Chapter 1

Being an introvert can make you seem standoffish, unsociable, and, generally, not very approachable. Being an introvert can also make it hard to step out of the metaphorical shell, find the right words to say, conduct behaviors comfortably, and even make friends. But being an introvert just means enjoying focusing on things on personal terms, preferring the company of animals or things that won't judge based on appearance or awkward moments, and, most commonly, being alone in a quiet space.

Sierra Brander was an introvert.

Sierra was small in stature, somewhat curvaceous, had shoulder-length cocoa-brown hair, and coppery brown eyes. She spent her days working in a plant nursery and her nights at home with her computer, tv, or phone to entertain and inspire her. Sierra had no pets, the landlord had dog and cat allergies and had a special hatred of anything that wasn't a human, plant, or inanimate object; thus, no one in the building had pets. Though Sierra suspected one of the tenants was keeping pigeons on the roof. To keep herself busy on her off-days, Sierra tended her patio garden of various vegetables and small fruit plants and often took walks in the park near her apartment complex to escape her noisy neighbors. As it was, Sierra was trying to drown out her partying neighbors with YouTube videos and music, but it wasn't quite working.

Looking outside, Sierra determined it'd be an hour until sunset. There was plenty of time for a quick stroll to the park, through it, and back to the apartment before the streetlights lit up. The party would probably still be going on, but if Sierra knew anything about her neighbors, the longer they had to get drunk and she to stay away, the less time she had to deal with their noise.

Sierra got dressed in her favorite gray turtleneck and tan overcoat, opted to stay in her lazy day black sweats, and crammed her socked feet into her winter boots. It was cool out with a little bit of snow on the ground, the tail end of March, and the trees were just starting to bloom with flowers and new leaves; a good time to go for a walk, if a little nippy. Leaving her apartment, Sierra regarded her neighbor's door and the amazing amount of noise coming from within: pulsing music, loud yelling, and gratuitous thumping against the door and walls. She didn't understand why people enjoyed such loud, crowded parties and really didn't want to understand. She quickly turned and hustled out of the complex, making her way to the now almost completely vacant park.

Hardly anyone was at the park at this time of day, let alone this time of year. The sun was going down, the last rays of light playing through the trees and making the small mounds of snow glow shades of orange, red, and yellow. The only noises were the squirrels chittering and digging up old nuts buried in the autumn, the fountain gurgling softly, the breeze going through the trees, and the distant sounds of traffic, barking dogs, and sirens. This was the kind of noise Sierra enjoyed. She took a seat on one of the chilly stone benches in the more densely forested area of the park and leaned into the backrest to relax. She barely thought that she was tired from the day before her eyes shut and she drifted into a nap.

Sierra's eyes snapped open when she heard a twig snap to her right. She shot up from her seat on the stones and found herself in post-sunset twilight.

"What happened?" Sierra asked herself, "I must've fallen asleep…but…" Looking around though, Sierra found her body was stiff and sore, the air was considerably warmer than it should have been, and, most importantly, she was in a different forest than the park she was so accustomed to. "I'm dreaming. I am dreaming. I must be." Sierra muttered as she unbuttoned her jacket and fiddled with the closure near the top. Again a noise came from her right, this time a rustle of leaves and soft muttering. This time Sierra ducked into the nearest bush and tried calming her breathing, her dilating eyes focusing on where the noises were coming from. 'I'm dreaming. I must be dreaming. This is too weird to not be a dream.' Sierra reasoned as several figures appeared through the brush: four of them, all small of stature, and all resembling…children, of all things, and every one of them excitedly talking quietly to each other. Less intimidated, Sierra emerged from the brush and started to approach the small people, finding they wore strange shirts and trousers that ought to look more at home in a Renaissance faire.

"And then Sam said, 'But ain't nobody'd got their name on it! The bread's as much mine as yours before coin has been placed!'" One of the more fair-haired people said as the others laughed, the black-haired one was nodding in confirmation.

"True! True!" another fair-hair joined in, "Old Mrs. Fester is always fighting everyone to get anything before they do! Greedy old goat!" Again they all laughed. At this point, Sierra was a few feet from them and stopped to clear her throat and announce her presence.

"H-hello? I'm-" but before she could say much, the four small people shouted, jumped, and turned to flee up the slope, as if they'd been rabbits who spotted a hunting dog. "Wait! Please!" Sierra called, but it was too late. All four of them had disappeared in amongst the trees and brush and Sierra once again found herself all alone in a strange place. 'Well,' she thought, affronted at the small-peoples' quick-to-flee response, 'they must be running somewhere in a hurry. There must be a house or town nearby.' And with that thought, she made her way up the greenery-covered slope, only occasionally slipping on a loose rock. On cresting the hill, she saw a road leading to a small gate, one that was elegantly formed by arching twigs and sticks, and there was a sign beside it. On the sign was an elegantly carved text that read "Hobbiton". Sierra hurried into the gate and followed the path.

Along the way she saw many rolling hills with the road winding in, around, and between them and on the hills were a variety of fine old trees in a full jacket of foliage. There were finely assembled front gardens with wooden fences and doors of different shapes and colors, though they all looked varying shades of dark to Sierra. The first few houses were darkened on the inside, but there was one house that had a light showing on the inside and a fine round door with a metal handle in the dead center. The only discouragement was a sign reading "no admittance except on party business". Sierra wasn't there on any party business, but this was the first house with a light and she was game to try anything to find someone who might help her. Braving the potential wrath of the homeowner, Sierra entered the gate, approached the door, and knocked purposefully on the door.

