A Hole In the Ground

(Or Bea thinks it's actually quite lovely)

Third Age: Year 2885, Third of May

It's about a month and a half into her journey with Gandalf the Wizard, that Bea sees a change in the landscape of Middle-Earth. There wasn't much to do, traveling on a horse even with a Wizard, other than trade stories and look at the world around her. It was fascinating, despite never being much of an outdoors woman, Bea couldn't deny that there was beauty in the everything here. It was… Just untouched, which was the best way she could describe it. Even the Wales countryside wasn't as untouched as Middle-Earth. Maybe bits of trash strewn about, or the paved roads. It made the world so different, despite

the familiar looking grass or towering pines.

At first, the changes were very subtle. Because of her lack of experience being around a changing landscape, Bea, despite having nothing better to do but look around her didn't notice. In her defense, it was never any big changes. The hills didn't go away, but eased into longer stretches, rolling versus mountainous and somewhat steep. The road, though obviously traveled on, eased into softer, less rocky and even more used. Even the forest, which seemed endless and all that this world was made of, did go away.

Slowly.

The towering pine-esque trees shorted, changed into different, softer, pastel colored trees. Rounder and closer to the ground. They turned into small little shrubs full of berries(she had both laughed at the fact that blueberries existed in this world and nearly cried, happily helped Gandalf pile them into cloth bags to share between them on their journey) and flowers, before it gave into proper rolling hills with endless grass as tall as her waist. It was beautiful and the sun seemed to hit everything just right.

It was as if the sun had been made to make everything about the land in front of her warm, inviting and safe. They had yet to run in anything after the gaggle of bandits since the incident a while back and Bea had not felt completely safe on the road. She had honestly waiting for something similar to happen, but now, she did. It was about a week into walking through this somewhat tamer land that Gandalf said with a chuckle and an extended flair of his staff:

"Lady Beatrice, I welcome you to the outmost of the Shire," Gandalf, voice pleasant, warm and vibrating into her back.

She smiled, a startled laugh coming to her lips. Because while Gandalf had pointed out what country they were in or 'land' as he constantly corrected her, most had gone over her head. The 'Shire' however, was easy to memorize, rolled off of her tongue a lot better than Forlindon and Harlindon did. There was something foreign about every word, even when Gandalf provided translations or brief meaning to the names of Middle-Earth.

"It's beautiful," she responded, because it was, in a completely different way that what the road to this place had been, and at Gandalf's prompting, they both go off of Sonata.

As the weeks had gone by, Gandalf had taught her to get on and off the horse. It was a bit tricky, considering the saddle, lovely and made of well supple leather, was made decidedly not for Bea's short legs but Gandalf's long ones. She more or less hopped off the large horse and climbed the damn thing inelegantly. She was getting better at it, but she missed the simplicity of a bike or a car(among many many things). They would take about three and a half weeks to get through the entirety of the Shire, though Gandalf planned on staying in a 'dear friend' home for at least a week to regroup and maybe hunt down some basic supplies before they could do their large purchases in Bree, which was about a week and a half or so out of the Shire.

Bea was more than happy about this and hoped to god that this 'dear friend' had a bathtub.

They walked at a slower pace now, as the grass gave way to farmland. It wasn't because they were in any less of a hurry- but more because the atmosphere of Shire required a sort of leisurely, easy pace. Bea was all for it- she had never moved so quickly and so far in her life by the power of her own two feet, even with the help of Sonata.

They made camp once they had traveled a little bit in the night(It was a clear night, with a large moon so Bea wasn't tripping over her own feet), in a small clearing between two hills with what looked- well, two hills with round green doors. The Shire was like that- A series of hills, some with those round green doors, some with not. All covered with lush green grass and an occasional tree or two. The hills with doors were at first very spaced out, but the further in they got, the more she saw of them bunched together. Overall, of what she had seen of the Shire, it was very green. A different sort of green from the rest of this lush, untouched world- a little bit more tamed. A little more flowers and tidy vegetable gardens then towering trees.

Bea sighed in relief as she finished helping Gandalf set up camp, stretching her sore legs out in front of her, wiggling her bare toes to get some feeling in them: her pedicure was chipping in places and she mourned the loss, while she wasn't the girliest of girls and the whole deal with being on the fencing team made it very hard for her to dress up a lot, despite having makeup on her she was more prone to being bare face than anything. Her nails, however, she could control her nails at least. Her manicure was worse, only the smallest amount of green lay at the base of her nails... Here in Middle-Earth, as much as she wanted to paint her nails, she felt that there were more priorities like resting and helping Gandalf with camp and the like.

As tempting as it was to do.

Bea leaned back, cracking her neck slightly. The spot was warm and the grass was very soft and fragrant. It was getting warmer, actual Spring giving way into the first start of summer. She tries not to think how much time has passed- that she had missed a month of the fall semester and that she was in no way able to join the team that year in Regionals let alone Nationals, even if was able to go home the second she got to Rivendell(It was months away, at least three if she and Gandalf were quick). That she was a month missing in her world- how much her parents were freaking out...

