Unless I myself can time travel, it must be assumed that I am completely irresponsible for any of the materials contained in here from either The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or Doctor Who. With that said, if I was to be offered either a ride in the TARDIS, a Telephone Booth or the DeLorean to fix that problem, then I probably wouldn't say no. I hope you enjoy this expedition anyways!

There were dwarves everywhere in what had been, up until that moment, the tidy and neat residence of a Mister Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. Though he did indeed live in a hole under the ground it was a hobbit-hole and a hobbit-hole meant, above all else, comfort and hospitality. The hospitalities of Mr. Baggins, however, were being strained to their limits. There were only four or five dwarves there at the moment, but to Bilbo it felt like a herd of twenty. Certainly, they were noisy enough to be twenty, what with all their clomping about as they pilfered Bilbo's pantries and stomped a thick layer of mud firmly into his carpets. And, to top it all off, they had completely taken over his dining room and were filling it with every last chair in his house (most of which, Bilbo fretted, were antiques!).

Knock, knock.

That was different, Bilbo thought to himself as he scrambled past the towering dwarves (being a hobbit, he found himself looking up to them rather than down at them like most people do) as he hurried off towards the door. The other guests of what was proving to be a completely unexpected disaster of a party, had rung the bell, not knocked. He squeezed past a few more dwarves and, when he had arrived at his door, jerked it open in frustration.

There were thumpings and groanings as a huge number of dwarves literally fell at his feet in a tangled mess of beards, chainmail and cursing. Bilbo gasped and jumped back, nearly falling over himself.

But, there was yet another surprise awaiting him, still standing just outside the doorway. Standing, however, wasn't really the right word. Stooping was. There was someone dressed in blue robes, stooping down to have a look inside the hobbit's house. Upon seeing the robes, Bilbo had at first guessed that this man must be a wizard, like Gandalf, but there was something about him that flatly stated that this was impossible. Though the man had a staff and certainly wore the garbs which Bilbo had come to associate with wizards, his face was all wrong for the part. It was young, pale, and beardless, containing a delightful smile and an over-awed expression.

Just as Bilbo had determined that this man could not possibly be a wizard, the young man's green eyes met those of the hobbit's, and Bilbo knew instantly that the stranger was not all that he seemed. The man's young face and dark hair, for all their efforts, could not hide the ancient quality of his eyes. They were eyes that could easily have witnessed both the rise and fall of the great elven kingdom of Gondolin.

"Hello Bilbo Baggins of the Shire," he said, his voice and grin carrying a deceivingly boyish quality. "I'm the Doctor."

Behind the odd man and also wearing a blue robe and carrying a staff, was a pretty young woman with dark brown hair and eyes. She smiled. "Hello, Bilbo."

"Oh," said the man, following Bilbo's gaze. "And this is Clara. We're the Blue Wizards."

"Sorry," said Bilbo, now eyeing the Doctor with confusion. "Who?"

"The Blue Wizards!" exclaimed the man brightly. "The ones you never, ever get to meet in the series, but who are always said to be there in the background. Well, we're it, the Blue Wizards that's us. Clara and the Doctor."

The one calling himself the Doctor fetched from the pouch at his side what appeared to be a very legal document. "See, there we are. It's got Gandalf's signature and everything."

"Where is Gandalf?"

"He was… delayed." answered the Doctor hesitantly. "Not able to make it on the trip, see, owing to a sudden unexpected dip in health. We're here to take his place."

"Take his place on what?"

"On the adventure, silly!"

"Adventure?!" Bilbo cried.

"Are you seriously going to stand there all day repeating back to me whatever I say or are you going to invite us in?" asked the Doctor a trifle irritated. "As much as we enjoy the company of your very well-tended snapdragons, we were actually hoping to come inside at some point. Weren't we, Clara?"

"Oh, yes, definitely," the girl replied. "We'd love to see what you've done with the place."

