DISCLAIMER: Oh the joys of fan-fiction writing! No I DO NOT own LOTR, THE HOBBIT or anything related to them, because I am NOT J.R.R TOLKIEN, because if I was, I doubt my writing would be so 'Ugh!' (and I would smite me down for alterations to canon). ~Merci~

 Function before Friendship

(Especially Friendship with the Fellowship et al)

There I was, a normal, rainy Sunday, in greater London suburbia (or as close as you can get to such a thing in London), curled up in a cosy little council estate terrace. On my bed, under the covers, with a good book. Normal, you see, since my Sundays usually are god awful boring; me being that socially inept butterfly with the broken wing in that corner of the party. Trying to look cool, trying to talk to anyone who strays within a one meter radius of me, and failing. Miserably.

Wrong tangent.

What I meant to say was; normal, normal, normal. An ordinary, typically average day.

You can see where this is going right?

Normal? Heh. Far from it.

Well, I must admit, it began pretty regularly, with me lying on my back, reading that book I was talking about, trying to hold it above my head, eye-level, but having to rest my arms every couple of minutes, due to the total net weight of the blasted thing.

Can you tell I'm in a bad mood?

The day ended with a muffled snoring sound emanating from behind my bedroom door. No matter how hard I fought it, I guess sleep over took me, with heavy laboured breaths as the hardback balanced precariously on my flattened features.

The next day began somewhere totally unexpected.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Oww!" she grumbled, however it sounded more like a 'Mmphff!" to the unaccustomed ear, as consciousness decided to invade her senses, with a cheery "It's cold, the floor's hard and it's morning! Wake yourself up for heaven's sakes!"

 As she strained to straighten up, using her arms as support, the cumbersome book with the type of sharp corners only a hardback can have, tumbled from it's resting place of her face and down her torso and thighs, jutting into her flesh along the way, where it rolled off and landed in a nice dusty 'thump' beside her.

"What the-Ughem!" the fit began, as she realised she was coated in thick grey skin of dust. Her hair was caked, as well as her clothes and surroundings. It seemed as though the only thing safe, if only temporarily, from the layers of never ending dust was the girl shaped figure she'd manage to wipe away from the floor as she slept.

Next in line for her attention were her surroundings, the unusual, only too familiar milieu.  But not as though she had been here before. Not physically in any case. She had visited, unbeknownst to the characters, but only in her imagination. She'd mentally watch scenes unravel before her eyes in this very place.

Well, not exactly.

Sure, there was the big, round door-coated in innumerable layers of paint across the years, but now sporting a fine grass green- down that long tunnel like corridor, and the fire place where the tea was brewed, and the lengthy bench table where the meals were shared and the miniature chairs that were…sat on.  But now there were books, hundreds and hundreds, piled atop each other, old, leathery, new, pristine, each different, but each and every one, very very dusty. 

"Ugh ughem!" she coughed again, her gaze sweeping over the surroundings once again. br

"I am dreaming!"

"This is not real!"

"If the characters are here, they won't hate me!"

"Just WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP!!"

She commanded urgently, knowing only too well, wishes didn't come true that easily.

This wasn't the first time she'd had a dream like this, oh they came and went as they pleased, though they weren't very pleasing in themselves. She didn't dream like any normal geek or even fan girl. No, hers had to be about war, and Orcs and Shelob, and the like. Things that'd wake her up in a cold sweat, with the sheets incomprehensively tangled around her body, and nothing but the sound of her own urgent breathing and the tick-tock of the clock to keep her company.

One day, she wished, one day if only she could 'meet' a nice character, one that she could talk to, befriend, someone like Elrond, or Eowyn or, "Bilbo?"

"Oh, oh dear. Here lass, stand up, yes that's it. Good. Now would you kindly like to tell me what you are doing here?" The elderly hobbit questioned, after somehow managing to aid her to her feet, despite the difference in height.

The girl opened her mouth to answer, but for once she had absolutely no clue what to say. And as a result, her mouth remained slightly open, while the aversion of her eyes showed she was thinking of a suitable (and factual if she could manage it) reply.

