I'll be quoting Tolkien in some of it, so look out for the (*) as a footnote
"Maia! Hey Maia, wake up!"
The darkness faded away as Maia opened her eyes to find Kyle shaking her, Lori kneeling next to him with her teddy bear, looking strangely excited. Instantly, her head started throbbing. She shut her eyes again, the flashing images she just witnessed pounding the insides of her skull with a vengeance, like a mustang kicking a fence. She remembered the whole thing, before she blacked out. It was as if she woke up from a night terror. Being attacked by a scary ghoul in the dark at one point, and then being surrounded by a riptide of flames, loud earsplitting noise, and the cold essence of her greatest fears the next.
It seemed so real...and yet it didn't. She didn't feel cold anymore, or that much afraid. Her mind was mess...and a real pain. She put a hand of her eyes and groaned, "Ugh, my head!"
"Yeah, same here," agreed Kyle, who stopped shaking her, "but you probably got the worst of it. It looked like one of our bags landed on your head when we hit the ground."
"What?" Maia uncovered her eyes to look at him in confusion, his frowning face half-hidden in a crown of heavy, warm sunlight that bathed her face.
Wait, sunlight? Her eyes darted around. Blue sky. Tree tops. Birds singing. Nearby ponies neighing and goats bleating. Her sprawled out right arm felt a bed of grass tickling her bare skin. She frowned and closed her fist to feel its fresh blades, confirming that it was real. "Where are we?" she asked quietly. "Why are we outside?"
How long had they passed out for?
"Uh, yeah, about that..." Kyle echoed as Maia slowly sat up, wincing from her headache. "We don't know."
"I do!" cheered Lori, suddenly. Her face contained a wide, excited smile. "I think we're in New Zealand! I think we're in Daddy's shire."
Both Maia and Kyle stared at her like she had her head full of nuts. "Okay, I was wrong," said Kyle. "Lori definitely got the worst of it!"
"No, really," insisted the little girl, now looking annoyed at their expressions. She turned around and pointed. "Look! Just like in Daddy's pictures...kind of." They followed her gaze and, to the older kids' shock, found that she was right. Sort of.
The scenery was completely the perfect image of a famous painting, only that it breathed with clean air that smelled of freshly mowed grass, petunias, pine, and honey. The landscape was covered in fresh green grass, which was layered with sloping hills, bright meadows, and golden-graveled pathways that twisted and turned not too far away around a crystal river that reflected the baby-blue from the clear sky, running past the hills and all the way into the far-off woodlands.
The most intriguing of this beautiful county was the village built within the gathered hilltops. There was a town near the center, scattered with hamlets, markets, gardens, and pens full of farm animals like pigs, goats, hens, and mules. A stone bridge crossed the river, connecting to the village and back. The rolling hills, to the kids' sense of awe, had multiple rounded doors protruding from the underground, all in different colors of red, green, and blue, the burrows topped with red-bricked chimneys and surrounded by different front yards with fences, hanging laundry, and front door steps.
The area was definitely occupied with people, but when Maia squinted, she faintly made out what they were wearing. Colorful clothes and definitely not modern.
"What century is this?" Kyle said, voicing Maia's thoughts. The three of them were laying stomach-flat on the highest hill viewing the whole place, staying out of sight.
"Maybe it's a setup," suggested Maia, though it was highly doubtful. Everything looked and even felt too real to be merely a renaissance fair.
"We can ask somebody," suggested Lori. She pointed at a passing wagon, occupied with a driver in a straw farm hat on the nearest road. "What about him?"
They all agreed, gathered their bags, and quickly caught up to the wagon heading down to the village. "Excuse me?" Maia called. "Sir? Sir, can you help us?"
The man looked startled when they approached him, even though he didn't stop. He looked at them suspiciously, as though measuring them under his ridiculously large nose. It took Maia only a moment to realize he was small (three and half feet tall at most), wore an old-fashioned overcoat, and that he was barefoot...except his feet were enormous and covered completely with hair. "Afternoon, miss! What d'you want?" His accent sounded British.
