The hand made sign that hung around my neck had not worked as well as I had hoped it would.

Will work for shelter, it read in my large and bold handwriting. I stood at one of the busiest street corners in the Shire, never mind Hobbiton, stupidly hoping someone would hire a presumably 10 to 15-year-old hobbit girl. Nobody even looked at me twice. When the sun would set, it would be a total of three days without food. My hair was tucked into my bluish hat, framing my bony face.

One would never think that a skinny hobbit existed.

However, when someone did stop, she was fat and sour faced. She looked only a few years older than me–somewhere between 16 and 20–and definitely taller, but she was still unpleasant to look at. She stood in front of me, and folded her arms across her chest, surveying me like I had seen some hobbits do to a pig at the market. After a moment she nodded to herself, muttered, "You'll do well," and grabbed my arm, proceeding to pull me along.

I didn't protest or speak up, I hadn't spoken in about three days, but my eyes widened slightly in fear. But at the same time, I swear, I experienced what I believed to be called hope at the idea that this woman would want me.

When this hobbit-woman (if she was old enough to be called that, I'm still not sure) finally stopped in her tracks, we were standing in front of a hobbit-hole with a large round green door and a lovely little garden. The woman opened the gate roughly and pulled me inside, up to the door where she knocked loudly. I could hear scurrying inside the hobbit-hole before the door was opened by an older male hobbit with a candle in his hand; it was rather late after all.

"Bilbo Baggins!" the woman greeted him immediately.

"Oh… Hello, Lobelia," he said exasperatedly. He paused when he saw me. "And who is this?"

Without another word said, the woman, Lobelia, continued on into the hobbit-hole, her hand still firmly holding onto my arm, which was starting to hurt a bit. "Oh, what does her name matter?" Lobelia went on. "As the new resident of Bag End, making you by far the most respectable hobbit in the Shire, it is only fitting for you to have a maid! You know, to do all of your housework!" She cleared her throat. "Besides, it'll be your birthday in… not too long from now."

"My birthday is not for another two months," Bilbo informed her. "Where did you find this girl and what is her name?" he asked sternly. I looked from one to the other; Bilbo seemed to be much older than her, but Lobelia did not let that soften her argument, or her outspokenness.

"If you must know, I found her at the market corner," she explained, rolling her eyes. "She seems rather young, and looks just famished; don't you think you could be the one to feed her and help her?" She gestured to my sign. "See? Will work for shelter. Doesn't that just sound like a deal?" she asked him. I wasn't sure where Lobelia was going with this, but I knew that I didn't like her.

"What do you mean she's famished? Where are her parents?" he asked worriedly, looking to me for an answer.

"Exactly!" Lobelia pointed out. "Her parents were nowhere in sight! So, I guess I figured you could just take her in–as a maid, nothing more."

Bilbo gazed at me for a minute before speaking. "If– I'm saying if –I hire her, this is in no way going to get me to put the Bracegirdle's down as heirs to Bag End–"

"Whatever made you think that?" she exclaimed. "I am Lobelia Bracegirdle-soon-to-be-Sackville-Baggins, who are the real heirs to Bag End by the way–"

"–You are nowhere near old enough to marry that Otho, young lady–"

"–And I can assure you that bribery is not in my nature!"

"If you say so," he sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Then in that case–"

"Perfect! She will be the best maid in the Shire, and you two will get along so well!" Lobelia said, releasing my sore arm and making her way to the door again. I immediately started to rub it gingerly. "I shall come over any time you need me, but I don't suspect you will. You've always been great with children, dear Bilbo. Buh-bye, you two!"

The door snapped shut.

I was then left alone in the foyer with this complete stranger who looked to me pityingly. He knelt down to be eye level with me. "So… My name is Bilbo Baggins," he introduced himself, his hand held out to shake. I shook it carefully. "What's your name, if I may ask?"

I shrugged my shoulders. I don't know.

"Alright then… How long have you been out there?" he asked, ruffling his hair as if it helped his thought process.

I displayed three dirt-caked fingers. Three days.

"Okay. Have you eaten at all in that time?"

I shook my head. No.

Bilbo sighed as he studied the sign that still hung around my neck. "Tell you what, how about I tuck you into bed and I'll get you some supper?" he offered.

I nodded my head without a second thought. Yes, please.

He stood up to his full height, took my hand (much lighter than Lobelia would have, I might add), and led me down the numerous never-ending halls of Bag End. He eventually stopped at what looked like a rather large children's room. The bed was huge and had thick and fluffy goose down covers. The one window was adorned with green and brown curtains. But what really caught my eye was what was all along the walls.

I let go of Bilbo's hand and walked to one of these walls. They were covered in dark wood shelves and they housed something completely foreign to me.

"They're called books," Bilbo explained, practically reading my mind.

I peered over my shoulder at him. He nodded his head, knowing what it is that I was silently asking. I hooked the thickest "book" that I could reach with my fingers and pulled it loose of its bearings. I ended up falling to the floor with its weight.

"Whoa, careful there," Bilbo said as he helped me back up. "Ah, The Journey: a Hobbit's Tale. I read this when I was about nineteen," he smiled. "Would you like me to read it to you?" he asked me.

I smiled and nodded my head. Yes, please.

"Then it's settled," he said. "You get into bed, I'll bring you some supper, and then I'll read to you."

Excitedly, I ran past him and jumped onto the bed. He laughed at that.

"I take it you'd like that."

I nodded vigorously. Yes.

"Oh, by the way," Bilbo added. "Do you ever talk…?"

"…Yes," I giggled.