A/N: This is a collaboration story, much like Humperdinck's Revenge. It uses Story Dice to generate a randomizing agent in the writing. The generated chapter items are: pendant, dragon bones, chandelier, question, prickly plant, noisemaker/rattle, map, book, raven, lamb.

This takes place a few years after Bilbo has returned from the events in The Hobbit.

A Hobbit in Narnia

Hobbits, as it has been said many times before, are creatures of comfort. They, for the most part, seek it out as often as possible and attempt to prolong it as long as possible. This being said, there are a few exceptions that have been noted throughout their history where a Hobbit has left behind his comforts to partake of an adventure. One family name that keeps bubbling to the surface of these adventures is Took. Boon or bane, curse or destiny, there seems to be something in the Took blood that causes the occasional member of that family to have adventures. Not the type of adventure where you can't find your other sock, or come out of your cousin's house after a particularly long birthday party and forget for a moment which way is home. No, the type of adventure that takes the individual far from the land that you know and the sorts of people that you are accustomed to seeing every day.

Bilbo Baggins, who came by this circumstance by virtue of his mother Belladonna Took, was just such an individual. In all manners he was raised to be a proper Hobbit; which is to say, he loved his home and the food and drink and everything found inside of his residence in that place known as The Hill and never so much as considered venturing farther away than a day's travel. In other words, he was considered respectable in every sense of the word.

The key word 'was' is used here with great care. Due in part to the wizard Gandalf's selection of him as a burglar in the company of Dwarves, he embarked on an adventure of epic proportions that took him far away and among folk and creatures that were definitely not of his type. This adventure has been chronicled elsewhere by a much better writer, and if the reader is unaware of it then it is strongly suggested that the tale be read at this time before continuing. Fear not, the following story won't vanish while you are gone, unlike the last piece of a particularly wonderful seed cake left unattended in a dining room in the Shire.

You're back? Welcome again. Now that we are all familiar with Mr. Bilbo Baggins and his previous adventure, we know that while he certainly was enriched by his ordeal with Smaug the dragon, both in experience and wealth, he also gained a reputation (or perhaps simply confirmed it) of being the sort that went on adventures; and as such he was looked upon as not entirely normal and generally given a wider berth than before. This suited Bilbo just fine; if it is thought that a person has only a certain capacity for the company of others, Bilbo's cup was certainly to the brim after seeing more of the world than all of the inhabitants of the Shire put together.

It was also this reputation that actually attracted others; others who sought to partake of his hospitality, not to enjoy his company so much as to enjoy his pantries, cellar and kitchen. It was a small enough price to pay, hearing the retelling of his battle of wits with Gollum if it meant that one could drink good ale and dine on fine cheese while paying the occasional compliment or emitting the odd 'Really?' at appropriate times in pretend astonishment.

In good time Bilbo grew wise of these tricks, and slowly was able to slough off the general horde that bid for his time and larder until only family was left. As he sat with his hot cup of tea and a newly lit pipe, he looked up at a small painting of his mother; resplendent in fine clothes, an ivory pendant, and a mischievous smile she looked down as if to say 'My only son, you too will have to deal with these things' as she did in her time. The Tooks had been well off for Bilbo's whole life, and their home was almost never without a guest's shoes at the door. Well, there would have been shoes if Hobbits wore any; at least one could find the occasional walking stick or cart outside.

Bilbo was shaken out of his reverie by a beating on his front door.

"Bilbo?!"

He was just able to hide out of view when Sandy Brandybuck stuck her face in his front window, calling for him. A relation through his uncle, she was the most insistent of his relatives when it came to visiting and partaking of his hospitality. Bilbo imagined she also was taking inventory of anything new he had acquired since her last visit. Although he was only sixty, he was sure various family members were counting the days until he either died or named an heir. When her face disappeared he quickly got up and retreated into a back bedroom, abandoning his tea and pipe. If he could just be still she would leave…

As he shrunk back and tried not to breathe, he knocked over an empty mug sitting on a small table. It clattered to the floor and he cursed himself silently; he never left such things out.

"Bilbo, are you there?"

It sounded like she was in the entryway inside his home; how could she have gotten past the locks?

"Are you in the kitchen?"

He raced out of the room and farther down the hall to his cellar. Maybe this far back…

"Bilbo, are you asleep?"

Now she was in the bedroom! Confound the woman; couldn't she just leave him in peace? He ducked out of the cellar and to the last door at the end of the hall. It led to an unfinished room, still being dug out of the hill. The coolest place in his home, he had retreated there once or twice during the hottest part of the summer. He closed the door quietly just after picking up a lantern. He lit the lantern, intending to hood the light to its minimum so that he could just barely see around. But the light flared and a vision of a huge cat appeared on one of the rough walls as a deafening roar filled the air. Bilbo stumbled backward and fell, putting out the light from his lantern. In the dark he crept along on the floor until he found a door. Oddly enough it didn't feel like his door, but in the dark a door is a door and he drew himself up and slowly opened it to peek out.