Since I don't have a dictionary knowledge of Tolkien's languages, any non English will be words smashed together in italics. As our heroine learns Westron, those words will revert to non italic, and separate from the whole sentence.

I have no proofreader, and did only a basic editing sweep.

As should be obvious, I don't one the Hobbit, only my own characters and their related plots. Please don't sue me, I'm a lowly peasant.

Here is my madness, enjoy.

An Adventure. That's what I wanted, and boy was I stupid.

Here I was, tromping through the woods in pursuit of a particularly stubborn band of dwarves, in a torrential downpour. Why couldn't the Valar give me decent weather? Just a simple thing, even just lightening the rain. My raincoat layered over top of my hoodie was about the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.

The dwarves were at least on ponies, not their aching feet, and I could see through the sheets of water that at least two of them were attempting to be subtle while sneaking glances back at me. At a guess, Kili and Fili.

The pair were the only ones who had bothered trying to communicate in the beginning, before Thorin shouted something and the whole band proceeded to pretend I didn't exist.

I cursed the Valar again.

Dropping me off was all well and good, and I suppose allowing me to pack was nice of them, but by all that is good they could have warned me that there would be no English speaking. I could have picked up an English to any Tolkien language dictionary for my bag.

Surely they exist somewhere, I could have found one online. Westron, Khuzdul, even Sindarin, seeing as Bilbo understood it, even if his speaking it was iffy. It had been my understanding that Westron was the equivalent to English anyway!

The few words that seemed to be recognizable were names and places. Thorin, Fili, Kili, Erebor, Rivendell. Everything else I said got me blank stares.

Or angry stares, in the case of one Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain.

I thought back on how I came to be here as I trudged through the mud behind the ponies, grumbling about stubborn dwarf kings to myself.

Obviously when a bearded man and a lady in a flower crown introduce themselves as Mahal and Yavanna, gods of a fictional world, your first thought is that they escaped a facility somewhere. But the longer I was in the presence of these... beings, the less I believed that.

For one thing,Yavanna glowed. Just a faint shimmer, but it was an outline around her, brightest around her head.

Then there was the way her husband was causing the floor to sag. He appeared fit, but the floor of my second floor apartment groaned as if he weighed like that of an elephant.

He noticed my staring at the floor and apologized. Instantly the floor was level again, no sign it had just been straining to hold this mountain of a man.

"Your help is needed." he had a deep, rich, smooth voice, like dark chocolate.

"It's gone quite wrong, our world, and you have the knowledge to fix it." Her voice was sweet and clear, like fresh strawberries.

"Uh, what?" Came my intelligent reply, my voice sounding like the smell of raw fish. A slap in the face in comparison.

"We have chosen you, you must save them all. You may pack, we will provide funds for you. But we will return on the next full moon, whether you are ready or not." Mahal was stern, intent I got his point. "Be ready, or your life in our world will be hard..."

Yavanna smiled gently, and my sad little houseplant perked up. "Have faith, and all will be well."

And then they were gone.

Somehow their little speech got through to me, or else they cast some compulsion spell, and I believed them. It helped that a pile of gold pieces were left on the floor where Mahal had stood. I had snorted to myself at that. At least I could find a coin shop nearby and get that in spendable cash.

Off to the outdoors shop I went.

"Herenow, Gandalf!" One of the dwarves piped up over the rain, as I hurried to catch up the distance my remembering had cost me. I think it was Dori.

"Can'tyoufixthiswretcheddeluge?"

Gandalf sounded irritated, and I couldn't blame him.

"Itisraining, Masterdwarf, andtherainshallcontinueuntilitseesfittobedone. Ifyouwishtochangetheweather, youmustfindyourselfadifferentwizard."

While I couldn't understand the individual words spoken, I had seen this scene play out in the movie enough times to know what was happening. Bilbo would ask if there were any other wizards, Gandalf would ramble, and...

"Therearethetwobluewizards... YouknowI'vequiteforgottentheirnames."

That was my cue.

"Alatar and Pallando, Gandalf."

The grey wizard startled, as if he had forgotten I was there, and then muttered in agreement. I could see the wheels turning in his head.

This was not the first time I had proven my knowledge of this world, or more specifically this quest. My early attempts at communicating that I was there to help hadn't gone so well...

The pair of Valar had returned on the full moon, just as they promised. I was waiting, full pack ready, trying to convince myself I wasn't a lunatic following the instructions of a hallucination.

There was no fanfare.

They appeared, glanced me over, and then my world spun. It was kind of like what I imagined the floo network to feel like, spinning swiftly as images of life flashed in and out of focus.

Then I landed with a thunk, all alone, on Bilbo's front step. Right next to one Thorin Oakenshield as Gandalf opened the door.

Gandalf seemed to realize the Valar was involved somehow, but they clearly left no instruction.

"Whyareyouhere? Whohasbroughtyoutoourworld?"

It was then I realized the language barrier.

"OH craaaap. This just got way harder. Gandalf? You, Gandalf," I gestured to the wizard, "I, Kaylee."

I gestured to myself.

"Him, Thorin." I waved at the dwarf for good measure.

It quickly became clear that the only words that crossed boundaries were names and places, so I was resigned to gestures and vague sentences.

"Thorin go Erebor? Kaylee go Erebor. Bilbo go Erebor? Kaylee go Erebor."

Gandalf caught on quickest.

"YouwouldjointheCompanyontheirquest? Wellwell, itseemsthe Valar havedeemedafifteenthmemberneeded, Thorin."

I gathered what he must have said when Thorin began shouting. It was at this point I became aware of more than one hobbit peering out from their doors, and I rather rudely shushed the great King Under the Mountain.

This went over about as you would expect, but before the storm cloud that was Thorin could really build up, I pushed him through the door, to the stunned faces of twelve dwarves, and one hobbit.

The night only went downhill from there. The only thing I could use to convince them was names, and while Gandalf seemed totally on board, the dwarves were a very mixed bag.

"Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain." I pointed again. "Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Fili, Kili, Balin, Dwalin, Gandalf, and Bilbo."

While Fili and Kili looked delighted I knew their names, and Ori waved shyly from behind Dori, Balin and Bofur were outright glowering at me, and the rest looked uneasy.

Bilbo, for his part was looking just as adorably confused as one might expect, his nose twitching before he declared,

"Wellwecan'tleaveaLadyoutinthecoldatanyrate, I'llgoseeifthereisanyfoodleft."

That had ended discussion for a while, as Thorin and I were fed, but the argument had returned just as soon as Gandalf brought out the map to the Lonely Mountain.

I sighed. This would be a long night.