"Thanks," she mumbled as Gandalf handed her her large Tupperware container filled with a simple broth of rabbit, potatoes(where on Earth had he gotten those?) and sage(it was so strange to think that this alien world had some of the same things as her own world but with strange additions here or there). It smelled gamey and rich and it made Bea's stomach rumble in anticipation.

Gandalf wasn't the best of cooks and Bea had never cooked anything over an open fire in all of her life, but she had found that she couldn't and wasn't too picky, especially after hours on the road. She had shared most of her food with Gandalf, who had liked her beef jerky and trail mix, hated her Cheetos for its 'disgusting smell' and seemed to find her granola bars too sweet: most of her food from home was gone, with only wrappers left at the bottom of the bag because she couldn't dare throw it out in this wonderful world, or bare to part with the stupid shiny reminders of home.

She had a bit of beef jerky left and a single crushed granola bar and seventeen of the original twenty assorted mix of tea bags she had in her lunch bag. She drank a bit of tea every night, either re-using a bag for at least a few days or taking the brew that Gandalf had with him(it smelled and tasted like Earl Grey with a hint of lavender, which she was more than grateful for). It was a ritual she had gotten into a habit in high school and she was hard pressed to break it now, as it was one of the few things Bea could do here that were impossible.

She missed the simple things, really, not more than her parents or brother or friends, but more frequently. She missed the sounds of cars and the constant noise that came with Earth- Middle-Earth was almost early quiet, with only the occasional break provided by the sound of birds or the odd howl of the wind. She missed the feel of a bed beneath her, of a shower instead of rushing into a streaming and freezing river to wash away the dirt with crude soap. She missed toilets and heating pads for her rather bad cramps(she had already had her period once and oh that had been a mess in a half and had only dared to use one pill per day to take the edge off), she missed the ability to just get up and take a thirty minute walk to an abundance of food.

She missed listening to music, more than the soft humming that sometimes overtook Gandalf. She wanted to blast her music, the loud grudge or her workout playlist that was filled with songs of grinding and sex and money and modern things that just did not exist here. Instead, she limited her cell phone use to once a week, only long enough to snap one picture and listen to a single song before she shut it off to preserve the battery:

"What on earth is that?"

Bea grinned slightly, as Gandalf looked at her. She gestured for him to come with her. She had hesitated in doing this- she wanted to preserve the battery but she was going insane with the quiet of this world. She had finally decided on one song and one picture for the beautiful landscape of Middle-Earth per week before she shut it off. She needed this, to remember where she was from and what she was moving towards. She popped out her earbud, waiting patiently for her phone to power on.

"It's a cell-phone. I could use it to call or message someone with a similar device, or at least I could if I was on Earth and had a signal. It does so much- but here, sit here."

She quickly punched in her pin, ignoring the exclamations of the Wizard as she moved past her Doctor Who wallpaper to click on the little camera icon, switching it quickly to selfie-mood.

"By the Valar!" cried Gandalf, peering funny at the screen as it reflected back the two of them, "It is a most curious mirror!"

"It's has a camera. It captures pictures- Um, think like a painting. But in the phone."

Quickly, she brought him closer, pressing into his side.

"Smile!"

She clicked the camera button, quickly watching with amusement as Gandalf exclaimed loudly over the 'likeness' and 'detail'. She wondered if her brother would believe her when she would claim that her the old man in her picture was a Wizard she had tricked into doing a selfie. She smiled, humming along to The Weeknd's 'Starboy'.

She had yet to use her Kindle, instead just listening to Gandalf's stories and throwing in various fairy-tales as a trade off and to pass the time. It was funny, really and most of his stories sounded far fetch and fantastical, even more so than her repertoire of various fairy tales from around the world. He was a Wizard, but Bea was skeptical. He was skeptical in turn of course, but she pointed out that in her world, Magic, if it existed, wasn't normal and had little to do with the actual stories that were most likely fictional. He said in response that, like this world, magic wasn't as frequent as she thought as most had lost the craft…

Bea was still less than willing then to take his stories as something too seriously- She wasn't sure if golf had really been invented by a bodiless head(that was so gross) sailing into a rabbit hole. She totally called bullshit on that one. Also, the story of a dragon slaughtering a kingdom of dwarves and a city of humans? Not her favorite.

"Are you sure we can squat here?" she asked, sipping at her soup with her spoon. The flavor of the thick stew made her nearly groan and gag in the same breath.

Bea found that she really really missed salt, but was also sadly getting used to this type of food. She bet when she got home, her taste in food would be completely shot. Her kingdom for the spice trade.

"Neither of us are squatting, Beatrice," said Gandalf, voice pleasant totally used to her slang to this point that he didn't even as questions- he would just wait for her to explain herself with a witty remark on his part.

Bea pursed her lips.

"I meant can we really stay out by the road like this?"

She pointed at the two hills with the doors and raised a brow.

"Aren't we on their property or something?"

Gandalf shook his head.

"Not at all, Beatrice. This land is unletted for travelers by the Thain- that is the leader of the Shire- there is only one inn in the Shire, but it is on the far side of it. Not enough travelers to warrant more than the one."

