LOTR: Bringing an MC System to Middle-Earth

"This is iron."

"This is a stick."

"This is... a pickaxe."

Clang.

An iron pickaxe materialized on the crafting bench with a soft metallic snap. Bard stared at it, jaw dropping in disbelief.

"How... how did you do that?"

"You could think of it as my own personal brand of magic," Eric replied casually.

"Magic. Right. Of course. Magic. If we can make tools like that, we can start dozens of projects overnight!"

Bard adapted quickly, perhaps too quickly. The word magic was a universal balm for confusion. If Eric had tried to explain the concept of crafting grids, block mechanics, or the absurd logic of redstone circuitry, Bard's brain probably would've folded in on itself. But call it magic? Suddenly it all made sense.

Bard turned the pickaxe over in his hands, eyes wide with wonder.

He'd known Eric could do many strange things. The man could fly, summon potions that healed wounds in seconds, and had once casually dropped red blocks that exploded like a battalion of angry trolls. But this… tool-making ability? This was new.

"If we can make any tool instantly... won't blacksmiths be out of a job?" Bard asked, the thought catching him off guard. "Does forging even matter anymore?"

"It still does," Eric replied with a nod. "To make something, people still need to know how to make it. The crafting grid responds to knowledge and intent, not just ingredients. Think of it like... magical intuition. Most villagers won't be able to whip up advanced gear without learning the process first."

"Ah, I think I get it," Bard said thoughtfully. Then he paused. "Wait. Did you say villagers?"

"Yeah."

Eric casually tossed a few materials onto the ground. "That's actually why I'm here."

Bard blinked. "You mean... everyone can use this 'magic'?"

"They can."

Eric led him down toward the pumpkin fields near the edge of town, where the land had been partially cleared after repairing the portal site. Once there, he began to demonstrate.

"First lesson," Eric said. "Farming."

"These pumpkins," Bard said, kneeling to inspect one of the blocky, oversized gourds, "they grow... fast. In fact, I've never seen anything grow this fast. Even in the dead of winter, they don't wither. This single plot alone could feed all of Dale and the Lake-town settlements."

"True. But it's not enough."

Eric reached into his ender chest and pulled out a handful of unfamiliar seeds, planting them right there on the spot. He sprinkled bone meal over them and within seconds, they bloomed into full crops.

Bard was speechless. His jaw worked, but no sound came out.

"Cold-resistant... rapid-maturing... I've only ever heard of crops like these in ancient fairy tales. Magic seeds?"

"You could call them that."

Eric handed Bard a small bundle. "They mature every three days, need no warm weather, and grow as long as there's water nearby."

Bard clutched the seeds like sacred relics. Having gone hungry in his youth, he understood better than anyone what this meant. Hunger wasn't just a burden. It was the start of chaos. Empty bellies made people desperate. Desperate people stopped listening to reason.

"You're sure we can use these?" Bard asked, voice trembling with hope.

"Not just you. Everyone can. Though... they'll need tools."

Eric dropped a new crafting bench and assembled several farming tools with fluid ease. As he worked, he explained the recipes, how to gather materials, and how to handle block movement and storage.

Once Bard had followed through the basics and tried a few combinations himself, Eric stepped back and said, "Alright. You've learned to farm and break blocks. Now, call the townsfolk. It's time to start rebuilding the territory."

Bard's face froze. "Wait. Now?"

"You've got this."

"I... may need a minute."

A sly voice piped up from behind a nearby stable.

"Master Bard, allow me to help!"

"Alfrid?" Bard turned. "What are you doing here?"

"Naturally, I've been standing by for orders, should either you or our noble Lord Eric require assistance."

Alfrid strode forward with exaggerated politeness, bowing low before Eric.

Eric raised an eyebrow, and the man immediately flinched, bowing deeper, his nose nearly brushing the ground.

Eric didn't exactly dislike Alfred, but he certainly didn't care. Indifference might have been the better word.

Bard sighed and waved a hand dismissively. "He's... complicated. Yes, he embezzled town funds. Yes, he used to work for the old Mayor of Lake-town. But credit where it's due — the man's a competent clerk, and during the rebuilding efforts, he's actually helped quite a bit."

"A few months back, people were ready to string him up," Bard added grimly. "But after everything we've been through — the dragon, the war — I figured it was time we started learning something from all this."

Bard gestured toward Alfrid, who stood stiffly behind him like a man afraid to breathe.

"I told him, if he was willing to dedicate his life to making amends, he and any future kin could live here as normal citizens."

"We're not like you, Eric," Bard said quietly. "You, Gandalf, those who walk with power... you have choices we can't even imagine. But for people like me, like Alfrid, even the lowliest peasant in town — we're all just trying to survive in our own flawed ways."

Eric listened in silence. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.

"Mercy is a virtue. Just don't waste it on your enemies."

He glanced at Alfrid, then turned back to Bard.

"I trust your judgment. It's your call to make. But allow me to correct one thing."

"Even so-called 'nobodies' can shift the course of history. Never underestimate the power of a common man with resolve."

Bard gave him a long look, then exhaled with a relieved smile.

"You know, you and Gandalf have this uncanny habit of leaving people speechless."

"You're grouping me in with Gandalf?"

"Well, he does talk a lot."

Eric smirked. "True."

Bard chuckled, but his gaze shifted again to Alfred.

"He can't be a guide, right?"

Eric pointed toward the crafting bench. "Nope. His reputation score is below zero. He can't use any of the system's features until he's earned his place back."

"Understood. I'll keep him on a short leash."

"See that you do."