Still baffled, Bilbo wordlessly gestured for the dwarves and 'wizards' to come in. The dwarves, who had already fallen in earlier without such an invitation, got up and, still grumbling, hung up their cloaks and walked into the dining room to join their kin. The Doctor and Clara, however, took their time in the hall. While Clara busied herself in small talk with Bilbo, occasionally pointing out some detail of décor and asking the small hobbit questions about it, the Doctor was pointing his staff all over the room. Occasionally, he would check the odd green crystal at the top of it and mutter a word or two to himself, frowning.

The doorbell rang.

All conversations died instantly and Bilbo looked up at the ceiling, his shoulders sagging. "Who could that be, another dwarf?" he muttered quietly.

"Not just any old dwarf," said the Doctor, suddenly looking up from the end of his staff. "The dwarf. The one that everyone's been waiting for. He is here."

Though Clara could barely distinguish one bearded dwarf from the next (much like she hadn't been able to with their film counterparts), the dwarf whom Bilbo was now ushering in had an oddly distinctive quality about him. He was tall, for a dwarf, and bore himself with the utmost authority (believing, she was sure, as all leaders do that no one could ever question him). But leadership was clearly beginning to show its signs of wear and tear on him. There were premature streaks of silver that had begun taking over his dark hair and his face held the sloping folds above his browline that any person earns from making critical decisions daily. Even before he had introduced himself to the room at large, Clara knew that this dwarf could only be Thorin Oakenshield.

"What kept you, laddie?" cried the white haired dwarf who had just emerged from the dining room.

"I was waiting for Gandalf at The Green Dragon, but he did not come," said Thorin Oakenshield haughtily. "I had to find my way here on my own. Where is that wizard? Surely he has not forgotten our agreement so quickly."

"Ah, right, sorry. Knew I was forgetting something there." said the Doctor regretfully, passing his staff from hand to hand. "Okay, so not quite like the movie and possibly not entirely like the book either. Ohh-kay…."

Thorin's eyes narrowed as he peered at the Doctor. "Who is this bumbling fool? Must I now meddle in the affairs of a common half-wit as well as those of a late wizard?"

The Doctor gave him a pained look. "Well, he isn't exactly late, just a bit on the maimed side of things. But to answer your second question, yes, you get me, which might initially appear to be your first insult but actually is much more like your second one."

"I have no time for the riddles of a fool. Tell me, where is Gandalf?" Thorin huffed. "If you have done something to hurt our wizard –"

"No, no, I would never do anything like that," replied the Doctor quickly, "At least, not intentionally. It wasn't really even my fault Clara, was it?"

"No," said Clara, who was standing near the Doctor. "We had no idea he was there…."

"Or, for that matter that we were here either." added the Doctor. "Really, if it's anyone's fault, it's the TARDIS'. Funny thing about the TARDIS is that she can sense life-forms and intentionally not land on them."

"I am not asking about this – this 'tardis' of which you speak," growled Thorin, advancing on the Doctor now. "I am asking about Gandalf the wizard."

"Well, I was just getting to that," explained the Doctor. "See, the TARDIS doesn't land on anything that it can detect as living, but there's something odd about this place and –"

Thorin rolled his eyes. "And what?"

"And she made a mistake." the Doctor finished lamely, clapping his hands together. "Honestly though, I've never had this happen before. I'm in complete shock about it. Sorry. As, for lack of a better phrase, 'a form of penance', Clara and I will be serving as your wizard guides instead. Isn't that great?"

"I do not believe this nonsense. Where is Gandalf now? Answer me!" roared Thorin, standing in front of the Doctor, his fists clenched. The Doctor, however, being far taller, merely looked down at the dwarf and shrugged.

"He's currently with the elves, the Lothlorien ones I think. It's kind of hard to tell where you are when you've suddenly landed in the middle of a meeting. Dropped him off there for some emergency medical care and then came straight here for the party."

"And when will the real wizardbe ready to join us, then?" asked Thorin contemptuously.

"Oh, soon. Very soon," the Doctor nodded, putting on a smile. "Durin's Day. Course, that's if he's lucky. Really, to have survived having something like the TARDIS landing on you is frankly a miracle in and of itself. But he should be fine… eventually."

"But, hang on a moment," said Bilbo. "I just saw him yesterday, around tea time. He was fine. More than fine really, he was very irritable and going on about an adventure."