"Um..." Maia blinked rapidly and cleared her throat as she looked up. "Can-Can you tell us where we are?"
"What?" He looked at her like she insulted him.
"Can you tell us where we are?" she repeated more firmly, still walking as the mule pulled the wagon full of crops. "We're lost. We just woke up here, and we have no idea where we are! Are we still in Texas?"
"Look, I don't know what games you young humans are playing, but if you must know, you're in Hobbiton!" the little man said quickly, sounding annoyed. "And no good place for large folk to roam about, if you ask me! Now, if you will excuse me..." They stopped walking to let the wagon pass by, and realized they were just at the edge of the stone bridge crossing over to the village.
"You heard what he said, right?" Kyle said, sounding a little taken back. "He called 'humans,' like-like he wasn't..."
Lori gasped. "Maybe he's a munchkin! Like in the Wizard of OZ!"
"A really grumpy munchkin!" muttered Kyle. "And with butt-ugly feet!"
"Stop," scolded Maia, slapping his arm gently. "Let's keep asking around. Maybe someone can help us."
"What's Hobbiton?" asked Lori, as the three started walking across the bridge. "Is that in New Zealand?"
"No, it doesn't even exist!" said Kyle, frustrated. "It sounds like something out of freaking nursery rhymes! You know what? I think that munchkin was messing with us! They could all be playing us!"
"Kyle, there's like over a hundred of these people here, and little kids!" Maia pointed out, gesturing at the people surrounding them. The children were puny, tinier than Lori, looking absolutely adorable with their curly tops and little hairy feet. "I don't know what going on either, but I really don't think this is all a game!"
The "people" were eyeing up at them nervously, attempting to stay as far away from them as possible like rabbits from their holes. The market was very cheery, full of foods, ribbons, silk, flowers, animals, hats, clothing, wood, silverware, baskets, wine, tea sets, and much more. Most of the men were dressed in different coats or vests with brass buttons, overalls, scarves, and sometimes with straw or tall hats. The women were all in dresses decorated spring colors or flowery designs, some wearing aprons, some with fancy hat topped with large feathers or flowers, some with ribbons, and some with straw hats of their own. For a moment, Maia couldn't decide whether they matched the style of Victorian England, or the world of Little Bo Peep.
The children were mini versions of the adults, all looking like happy toddlers as they played wild games with the undeniable innocence and cheerfulness that Maia saw many times on Lori's face every day since she was born. Unlike the adults, however, the children either stared at the bigger people with wide-eyed curiosity, or smiled because there were the new people in their small village.
There were two things that all the little people had in common: curly hair and large bare, hairy feet. Oh, and their ears were slightly sharper, Maia noticed with a start. Were they supposed to be elves? What with the hairy feet, then?
Everything would have looked perfect if not for the many eyes on the three humans walking uneasily through their market. They were either suspicious, uneasy, scornful, or just plain curious. Some shook their heads in disapproval, some looked away to ignore them, and many others scurried away before they got close.
"Not very welcoming, are they?" grumbled Kyle, eyeing at them. "I suddenly feel like were in the Suburbs." Lori had pressed close to his hip, suddenly looking shy and less confident.
"Yep, typical small-town people," agreed Maia. She bit her lip, feeling nervous. She hated being stared at, being the center of attention. But she straightened up and took deep breath. "So, who should we start asking first?"
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit hole, and that meant good food, a warmth hearth, and all the comforts of home.*
This hobbit was a very well-to-do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. Bilbo Baggins.*
Having recently turned fifty-one years old, entering his middle age, the hobbit was currently living a quiet, comfortable life in his beautiful hobbit hole. As a Baggins of Bag-End, he was respectable to his neighbors, kept everything in order, and ran the family business almost with ease.
