a seasoned warrior, he assumed a stance of his own creation—one that allowed for agility and lethal precision.

Gradually, the creatures lurking in the darkness revealed their forms as the brilliant light of the young human's sword pierced the gloom.

Wolves! And not just one, an entire pack of five! These beasts of the night had been drawn by the faint light of the campfire and the fragrant aroma of cooking meat, which had reached their keen noses, guiding them straight to the source of that delectable scent.

There was little suspense. Being the wild animals they were, the wolves pounced as soon as they had surrounded the human, a strategy they always employed when hunting their prey. But would this human prove to be easy prey? Absolutely not.

The first wolf to leap, its jaws wide open to bite, was effortlessly cut down by the young man's swift and lethal movement. With unmatched grace, he shifted just a few inches to the side, dodging and delivering a mortal blow.

The scene enraged and humiliated the remaining wolves. But do not mistake them for ordinary wolves, no! To this young man, these wolves were far more intelligent than the ones he remembered.

After all, he had concluded long ago that he was no longer on Earth, given the cunning he had observed in many of the creatures he had encountered during his journey.

In the dark, the only visible motion was the glimmer of his resplendent silver-white sword, shining like moonlight. With each swing, the anguished cries of the wolves filled the air, a masterful dance, as some might describe it if they had witnessed his skill with the blade.

It did not take long for the pack of wolves, now lifeless on the ground, to cease being a threat to the young man. Once known as Jonathan, now called Aldril, he calmly returned to his seat on the dry tree trunk.

"Damn annoying wolves!" the young man muttered, noticing his piece of venison lying on the ground, dirtied and useless.

Irritation marked his expression as he rose, heading toward the carcass of the deer not far from him. The wolves would have feasted on it had they managed to defeat Aldril! Unfortunately for them, they had chosen the wrong target.

Their survival instincts had failed them; the young man exuded an air of calm that could easily be mistaken for harmlessness.

Meanwhile, in the distance, an old man in a gray robe rode leisurely on horseback. Was he not worried about being attacked by the beasts that hunted in the night? Of course not.

Those creatures were not foolish enough to challenge him. Despite his harmless appearance, the old man emanated a presence akin to that of a seasoned hunter, a presence so imposing that their instincts forbade them from approaching.

"Let's see... the bright star leads me here. But why?" the old man mused aloud, gazing at the star-filled sky. The swaying leaves of the trees seemed to come alive, parting to grant him an unobstructed view of the heavens. Among the stars, one shone brighter than usual, beckoning him to follow.

It didn't take long for him to uncover the reason. Ahead, a faint light from a campfire briefly illuminated the night.

The old man smiled unconsciously, though he didn't fully understand why his lady had guided him here. Still, it was fortuitous, this place wasn't far from his intended destination.

On the other side, Aldril, ever alert, heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The crunch of dry leaves underfoot did not deceive him.

Turning halfway around, though still seated, he raised an eyebrow at the sight of the old man on horseback. He felt a flicker of recognition but couldn't place the man, prompting him to instinctively rest his hand closer to his sword.

The old man noticed the gesture and smiled faintly, adjusting his pointed hat. "Good evening, young man. I hope the presence of an old wanderer doesn't trouble you," he said, observing the youth's silence.

Assuming the young man was waiting for an introduction, the old man continued with his characteristic smile. "My name is Gandalf. It's a pleasure to meet you."

'Shit' 

Aldril thought, his mind racing at the mention of the name. Of course, he knew who this was! 'I'm screwed.'