Shiningheart of ThunderClan doesn't own The Hobbit. All canon characters rightfully belong to the Tolkien Estate.

A wise person once said, "This place is many things, but I'd never call it home." Another wise man once said, "Living in a shell with no soul". We're going to ignore the fact that those are song lyrics and focus on my point.

Because The Shire? Is a FUCKING LIE. Oh it might look all warm and inviting on the outside, but inside it's filled to the hilltops with fear and suspicion. Gandalf and I led our ponies by the reins to a stable he remembered being 'somewhere around here'. I guess not even wizards are immune to going senile. The scene in Moria makes so much more sense now.

As we were walking, we came upon three hobbit children playing in the grass. Gandalf and I greeted them cheerfully, but they slowly backed away from us before fleeing without a word. Now I know the Shire wasn't big on outsiders. They were a lot like dwarves in that respect. But to be outright afraid of us?

I cast Gandalf an unnerved look, but he shrugged it off. "I'm sure it's just because they're children." he tried to assured me. Funny, considering he looked just as confused as I was. "It's been a long time since I've visited the Shire. I'm sure only some of the older hobbits will remember me!"

The next hobbits we came upon were indeed of the older persuasion, all going slightly gray in their hair. They greeted Gandalf like an old friend, but me they greeted stiffly with fake smiles. It made me feel uncomfortable enough to withdraw from the conversation, petting my pony. Gandalf was quick to ask for directions to the stall and get us out of there.

Like I usually do with things that made me uncomfortable, I tried to put it behind me. "Well, at least we know where the stable is now. Then on to Bag End, yes?" I could practically feel the wizard trying to pick at my brain, but he grumbled a wordless assent.

Soon we dropped off our steeds at the stable and were indeed on our way to Bag End. We passed by more hobbits, but it was more of the same. Frightened young ones, maddeningly polite old ones, and middle-aged ones that were somewhere in the middle. Soon enough we were traveling up a road to the hobbit house ("Smial, dear, hobbits are rather sensitive about that") that rested… inside? On top? What would be the proper term?

Wherever it was, we approached it. Gandalf stopped us down the lane and pointed with his staff to where a hobbit I knew to be Bilbo Baggins sat. I couldn't see him very well, but I distinctly noticed curly brown hair and smoke rings rising through the air. "That, my dear, is our future burglar. Now this will take some delicate persuasion, so it might be best if you leave the talking to me."

You know, maybe those fanfictions aren't so far off when they say Gandalf is an attention-seeking arrogant know-it-all. With absolute no intention of following through, I nodded as solemnly as I could and followed the wizard to where Bilbo was leaning back with his eyes closed, puffing on his pipe contentedly. Another smoke ring was blown, and Gandalf waved his hand in the air. The smoke ring swirled around and became a smoke butterfly that blew back into Bilbo's face, startling the hobbit into opening his eyes and sitting up properly.

I followed Gandalf the last couple of feet to stand just in front of the fence. Bilbo was blinking up at the both of us in confusion before offering us a polite yet confused smile. "Good morning!" he greeted. He was giving Gandalf the same look of vague familiarity that the other middle-aged hobbits gave, like an itch on the back of his mind that told him he knew this crazy old man but he couldn't dredge up the memory.

Gandalf pounced like a starving man on a scrap of meat. He'd take any chance he could to confuse the shit out of the little people. "How do you mean?" Bilbo's smile just turned even more confused. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it to be or not?" The more Gandalf spoke, the more confused Bilbo became. "Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that it is a morning to be good on?"

I broke in with an equally bland tone, as if Gandalf and I had planned for me to continue where he left off. "Or did you perhaps simply mean it as a polite greeting from one stranger to another?" The old wizard gave me a scathing look that I simply rolled my eyes at. "Oh you didn't think I'd actually let you handle this by yourself, did you? So far you've had all the tact and bluntness of a drunk dwarf."

Gandalf actually spluttered indignantly at that while I stepped forward to bow to a rather amused but still befuddled hobbit. "Katie, daughter of Candy, at your service." Gandalf huffed as Bilbo quickly stood to bow back, again rather politely. "This is Gandalf, a wandering wizard who enjoys confusing us simple folk with riddles of the wise."

Recognition dawned at the name, and he traded the faintly confused look for faintly excited. "Not Gandalf the Gray, the wizard who made such marvelous fireworks? The old Took used to have them every Midsummer's Eve!" He then cleared his voice and started puffing on his forgotten pipe again, restraining the excitement and replacing it with respect. "I had no idea you were still in business."