The brown-haired little man was straightening his favorite red coat for the late morning, large basket in one arm, adjusting the yellow scarf at his neck with the habitual twitch of his nose, and then stepped out his door into the beautiful daylight. He was off straight to the market to refill in pantry. After all, those seed cakes, cheese blocks, and fresh fruit were not going to replace themselves. And flowers, oh yes. Bright yellow daffodils would be lovely for his kitchen table.
Beautiful and comfortable as it was, it at times could be lonely. Living in one of the largest holes in the Shire by himself ever since he came of age, when his father, Bungo Baggins, had passed away of an illness gained at old age, keeping the place clean and partially active was practically all Bilbo had done for the past twenty years. He rearranged his rooms, his food, his collections, his dishes, his books, and all things new that needed arranging.
Not that he minded. Other times he would eat, smoke, read, take walks, and socialize with the neighbors whenever he can. It was a daily routine that he had grown so accustomed to that it became fiercely natural.
For that, he was known as a respectable hobbit...apart from being half Took on his mother's side.
As Bilbo walked down the path, passing by front lawns and waving hobbits, whom he greeting politely in return, he could not help but be aware of the familiar haughty glances that he felt shift over him like petty owls waiting for the mouse to dart. There were some other respectable families here, some that were even distantly related to him, who still had even the tiniest nerve to look down upon Bilbo Baggins just because of his Took-ish blood. He was used to it. He had never once acted upon it, not even (to his silent shame) on his mother's behalf, but whenever he found other hobbits, most especially the Sackville-Baggines, whispered behind his back while glancing in his direction or ever-so greeted him with stretched out smiles that most certainly did not match their eyes, it lit up a small flame in his chest that he always kept tucked away like folded clothes in a drawer.
He handled his restraint with grace and pleasantry as he walked through the market and started picking out lemons. It was one of the only things that his mother and father had taught him together as a child, both who were so very different, yet somehow their marriage had prolonged becauseof those differences.
"No matter the name, hold no shame," they had taught him, the first time he had been verbally bullied as a small child. Bilbo had lived up to that saying and was proud of it. Although it did not stop all the constant bickering about the Took family and their low level of respectability. Bilbo had even wondered if it was being raised proper that kept him from speaking out, or that he doubted that he even had the nerve to risk his high but delicate reputation. It was all based on what is to be expected, and so far as Bilbo was concerned, nothing unexpected usually ever happened.
Bilbo paid for the food and was stopping by the flower booth when he noticed the commotion happening not too far away behind him. It sounded an awful lot like the annoying screech of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. "OH! Get this reckless creature away from me! THE NERVE OF THAT WRETCH!"
Bilbo smirked, as he started smelling the daffodils he picked up. No doubt a scurvy hobbit child had gotten a little excited in a chase and had run smack into Lobelia's bosom, hard enough to knock her over and send her skirts flying. He could imagine that prissy face of hers drawing up with rage and humiliation in public. Served her right! The flowers were smelling so good today and the day becoming more lovely.
"HEY!" another voice shouted, sounded like a young lad's. The fierceness made Bilbo's skin jump slightly in shock. "That's my sister, you crazy bitch!"
The insult made plenty of hobbits gasp and look in the direction of the shouting. Startled by the commotion and the foul language, Bilbo turned around to follow the argument...and jumped in surprise for a second time when instantly spotting two taller figures and a little one facing off the huffed up shock of Miss Lobelia.
Two girls and a boy. One of the girls looked old enough to be considered a young woman, but the boy and other girl were definitely children. Definitely of Men's folk, in Hobbiton. Alone, and facing the unnecessary wrath of the Sackville-Bagginses.
"Well, I never!" gasped Lobelia, her voice loud enough to draw in the public. She always loved the attention, that woman! She pointed at the angry lad who shouted at her. "You clearly come from the filthy sorts if that filthy mouth is bred from the likes of you! Coming here, Men's spawn, already polluting our children with your outlandish entrance for slander! Have you no shame?"
