"Blergh!"

The only sounds that whirred in his ears were that of his own bated breath and an unintelligible groan that certainly did not come from him. Bilbo Baggins felt his chest constrict in pain upon immediate impact against the cold, hard ground; an unknown weight rested against his side, gripping his waist with a coiled tightness. Did someone tackle him?

"Sorrygetup -"

Bilbo blinked, his consciousness still in suspension. He could see colors and could make out shapes, though everything made for a rather blurred and disorienting picture when he attempted to make sense of his surroundings. Akin to being spun around a hundred times in the same space, the pivot against his core churned at his insides and made his temples throb, leaving him in a state of absolute confusion. Bilbo was certain that he was, yet again, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

If another dwarf company was responsible for whatever was happening now -

Someone was shouting. He shook his head and wiggled his nose around, still cross-eyed, still feeling light-headed and completely out of himself. And then, as he did not realize that things were happening too fast to even feel the ticking of time, the weight against his side disappeared and his closest arm was violently jerked upwards, pulling him to stand. A hand - a hand? - held unto his wrist and he felt another weight, a little lighter this time, rest atop his opposite shoulder.

"Open your eyes, look at me. Are you going to be okay? Hey! Man, he's so out of it - "

The hobbit closed his eyes even more, squinting so hard he forced himself to see spots of light, some green, some red, until he had had enough of being dizzy and confused and all together wanting to regurgitate. If he were in a better state of mind, Bilbo would have sincerely apologized for the bout of petty behavior he was about to unleash. However, current circumstances dictated otherwise, leaving him no choice but to react completely and unabashedly Took.

Bilbo fought back.

With a harsh nudge and a pathetic kick against the ground, he moved backwards and shook his head as if trying to avoid a swarm of bees. His vision returned to him as soon as he realized that the only thing he was fighting against was basically nothing. The person holding on to him quickly removed their hands from his person and watched him flail against an invisible enemy. When he came to his senses, Bilbo abruptly saw, and conclusively pieced together that he was, simply said, in a dangerously unknown situation.

"No, wait - what? Who are - ? This isn't...!" He blathered.

Glass shards were scattered across an enormous room, too enormous that he instantly felt more insecure and more intimidated. But his immediate gaze fell upon two people who stared at him continuously, studying his every move. He pointed at them accusingly, finger wagging back and forth, first to the tall man with very slinky limbs, his arms across his chest and his brows scrunched together as if trying to set the floor beneath them ablaze; then there was a girl, who was much shorter and far shapelier, though if there was anything to really catch his attention, he would point to her audaciously short hair cut so close to her nape with a slight fringe that was so far against her forehead, Bilbo actually wondered if she was really a he.

Bilbo was bamboozled and quite frankly, was a little tired of everything. So Bilbo huffed and sighed and rubbed his nose against his sleeve, opting to attempt a subtle interrogation of his whereabouts. But the glass shards from the floor splintered when they (presumably) fell from a particular height, leaving glassy flecks embedded into the fibers of his wool overcoat. Bilbo winced as the sudden abrasiveness grazed his cheek.

The girl with boyish hair went to him immediately, her previously neutral expression now turned amused.

"Hey, okay. Relax. Take it easy and just...breathe, I guess? Here, stop that and listen to what I'm gonna say?" She offered him a small piece of cloth that, upon contact with his skin, was rougher and thinner than he expected it to feel. But it did the trick of dabbing away the blood stains he incurred, little tiny droplets that made for a dotty pattern on the whites of the cloth. Her proximity allowed him to stare at her up close, and he noticed she was only a few inches taller than he was, if her slight bend at the knee to touch his face was any indication. She also had very spindly lashes.

Bilbo exhaled exasperatedly.

"I am relaxed, milady, I am completely and utterly relaxed, though there are a plethora of things I would like answered and having these questions remain unanswered in my head - ouch! - are not helping me retain this state of relaxation!"

He ended his tirade a pitch higher than he intended. She smiled crookedly at him afterwards, leaning backwards to stand upright again.

"You said that in one breath. Impressive. Can you take more deep breaths though? Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, that kind of breathing? You're tense. I mean, I would be to, if a chandelier almost killed me."

Bilbo froze and he began to squint at her again. The man who was previously behind her reappeared to stand much, much closer. He did not look any happier and he still would not make any eye contact. Strange encounters aside, Bilbo found him rude.

"A what almost killed me?" Bilbo managed to say.

The girl's smile remained on her face as she gestured to a strange looking piece of twisted metal that lay broken and mangled on the floor. Bilbo noticed that the shards of glass which littered the whole place originated from it. He took two steps closer, inching himself to stand an arm's length away from the girl. He pointed to it with his two bushy eyebrows raised at the so-called "chandelier."

"That almost killed me? That?" He repeated incredulously.

The girl nodded. "Could have flattened you like a pancake."

The man with long limbs finally spoke, though Bilbo felt like he was still quite miffed.

"Or turned you into a pincushion."

The girl shrugged weakly in agreement. Then, after a few moments of Bilbo attempting to once again, make sense of everything from start to finish, the girl turned to him and gently pried his view away from the fallen chandelier, turning him to look at her once more. He was going rather limp as her hands held unto his shoulders, perhaps from shock, perhaps from fatigue. Possibly both. She smiled as reassuringly as she could, though Bilbo felt a faint tinge of doubt trouble his thoughts. How sincere were these people when one of them wouldn't even look at his face?

