My brain always comes up with crossovers of all the stories I love, so this seemed like only a matter of It's all done purely out of love for the characters and wishing to see them interact - I wrote this mostly for a friend and myself, so apologies if your favourite character is neglected - I dedicated a chapter to each March girl though.:) Sadly the Little Women archive is not very active, but maybe there are others lovers of these two great stories out there. Enjoy!:3

P.S.: For those interested, you can find the whole thing on tumblr, rebloggable and twice as natural, on tumblr (under the tag of the title).

Chapter 1 – Many Unexpected Meetings

Jo whistled a cheery tune, ignoring the pain in her stiff fingers. It was freezing outside, but she simply could not sit inside all day in front of the fire, like Meg. Even writing couldn't keep her from becoming restless eventually, and shovelling snow was just the right thing for her superfluous energy.

Looking up to the grand mansion on the other side of the hedge, she sighed. It was a pity Laurie was out in town today, she was sure that together they would have thought of a good way to make the dull winter afternoon bright, which seemed even duller for Marmee being away in Washington.

But I mustn't croak! I shall be cheery enough for both of us if he's gone, see if I won't! She encouraged herself, emphasising her determination by stomping the shovel on the ground. An avalanche from the roof promptly tested her new-found spirit.

"There, no one can complain about that!" She proudly judged her work a while later. There was a clean-swept path that led straight from the gate to the front door, and another from the back door to the back gate. "Now all we need is some more fire wood, I know there was hardly any left yesterday."

She marched out in direction of the little wood around the river, despite her fingers and the hem of her dress being frozen. Jo wasn't scared of the dark, although the shadows of twilight creeping between the branches like slender spider's legs tickled her imagination.

"If ever there was a right time for fairies and trolls, it would be now," she mumbled, her breath coming out in little puffs that her fancy turned into dragon's smoke at once.

She turned to go back rather hasty and stumbled over her own feet, nearly scaring herself out of her wits. "Josyphine March!" she scolded in her best impression of Aunt March. "Collect your senses along with the wood and get going!"

Doing her best to follow her own advice, she set out again, but couldn't help to look back when she heard a twig snap in the gloomy silence.

"Hello?" She called out bravely, though her knees were shaking. Moving through the rising mist, she thought she could make out the forms of a group of men walking towards her. Taking some more steps towards the edge of the wood, where it wasn't so dark yet, she looked back once more and beheld smaller shadows this time, like children.

"By Jove," she muttered. "Either I've completely lost my mind or these folks can actually change size. The girls at home won't believe a word, so I'd better wait and see what comes out of the forest. If I'm kidnapped by spirits, at least I'll have something to finish my fairy tales," she tried to reason.

Her teeth chattering by now, she stared hard into the shadows, until one of the figures stepped into the clearing, the others lagging behind indecisively. Jo could make out curly hair, a big scarf and cloak, and to her great surprise, bare, hairy feet. Deciding that it had to be a little boy (he was shorter than Amy), she boldly stepped forward and called out: "Hullo! Did you get lost?"

The boy started and stood hesitating for a moment, before making up his mind and running towards her. Staring up at her, he called back to the wood: "Merry, I found a girl!"

Jo sniffed and wrinkled her nose. "I found you first, you know." Something in the boy's surprised expression struck her as comical, and as if they had been friends all their lives, both began to laugh out loud at the same time.

"Pippin, are you crazy?" Another boy, looking similar to the first in a way that clearly betrayed kinship, joined them. "Don't go about talking to strangers, they might be dangerous!"

"I'm not half as dangerous as I'd like to be!" laughed Jo, being reminded of Meg in one of her motherly moods. "But what are you doing out so late, aren't your parents worrying?"

The second boy, who seemed a bit older than the first, gave her a bemused look. "Our parents are safely in The Shire and worry more about our younger siblings, I reckon. Besides they know we're out on important business with Frodo."

Jo nearly fell into another laughing fit at the strange name, but controlled herself, not wanting to offend anyone. "I've never heard a name like that. What are your names?" Her curiosity was kindled and had quite dispelled her nervous fear.

"I'm Merry Brandybuck and this is my cousin Pippin Took." The boy answered in an important tone, putting his thumbs into the pockets of his bright yellow waistcoat.

"Yes, and we got lost, even though Gandalf won't own up to it! Boromir's been declaring it since half an hour and then there was that avalanche on top of that, and everyone's been in a foul mood since that, so I ran ahead to look for some cheering up, and I found you!" Pippin burst out with much enthusiasm and without any pause, panting like a little engine after his speech.

Jo couldn't help but laugh this time, partly over the funny little boy, and partly over the other load of foreign sounding names.