She hummed, sipped more of the soup. It was thick and fatty, but at least the rabbit was leaner than the small boar they had been eating for the entirety of the last few weeks. She felt her shoulders relax a bit at the fact that they weren't trespassing. She honestly wouldn't put it past the old man and relished the warmth of their small fire. His cloak hung around her shoulders, draped over her body to hide her clothes, but her face was left out in the open. He had assured her their mere presence would be so scandalous in the Shire that her 'exotic features' wouldn't cause much of a stir.

"Who's there?" called out a male voice, sharply.

Bea jumped about a mile into the air as the voice sounded out, whipping around towards it. One of the round doors, the one on the right, was open and in the circle of large light was a man- or, what Bea would have put as a man. He was short. Even from a distance, she could see that he was shorter than her ridiculously short height, probably about three foot something, with a large belly, and the largest, hairiest feet she had ever seen. He wore smart little-embroidered trousers, a button up shirt that strained against his body and suspenders. She blinked in surprise.

"Oh, crawl back into your smial Mamadas," called out a tired voice, this one female, from the other hill "It's just some travelers on the land between our hills, you idiot."

Bea turned and saw a woman, roughly the same height as the man. She was, unlike the man, in a dressing gown and looked ready for bed, but her bare feet were just as hairy and big. She looked to be roughly about in her late thirties, hair pinned back underneath an honest to God bonnet. Bea blinked rapidly.

"Oh shut your big fat gab, Pervinca!" snarled, Mamadas, he looked at her and Gandalf, squinting into the dark, "What are Big Folk doing in the Shire anyway?"

Bea felt distinctly that the term 'Big Folk' wasn't exactly complimentary. She shifted uneasily in the cloak, very much aware that she last took a bath a week ago and that she was in clothes that had seen better days. Her pants were more or less in the best shape out of everything, but even then they had worn from days of constant use, her sweat-shirt had lost some of its color, her boots and socks were worn down and full of dust. She was tired and dirty and not really feeling comfortable as the man, Mamadas, came stomping down the hill to the fence that was at the very edge of space between the two hills. He was frowning and had his hand on his hips.

Bea automatically flinched away, the attack by the bandits fresh in her mind. She wasn't sure what the world was like, not really. She had a faint idea, the clothes, the way people(well, Gandalf) talked. She was smart enough to make an educated guess. Her only measuring stick was Gandalf and she had the distinct idea that he wasn't the best way to gauge the people of this world:

"I want to...Ask you something," she asked, the next morning after the subsequent attack via the bandits.

Gandalf hummed.

"Yes, Beatrice?"

"Is… Is it normal for people to just… Attack like that?" Bea wasn't an idiot, she knew people could be cruel, even evil. She loved forensic shows and stuff like that(In fact many weekends were spent having marathons with her, Leah, and Megan all sprawled on their shitty coach as they watched shows like that), so she knew her world wasn't full of sunshine and fucking rainbows.

But she had never been attacked in her life. Not so openly not on an open road. She had never even been mugged for Pete's sake. Gandalf sighed.

"The Race of Men is both entirely giving and heartlessly cruel, Lady Beatrice. I know not of your world- but I know in Middle-Earth that Men can be unforgiving and violent. That is true of much of this world, really."

Bea stared at Gandalf, blinking rapidly.

"It's the same where I'm from- But… There's order. People to solve crimes and…. Serve and Protect," she said simply, thinking of Megan, the Forensics major. The fact that her friend wanted to make the world a better place…

"What a wonderful thought."

Bea smiled.

"It's easier because my world is so connected- I guess that's the price of the land. My entire world, you can talk or send a message in an instant across thousands of miles- ah, leagues if you will," she sighed, leaning her arms leaning on her knees, "There is a force- Police- that maintain order and peace."

"Oh, leave them be Mamadas," called the woman, Pervinca, coming out of the doorway to stomp her way to the edge of her own fence. She looked tired and her face was pinched.

"My good hobbit," said Gandalf cheerfully, looking directly at Mamadas, "We mean no harm. We are simply on a way to visit a friend on the other side of the Shire, nearer to Hobbiton."

The man lifted a bushy brow.

"Oh, what friend would claim you in these parts? A Took I bet," sneered the man, before he stared at Bea, and frowned, "And what be yeh, girlie, with what your narrowed, untrustworthy eyes?"

Bea frowned, a noise of disbelief sounding at the back of her throat.

"Excuse me?" she said voice rising sharply as she stared at the man.

"Oh, Mamadas, apologize to the poor girl. Her eyes are not her fault no more than your tiny feet!" called Pervinca with a frown.

The man growled.

"Oh, I'll be bringing it up with the Thain and your husband, Pervinca Goodchild, mark my words!"

The woman grinned.

"Oh, my Mosco will not be swayed by your grumbling! And yes, go bother Thain Took over your lack feet and manners, see how well that goes for you, Mister Mamadas Tunnely considering you were just dismissing his kin!"

With that, the man huffed, turned on his large feet and stomped back up the hill and slammed his large, round door. Bea was left confused, sort of annoyed over the eye comment and looking over at the woman, Pervinca Goodchild with a wary eye. She was smiling, tiredly but warmly.

"Sorry about that," said the woman, cheerfully, "Mamadas is a bit of an old snob. Always makes a fuss no matter who settles between our hills."

"No issue, Mistress Goodchild," said Gandalf, still as good humored as ever.