"Listen." Bilbo remained silent.

"You're in a state of shock, and I guess it really isn't easy to recover from, considering..." She shared a look with her companion. "...things. So what do you say I walk you over to that couch," She made a gesture behind him. "And you take another minute to gather yourself, and then I'll explain as much as I can to you. Okay? Can we do that?"

Bilbo felt as if he did not have much of a choice. They were both far too calm and far less suspicious than he was at the moment, and so Bilbo concluded that they knew exactly what was going on. Maybe they even planned it all. Was this a kidnapping? Why did he regain consciousness in such a weird fashion then? But without the slightest of ideas to go on, Bilbo decided against his better judgment to just run and leave. Instead, he nodded and allowed her to maneuver him to the cushions. The man did not wait for her to finish what she had to say, instead walking the distance from where they were at the periphery of the room to the ornate looking couch that sat next to an equally beautiful window on the opposite side. The floor was quite shiny, light reflecting in beams against the surface. His soles felt like they were walking against the sturdiest and smoothest of ice.

The girl led him to the seat and slightly pushed him down to sit, but Bilbo's mind was still racing with thoughts and horribly planned escape scenarios. He stared blankly ahead, forming more and more questions that made very little sense to begin with. However, for the sake of his sanity, Bilbo began mentally listing down the things that he did know, while the two people in front of him whispered to one another. First things first; he was alone. The company was nowhere to be found in an almost gigantic empty space of a room. Second, he was sore to the bone and he couldn't remember details as to why. Third, and of all of his thoughts this was the most alarming; Bilbo was not where he last fancied himself to be. Mirkwood, that was where he was supposed to be. The hobbit racked his brains, slamming the underside of his left palm against his ear in a fervent effort to revisit his most recent memory.

He remembers an enchanted lake, a rickety old boat, crossing to the other side, and then something with antlers pushing them back.

The two people slowly readjusted themselves to look at Bilbo while he figured out at least half of his problems. That animal may have had something to do with it, if not the entire demented forest they were traversing itself. But he couldn't figure out the rest of the puzzle. For example, his state of physical duress; the "chandelier"; the people who were in front of him now, and the dwarfs that were nowhere to be found.

After a pregnant pause, Bilbo finally spoke with a tone that made him sound like he was giving up. "I don't understand."

"We're not quite sure we do either, but I think this is where we'll be able to help each other." The girl was no longer smiling, and Bilbo finally crossed gazes with the tall man. While she was still retained an air of pleasantry despite her lack of expression, the man made Bilbo shrink against the back of his seat. He was either trying to hold himself back from torturing Bilbo, or trying to remain calm at the face of dire constipation.

Bilbo gulped. He doubted the latter.

The girl scratched her nose before beginning. She took her time to speak to Bilbo, as if tasting the very words that came out of her mouth.

"See, the thing is - "

Crash! Bang! Boom!

Three heads turned to the direction of metal clashing loudly against metal. They came from behind large, closed doors that were as tall as the ceiling. It was made even more nerve-wracking and cacophonous because the noise sounded rather hollow, resembling crashing bells and toppling towers. Bilbo's panic slowly returned, addling him further away from rational thought. Was nothing going to be explained? Would he die today? Would they kill him? Would he even get to find out where in the name of the Valar he was?

"What was that?" said the tall man. The girl did not answer. Bilbo was immensely relieved that they were just as baffled as he was. Maybe they didn't know everything after all.

The dissonance grew steadily louder and closer to where they were. Bilbo flinched, the girl stood still, and the man clicked his tongue against his teeth. The tension was so thick, Bilbo found it difficult to feel anything but his body trembling from the inside.

And then, like a ray of light penetrating the dark diffuse of storm clouds, Bilbo recognized faint voices that seemed to rise above the noise. The two people in the room seemed to hear it too, for they began to strain their ears to listen, and they were rewarded with an even louder bout of shouting from a number of different voices. The hobbit ignored the prickling in his cheek and the stiffness in his calves as he dashed forward to get an even clearer understanding of what the voices were saying from behind the marbled doors. Bilbo saw the girl reach out to hold him back, but it was the man who strode across from his spot and in no time at all, opened one of the doors.

"What else could possibly be going on today?" He did not even look back as he exited. The girl sighed and turned away, hands rubbing her face tiredly.

But Bilbo was smiling. He had never thought to describe their voices as such, as they always opted to be too brash and too loud for their own good, but Bilbo felt only relief as the voices screamed and shouted for answers. His smile grew even wider. Oh yes, he knew who those voices belonged to even if he could not see the faces that came with them. Things were going to turn for the better, he just knew it.

From the other side of the open door, Thorin Oakenshield's baritone boomed in a familiar fit of rage. "What in Durin's name is going on?"

Well now, shall we see where this story takes us? ;) As my first Tolkien fanfiction, I felt it appropriate to expound on an alarming lack of "Hobbits come to our world" plot. Don't worry, I'm sure it will all make sense next chapter. Or will it?

(And speaking of, please expect sparse and sporadic updates as my weekly work hours are rather long. On a more positive note however, I'm much too inspired to keep away from this now that I've started. Cross your fingers! It's very timely I suppose, considering the last of the Jackson/Tolkien saga is ending this December. I made myself sad in one sentence...)

I'd love to hear from you, so please leave a comment so we can chat! Till next time!