A/N: This whole thing is due to a friend of mine - it'll be cross-posted on AO3 when I get my account up. Overall, I'm not expecting this story to exceed ten chapters, but it may get away from me.
I swear I'll update something else at some point.
It was mid-morning on a warm summer day when Bilbo Baggin's life changed once again, though if for the better none can say until the venture is seen through. It was also a perfect day for sitting out front of one's smial and smoking a pipe, which is exactly what Bilbo was doing. He had just begun to reach that pleasant hazy state of meditation brought on by only the most excellent pipeweed when a horribly familiar cough sounded in front of him. It was, Bilbo reflected, a remarkably unassuming cough, rather like the sort often produced by the old hobbits who liked to sit on their own front doorsteps and smoke in just the same way - he was stalling.
Bilbo opened his eyes to see two shockingly blue eyes in a wrinkled old face that was uncomfortably close to his own. The wizard straightened up to his proper height, looming over the seated subject of his stare.
"Good morning," Bilbo managed to get out, for it certainly was a good morning so far, and he intended for it to remain so.
In retrospect, he should have realized that Gandalf, with his love of infuriating wordplay, would seize the words offered to him.
"What do you mean?" The Ístari said. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?" And before Bilbo could properly answer, he leaned back, and said in a tone that was, in Bilbo's opinion, inappropriately mischievous, "With the amount of pipe smoke you're producing, my dear hobbit, you are rather beginning to resemble a dragon." His tone seemed to indicate that he rather knew that he was wasting time talking to you, and he already knew what you were going to say, but he was willing to humor you anyway.
Bilbo's eye twitched. "Is there something you want?"
Gandalf's self-amusement, if possible, only grew. "I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure." He leaned a little more on his staff. "And I think you, Bilbo, will find yourself having a particularly vested interest in the outcome."
Bilbo's eye twitched again. "What makes you believe that I'm in any need of going on an adventure?" Picking up his pipe, he was about to stick the stem in his mouth again when something else occurred to him. "Besides, I've just begun to reestablish my respectability as a hobbit, and I certainly don't need any Sackville-Bagginses poking their noses in Belladonna and Bungo's stuff."
The wizard's face turned grave very quickly, and said quietly, "If there were anyone else to go to, my friend, I would not have bothered you. But," and here he heaved a sigh that seemed to make even the nearby trees slump for a brief moment, "I'm afraid there is no one else in Arda who would be able to do what is necessary." For a second, his face seemed particularly old and lined before perking back up. "Besides, it wouldn't do for you to grow sedentary, would it?"
The hobbit groaned, admitting defeat and, picking up the pouch of pipeweed and extinguishing the pipe with a quick thumb, stood up. He began to move towards the house when, realizing that the wizard seemed lost in reflection and hadn't moved an inch, turned around a bit impatiently.
"Well, come on in then," he said, gesturing his head towards the door. "Might as well have elevenses while we talk."
Starting, the wizard hiked up his robes and hurried up the path after Bilbo, pausing only to remove his hat before it was knocked off by the low door frame.
The round green door slammed firmly shut behind the pair.
Bilbo Baggins sighed, his head pressed against the back of a carved wood chair. He sighed once more for good measure; this situation certainly merited it.
Smaug, the Enemy, and dwarves. Three of his least-favorite things, all wrapped up in one unpleasant package that was even more unpleasantly unavoidable. Bilbo had known that Smaug took the mountain, of course. He had felt it the moment the fire-drake had flown into the area, spewing flames and death and in general, unpleasantness. He also knew that there was exactly one place that Smaug would be going - even Bilbo, after all these years and from so far away, could still faintly feel the pull in his dreams of the sheer amount of riches and, of course, the Arkenstone, so it was hardly surprising when Smaug finally awoke, he made a beeline for the Lonely Mountain.
Now, it seemed, the rightful King Under the Mountain was going to make an attempt to take it back; Gandalf had seen the opportunity to create a stronghold in the East against the Darkness combined with a chance to negate the threat of a dragon under the Enemy's control all in one blow, and he had taken it. Bilbo rather suspected that the dwarf king thought that he had found Gandalf; it was no doubt the other way around.
Of course, none of this would be a concern of Bilbao's if it weren't for the wizard's unfortunately well-founded suspicions of a resurgence of evil in the East. Bilbo would do practically anything to stop the Dark Lord from rising again, if only to maintain his own freedom.
Nearly thirteen hundred years as a hobbit had cured him of any love of bloodshed or battle and provided alternate things to covet besides gold and jewels - and besides, it had been around five thousand years before that since Bilbo had been properly in service of a dark force, and he was not eager to break that streak.
(There were still moments when he woke up in the middle of the night, expecting piercing steel in his breast and acidic blood in his throat, ears ringing with the drumming of goblins and screaming of Eldar. Fell beasts of Morgoth did not dream. Hobbits did.)
No, Bilbo Baggins was perfectly happy with being left alone as a hobbit. But it seemed that in order to live in peace, he'd be having to let his carefully built-up lifestyle behind for a while and travel with a bunch of dwarves.
Bilbo didn't have anything against dwarves personally, besides the ones who had attempted to kill him, but there were very few fell creatures who did not despise dwarves, given that their very nature made them difficult to corrupt with anything other than greed, and even more so to kill. It also didn't help that treasure was usually guarded by dwarves, most of whom weren't keen on letting it go.
Also, dwarves tended to stink.
But traveling with an army of dwarves was certainly preferable to allowing any of the Enemy's machinations to proceed, and so Bilbo straightened wearily in his chair and looked over at the wizard who was staring at him concernedly.
"Yes, fine, you win." Bilbo sighed. "Invite your dwarves over for dinner and we'll discuss contracts then."
Gandalf stood up, nodding and brushing off his long gray robes. A couple of steps took him to the door, and he left without so much as a farewell. Bilbo stood up himself and made his way over to the kitchen. He didn't know what dwarves ate, but it would be terribly rude and unbefitting as a Baggins, honorary or not, to not properly feed his guests.
Gandalf was already out of sight down the lane when Bilbo realized he had no idea how many guests he'd be hosting.
He sagged against the kitchen counter for a second, then straightened up. Time to go to the market, it seemed; it was always better to be prepared.