"Good, good. I hope you rest well, dears. And Miss? Your eyes are beautiful, never mind what Mamadas said."

With that, the older woman waved and went inside the hill without looking back. Bea blinked.

"Um."

"That, my Lady Beatrice," said Gandalf with a small chuckle, "Was a pair of Hobbits."

She stared at them.

"Um, okay?"

"They are a Race of pleasant folk, whom only live in the Shire, who delight in warmth, food, and comfort."

"They have big feet," she supplied helpfully.

They didn't suffer from Dwarfism, as far as she could see when they had been outside. Their bodies, while on the smaller scale had been perfectly proportioned with the exception of their rather large feet. They looked just... Well, like little people no more than three feet tall. Even Bea, at only 4'8", towered over them.

"Oh yes, remarkably large and hairy, they have thick enough soles that they have no need for footwear at all."

Bea blinked.

"That's weird."

Gandalf looked disappointed.

"Neither Elves nor Dwarfs nor Hobbits exist in your world I take?"

Bea quirked her lips.

"If they do, they were doing a good job of hiding it."

Gandalf sighed. And they both went back to their meal without another word.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was about five days later, that they finally appeared on Bilbo Baggin's doorstep, or Bag End, as Gandalf had called it(she had snorted at the name because it sounded just weird, but stopped her snickering when Gandalf had looked at her in confusion). She was tired, achy and really hungry. It was roughly noon and Bea hopped Bilbo Baggins had some food or a bathtub.

She really missed indoor plumbing.

They found him in his garden, on a bench, smoking a long pipe. Bea sighed, as it seemed most men in this world liked to smoke. He was like most hobbits she had seen, roughly about three feet tall, but he was a little taller than most(not quite up to her height, but he positively towered over most people of his race… Subspecies?). With slightly curly bronzish hair, with dark blue eyes and a slightly clever quirk of his mouth, she would think that he was relatively good looking. If she would have to peg his age, she would say about his late twenties in human years maybe early thirties, by his wrinkleless mouth and unlined face. She wrinkled her nose at his casual smoking, sighing tiredly again as she leaned against Sonata.

The little man, seemed oblivious to them, wiggling his hairy toes and puffing out perfect rings from his mouth. Vaguely, Bea was impressed. But she was altogether more impressed when Bilbo's ring was transformed into a butterfly via Gandalf, who waved his weathered hand and made it smack straight into the hobbit's poor face. He spluttered, the poor guy, while Bea bit her lip trying not to laugh because she had been downwind from this world's weed smoke and that was not pleasant(oddly did not smell like marijuana, but that seemed to be a given), but it was sort of funny. He looked over, affronted and then blinked his large eyes rapidly at the pair of them.

Cue awkward silence.

"Good morning," Bilbo said, finally after what seemed to be an entirety of uncomfortable silence, smiling timidly.

Bea went to respond when Gandalf beat her to the punch.

"What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a
good morning whether I want it or not? Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this
particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?" he said primly, looking affronted by Bilbo's simple greeting.

Bea stared at him as if wondering if the weed was finally affecting him. His face looked questioning, even offended. The hobbit, on the other hand, just looked somewhat taken aback.

"All of them at once, I suppose," said Bilbo, sounding bewildered, but trying to be pleasant.

Bea sighed and stepped around Gandalf.

"Good morning to you too," she said, smiling trying to be as pleasant to be as possible, despite how hungry and tired she was, she turned to Gandalf and raised a brow, "It's a greeting."

Gandalf raised a brow.

"A rather presumptuous one, if you ask me. You can never know when a morning is good."

Bea laughed.

"It's more of a wish for you to have one, not an indicator of the type of morning."

Gandalf still looked unimpressed. Bea shook her head at him with a roll of her eyes.

"Excuse, me, but can I help you two?"

"Yes," she turned to him and smiled, "So sorry about him. Really, you should be used to him by now, ah, Mr. Baggins. Christ knows I have over the last few weeks."

The hobbit just stared at her as if she had grown a second head. Bea frowned, wondering if she really looked that odd to these people as she shifted uneasily from foot to foot. She was used to it to some extent- blue eyed Asians weren't exactly run of the mill, or strawberry blonde ones… Or had she committed some sort of social gaft by speaking over Gandalf? That wasn't exactly encouraging if just speaking over someone while having a vagina was a big no no... The hobbit was looking at her as if she was crazy!

"I beg your pardon?"

"Um-"

"What she means to say, that she would never expect that I should have lived to be good morninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if I were selling buttons at the door."

Bilbo frowned.

"I'm sorry, but do I know you?"

Bea felt her stomach plummet.

"Well, you know my name, although you don't remember I belong to it. I'm Gandalf! And
Gandalf means … me."

Bea blinked.

"Gandalf...not Gandalf, the wandering Wizard, who made such excellent fireworks! Old Took
used to have them on Midsummer's Eve," said the hobbit in obvious delight, chuckling slightly.

"Gandalf, I thought you said that we were coming to stay at an old friend's house," she said, pointedly, a frowning at him.

The Wizard was only looking at Bilbo.

"Which is true- Bag End was Belladonna's home and I have every intention of staying here until we have gathered our strength."

"Excuse me?" said the hobbit, looking scandalized.

