Baggins?
Bilbo Baggins?
Eric blinked in stunned silence.
No way. Could it really be that much of a coincidence?
Case closed. No wonder that wooden chest looked so familiar.
Wasn't that... his mother's old dowry chest?
Hissss—
Eric squinted at Bilbo.
This poor, unsuspecting hobbit had no idea what sort of chaos was heading for his cozy little home.
Nor could he know that his mother's chest would someday become a makeshift footstool for a sweaty dwarf.
Suddenly, Eric felt the mischief bubbling up in his chest.
He stepped back to the doorway, straightened his posture, and gave a formal bow.
"Eric, at your service."
The words carried the proper tone of an official visit.
Caught off guard, Bilbo blinked in surprise before hurriedly adjusting his vest and bowing in return.
"Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family's."
With the formalities complete, Eric stepped into the hobbit's warm and inviting home.
He had to admit—hobbits might very well have a hoarding gene. His eyes were immediately drawn to a mountain of food and drink stockpiled at the back of the room.
Enough provisions to host a banquet for thirteen dwarves. Easily.
"Make yourself at home, Eric," Bilbo said warmly. "Tea is at four, but I don't mind starting a bit early. Would you care for some sausage and bread?"
Hobbit hospitality wasn't a myth.
Even if Eric's visit had come with... unconventional origins, Bilbo treated him with the warm welcome of an old friend.
"That sounds perfect. I'll leave it to the chef's recommendation." Eric nodded graciously.
"Chef's recommendation? Ha, well, alright then."
Bilbo chuckled, scratched his head, and made his way into the pantry. Moments later, he returned with a string of sausages and a heaping plate of bread rolls stacked like a carb-based fortress.
Eric watched with interest as Bilbo sliced the sausages and set them beside a small iron pan.
The stove was modest, clearly made for someone Bilbo's size—just tall enough to reach comfortably without standing on tiptoe.
"You're interested in cooking?" Bilbo's voice floated over as Eric leaned in curiously.
Taking the hint, Eric stepped aside to let the hobbit get to work.
"This pan's been in my family for generations. A proper piece of cookware, if you ask me."
Ssszzzzt—
The sausages hit the hot pan with a satisfying sizzle, sending a few flecks of oil dancing into the air.
There was a brief pause. Eric didn't say anything, and maybe the silence felt a little awkward, because Bilbo continued, hands on his hips:
"I take pride in my cooking, I'll have you know. Whether it's frying, roasting, or boiling—I learned it all from my mum."
He gave the sausages a quick flip. The underside was already golden and glistening, releasing a savory, mouth-watering aroma.
Grrrrgl.
Eric's stomach let out a loud protest.
Gulp.
He swallowed his saliva.
After a few more minutes, Bilbo plated a perfectly seared sausage and sprinkled a dash of pepper on top.
Just as Eric opened his mouth to ask if he could sneak a bite—
[Ding!]
A translucent screen appeared before his eyes.
[Function Unlocked: Recipe Log]
[You have learned a new recipe: Pan-Fried Sausage]
You can now view craftable items. Your Recipe Log will automatically update based on materials and items you encounter.
Huh?
A Recipe Log?
Clink.
The plate hit the table in front of him, snapping Eric out of his trance.
"You look like you haven't eaten in days," Bilbo said, pushing the dish toward him with a warm smile.
"Thank you."
Eric sniffled—whether from hunger or emotion, it wasn't entirely clear.
Then he devoured the sausage in record time. So fast, in fact, that Bilbo hadn't even made it back to the stove before the plate was wiped clean.
Hunger: +2 (out of 10)
"Bilbo," Eric said, licking the last of the seasoning from his lips. "Would you mind if I gave it a try? Cooking, I mean."
Bilbo paused, clearly surprised by the request.
"Oh! Well, sure, I suppose. Be my guest."
He stepped aside, gesturing for Eric to take the helm.
Eric leaned over the pan and grasped the handle, a bit unsure of what to do next.
Just then, another floating window popped up in front of him:
[Cooking Tutorial Activated]
Step 1: Select a recipe
Step 2: Prepare ingredients
Step 3: Lock in utensils
Step 4: Begin cooking
Normally, cooking was an art form, full of nuance—timing, temperature, seasoning. But for Eric, armed with a system interface, this was less like crafting a dish and more like operating a high-tech forge.
SSZZZZZ—
The sausages sizzled in the pan.
Eric stood completely still, barely breathing. He didn't fidget, didn't blink. He looked, frankly, like he was buffering.
As the sausage edges began to crisp, Bilbo opened his mouth to offer a warning—
—but then Eric's arm moved with uncanny precision. The pan tilted, flicked, and the sausage flipped cleanly through the air before landing back in place.
That flip...
Bilbo stared in awe.
This man—he's a professional, isn't he?
Maybe. Better watch a little more.
Flip—
Another perfect motion. The sausage now gleamed with a golden crust, little rivulets of oil shimmering on its surface. Eric added a finishing touch—just a pinch of fine salt, scattered evenly across the top.
The heat coaxed the salt into a gentle melt, blending with the fat and pepper in a flavor harmony.
Bilbo stared, mouth watering, as Eric placed the finished sausage on a clean plate and presented it.
"Bon appétit," Eric said with a calm smile.
Bilbo carved into it.
Steam puffed out. The inside was cooked just right—juicy, tender, no dry bits anywhere.
He took a bite.
Boom.
It was as if a fireworks show had gone off in his mouth. Meat, seasoning, the faint crunch of seared casing, and that subtle sprinkle of salt—it all combined in an explosion of flavor.
So hot it brought tears to his eyes.
So good he couldn't bear to exhale.
It was… divine.
Perfect maturity. Perfect flavor balance. That tiny bit of salt elevated the dish into an entirely new realm of deliciousness.
Perfection.
Bilbo stood up so fast he knocked his chair backwards.
He stood at attention.
"Eric, my dear sir—this is the single best sausage I have ever eaten in my life!"
"You flatter me." Eric nodded modestly, though he looked puzzled.
To him, it felt like this was just… system-generated food. Like a premade dish heated up with extra steps.
But in truth—technology was never a bad word.
"No, Eric, I mean it. I've eaten these sausages for years, but today—it's like tasting them for the first time. I didn't know they could be this good!"
"Oh?"
Eric raised an eyebrow. That sounded... promising.
Time to verify.
Sizzle—
He tossed a few more sausages onto the pan, plated them with care, and took a bite.
Then another.
And another.
Eric slowly set down the fork and knife, turned to Bilbo with a smile, and nodded.
His mouth twitched.
Holy hell. This is incredible.
Did I really just cook this?