Gandalf frowned in offense at the words. "And where else would I be?" And I totally would have answered with a sarcastic retort but for the fact that I suddenly couldn't speak. My mouth opened and closed, but not even a squeak was produced. Neither hobbit nor wizard appeared to notice, too focused on each other.

Or at least I thought so until Bilbo looked at me rather strangely. "Is… is she okay? She hasn't made any sounds for the past few minutes."

The triumphant half-glance Gandalf sent me made me narrow my eyes in suspicion. He didn't do what I think he did, did he? "She's fine. I merely needed her silent for a few minutes to talk to you in peace." If it weren't for my current situation, I would have squawked. He'd used freaking magic to shut me up! That jackass! If I weren't so furious I'd probably find it funny, but the fact of the matter was that I WAS furious. I thought magic wasn't supposed to be used for mundane things like winning petty arguments! Trust Gandalf the Grump to bend the rules.

Bilbo raised his eyebrows in casual curiosity, but his eyes narrowed the slightest bit in suspicion. "Oh? And how can help you? I'm telling you now, I'll do whatever you want if you would put a permanent silence spell on the Sackville-Bagginses."

I threw my head back and cackled silently. Bilbo's well deserved distaste for his cousins is one of my favorite things ever. I'd never known if it was something that came from the fandom or it was mentioned in the book, but seeing Bilbo insult her in front of me is even better than it being canon. The only way this could be better is if he was insulting her to her face.

The conversation went much like it did in the movie. Gandalf asked Bilbo to go on an adventure with him, Bilbo said no, Gandalf ignored him, Bilbo insisted on no and slammed the door on us, and Gandalf wrote that funky symbol on the round door. I made sure to have as big a disapproving glower as I could muster when he turned back around and gestured to my throat with a raised eyebrow. "I apologize, my dear, but it was necessary."

"No it wasn't." I was almost surprised at the sound of my own voice, but only for a split second before I continued. "And neither was defacing Bilbo's door! You could have just as easily told the Company to gather at the home atop slash inside the tallest hill. I know dwarves don't have the best sense of above ground, but surely they know the difference between north and up!"

I hope so, at least. Much like Bilbo's disdain for the Sackville-Bagginses, I wasn't sure if Thorin's sense of direction was canon or not. Gandalf hummed his displeasure at my scolding before looking back up to Bag End. "I think, my dear, it might be best if you stayed here and talked to our hobbit. Convince him to join us, but be subtle about it. Hopefully you're not so much a dwarf in Man's skin that subtlety escapes you."

Should I be insulted or amused? I quite honestly couldn't decide. The twinkle in his eye made me think he was hoping for a reaction, so I decided a mixture of both. "Right, you'll pay for that later." I vowed with a smirk. Gandalf chortled in amusement and I waved him away with a hand. "Go. I'll talk to Bilbo and see what I can do."

Gandalf nodded and walked away, humming merrily all the while. Frankly I half expected him to send a letter with a bird and settle in The Green Dragon until tonight. I watched him go for a minute before squaring my shoulders and facing the iconic green door of Bag End. Here goes nothing.

I knocked lightly and would have jumped at the snap in Bilbo's voice if I hadn't been expecting it. "Go away! We don't want any adventures or quests or journeys here, thank you very much!"

Now now, Bilbo, that isn't very hobbit of you. What would he have done if I was one of his neighbors? "It's me, Bilbo. Gandalf is gone. May I please come in?"

Was it a dick move, using their mannerisms against him? Possibly. But I remember reading somewhere that a hobbit would let you get away with murder if you said please and thank you enough times. Any Shirefolk worth their salt would never turn away such a polite request.

A gamble, yes, but one that payed off. Bilbo opened the door with a grumble and left it open. "Well, come on in then. It's almost time for Elevensies anyway. Would you like some tea while we wait?"

I almost pouted at the fact that I didn't have to bend to avoid the door frame. I would have gladly taken the whack on the head if it meant I were taller. "No thank you, I don't drink tea." Poor Bilbo looked almost scandalized, like I'd just admitted to being an orc in disguise. I removed both my boots and my cloak, leaving them respectfully at the door. "Do you have juice or water, though?"

He looked at my discarded garments in grudging approval before leading me to his parlor. "Let me look. Only fauntlings drink juice around here, so I might not have any, but I will do what I can."