Bea only felt lost.

"Um," she turned to Bilbo, furrowing her brows, "I'm sorry, he said… That he was an old family friend!"

"Indeed I am. Of his Grandfather and his mother!" said Gandalf, all together affronted.

"Well, I remember that much," said Bilbo, crossing his arms, talking around his pipe with a deep frown, "But I have yet to see you, Gandalf the Wandering Wizard, since my mother and father's funeral.- Forgive me if I don't recognize nor greet you with affection!"

The Wizard frowned. Which alarmed Bea more than she cared to admit. Even against bandits, Gandalf had never really lost his cool. After all, he was a fucking wizard. But this- this was actually bothering him if his somewhat affronted face was anything to go by. He had taken everything in stride, even the girl from another world!

"You've changed and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins," he announced, loudly before he made a rude noise in the back of his throat, "Stay with Mister Baggins, then, my dear, while I go and gather things at the market."

With that, Gandalf hopped on Sonata with surprising speed and grace that had her backing up with alarm as the usually gentle horse reared up with a whinny, and then galloped down the road in five seconds flat.

Bea panicked.

"GANDALF!" she called, stumbling after both horse and Wizard.

He went over the hill before she could even make it five steps her bewildered and- alone for the first time since she had stumbled into Middle-Earth. She swallowed thickly, trying to stop the rising panic and failing utterly as he went over the last hill in her sight, she had no hope of catching up.

"Oh dear," said Bilbo, looking at her with pity as she turned around to stare at him helplessly.

Bea was ashamed that she felt tears coming, tears never helped anyone. She screamed to high heaven, covering her face with her hands:

"He left me!"

Bilbo Baggins was a hobbit- which apparently meant comfort.

"Why don't you come inside," he said, placing a hand on her elbow, she blinked and looked as he offered her a handkerchief, "He did say he would come back, Miss-"

"Beatrice," she supplied miserably, whipping at her tears and snot with a hot face with the offered piece of cloth, "Beatrice Eurwen-Long."

"Bilbo Baggins, Miss Eurwen-Long, ah- well, a pleasure to meet you," he said, blinking curiously at her as her 'strange' surname, no doubt.

Bea smiled, despite herself, at how badly he butchered her surnames. She fisted her hand over the handkerchief.

"Bea is fine, Mr. Baggins, and it's nice to meet you too, despite everything," she said softly, wiping at the tears before they could fall.

Bilbo Baggins smiled, a great big thing that took years off of his already youthful face.

"Then it's just Bilbo to you, Miss Bea."

He brought her towards the door and she was pleasantly surprised that she didn't have to duck into the house through the spacious door way. It was a little shorter than what she was used to, the curious round door, maybe just a half-dozen inches above her head, but the house itself had a towering ceiling, big enough that even Gandalf with his tall frame could probably only just skim the ceiling when he took off his hat. It was not what she expected at all when she had spied the doors in the side of hills. It was mostly wooden in structure, warm toned wood, with smooth plaster walls, painted a lovely cream color, connected everywhere with spots of green and yellow.

It was warm too, pleasantly so. She felt even dingier in the wake of it all, it was clean, inviting and pleasant. She blinked as she stared about in both appreciation and slightly confusing at the entire ordeal she was in. She was in a new world and sometimes it hit again as if she was just understanding her situation. Seeing Gandalf disappear over the hill had scared her more than she ever thought it would- she was independent as a rule but felt nothing like it here in Middle Earth…

She stared at her feet, at the way her laced up boots were covered in dust and grime from the road. She turned to her somewhat unwilling host, moving uneasily on the round carpet just at the door. She eyed the coat rack and fingered the silver clasp of Gandalf's cloak(even after all this time she could call it nothing else).

"Would you prefer it if I take off my boots?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"My boots," she wiggled them in his direction, "Wouldn't want to track any dust on your floorboards. They looked as if you just swept them."

Bilbo beamed at her, puffing out his chest. He clasped his hands together, blue eyes sparkling.

"Yes, yes, thank you, so considerate of you!"

"May I hang the cloak as well?" she gestured to the coat-hanger.

Bilbo just nodded. She undid the clasp, swirling the long material away from her body and folding it the best she could so it wouldn't be in the way. She bent down to undue her laces and asked:

"Where can I put my boots?"

"Just there, by the coat-rack is fine, Miss Bea. The same with your pack," he said, curiously looking at her bright yellow backpack with faint approval.

"Thank you Mister Bilbo," she said politely and took off her socks while she was at it, "But I rather take the pack with me."

She felt grungy and dirty, in her worn sweat-shirt and dusty leggings, but Bilbo made no comment on it. Instead, he guided her away from the door, content to let her gaze at his home in curiosity. She relished the feel of her bare feet against the smooth wood. She went barefoot as much as she could at home and severally missed it.

"Your house is beautiful," she said after a beat of pleasant silence, eying the small, numerous carvings throughout the wooden beams. Simple, stylized flowers seemed to be a frequent theme.

"Thank you, my father built it himself for my mother," said Bilbo, smiling softly.

"I'm really sorry about Gandalf. I really thought you two knew each other," she supplied as he lead her to a small dining room.

