He woke up.
He woke up in Central Park with a huge bump on his forehead.
"Where am I?" he shouted. It was pointless to have shouted this. He shook his head from side to side, taking in the scene, and then got up off the grass.
Nobody had paid any attention to him while he was asleep in the middle of Central Park. Once he had shouted, though, everybody had stopped to glance angrily in his direction. He looked around at everybody's stares and shrugged it off, walking casually out of Central Park and becoming a shadow amongst the myriad buildings.
He thought about what had happened. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it got.
"I had armies of darkness, magical artifacts, and the Ringwraiths. How the hell did I get beaten by someone named Frodo and the dimwitted bad luck of that blasted Gollum?" He kicked the side of a building, and it hurt his foot. He cried out in unexpected pain and began limping along his aimless path.
"So this is it, then. I'm a Man, and it's much later. This isn't Middle-Earth. It doesn't matter, though. I will conquer this Earth and overrun it once more with my armies of darkness! Now, how to begin..."