I know I messed up (and will continue to) some dates and canon stuff. I apologize, and ignore them pretty please.

Chapter One: An Unexpected Bedfellow

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Bilbo Baggins lay on his side, eyes closed in blissful slumber.

He wakened slowly, growing first aware of the cozy warmth of his bed, and then the heavy, comfortable duvet sheets tucked snugly around him. His arms were wrapped languidly around something soft, and nuzzling closer, he pressed his face into a pile of thick, dark curls.

Wait…curls?

With an indistinct shout, Bilbo bolted upright, shoving the covers of his bed down to reveal a slight figure occupying its other side. Yelping, the other occupant of his bed jolted awake, and for a brief moment, the two stared at each other awkwardly.

Then all of a sudden, the stranger's jaw dropped, and he reeled back in shock.

Bilbo used that time to observe him. Whoever this...person was…they were dark-haired, blue-eyed, and generally not at all strange looking for a hobbit. In fact, they looked an awful lot like his cousin Drogo Baggins, now that he thought about it.

But why was he thinking about it, really? There was a stranger in his bed! A stranger! One who was possibly a burglar, ruffian, or Eru knows what else! No matter that they were a hobbit, this was utterly, and terribly unrespectable. How had it happened, even? He didn't think he'd gotten drunk last night.

Or maybe he had, and he just couldn't remember.

Ugh.

"Uncle?"

Bilbo startled and let out a small squeak at the unexpected voice. He looked up to see blue eyes regarding him curiously, and with a slight bit of…was that awe?

At least he looked somewhat confused as well.

"Uncle Bilbo? Is that you?" He heard again, and that was when he realized what it was exactly the other occupant of his bed had said. He tilted his head to the side in confusion.

"What are you going on about? And who are you?" Bilbo demanded a tad rudely. After all, they didn't teach you manners for this sort of situation. No sir.

"What do you mean, who am I?" The stranger said incredulously. "I'm Fro-…Wait. Oh. My." He paused abruptly, peering at him through suspiciously narrowed eyes. "You look…awful young."

"I beg your pardon?" Bilbo asked in disbelief. What in Middle Earth-

"I think I need a drink," groaned the stranger, moving to the edge of the bed and putting his forehead in his hands. Bilbo was inclined to agree with him for once, and nodded practically.

"I'll make us some tea...and then we can discuss…this like civilized people."

The stranger (Bilbo really needed to learn his name), smiled uneasily, and rose, leading him out the door. He navigated the round archways of Bag End with practiced ease, reaching the kitchen before him, where he pulled out a chair for himself. He seated himself opposite Bilbo's usual place at the dining table, calmly acting as though nothing odd had happened. Bilbo stared after him bemused, because did they know each other or something?

"Have you been here before? To Bag End?" Bilbo asked perplexedly.

The stranger grimaced, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Ah," he said, wincing, "I was just getting to that. I was going to wait for the tea to finish."

Bilbo eyed him dubiously, but acquiesced, and after a few minutes of waiting in silence, took the kettle from the stove and poured them each a cup of tea. He set the cups down gingerly on the table and then seated himself delicately, relaxing against the back of his chair as he quirked a brow inquiringly at him.

"And now it's ready," he stated blandly, "go on."

"I don't really know where to start," the stranger began, and Bilbo rolled his eyes, budding frustration beginning to overflow.

"Then I will start for you. Who are you, and what are you doing in my home, and sleeping in my own bed no less!"

"My name is Frodo," he said tiredly, "and as far as I know, I fell asleep in my own bed last night."

"What do you-"

"Listen," Frodo said, ignoring his furious exclamation in favor of cutting him off. "I will answer all your questions to the best of my ability, but I know that my explanation will sound unbelievable. All I ask is that you hear me out."

Bilbo frowned, noticing the quiet authority in Frodo's voice, and regarded him contemplatively. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was something strange about the young hobbit, and the aura that surrounded him. It wasn't just the bizarre circumstance…how he'd just appeared in Bilbo's bed, seemingly out of nowhere as he slept. There was something strange about his eyes. They looked ancient: wise beyond their years.

He looked in pain.

Bilbo was nodding absentmindedly to himself before his mind caught up with his actions. What was he thinking? This boy could be a burglar! A thief! He could be anything really, and yet here Bilbo was, sipping tea, and sitting calmly with him at the breakfast table.

This was ridiculous…but it was also the Shire.

The Shire, where no crimes worse than the theft of silver spoons or mushrooms was committed, and anything beyond that was unheard of. This was not one of his storybooks or one of their grand tales, nor was it the world of men and dwarves where criminals and ruffians were known to be commonplace.

This was his hobbit hole, and he a hobbit of the Shire in the Shire, and this Frodo person was a hobbit as well to boot. What harm could there possibly be? Whatever strange tale his visitor had to spin, it made no difference to Bilbo. They'd sort things out, eat some biscuits...and dare he say it, potentially get some entertainment out of the whole thing. How bad could it be?

"Alright," he said.

It wasn't like he might come to regret it.

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Rogue One gave me Hobbit feels for some reason, and so I've dived straight back into this fandom and remembered that Hobbit is my soul. I take a very long time to write usually, hence the long delay on my other works, and therefore my goal with this one is to follow the policy "write it all down and don't look back till it's finished." Hopefully, that means frequent updates and less stress for me.

My idea for this work came when I was watching The Fellowship of the Ring the other day, and the thought occurred to me that the hobbits of the Fellowship were awful lucky to not be the only ones in the group. Like seriously, they could complain about a lack of Second Breakfast without getting ridiculed! And then I thought of poor Bilbo, all alone in the company of 13 grumpy dwarves, and decided he needed a friend. And then there was my obsession with time travel, Bagginshield and all those Frodo feels in LOTR so here you go: the slightly cracky adventures of Bilbo, his nephew, and that company of grumpy (but absolutely hot) dwarves.

Thanks for reading, and hope to see you soon! :)