He snorted and gestured for her to sit in the chair. Unlike most chairs, it was a surprisingly good fit for Bea. A little bit on the smaller side, but she her butt cheeks were not hanging over the side.

"Oh, yes, well that wasn't your fault, was it? Mind I do like guests, Miss Bea, but I prefer to have both an advance notice and proper knowing of my guest beforehand. Not just vague memories of some old man letting off wiz-poppers and the like as my Grandfather laughed his drunken backside off..."

He paused, blinked rapidly and looked at her with a sheepish expression. Bea herself was just biting her lip to keep from giggling.

"Pardon me, that was rude."

"No ruder than a Wizard demanding you let him stay in your house."

"Or leaving a poor girl to cry with a stranger," he replied, quite quick on his large feet.

Bea gave a lopsided smile.

"You, Mr. Bilbo, are rather funny."

"Funny?"

She sighed.

"Humorous?"

"Oh, yes, thank you, Miss Bea. Now, you have just made it in time for me to prepare my Luncheon, would you kindly join me for my meal?"

Bea grinned.

"Mr. Bilbo," she all but beamed, "I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship. I'm starving."

He grinned back, in sheer delight.

He refused her help, as 'You are a guest, Miss Bea' and apparently in Hobbit culture it was just plain rude to make your guests do anything as far as helping prepare meals and the like. Instead, he only asked if she would like some tea or some nice ale, or even some of his wine, she declined the last two, happy with tea. He then directed her to his bathroom, which, bless him, was indoor and was that a mother-fucking toilet!? To clean up a bit.

Beatrice, found, as she was left to her own devices inside his bathroom and honest to God squealed at the fact that he had plumbing.

"Bilbo Baggins is the fucking bomb," she whispered.

First, she used the bathroom. He even had toilet paper- Not the kind she was used too, but little soft cloths that she tossed in the rubbish bin near the toilet(on the smaller side, but it was at least a god-damn toilet). She washed up in the sink, slipping off her sweatshirt in favor of sort of washing her hair, face and some of her torso(his soap smelled flowery and he had an assortment of fluffy towels to dry herself off). Slathered on lotion and spritzed herself with perfume, as well as used a bit of deodorant. She even brushed her teeth, despite that they were going to eat soon, but she hadn't felt this clean in days and she was going to milk it if it killed her. She wanted to spend about three days in the bathroom, eying the wooden tub with longing, but Bilbo was making food so she tried to finish as quickly as she could, bringing her hair up into a large, messy top knot atop her head so she wouldn't be dripping all over the wood floors.

Before Bea slipped back on her sweatshirt, she noticed and also wanted to ignore how thin she was. She hadn't been very chunky, to begin with, she was athletic and tried to keep in shape as best she could(fencing and wushu kinda demanded it), but she couldn't ignore the slight bits of fat that had been over everything. The journey to the Shire, despite the fact that she had been regularly fed, had taken a toll on her. She was leaner, harder in ways she hadn't really noticed, even when she had managed to take a bath in a river. Even her face was thinner, losing the soft roundness that made her blink when she caught her reflection in Bilbo's round mirror above the sink. She wasn't skeletal, nor gaunt- but the thinness showed nonetheless.

In Bilbo's warm and lovely home, it was sort of obvious.

She looked away from her slightly harder reflection and slipped the shirt over her, swung her backpack on and made her way back to the dining room. She padded softly towards Bilbo, smiling as he came out of the kitchen with a teapot, a generous plate of scones, a small pitcher, a small little pot for the sugar, a large container of honey and two dainty little cups set on saucers on an elegant silver tray.

"I hope you approve of chamomile?"

She simply nodded and felt her stomach growl at the sight of the scones- blueberry by the looks of it. She smiled.

"It smells amazing," she said, grabbing her aching stomach as he poured her the tea, "Thank you. Oh, no cream for me thanks just a lot of honey and a bit of sugar."

He doled out a generous amount of honey and stirred before he nabbed a scone for himself. He pushed he placed the cup in front of her.

"I'm making a small pheasant in the oven, roasted, with potatoes! Had it started since this morning and some freshly baked lye-bread- Should be out soon," informed Bilbo, biting happily into his scone, "Of course, there's the side salad, the grilled vegetables and then there's dessert which I hope you like blueberry pie and-"

Bea blinked laughed a little disbelieving.

"I take it that hobbits eat a lot?" she asked, hoping she wasn't being terribly rude as she drank her tea. It was delightful, of course.

Bilbo only nodded, eyes curious.

"Indeed we do. The Race of Men do not eat seven meals a day, I recall?"

She shrugged and bit into a scone. She nearly moaned at the flaky goodness- She had never eaten something so delicious in her life and she already could tell as she scarfed it down(as politely as possible of course), that Gandalf's cooking would be hard to get back to.

"Where I come from it depends- Three a day is the minimum I guess, I mean, that's what I usually ate if I could, but... Seven full meals is kinda of-"

"Excessive?" he said sharply, raising a brow.

She smiled, trying to appear as if she meant no offense, as she really didn't. She lifted her hands in what she hoped was a universal 'I mean no harm gesture'.