I suppose that was as good as I could hope for. "Thank you, Master Hobbit." He nodded and scurried away as I sat down. My feet groaned at finally getting a rest, and I sighed as I massaged them. It was a miracle they hadn't fallen off by now. Exercise was never my strong suit, and being on my feet for a week was more than I could handle.

Gods, I was going to die before we even reached Erebor, wasn't I?

Bilbo walked in carrying a tray with two cups and cookies on it. "All I had was milk. I hope that's fine?" Queue internal grimace. Milk always made my stomach feel wonky. Still, at least he was trying to accommodate me. We sat in silence, awkward and tense as we sipped on our drinks. "Let's not dance around the topic. Gandalf sent you to convince me to go with you."

Heh, he certainly doesn't beat around the bush, does he? How the dwarves didn't love him on sight, I will never understand. "Right in one, Master Baggins." We sat in more silence, considering each other, before I sighed. "I don't think I can though, can I?"

Bilbo looked almost surprised at his easy victory before squinting suspiciously at me. "No, no you can't... but Gandalf is up to something anyway, isn't he?"

Jeeze, was I that easy to read? I hope not, or the others will know I'm lying even before I tell the lie. Though Bilbo has already proven himself rather astute and clever, so maybe it's just him? "By tonight you'll be up to your eyeballs in dwarves." He whimpered at the thought and rubbed at his eyes, as if trying to wipe away a mental image. I winced at the distress and instinctively apologized. "Sorry."

He took some deep breaths before calmly saying, "And I have no choice in the matter?" I shook my head in response and he sighed. "Right, I guess that means I will have to prepare a feast. Do you know what dwarves like to eat?"

I don't even know why I was surprised. Maybe I thought he'd fight me more, or that he would already know from his books about the world. "Meat. Lots and lots of meat. And some fruit and a smidgen of vegetables. No leafy things, like lettuce or cabbage. Potatoes and carrots mostly."

If I remembered right, at least. I was practically parroting what I've read in fanfictions and couldn't remember if it was Bombur or Bifur that liked salads, so best to leave that out completely. Bilbo looked like he was mentally preparing the menu before sighing. "I don't have that much meat in my smial, so I guess it's to the market with us. But oh, whatever shall I tell the others? The gossip will be enough to ruin me!"

I hummed and looked around for inspiration when I saw the portraits of Bilbo's parents. "Your mother was an adventurer once, wasn't she? Gandalf told me a story or two on our trip here. We could tell them they wanted to meet their dear friend's son and you're simply being a good host by catering to their... unique appetites."

Bilbo cast a sad smile to the painting of Belladonna Took and nodded. "That would work. She used to tell me about some dwarves she met when I was a fauntling, so no one would question it."

Soon enough it was down to the market. I will warn you all now, NEVER try to haggle with Bilbo. I thought he'd go for one vendor's jugular when she gave me a jacked up price and a snooty look. He handled the rest of the shopping while I followed like a child, too in awe to care he was treating me like a pack mule.

More than once we had to give our cover story to a nosy hobbit, but eventually it spread enough that no one else questioned it. Some even gave discounts when they heard. Bilbo was nice enough to inform me that those hobbits were either Tooks or Brandybucks, relatives and family friends who were glad the memory of his mother survived beyond the Shire.

I felt a little bad they were losing money because of our lie, but Bilbo assured me it was fine. "They make enough money in a single day that our discount won't even make a dent in their profits."

Now that we were done shopping, it was time for cooking. I was even more useless at that than I was shopping. Grand master chef, I was not. Bilbo eventually relegated me to washing dishes and even snarked at me not to break anything.

The day passed by in a haze of good smells, playful banter, and vicious cursing whenever I touched a still hot dish. By the time we were finished, I could safely say Bilbo would never look at me as a lady ever again.

The doorbell rang and I swear I saw Bilbo turn as white as a sheet. "Oh Yavanna, I don't think I can do this. Nope, I know I can't do this! Oh why did I ever let me talk you into this? I mean, let you talk me into this? Oh I'm so nervous I can't even speak! "

If he heard the small 'aw' I gave at his sheer hobbity adorableness, he didn't acknowledge it. I clapped my hands on his shoulders and ordered, "Look at me, Bilbo." He did, eyes wide and fearful. "You got this. Remember that this is your house, your home, and it's by your good will they stay here. Don't let them take advantage of you. Dwarves respect backbone more than manners, so if they get out of hand, sass the hell out of them."