"How many of you are there?" She wondered.

"There's nine of us!" He replied at once, though Merry began to look rather displeased over his chattering. "I don't know what's keeping them so long."

"They're probably trying to decide how to best punish you for spluttering out everything there is to know about us," Merry grumbled.

Jo was surprised at the boy's grumpiness and secrecy, but then again they probably were a long way from home and were very tired and cold. She would have invited the two boys back home on the spot, only she hadn't seen the others yet and nine seemed like a lot of people to stuff into their little home, even if they all were as small as these two. And what would Marmee say? Jo wished dearly that her mother was here right now, for she always knew what to do.

While she had been musing about this, Pippin had sped back to the edge of the forest, and was now striding back to her, with a smug smile on his face, and leading a man by his hand.

Jo's initial fear returned when she saw him – he looked like a bandit from one of the adventure novels she loved so much, except that he was carrying a sword instead of pistols. She considered running away, but either her curiosity or something in the man's face, which didn't fit the idea of a rogue at all, kept her rooted to the spot.

As they approached, she could hear Pippin blubbering happily. "...and Gandalf said we would find help in unlikely places, didn't he? I don't see any good of moping around in forests at night, when he said himself we were already discovered if there were any spies about, so what's the use of keeping away from folks? Look, here she is, you can't tell me she's an orc or anything."

Jo didn't know what an orc was, but it didn't sound very agreeable. The man looked at her with a grave air, studying her face. After some moments he spoke.

"I believe my young friend is right, though it was incautious of him." Here he gave a meaningful look to the culprit. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and I'd be much obliged if you told us the name of this place and how far from the Misty Mountains we are here. I don't understand how we can't find them on the horizon any more, we didn't wander so far..." The last sentence was spoken in open bewilderment, and he looked around, as if suspecting said mountains to come flying to his comfort.

"Jo March, daughter of Margaret March." Jo copied the stranger's manner of introduction, trying herself at a curtsy and failing as usual. "This is Concord, Massachusetts, but I never heard of any Misty Mountains in all of my life."

Aragorn gave her a confused look, but tried to smooth it over. "Maybe you could tell us where we can find shelter for the night? Is there a village near?"

"There's a whole city, though it's gotten dreadfully dark by now and I don't suppose you'll want to walk as far as that now. I don't know what Marmee would say if I showed up with you, but if the rest of you is as polite as you are, or as droll as this one, I know she couldn't disapprove much. She even might give you some good advice, if she were here, but Mr Laurence, our neighbour, might help you just the same." This was the best she could offer, and she really wanted to help in some way.

Aragorn gave her a curt nod and walked back into the mist of the forest, leaving Jo at a loss of what he thought of her offer.

"Did I say something wrong?" She thought out loud.

"Don't worry, he's always like that." Pippin reassured her, patting her skirt in a comforting manner.

"Man of few words. You'll get used to it." Merry added in a tone of life-long experience.

Jo pondered over this, when she saw the rest of the company coming towards them from the forest. She didn't know what she had expected, but she began to have second thoughts at once. This looked more like a travelling circus than anything else.

She didn't know what amazed her more – the bearded, small man carrying an axe, the unearthly looking slender bowman, or the old man, who looked decidedly like a wizard, no matter how she tried to tell herself that that was impossible.

"Aragorn tells me we got offered shelter for the night by a spirited young lady." The old man addressed her in a gruff voice, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

Jo didn't know what confused her more – the fact that she had apparently offered shelter for the night without being aware of it or being called a lady. She was glad it had been "spirited" and not "pretty", however.

"That must be so then, I guess." She brought out, flapping her arms in a helpless way. She pushed the thought of Meg's inevitable scolding to the back of her mind and made a half-grand, half-awkward gesture for them to follow her back to the house.

Pippin was by her side in a moment, and followed immediately by Merry on her other side (something she got used to very fast in the next days).

"Do you live in a big house?" Came from her left.

"Is it above ground?" At once from her right.

"It's neither very big, nor rich, but it's home. Bless you, and I should hope it was above ground, we don't live in caves!" Jo felt rather strange at being beset thus, it made her feel as if there were two Amys around her.

She didn't see the look of foreboding that passed between the two cousins, but they weren't quenched that easily and continued to question her right away.

"How many stores are there?"

"How many people are there?"

"What is the food like?"

These and many other questions followed her all the way back home, when she was happy to leave the chattering, little boys and the rest waiting on the porch, telling them to come in only after she called them.

"Meg! You'll never believe what happened to me!" She found herself getting excited again, after being strangely lulled by the boys' talk of home comforts for a quarter of an hour.