"Kinda? I mean, I have a friend who ate several meals a day- but small ones, like a plate of rice and a side of meat. But, between you and me, seven meals a day sounds freakin' fantastic. Especially if it's as good as your scones- seriously Bilbo, I will never be able to eat Gandalf's rabbit stew ever again."

That seemed to appease the hobbit, who beamed and blushed at the praise.

"Oh, I just threw it together- it was made yesterday."

"Delicious, fresh or not."

He smiled and then went back to the kitchen, looking pleased. He kept a constant bit of chatter from the kitchen as Bea polished off two more scones.

"So, from where do you hail?" asked Bilbo, cheerfully.

Bea didn't exactly freeze like an idiot when Bilbo asked her that. She simply paused, cup in the air hooked on her finger, halfway to her mouth. She blinked rapidly and put down her cup with a slight frown. Bilbo flushed, blinking rapidly himself.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was that rude? It was rude," he said, looking flustered.

Bea bit her lip, lifting a hand.

"It's not rude, Mr. Bilbo… Just a really hard question to answer," she said, slowly, legitimately unsure how to answer his innocent question.

Bilbo blinked.

"I, why is that?"

She gave him a tiny grin.

"It's very complicated really. I don't look like many people you've seen, I bet."

Bilbo gave a sheepish grin.

"No, I have to say I haven't seen anyone with your features- I've never seen anyone with such pale skin or thin hair-"

"Or almond shaped eyes?" she said simply, leaning into her hand.

He nodded, smiling before he continued:

"And your clothes! So odd. I've never seen a girl in anything but a dress."

She looked down at her ragged sweatshirt and grimaced.

"I guess I look grossly out of place…Beyond just being a mess. It's normal to be curious about it."

"Not so grossly out of place. A bit tall, that's for sure and such tiny feet! But other than that you could pass for normal if you wore a proper dress with frills and the like," assured Bilbo, shaking his head.

She smiled.

"I've never been described as tall by anyone," she giggled, honest to God giggled because it was so surreal to be called tall in any sense.

The hobbit laughed with her, before running off to the oven when she heard a faint ding. She marveled as she leaned back to see his kitchen- he had a cast iron stove and toilets. Maybe Middle-Earth wasn't so bad after all. Bilbo, true to what he had described, came in with a relative feast, running off to the kitchen for a good solid seven minutes, refusing her help as he laid it out. He seemed rather happy at her oos and ahs at the smells and look of everything- It was the closest she had ever seen in this place to food and when she saw the quail, she had faint memories of thanksgiving and her stomach growled so loudly that it made Bilbo jump and made Bea want to sink into the floor.

Then, of course, he had to be happy about it, flushing like a little boy and claiming it was one of the highest compliments in Hobbit culture to be so hungry before a meal to have your stomach growl so loudly.

"Hobbits are big eaters in general, Miss Bea, always hungry really. Because of it we pride ourselves on being excellent cooks. Most excellent cooks," he said sagely, bringing out a bottle of what looked like wine, popping the cork out with a sharp twist of the wrist, "If you can't cook you aren't worth a jolt in my society. Food is incredibly important. To compliment it is the highest praise."

She simply took in the cultural differences as it were and allowed Bilbo to hum and beam as he set the last bit of the meal to the table. There was a reason Bea's stomach had pronounced her hunger- it just looked so good… And normal. Not thick bubbly stew over a fire that made Bea's stomach roll with how unused she was to that particular brand of cooking… But Bilbo's food… Oh, Bilbo's food. Bea could write sonnets about Bilbo's cooking. She ate at least two servings of everything much to the delight of Bilbo- who partially picked everything clean. Anything she didn't finish Bilbo put away easily.

"You did not answer my question, ultimately," he said, absently, pouring himself a generous amount of wine.

Bea smiled and politely turned down the offer of wine and drank some juice of what appeared to be some sort of fruit.

"I collect places you see- Maps and books-"

"And you've assumed by my appearance that where I come from is far away and wonderful."

Bilbo flushed, but nodded, looking hopeful and so eager. She smiled, thought for a second, before raising a hand and turning to her backpack. She fished out her planner, flipped to the very back before she handed it over to Bilbo. Curious, he took it from her hands and then squeaked in delight as he looked at the map of the United States that was hidden away in the back of her planner.

"Oh Oh," he cried, bouncing up and down, "I have never before seen such a land mass- Oh and such vivid colors!"

She smiled.

"Which is your land, there are so many!?"

"The United States of America, which is all the colored states that aren't gray," she said softly, she scooted her chair closer to his, and pointed out California, "I was born here and my family lives there, but I'm going to school here."

She pointed out at Connecticut.

"You've traveled so far! Your country is enormous, almost as big as Middle Earth itself!"

You have no idea, Bilbo.

Carefully, she tugged the planner away from Bilbo, who seemed almost pouting. She figured a quick peek wouldn't be so bad and Bilbo was being very generous in letting her have lunch with him.

"I could not understand a single thing on your map, what language is that?"

Bea blinked.

"What we're speaking now? Er, well, English at least. Gandalf did mention that you called it Western-"

"Yes, yes. English you say? How odd, one moment please," he got up large feet surprisingly silent as he rushed away, coming back with a rolled up piece of paper.

He extended it, showing her odd little markings that… Were clearly not English. She remembers them faintly from Gandalf's own map. She frowned.