"Hey, I'm not the one who lashes out on little kids for having a bit of fun!" snapped the lad, stepping closer to the hobbit woman, beating her level by almost two feet. "So why don't you go and fan yourself with your giant feather or something?!" The dark-haired little girl who was his sister was clinging to the lad's hip, her frightened face turned slightly to reveal tears. Goodness, the child was tinier than a grown hobbit!
"Kyle, that's enough! Stop!" The older girl stepped forward and attempted to pull the boy named Kyle away. When the boy struggled, his face twisted with rage and frustration, the brown-haired girl stepped in front of him and turned to face Lobelia, who was now backed up by other disapproving hobbits. "L-look, ma'am, we-we don't want any trouble..." The girl looked slightly flustered under the circumstances, especially when all eyes were now on them. Bilbo could hardly blame her. It was a messy situation he had been determined to avoid his whole life. "We were just passing by and-and we were just wondering where we are!"
"You are in Hobbiton, lass," someone called out.
"Y-Yeah, we got that already," admitted the girl, looking around her, swallowing. Behind her, the boy's jaw was still clenched in silent anger, and the little girl was staring at her sister-Bilbo assumed they were related-in a wide-eyed plea. "But where is that, exactly?"
There was a brief, unnerving silence from everyone. "Well...in the Shire, of course," a woman nearby said nervously. "Hobbiton is only one of its many places."
"Okay, but where is the Shire?" Kyle cut in, sounding exasperated. "New Zealand? Texas? England? What country is this?"
"The Shire is the country, you daft boy!" snapped Lobelia, her hands on her wide hips. "I would suggest a map if you cannot get the names right in the head!"
"Ma'am, you really don't want to know what's going on in my head right now!" the lad shot back, his fist clenching at his sides in a way that made Bilbo shift nervously, his hand twitching as though tempted to hold down those fists and restrain them. Do not get involved. Do not move. Do not speak. This is not my business, he thought to himself. Not my business.
"What my brother means to say," the young woman cut in, after shooting her brother a look, "is that we're really sorry to be bothering y'all, but we're lost, confused, and we would really appreciate it if someone would give us a place to stay for a bit-" Lobelia scoffed loudly in disbelief. "-just until we figure out how to get home..."
"Oh, well, you are certainly not stepping anywhere near my home!" snapped Lobelia, making the girl take a step back. "I doubt anyone here from all the way past Bree would have the pleasure of such with that rude brother of yours! You want some place to stay? Go at the Green Dragon Inn like every ordinary visitor and pay off your lodgings there!"
From the scared look on the girl's face and nervous ones from her siblings, Bilbo could tell that it wasn't an option for them. No money, most likely. During the argument, he had taken the time to observe the humans and found them to be wearing strange clothing as well as strange-looking baggage. Even their accents were different, and neither of the girls were wearing dresses.
The older lass with wavy golden-brown hair wore blue-gray linen pants that stuck tightly to her skinny but athletic legs, her sleeveless shirt (leaving her arms completely bare) was white with lacy ruffles you would find on beautiful dress-skirts, and her boots were brown-leather, shin-high, and pointed at the toe. The little one wore the same styled boots, only a deep raspberry red color, her leggings black with tiny colored dots, and her top a yellow long-sleeved shirt with a sunflower in the middle. The lad, who had dark hair like his little sister, wore the same styled linen as his older sister's but more baggy, his shoes black and white (very strange looking), and his top was a deep red with a hood and front pockets, barely revealing peeks of black fabric underneath the hem to show his other top.
Bilbo started in surprise to find that the little girl was staring right at him, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, but then stopped when the eyes caught his attention. Brown eyes. Brown, adorable, rounded child eyes, wet with tears and pleading for supplication. So helpless, so innocent, so scared...Bilbo twitched in conflict, bouncing on his heels as thoughts battled against thoughts in his head, as he continued to hold himself back.
What would Mother do? The thought came unbidden in his mind. Bilbo sighed heavily. Brilliant! Even the ghost of his dear mother's undeniable kindness was still teaching him lessons of her own. No matter the name, hold no shame.