The Doctor, still smiling, turned to Bilbo. "Ah, well, funny thing is that we sort of arrived here yesterday after tea time. Like I said, it was very much a surprise to all involved. Though, I'm afraid to say that it was a bit more of an unpleasant kind of surprise for Gandalf than it was for us."

"Anyway," continued the Doctor, pulling out his psychic paper just as he had for Bilbo at the front door. "He did remember to send us to this expectedly unexpected party that Bilbo is hosting. It says here, as I'm sure you can see, that Gandalf sends his sincerest apologies and says that he has the uttermost confidence in our abilities to help you on your quest."

"He sends us a man who openly admits to having grievously injured him to lead us in his place?"

"No," replied the Doctor, now very serious. "He sends you the only man who can help you with this quest who only just happened to hit him on the way in. You may have needed Gandalf before, but now, more than ever you need me."

Thorin laughed bitterly at this. "You are no more a wizard than this hobbit is a burglar."

"You think so?" said the Doctor. "Bilbo, fetch me a candle. If I'm going to have to prove to this dwarf lord that I am no mere charlatan, then I might as well do it properly." the Doctor reached up, apparently to straighten his bowtie, but his fingers only found the neck of his blue robe. He quickly made to adjust that instead.

Clara watched as Bilbo, now mouthing the word burglar and not finding it to his liking, went off to fetch a candle. Upon his return the Doctor made to smugly straighten up his coat, but his fingers only found the front of his robes. He grunted irritably, instead straightening out his belt roughly.

"Curse these robes," he muttered to himself before turning to his dwarven audience once more. "Watch and learn Thorin, son of Thrain."

The Doctor touched the tip of his staff, where he housed his Sonic Screwdriver, to the candlewick and closed his eyes, muttering complete gibberish to himself. Clara could hear the faint hum of the Sonic Screwdriver and then a flame appeared atop the candle.

Bilbo tried to jump back from the candle he was still holding while the dwarves began whispering eagerly amongst themselves. The Doctor looked back at the still silent Thorin, smiling with self-satisfaction. "Now do you believe me master dwarf?"

"No," answered Thorin in quiet defiance.

"And you don't have to," said the Doctor simply. "But you need me, so here I am whether you like it or not. And I already know all about your quest to reclaim Erebor, so it's better that you let me come of your own free will than having me trail behind you and saving you whenever you lot get into trouble – which seems to happen quite often to you now that I think about it."

Thorin stared coldly at the Doctor before at last grunting in defeat. "Alright, we shall do it your way for now."

"I thought as much," answered the Doctor, smirking. "Wise decision, if I do say so myself."

As the dwarves adjourned to Bilbo's dining room, Clara stayed for a moment in the hall with the Doctor.

"That was a neat little party trick you did there," she whispered conversationally. Or at least she tried to. Clara silently cursed the nervous tremor which had entered her voice. "It seems to have convinced most of them."

"Like I said I'm no mere charlatan," answered the Doctor, absorbed once more by his Sonic Screwdriver. "Ordinary charlatans look like complete idiots next to me."

"Speaking of tricks and acts," Clara continued, clearing her throat. "How long are we actually planning to stay here?"

"For as long as it takes," said the Doctor. "The TARDIS is stuck here, not that I really even know where 'here' is yet. That's the problem. It shouldn't exist and, according to the Sonic Screwdriver, it doesn't. So where are we?"

"It's just that," Clara hesitated, nearing the true reason for her conversation. "It's just that I don't think I can be very helpful to you here."

The Doctor stopped staring at his Screwdriver and turned to Clara, giving her a comforting smile. "Oh, you'll do fine, Clara. You always do."

Clara bit her lip, finally deciding to take the plunge. "I've only ever watched the movies once and I never even finished reading The Hobbit. I barely know anything about this place."

The Doctor's comforting smile hung there for a moment in his shock. "What? How could you possibly have missed that?" he finally managed. "Weren't all of the movies and big presses for The Lord of the Rings coming out during your childhood?"