"Huh. I'm lucky it sounds like English at least. Otherwise, I would have been in so much trouble, even when Gandalf found me..."

Bilbo rolled up the map with an expert movement. He frowned, placing it on his shoulder. His brows furrowed.

"Found you?"

Bea bit her lip, debated for a second then sighed.

"Yes, he found me. I was being chased by a Warg. I was… Just here, near the Blue Mountains, I think he called it? I have no idea how I ended up here… I just have. He mentioned something about it being the will of the Valar-"

Bilbo gasped, moved to speak before they heard a knock on the door. Curious, and wondering, they looked at each other before he went to the door. Shaking his head slightly as he went to it. Bea took the opportunity to take another bite of her food.

"Gandalf! Do come in-"

"I've see you've made Lady Beatrice as comfortable as you could, Bilbo Baggins," said Gandalf, hat off with a raised brow as he walked into the living room.

Bilbo flushed, shrugging slightly as he looked at her. Gandalf hummed.

"My dear, I'm afraid we have over stayed our welcome. We shall head to Bree-"

Bea slumped, sighing slightly.

"Already?"

"I'm afraid so my dear. I've inquired after a room in the Green Dragon, but I am afraid it is soon time for the Spring Festival and many Hobbits from the outskirts have come by to celebrate it in Hobbiton proper, we cannot linger long," he said softly.

She bit her lip but nodded. She smiled to Bilbo at Gandalf looking at her pointedly.

"Thank you for the tea and lunch, Mr. Bilbo, it was lovely," she said sincerely, before she carefully put away her planner, setting her backpack on her back and standing up.

"Oh, but you must stay for desert," said Bilbo, hurriedly.

"I'm afraid not, Bilbo Baggins. We have imposed on you already," said Gandalf, coming over to place a hand on her shoulder, "Come along Lady Beatrice-"

"Wait!" he cried, as Gandalf made her grabbed her shoes and cloak without putting them on, trying to hurry her out the door.

Bea felt a bit flustered at the way Gandalf was pushing her away from Bag End. They paused and turned back to Bilbo, who was blinking rapidly, face flushed.

"I-I-"

"We must be off to Rivendell-"

Bilbo face brightened up, eyes wide.

"Rivendell?"

"Yes, yes, I am great friends with Lord Elrond-"

Bea wondered faintly if he was as good as friend as he was supposed to be with Bilbo…

"Stay!" screeched out Bilbo, suddenly.

Gandalf smiled. Bea blinked.

Oh, you sneaky son of a bitch. Ten points to Slytherin.

"Why Bilbo, we be delighted!" he cried happily, turning Bea around and pushing her back towards the kitchen, "Go enjoy your dessert, my dear, while I settle our horse and supplies."

With a jaunty wave, Gandalf was out the door in five seconds flat. Bilbo blinked.

"Oh dear," he said, after a second, sounding perplexed.

Bea couldn't help but snort.

"Mr. Bilbo," he turned to her brows furrowed, as she spoke as sympathetically as she could, "We just got played."

"Oh by the love of Yavanna he was good," said Bilbo, sounding almost impressed.

"I wasn't even in on it," she supplied, laughing.

Bilbo laughed.

"Oh, dear. Come on. Let's finish our dessert and try not to think of multiplying Wizards until Afternoon Tea."

AN: I do not own The Hobbit. All rights belong to the author's family, its publishing, and movie production company.

This is just me, making misshapen sand castles in its sandbox.

Wow, that was a long chapter. It's eight-thousand, four hundred and seventy-nine words long. It was supposed to be shorter and have Bea leaving the Shire towards the end... But... Well... This story is just so much fun to write. I just keep adding details and dialogue. So yeah. This is the result of it... Erm, I hoped you enjoyed the chapter, as much as I enjoyed writing it...

As towards the whole you know, quest to go slay the dragon- I'm going to take my sweet time getting there. Why? Because apparently I want to and after I did the math Middle Earth is roughly the size of North America- It would take several months to cross it and something has to be happening. I mean I'm making time jumps now and again but it's only to keep it from being terribly boring. And I couldn't help but add Bilbo... Because Bilbo damn it. I love the hobbit. He was so fun to write. Anyway, that means that the whole quest to slay the dragon will not be introduced until chapter twelve and she meets the dwarves the next chapter. Here are my plans so far for my chapters:

5: Bea in the Shire

6: Bea Freaks Out the People of Bree

7: Bea Crosses Swords With A Stranger

8: Bea Is Enchanted

9: Bea Meets A Princess

10: Bea Being Useful

11: Bea's Home is in her Heart

12: Bea is Asked to Slay A Dragon

13: Bea Meets Dwarfs, Not of the Hi-Hoe Variety

14: Bea Calls Master Oakenshield A Racist

15: Bea Gets Crushed by Fili's Big Ass

16: Bea Run's For Her God-damn Life

17: Bea is Welcomed, The Dwarves Not So Much

And that's roughly up until the time the Dwarves are in Rivendell. I'm also currently working on several of these chapters as I go. Trying to streamline but no promises.

Please feel free to review, comment or PM if you have any questions or comments.

~Happy Reading,

Moon Witch '96