While no one had spoken up to make an offer to the young ones, Lobelia's smugness clear from the distance, the flame in his chest exploded and Bilbo found himself marching forward, still holding his heavy basket of food. "Ah, excuse me?" he spoke up.
All eyes now turned on Mr. Bilbo Baggins as he approached the scene. Almost instantly, nearby friendlier hobbits had said, "Good morning, Mr. Bilbo!"
"Good morning! Good morning! Same to you!" Bilbo kept greeting as he passed by some friends. Then he nodded curtly at the hobbit woman. "Lobelia," he greeted politely.
"Bilbo," returned Lobelia, who eyed him suspiciously.
"What is all the fuss about?" Bilbo looked toward the human youngsters, who were staring back at him with surprise and uncertainty. "Really, everyone, there's really no need to get worked up over some misunderstanding, especially with young newcomers!"
"Misunderstanding?" scoffed Lobelia. "And the hairs on all our toes are falling out! I have had enough of these nuisances to last me a lifetime, so if you have better way of handling the problem, Mr. Bilbo Baggins, be my guest and deal with the problem!"
"Alright, maybe I will!" Bilbo burst out, and then closed his mouth with wide eyes. That sounded wrong saying it like that out loud. He was aware of the many eyes watching him. "I-I-I mean-what I mean to say is that, er-" He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, before turning to look up at the young woman, the boy peeking over her shoulder. "What I really meant to say is that you are welcome to stay in my home for a few days," he said more boldly. He could feel Lobelia and the other annoyed hobbits' accusing glares on his back, but as usual, he ignored them. "Just until we have this current predicament of yours sorted out, that is, Miss-"
"Maia," the girl answered. She held out a slim hand and Bilbo automatically took it to shake. "Maia Dainson. This is my brother, Kyle, and my sister, Lori." The little girl smiled suddenly and waved at the hobbit. Bilbo noticed she carried a stuffed teddy bear under her other arm.
"Bilbo," the hobbit greeted them warmly. "Bilbo Baggins."
Maia was still trying to process their good luck as they followed the little man with brown curly hair from the market place and finally on the pathway leading further up the hills. Her cheeks were still hot with mortification as the thought of that awful woman-Lobelia, Bilbo called her-shooting dirty insults at them like that, all because Lori got a little careless when playing tag with the tiny children and wasn't watching where she was going. A part of her enjoyed watching Kyle build up a public showdown to defend his sweet little sister, but the logical part of her knew that they would have had less of a chance in finding any help if the scene they have already created ended badly. Facing that woman instead of Kyle still shook her, like she had stepped onto a battlefield with no sword or shield. The woman was small, but she was scary as hell, like a chihuahua with loud yapping.
It was pure luck that one of the little people stepped forward and offered for them to stay at his place. He seemed friendly enough: three foot ten, soft build, brown curly hair (same color as Maia's, but without the sun streaks), fancy clothing, slightly narrowed ears, a button nose, blue eyes that would be mistaken as dark if one didn't look to closely, and of course, his bare feet were large and hairy, the color of his hair.
"Just a little over the hill," Bilbo said as he lead the way, "and then we'll reach Bag-End!"
"What's Bag-End?" piped up Lori, who was walking next to Mr. Baggins, at least a foot shorter than he was.
Bilbo chuckled. "My home. Bag-End is the title of my house, representing the family business."
"Oh." Lori didn't get it, but she asked something else. "Are you people munchkins?"
Bilbo looked started. "What?" He frowned.
"Lori," Maia warned behind them, while Kyle sniggered softly. Lori ignored her and pressed, "Why do you have big, hairy feet and no shoes on?"
"We're hobbits," answered Bilbo, quickly recovering from his confusion. From the look on their faces, he continued, "Halfings? Shire folk?"
"I still don't know what that is," admitted Lori, her shoulder slouching in disappointment.