Meg, who sat sewing in the rocking chair, snubbed her for shouting and not taking her boots off, but didn't seem very impressed with her tale.

"Jo, your fancies are all fine and lovely in the stories you write, but I thought you had grown out of telling tales by now." The venerable seventeen-year-old complained with a maternal air.

"I'm not telling tales!" Jo protested, stomping her foot, and looking every bit as if she were.

Meg only replied by raising her eyebrows in a disapproving fashion, and sighed as Jo stormed off, to the garret as she thought. But before she had finished another stitch, she was back, and not alone either.

Highly alarmed, Meg rose out of the rocking chair like a Jack-in-the-box, her sewing sinking from her hands. There was definitely something very intimidating about the old man, who had followed Jo into the parlour, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it. He certainly was dressed in the most unusual way she had ever seen, with a blue, pointy hat that might have served her well in her role as a witch in last year's Christmas play, as her bewildered mind observed in a queer, distanced voice. Despite his fantastic clothing and Father Christmas beard, he looked anything but ridiculous, on the contrary, Meg felt rather frightened of the pair of blue eyes staring at her from beneath the bristling eyebrows.

"Gandalf the Grey, at your service, Madam." He introduced himself, bowing. Meg found herself curtseying before she wondered at his odd manners, but they went along well with his outlandish looks.

"We are poor wanderers, who have lost their path in the night, and your sister, as I understand, was so good as to offer us a temporary lodging." He continued, his eyes sparkling as if with merriment.

"We?" Meg echoed faintly, not knowing what part of that speech she found more worrying.

"Me and my company of eight friends." Gandalf explained. "From what I've seen we must appear very strange to you indeed, but I assure you, we're honourable folk." He gave a little nod after that and both Jo and Meg believed him at once, without knowing why.

"I'll bring the rest." Jo proposed, after offering Gandalf a seat, and leaving Meg to sink back into her chair with a look that clearly betrayed how much she wished their mother back at that moment.

"All right, Peggie's had the worst of it now, I hope. You can come in and introduce yourselves, but try to be quiet, we still have to break the news to the children upstairs." She implored, which caused, of course, a general uproar.

Merry and Pippin ran in at once, followed by a tall man, who tried to restrain them, and whom Jo would have proclaimed to be unable to fit through their front door, if asked, judging by the size of his shoulders. The small, bearded man entered next, making enough noise for four; the slender bowman by his side, complaining in a strange tongue. Aragorn and two other small boys were silent alone, though the blonde boy shot her a decidedly suspicious look, which she thought rather ungrateful under the circumstances.

The confusion was brought to perfection by Hannah rushing in from the kitchen after their introductions and exclaiming at the top of her lungs "Bless us!" three or four times, before she could be brought round to listen to any sort of explanation, which of course brought Amy and Beth running downstairs, barefoot and in nightgowns, wondering whether they had been transported into a fairytale.

Beth took a look at the assembled group of men and fled back upstairs with a frightened "Oh!", but Amy became quite wild with excitement and didn't know at whom to stare most or ask questions to, and deciding to draw them all on the spot.

Jo rushed up to comfort Beth, while Meg tried to calm down Amy with tea and honey. In the meantime, the visitors were left to wonder at the strange interior of the house, which was even more unusual than its exterior to them.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say we're not in Middle Earth any more." Aragorn whispered to Gandalf, so as not to disturb the hobbits by the extend of their detour. These looked happy enough at the moment though, not giving much rise to worrying, since Merry and Pippin were testing the flexibility of the sofa by jumping up and down on it, Sam was studying the window-sill full of flowers with professional interest, and Frodo had just discovered the basket full of kittens.

"Humph!" Was all Gandalf replied, not feeling like sharing his doubts at the moment.

"I'm so sorry about the chaos," Jo apologised, wringing her hands and running her hands through her short hair alternatively. "But it's rather typical for the house, so you might as well get used to it." She finished with a laugh.

This put everyone at their ease, and after a frugal dinner (in which the guests added their supplies to those of the Marches), they were bidden to take their rest in the parlour, since no upstairs room would hold them or provide beds enough. The members of the company chose their lodgings according to their taste and made the best of the small amount of pillows and blankets: The hobbits lay in a warm nest, bundled up in a heap on the sofa; Gandalf sat in the rocking chair, occasionally rocking a bit to and fro or muttering something; Aragorn and Boromir had chosen the carpet in the middle of the room to spread their cloaks on; Gimli had lain down on the rug in front of the fire place, snoring into the embers (it was a miracle his beard didn't catch fire); while Legolas nearly gave Jo a heart attack when she came down in the middle of the night for a glass of water, and found him half lying, half perched, with open eyes, on top of the big china cupboard.