"I was really much more interested in reading a different series at the time the whole Lord of the Rings hullaballoo was going on. Never quite got around to it after that, sorry."

"Impossible girl." the Doctor muttered disbelievingly to himself, covering his face in his hands before finally saying, "When in doubt, follow my lead and stay close to me, alright?"

Clara nodded.

"Good. Now let's go in and properly meet our new traveling companions."

Carefully moving the hallway chandelier aside and ducking under a round door frame, the Doctor and Clara made their way to a small dining room that was crowded far beyond its maximum capacity. Every inch of the place was filled with dwarves, all of whom were laughing and shouting as they ate Bilbo's food around the tables which had been joined together to make one. The only person who seemed not to be having any fun at all was Bilbo, who was quietly sitting in a corner, looking for all the world like he'd recently been hit on the head with a sturdy shovel.

The Doctor managed to find an unused chair in a corner and offered it to Clara before finding himself a stool and sitting down.

"Think he'll be okay?" Clara asked, still watching the stunned hobbit.

"Bilbo?" said the Doctor in surprise, who had already managed to grab a few biscuits off a nearby tray. "He's made of sterner stuff than even he knows. He'll be fine… eventually."

"And what about all of this food?" Clara continued, guiltily eyeing the biscuits the Doctor was cramming into his mouth. "Won't he be upset that we're eating up his entire pantry?"

"Yes, well, technically we're doing him something of a favor." said the Doctor in-between mouthfuls, filling a cup with the coffee being passed around. Then he quickly swigged down his cup. "Imagine what that stuff would look like if left in the pantry for a year to spoil."

Clara cringed, watching as the dwarves finished yet another seedcake. "Ugh, fair point."

The Doctor sighed, looking down at the half-eaten biscuit in his hand. "Pity there aren't any Jammie-dodgers in Middle Earth."

Clara watched the Doctor take another swig from his coffee cup, frowning. "Doctor, how come there's coffee here? Isn't Middle Earth supposed to be medieval or something?"

The Doctor gave her a sly grin. "It's a lot like Narnia. The land was covered in snow for a hundred years and yet Mr. and Mrs. Beaver had plenty of fresh fruits and veggies in their feast for the Pevensie children. We just don't ask."

"If you say so," muttered Clara, shaking her head, but then grabbing herself a cup of coffee as well.

After they had eaten to their fill and had almost entirely emptied Bilbo's pantry, the dwarves began singing and tossing plates about. Clara and the Doctor had to duck several times as quite a number of them nearly sailed into their heads. All the while, Clara could hear the Doctor happily muttering the dwarves' cleaning up song to himself. Clara was about to ask him if the song had been scripted or was actually being improvised on the spot, but she had to duck again as the dwarves, out of plates, had started tossing knives instead.

With dinner all cleaned up, the dwarves began to sing about misty mountains and treasure, nearly lulling Clara to sleep. It was an odd sort of song, one that filled the mind with daydreams of golden halls and the glittering of a countless wealth. Though a part of her was relieved when the long song ended, a small part of her was disappointed that she might never hear it again. It had been quite beautiful. With the final notes of the song fading, Clara noticed that while the Doctor and the dwarves sat down to discuss their business, Bilbo was beginning to look like a nervous wreck. She felt very sorry for him.

"Dwarves, Mr. Baggins and… wizards," Thorin began in that epic style which Clara felt never started any succinct (nor entirely honest) speech. "We are met together in the house of our friend and fellow conspirator, this most excellent and audacious hobbit – "

There was an odd squeak from the corner where Bilbo sat as he seemed to realize that he was the one being called audacious and, more frighteningly, a fellow conspirator. He missed the few compliments on the food then given by Thorin as his nerves tip-toed up to the edge of sanity.

"Anyway," continued Thorin when Bilbo did not respond to his well-rehearsed compliments. "We are met to discuss our plans, our ways, means, policy and devices. We shall soon start on our long journey, a journey from which some of us, or perhaps all of us may never return. It is a solemn moment. Our object is to take back what is rightfully ours – the mountain which was stolen from our people by the great dragon Smaug –"

Thorin's voice trailed off as Bilbo's nerve finally broke. He didn't faint like Clara had seen him do in the film version, but his nervous breakdown was pitiable all the same. In the end the Doctor and Clara had to drag the whimpering little hobbit out of his own dining room, giving excuses and complete lies to the dwarves in explanation.