"No, thank you!" called a male voice from within, "We don't want any!"

"Excuse me, sir?" Sierra started, calling loud enough so the person within could hear her, "I'm not here to sell anything-"

"And no well-wishers or distant relations are welcome either!" the voice interrupted.

"I'm not a well-wisher or a relative!" Sierra answered, getting frustrated, "I just need your help-"

"What could you possibly need the help of a hobbit for?" the voice remarked.

"If you would just open the door and stop interrupting me I would be more than happy to tell you!" Sierra all but shouted at the door. It was quiet a moment before she heard the sound of a latch being released and the door tentatively opened, revealing another small person, this one an older man with curly graying hair and again the older style of clothing. After a moment of studying the woman on his doorstep, he spoke again.

"Well? What is it you want, woman?" Sierra blinked and nodded quickly before starting.

"Sir, to make my story short, I am lost." She started, "I was resting in a park near my home and when I woke, I was just outside this place, Howbert-"

"Hobbiton, dear." He corrected.

"Right, Hobbiton." Sierra continued, "And when I woke up, I was just down a hill from the road and I have no idea how I got there. I know I'm bothering you, but I wonder if you could help me find some place to stay the night?" It went without saying that she was also asking if it would be alright to stay at this first house.

"Silly girl, there's an inn down the way, go there if you want a bed to sleep in." And thus the door was shut in her face.

"But I have no money!" Sierra responded pleadingly while the door remained shut and the occupant quiet. She had left her wallet behind in her apartment, really all of her belongings, and so truly didn't have a cent on her, but now after seeing the residents of this place, she questioned whether or not these people would even accept her money.

"Then find some other hobbit to help you! Good evening to you." And that seemed to be that. Frustrated and angry at the rude man…hobbit, Sierra corrected herself, she turned and made her way through the garden and just as she shut the gate behind her, she heard the sound of a door opening. Turning, she saw it was the door of the man she had argued with. Pursing her lips, Sierra returned to the road and continued towards the next house. Maybe she would find a kinder hobbit there. "Oh will you stop that?" the man's voice called behind her.

"Stop what?" Sierra asked, turning to face the diminutive man.

"Stop your walking, silly girl." the man said, "I will lend you a bed for the night." Perhaps guilt had gotten him? Or maybe he didn't want her spouting stories of being magically transported places? Either way, Sierra was glad to return to the hobbit's home and bowed her head to go inside.

"So, you just fell asleep on a bench and you woke up on some rocks down the way and you have no idea how you came here?" the man, Bilbo Baggins, asked as he poured Sierra a second cup of tea.

"No, I don't. I know it sounds impossible, but that's what happened." She answered honestly, having no need to hunch while she was seated. She was by no means tall, but her head had a scant few inches from the crown to the ceiling of the cozy hobbit hole and she needed to bow when she passed through doorways. "Again, I'm sorry for imposing on you. Thank you for allowing me to stay the night."

"Oh, it's really no trouble." Bilbo admitted, "And I suppose I should apologize as well. I have been harassed by all manner of man and hobbit as of late." Bilbo stood to collect a small plate of bite-sized cakes and placed it in between himself and Sierra. "It will be my birthday soon and relatives have been coming out of the woodwork to charm themselves into my will."

"Ah, well then congratulations and…uh…I suppose a sorry is in order," Sierra said awkwardly, taking a sip from her cup, "If it's not too much to ask, how old are you going to be?"

"One hundred and eleven, if you believe that." Bilbo answered, somewhat proud.

"One hundred and eleven?" Disbelief was all over her face. "That's incredible!"

"Yes, yes, but it's been more of a bother than anything else." Bilbo muttered as he nibbled on a piece of cake, "So many Bagginses and Tooks. Knocking on my door and windows, day in and day out. If only it weren't for that blasted adventure they wouldn't be so eager to collect my house."

"Adventure?" Sierra asked curiously, inclining her head towards the hobbit.

"Indeed. It was a mere sixty years ago that I'd gone on an amazing adventure and made so many great friends. There were dwarves, elves, warriors, and a fierce, fiery dragon…oh, but you wouldn't want to hear a story like that." Bilbo dismissed, "It would take many hours to tell the tale and we have but the one night."

"Well…"Sierra started, "I have time. I would listen if you're willing to tell it."

"Hmm, well…alright. But get comfortable, miss Brander, this is a long story." Bilbo admitted, "Many years ago, sixty as I said, I was sitting in the bench in my garden when an old wizard in a grey cloak and hat approached my gate…" and the story continued into the night, with Sierra only occasionally speaking to ask for clarification. It was deeply dark and very late when the story was finished and Sierra assisted Bilbo in cleaning up before following him to a cozy guest room. She'd settled into a spare nightgown, which rested more as a nightshirt on her, and curled into the small bed for the night. Sierra briefly wondered what she would do the next day, if she could find work, make some coin, and find a bed before the next night. Before she could ponder long, she drifted off to sleep.

I intend for this story to be updated on a weekly basis, barring any emergencies or other obstacles.

Any kind of comment is greatly appreciated, though constructive criticism is most valuable.