AN: Small people everywhere.

CHAPTER 2

While mister Baggins was cleaning the wound on your head and offering you some tea, you looked around the small, peculiar house. It wasn't downright dirty, but everything was kind of thrown on top of other things, resulting in heaps of junk covered with doilies.

Your mind was wandering around, and the best conclusion you could make was that you were somewhere far from home, without any money or your cellphone. Or wi-fi. Or a map. The only thing you had were the clothes you were wearing and the keys to your house…which was nowhere in sight.

"Mister Baggins, would I perhaps be able to stay here a few days?"

He seemed taken aback by the statement, which wasn't a really big surprise. The way he reacted to a stranger on his front porch was a clear indication that he didn't like strangers in general. Or at least not when they were around him.

"I'm pretty far away from home with no idea how to get back. But I'll work my stay, I can do some basic housekeeping if you'd like. Or some gardening."

He was listening, and clearly overthinking the possibility. From what you'd guessed, he had begun to become a little older (or everyone was just abnormally small here) and the mess around the house indicated that he could always use someone to keep everything clean.

And you had to buy yourself some time to find a way home.

"Very well. I could use an extra hand in the house," mister Baggins muttered, inhaling more of his tobacco. You smiled.

"Thank you."

It had been a few weeks and homesickness and desperation were slowly becoming part of your mindset. In the few weeks, you had learned a few things: the Shire was inhabited by Hobbits (dwarfs but then with hair on their feet, you called them), there was no such thing as cellphones or internet here in the Shire, and Hobbits clearly weren't used to normal people.

Well, that's what they'd taught you through their staring. It's not like they were scared; quite the contrary, they were friendly and open, but it seemed like you weren't the only one not used to different creatures.

It wasn't your fault you couldn't stop staring at their feet. It was kind of disgusting how much hair they had growing there. Especially since they didn't really have any beards or long hair. And even the women had hairy feet.

Weird, weird people. Hobbits. Whatever.

You were currently cleaning the hallway as Bilbo sat outside smoking some of his drugs. There was no way in hell that 'Old Toby' wasn't some pretty name for weed.

Not that you'd say that to Bilbo, or any other Hobbit.

You were surprised when Bilbo closed the door in a hurry, looking shaken.

"What's the matter, mister Baggins?" you asked carefully, looking up from your broom. He shushed you almost immediately, pointing to the door frantically before looking out the window…

Only to scurry behind a wall a few seconds later.

You didn't really know what to do except stare at the peculiar behavior of your host. Asking him if he was still sane seemed rather rude.

The rest of the day went by pretty slowly, with no more exciting acts by Bilbo. Until that evening.

He had cooked some fish for the both of you, but before he could take a bite (you were already halfway through, seeing as it was kind of a small fish…and you were hungry.) the bell rang.

You both looked at each other.

"Shall I-"

"I'll get it, it's alright," Bilbo muttered, standing up. He was gone for only a few moments, and you heard a lower voice at the door.

The voice was a bald, tattooed, little man, who looked you over before giving a curt bow.

"Dwalin, at your service."

You looked over to Bilbo, who clearly didn't know the man.

"[Name], at yours?" you weren't really sure if that was the answer you were supposed to give. Bilbo was obviously displeased at his dinner being disrupted, but the Dwalin-guy was polite enough to introduce himself.

He was less polite when he just sat himself down and promptly ate all of Bilbo's lunch.

'All' wasn't an understatement: he even ate the head of the fish. You almost feared he was going to take the rest of your lunch –some potatoes and vegetables- but he seemed polite enough not to do that. If you could call what he was doing polite to begin with.

Bilbo offered him some freshly baked bread after the fish clearly wasn't enough to fill his stomach (why would such a tiny man need so much food, you wondered), but the bell rang before he could eat the whole plate.

Bilbo and Dwalin looked at each other for a brief moment.

"That would be the door," Dwalin said, and you looked over to Bilbo, who dragged himself out of the dining room.

"Would there be anything else to eat, lass?" Dwalin asked you. You had to refrain from asking why he wasn't fat yet, and you pointed at the cookie jar.

"I've made some cookies yesterday," you smiled, and he was intent on eating them –if only he could get them out of the jar first. You had to resist chuckling as he struggled with the jar. His hands were clearly to big (his fingers were rather thick too) to get a cookie.

Perhaps it was karma.

"Oh!"

It came from the hallway, and laughter followed. Dwalin put down the cookie jar –a miracle, a miracle!- and grabbed the forearms of a smaller man. He had gray hair, and a long beard, and he reminded you of Santa. A tiny Santa.

You thought the reunion was touching. Apparently they were brothers. It freaked you out when they head-butted each other, but it seemed to be a family greeting, as they didn't really react to it. The tiny Santa suddenly noticed you, sitting at the table, and grinned.

"I hadn't noticed you there! Name's Balin."

You gave him a curt nod and your name, and shortly after they both wandered towards the pantry, Bilbo following. He seemed to be freaking out, but you didn't really know why. Balin and Dwalin seemed like polite guests, albeit unexpected.

The bell rang a third time and you could only imagine the annoyance on Bilbo's face as he passed by the dining room to greet the people at the door. You decided to get up (sitting by yourself while there were guests seemed kind of lonely) and found the hobbit talking to additional tiny men. These two looked younger, one with blond hair and the other with black hair.

It seemed to be an invasion of small men with braids.