"He's very excitable," intervened the Doctor. "Has the occasional odd fit at times, but he's 'as fierce as a dragon in a pinch,' as Gandalf says."

Thorin watched them without a word, but his eyes spoke his incredulity and contempt for him as they exited the room. The Doctor and Clara found a sofa in the drawing-room which they then placed Bilbo on, giving him a cup of tea and putting a blanket on top of him. The tea and comfort seemed to restore some of the color back to Bilbo's face.

"Right, we should probably let Mr. Baggins get some rest, Clara," said the Doctor, holding the drawing-room door open for her.

"In a moment," said Clara, kneeling down next to the miniature sofa, trying to give the hobbit her nicest bedside smile. She gently placed her hand on his and couldn't help but quietly marvel at just how small the hobbit's hand was. It was like holding a child's. "I know your frightened right now, Bilbo, but so am I. I don't know what's going to happen next and I don't know where we're going, but I do know who we're travelling with. The Doctor can't stop everything, but I've seen him help and save millions of people. He won't let anything too dangerous happen to us. You can trust him with your life. I do. Everyday."

She patted the still pale hobbit's hand and got up, walking over to where the Doctor was waiting for her. Wordlessly, hand in hand, they left Bilbo to his recovery.

Back in the dining room, the conversation of the dwarves had taken on darker hues in light of Bilbo's breakdown. One of the dwarves snorted. "Will he do, do you think? It is all very well for Gandalf to talk about this hobbit being fierce, but one shriek like that in a moment of excitement would be enough to wake the dragon and kill the lot of us."

"I think it sounded more like fright than excitement," muttered another dwarf.

"He looks more like a grocer than a burglar!" said a third.

As they continued to list the hobbit's faults, Clara felt her cheeks becoming warm with indignation. Before she could stand up or say something in Bilbo's defense the Doctor held up a finger to Clara's lips, shushing her.

"But," Clara began.

"This is important," whispered the Doctor. "Just a few seconds longer. You'll see."

"If it had not been for the sign on the door," continued the first ranting dwarf, "I should have been sure we had come to the wrong house. As soon as I clapped eyes on the little fellow bobbing and puffing about in the hall –"

The door to the dining room was thrust open at this point and, much to Clara's surprise, there was Bilbo, looking quite different from the hobbit she'd left a minute before. Not only did his cheeks have color, but now they were filled with an almost red fury. His fists were clenched and he spoke with a forced calm.

"Pardon me, but I overheard what you were saying. I don't pretend to understand what you're talking about concerning adventures, or your references to burglars, but I think I'm right in believing that you think I'm no good. Well, I'm sorry to hear that. But do you know what? I'm quite sure that you do have the wrong house. When I saw your funny faces on my door-step, I had my doubts." Clara and the dwarves held their breath, waiting as Bilbo paused for the briefest moment. "But treat it as the right one." said Bilbo firmly. "Tell me what you want done, and I will try to do it, even if I have to walk from here to the East of Easst and fight orcs and goblins and all manner of foul beasts –"

"Don't mind if we take your promises at face value," interrupted the Doctor, giving the livid hobbit an approving smile. "But I'm afraid it's getting late and we do have some business that needs attending to. Our Mr. Bilbo has proven tonight, if nothing else, that he is quick to recover and silent enough on his feet to eavesdrop on all of you. He shall be a burglar yet, if I have anything to say about it, which luckily for you, I tend to have quite a lot of say about."

"Now," he continued, pulling out a map and an odd key from his pouch. "Your grandfather made this map, Thorin, to be handed down to Thrain and then to you in time. Unfortunately, Thrain didn't have the chance and gave it to Gandalf instead when the wizard found your father as he lay dying. It's a map showing the way to a secret entrance that leads into the heart of the mountain."