"Oh, well..." He thought for a moment. "I hear most folk outside of the Shire don't hear much about hobbits either. Once when I visited Bree, I think I've heard two or three travelers claiming they've never heard of a hobbit before. It says much about us, I think," he attempted to joke, and Lori giggled.
"Is it normal for hobbits to stare at us like that all day?" said Kyle, as they passed an elderly hobbit with a tall hat and a wine flask, who was shooting them a suspicious glare before moving on. And he wasn't the one, especially when passing occupied front lawns with prying eyes looking their way.
"It helps if you ignore them," suggested Bilbo, glancing back at Kyle. "Don't take it personally; we usually like the peace and quiet, and Big Folk passing by doesn't usually help much."
"Big Folk?"
"Men. Big Folk is just a word we use because they are more prone to stomping over our homes and causing too much loud noise. Nothing at all serious. Ah, here we are," he nodded toward the green door on the highest hill. He opened the gate and gestured for the ladies to go first, then Kyle, before he himself walked up the steps to turn the brass knob on his green door.
The children stared at the entrance in awe as the hobbit entered the hole in the ground, before they followed him inside. Maia felt the top door entrance brush past the top of her head, measuring her five foot two height exactly. Kyle was three inches shorter and Lori two feet shorter, giving them no trouble at all.
As they entered, their mouths dropped. What they saw before them was not what they expected at all.
Bilbo stood in front of them, shifting awkwardly with a bashful smile, before self-consciously pointing in the kitchen. "Right, erm...should I just fix you up some afternoon tea? Luncheon? Are you hungry?"
They were starving, not having eaten since the HoeDown festival, which now seemed like forever ago. "Yes!" cheered Lori, while Kyle replied casually, "Sure." Maia nodded with a small smile, "Sound good!"
"Right! Brilliant! Just...just make yourselves at home, then...you can put your baggage in the living room and come into the dining room when you're ready," explained Bilbo hastily, before he set off to put his groceries into the kitchen. "And have no worries," he called from the kitchen, "the rooms are quite close together, so you won't get lost!"
Bag-End began a tube-shaped hall like tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with curved walls, floors tiles and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots of pegs for hats and coats-hobbits were fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill. There were no stairs in the hole, but on the same passage led to bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries, wardrobes, kitchens, dining rooms, and the living room. The best rooms were on the left-hand side, for these were the only ones to have windows, deep-set round windows looking over his garden, and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.*
It was where the sitting room and kitchen were nearby, his favorite places at home, for they both held the objects in his house that were normally a hobbit's two favorite things to do when relaxing: eat and read. The sitting room had his armchair, fireplace with the two pictures of his parents, rounded window, shelves of many books, and his desk full of papers, maps, and collectibles that Bilbo viewed as family heirlooms.
"This Is AMAZING!" Lori cheered, her tiny voice echoing through the rounded hallways of his home. Bilbo couldn't help but smile at the little girl's undeniable cuteness. The Dainson siblings had set their bags near one of his armchairs in the sitting room and were already exploring, while Bilbo started boiling the tea and started making peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches (without the crusts) after having heard of Lori's suggestion and her older siblings agreeing a little hesitantly. They probably didn't know what food he had, Bilbo realized with a guilty start. So he added a seed cake, some cheese, strawberries, and biscuits. Also, goat milk to wash it down.
"Your home is beautiful, Mr. Baggins," Maia called out from the hallways. She sounded truly breathless with wonder. "We've never seen anything like it in real life!"
"Thank you, Miss Dainson!" The tea started whistling and Bilbo lifted it from the fire. "I try to keep that way! And I'm curious, what do you mean by 'real life?'" he added suddenly.
"Like this feels like something you would find in a painting, or a fairytale book," she admitted. "It's too good to be true! People don't usually built houses underground and then make it look this stunning from where we came from."
The words sounded strange, truly unexpected, but Bilbo couldn't help feeling touched by this compliment. He cleared his throat and called over, "Luncheon's ready! I hope you all like chamomile!"
(*) footnote quote(s) from J.R.R. Tolkien