He still looked a bit shaky, but determined now. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and a bit of steel entered his eyes. This wasn't Bilbo Baggins who fretted over his hankie. This was the Bilbo who stood before Azog the Defiler and DARED him to try and get to Thorin.

I should probably worry about me fucking with his character development, but I'd rather deal with that when it came. "Right. I'll get the door, you finish setting the table." I saluted to his back and retrieved a ridiculously heavy platter of some fowl carcass while listening to the conversation up front. "Bilbo Baggins, Master Dwarf, at your service."

Perhaps the few seconds silence was from surprise, or maybe appraisal. Whatever it was, it was a few moments before I heard, "Dwalin, son of Fundin, at yours." Loud stomping. "Where is it? I heard there'd be supper, and lots of it."

More loud stomping before Bilbo called, "This way. The kitchen is much too small to fit all of you. I was told I'd be 'up to my eyeballs in dwarves'." I smirked at hearing my own comment and skillfully ninja'ed my way around the other opening, just as Dwalin and Bilbo entered the main one. "Sit wherever you want. Since you're the first to arrive, the others will hardly be able to complain."

Dwalin grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "That's what you think." The sound of a chair scraping on the floor made me flinch. I peeked very, very carefully out of my hiding space and very, very quietly lost my shit. Dwalin was sitting at the head of the table, where Thorin would sit later. His back was facing me, and I had a fairly good view of Keeper and Creeper. I think those are his axes' names. They seem silly though, so I'm probably wrong.

And he was tall. Like, taller than me tall. Not by much, a few inches at most, but that paired with the sharp weapons and bulging muscles was enough for my instincts to scream 'STAY THE FUCKING HELL AWAY'.

Dwalin was surveying the buffet with a critical eye, and grunted appreciatively when Bilbo handed him a mug of ale. "Did you cook all this yourself? Seems too much for a tiny fellow like you."

Bilbo spluttered indignantly and puffed up, like an angry rooster or cat, and I crossed my fingers. This was his chance to prove he had a backbone and shouldn't be underestimated! "I'll have you know, Master Dwalin, that I am a perfectly respectable size for a hobbit!" I couldn't see the look the dwarf was giving, but whatever it was made Bilbo pale and lose all the bluster he'd gained. "Th-though yes, I admit I had some help."

That's my queue! I silently sneaked out and tapped Dwalin on the shoulder. Like the joke goes, I changed sides so he wouldn't see me when he turned. What I wasn't expecting was for him to swing his arm around to aim a fierce hit to where I'd previously been standing. He must have caught me gaping at him from the corner of his eye, for he gave me a sheepish look that I never would have expected from the gruff warrior. "Sorry 'bout that, lass. Ye startled me, is all."

I stared at him some more before speaking. "... That. Was. So. Cool!" Dwalin was further startled when I leaned closer to invade his space, smiling broadly at him. "I'm Katie, and I like puppies and kittens and rainy days and poking dead things with sticks! I don't like bugs or bug bites or water, and my dreams are to one day become such a famous writer I can't even go out to eat without being asked for an autograph! My blood type is AB and I was born in Spring, making me a Pisces! Who're you?"

All of this was said fast and in one breath. The goal was for Dwaling to not understand a single word I was saying, especially the end. No need to have him asking questions this soon. I must have succeeded, for he answered slowly, "Er, Dwalin."

… Sigh. Why, Dwalin? Why do you make messing with you too easy? "Hi, Erdwalin!"

He narrowed his eyes, like he was very quickly coming to doubt my intelligence. "No, just Dwalin."

My smile stayed the same, even while I was cackling on the inside. "Okay, Justdwalin!" Over Dwalin's shoulder, Bilbo had his face in his hands and seemed to be trying very, very hard not to throw something at me. He peeked out through his fingers and met my eyes, only to bury himself even further in his hands, shoulders now shaking. I considered it a victory that he was trying not to laugh.

The dwarf stared at me as if he was trying to decide if I was serious or not. I bit the inside of my cheek to not crack, but my mouth momentarily shifted into a smirk. Dwalin saw before I could wipe it off and exclaimed suddenly, "Oh Mahal's balls, not another one!"

I cackled at that. Oh, this will be fun.

Words on Google Docs: 3714

Pages on Google Docs: 8

Notes: I apolpogize for the semi-abrupt ending, but the chapter was getting way too long for me. Thanks for reading, now review please!