Clara, who with Bilbo and the other dwarves, was peering over the Doctor's shoulder at the small map, frowned. She remembered something important about a mountain from her limited knowledge of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, but she couldn't remember which book or series it was from.

"Is that supposed to be 'Mount Dread' or something?" she asked the Doctor, pointing at the lone mountain on the map. Clara watched as the Doctor's small eyebrows drew together and he stared blankly at a wall, mouthing several times the name she had given him.

Finally, he looked up at her incredulously. "You don't mean Mount Doom, do you?"

"Yeah, that one," said Clara, now almost certain that she'd been wrong.

"No, no, definitely not Mount Doom." answered the Doctor in alarm. "Not anything like Mount Doom at all. Mount Doom is a volcano, whereas Erebor's only got a fire-breathing dragon inside it. They're completely different!"

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he coughed. "Well, not when you look at it that way. But still, Mount Dread? Honestly," he looked up at the dwarves' equally alarmed faces and added, "Clara's in a study abroad program from beyond the Grey Havens. She's here with me to learn a bit about the people and the lay of the land of Middle Earth."

The dwarves, who certainly had no clue of what a study abroad program was, merely nodded and let the matter rest. It was best, they quietly decided, not to meddle more than was necessary into the affairs of wizards.

"Moving right along," the Doctor continued. "There are some runes here that you will need help deciphering. The best place for that is Rivendell. These runes will tell us when you can access the secret passage and how. It could be a very precise door. Impossible to find without the knowledge of your father and grandfather that is contained in here."

"And once we gain access to this secret passage, then that is when we will use your burglar." Thorin thought aloud.

"That would be one of your better options, yes," said the Doctor. "Certainly it's the only one that has any chance of succeeding."

"Then it is settled," said Thorin, clasping hands with the Doctor. "Everyone get some rest. We leave at the break of day."

All night, Bilbo tossed and turned in his bed (visions of dragons, goblins and orcs filling his mind), regretting that he'd lost his temper and actually volunteered for this adventure. It was insane. It was so completely un-Baggins-like a thing to do that wondered what had come over him. Adventure was not what he had planned his life to be filled with. He was a Baggins of Bag-end and Bagginses never went or did anything unexpected. Bilbo squirmed uneasily, however, as a thought entered his mind. Though the Bagginses never, ever went on any adventures at all, the Tooks on his mother's side of the family, were notorious for their adventuresome spirit.

It had, he concluded bitterly, been the Took side of him which had so outrageously resolved to join the dwarves. He pulled the pillow over his head and at last fell into an uneasy sleep.

Bilbo woke up late the next day and, upon finding himself in a dwarf-free hobbit-hole once more, felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He smiled and walked all about his rooms, trying to ignore the Took-ish tuggings of regret at his heart. No, he was a Baggins and this was where he belonged, not in some party of dwarves whom he had only met yesterday.

Just as he had finished his meager breakfast of the scraps which he'd managed to scrounge up from his raided pantry, a voice from behind made him jump.

"Miss me?" asked the strange wizard, sitting casually in one of Bilbo's chairs. "I suppose, what with all the sleeping and cooking you've been doing this morning, you failed to look at your mantle. It's a bit dusty, I know, but that isn't what's really important. Thorin left you a message there explaining that since you didn't wake up with the others, you were to meet him and the rest of the party at the Green Dragon no later than eleven o'clock."

"Really?" cried Bilbo, surprised to find that his Took side was winning over his heart. "What time is it now?"

The Doctor looked at the strange golden bracelet on his wrist. "Ten forty-five. If you run, you might be able to catch them."

In his haste to find the dwarves, Bilbo forgot every needful thing for an adventure. All that mattered at that moment was getting to the dwarves in time. Surprised at his own determination, Bilbo ran straight out his door. When he arrived at the entrance to The Green Dragon fifteen minutes later he was completely out of breath, but grinning. He had made it. He didn't even know why he wanted to be there so badly in the first place, but he was there. That was all that mattered now.

When he finally managed to look up, he saw the wizard's companion sitting on the steps outside the inn. The girl Clara smiled at him. "Welcome Bilbo Baggins to the company of Thorin Oakenshield. Your pony awaits you."