"Let me help you dear," Bilbo offered, clearly familiar with the routine "You don't know. You have no idea. Not a clue. What in all of Middle Earth is going on, and oh yes, the infamous Huh? About right?" he questioned in a surprisingly well-rehearsed and sarcastic manner?

She nodded lamely. "I must say, I've never quite had that reaction before, they're all usually so very excited, making unintelligible noises like Squee! And more nonsensical, disturbing things."

"Uhuh." Was all she managed to produce this time around. Bilbo shook his head sadly, "Umm, Bilbo?" She asked, wondering how the hell he knew so much "Yes dear, that is my name, however I'd appreciate it if, after this shock of yours disappears, you could address me as Sir." Said the hobbit, as he hooked one thumb behind his trouser braces and began fiddling with a packet of what looked to be pipe weed with the other. She nodded, eyebrows raised at his request, or command rather, judging by his tone of voice, but plodded on anyway, "What am I doing here?" Damn, she sounded so stupid, she couldn't even string a tiny sentence together without pausing and wanting to pinch herself to wake up.  

"Only the Valar knows my dear, or possibly some of the local Istari, the only local Istari I might add," the hobbit chuckled, his greyed curls bobbing about his crown as he did so, then he shook his head in mock exasperation in reference to the Wizard he had mentioned.

"But I can tell you what you will be doing here." He continued, after realising who he was talking to, "You will be generally maintaining these rooms for me." After the blank look the girl offered as her reply, he elaborated "Dusting, sweeping, mopping, washing, CLEANING my dear, but not cooking. Oh no, we've learnt not to place the meals in anyone else's hands rather than our own capable ones." Bilbo shuddered in remembrance of a not so happy memory, "Special mushrooms! Really, we should have known better."

"We?" The girl asked, curious. "Why myself and Frodo of course. I really thought you would have known. But that's only for starters, then there's Sam, Rose and their lil' 'uns, popping in and out of here, in and out at every hour of the day," He smiled "The other two young'uns, Sirs Merry and Pip, oh and Aragorn and the Evenstar, along with Legolas, of course Elrond, if I go on naming them all we'll be standing here till tomorrows dinner arrives and grows cold, and we can't have that can we, I'm sure you get the idea and can fill in the rest of the names for yourself. Bag End is a house for a host after all. Always much work to be done. That's where you come in my dear."

It was quite unnerving how Bilbo could shift from resentment to almost sympathy within one sentence, and the absolute absurdity of the entire situation, actually only helped in making it feel all the more real.

"Soo…" She ventured, "Basically all the 'good' characters from Lord of The Rings, hang out…at Bag End?" she questioned, fully aware of how illogical it sounded.

"Yes." Said Bilbo slowly, as if speaking to a child. "I kinda am a kid though," she thought "he's old enough to be my grandfather, actually, they all are."

"Don't call us characters, we are as real, as real…as real as you! But yes they do 'hang out' here, if that's how you wish to describe it. They find the Shire relaxing, especially after the War of the Ring, that they all decided to set up holiday homes in the area, many ended up retiring for longer than expected. It's splendid really." Bilbo continued.

"I see." She commented, at the same time trying to hide her smirk by biting the corners of her mouth. Maybe this won't be such a bad dream after all.

And with that, she picked up her book (The Lord of the Rings no doubt), it's pages suddenly inexplicably blank, and merrily followed Bilbo down the corridor, towards a room basked in more sunlight, and whatever awaited her at the other end.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[A/N And now for the compulsory Author's Note. I hope these won't be too frequent, but what I basically want to say is that I hope you liked it, and can't, too clearly, see what's in store for our lil' 'girl who's dropped into ME'. It's more likely to be a collection of her humorous skits (encounters with the other character's) in a chronological order with an underlying plot line. Nothing too angsty or quintessential. Just some fun. Much obliged if you let me know what you think (constructive criticism please). What's a story without the readers right? ~Miss-Pell~]