The first of my problems arose when I realized how impractical the clothes, and shoes, that I wore were. My clothes, as I have mentioned, were far too big for me, and my shoes were for fashion rather than for walking a long way, so soon they ached.

I didn't want to whine about it though, not after my embarrassing crying fit earlier.

So, I marched on, keeping with Gandalf and wincing every time the back of my foot rubbed against the back of my shoe. After about an hour of my silent weeping, Gandalf said, 'we'll be there soon, my dear, and when we arrive at Mr Baggins house, we can then nurse your aching feet. We may also have to ask the Hobbit for something else for you to wear. I suppose you do not mind wearing male clothing?'

I remember sending him a dry, moody look. 'Does it look like I care about what I wear? I just want something that isn't falling down all the time'. At that precise moment, I tripped over the unrolled end of my jeans, and yelped. 'I'll take anything,' I snapped, bending down to roll it back up. My sleeve then sagged over my hand, and I was sure I was going to start crying again. Breathing deeply, I said calmly, 'have you met this Bilbo Baggins before now?'

Upon standing, Gandalf smiled brightly at me, and we continued on our way. 'I have, actually. Quite recently. A stubborn Hobbit he is, but I know that the Took blood in him will prevail. I do not doubt that he will eventually decide to join us on the quest'.

I nearly rolled my eyes, but decided against it. 'So he hasn't said that he will go?'

Gandalf considered the question. 'Not exactly,' he said gruffly. 'Now, my dear, do you have any experience with any kind of weaponry?' I shook my head. 'Are you any good at combat of any sort?' I shook my head. 'Do you have skills that will persuade Thorin in agreeing to let you join the company?' Once again, I shook my head meekly.

'I'm starting to doubt my earlier comment about the Valar bringing you here,' he muttered. I didn't know who the hell these 'Valar' were, so I let the comment slide. 'Can you think of nothing?'

I looked out into the fields around us, spotting a house among a field of corn. It was the first sign of life, other than Gandalf, that I had seen so far. 'I can sow,' I shrugged. 'I could fix clothing, or whatever. I'm an alright cook. I could do simple things that nobody wants to do'. I stopped. 'Basically, I'm offering to do everything that a woman should do,' I stated sardonically.

Gandalf tapped me with his staff. 'You are offering to do things that will help the quest. I am sure Thorin will appreciate your offers'.

'He better,' I half-grumbled. 'I proper C-B-A with all of this shazzam, you get me?' I glanced up to find Gandalf turning away from me with a curiously bemused look. 'I speak in the language of my people,' I stated, holding up my hand and spreading my fingers. 'Live long and prosper, Gandalf. Live long and prosper'.

'You too, my dear,' he muttered.

I hid my cackle behind my hand. Despite the fact that Gandalf had said we would be arriving at this Bilbo's, er, Hobbit Hole (I was curious to see what the Hole was like, honestly) I grew bored quite quickly. 'Would you like to hear a joke?' I asked the wizard, pushing my sleeve up my arm. 'I know some top notch, classic jokes'.

Gandalf hummed an absent 'yes'.

'Good choice,' I told him. 'Right. Why don't dogs make good dancers?'

'I haven't the slightest idea why dogs do not make good dancers,' replied Gandalf, puffing on a pipe that he had pulled from within his robes. He turned to look at me, smiling lightly. 'Why?'

'Because they have two left feet!' I revealed. Gandalf simply shook his head, and laughed out a sigh. 'I thought that was quite a good one. How much longer, Gandalf? I'm pretty sure my feet are about to kill themselves out of pure misery. Seriously, this Bilbo better have some shoes that I can wear'.

Gandalf chuckled. 'You'd better stop hoping now. Hobbits do not wear shoes, for their feet are so hardened and large that they do not need them. They walk around barefoot all of their lives'.

I wrinkled my nose, the idea seeming ludicrous. 'Ew. That's rank'.

'To some, your own ideas of normality may seem completely baffling. To them, walking barefoot is natural for a Hobbit,' he pointed out.

I considered his statement, and nodded. 'Sometimes I eat spoonfuls of caster sugar when I don't want to sleep,' I said, relating to the Hobbits in the only way that I could. 'Do you reckon Bilbo will have food? I'm hungry, all this talk of caster sugar has got my belly ah-rumbling'.

'I am positive that Bilbo Baggins will have food'.

It didn't take us much longer after that to reach Bilbo Baggins Hobbit Hole (I've got to stop saying that). By then, the sky had darkened to a purple colour, and the winding pathways that led around hills, all leading to round doors, were deserted. Small lights dotted around the village-type place, and I instantly fell in love with the simple beauty of Hobbiton. It reminded me of Wales, with all of the rolling, green grass and the smell of the outdoors.

Gandalf gave me a small speech as we made our way past many, of what I presume, were Hobbit Holes. 'If they ask where you are from, I will answer for you. Hopefully you will be able to change into something...else before many of them arrive, though I suppose they have gathered quite quickly. Try not to talk to them much, not until everything is settled'.

I was mildly offended. 'Are you denying me of friends, Gandalf?' I asked dramatically. The old wizard regarded me with a tired look, but it was quickly wiped away by a shout behind us.

'Gandalf!'

The shout startled me so much that I spun around and tripped on my baggy-legged jeans, I grasped wildly for Gandalf and, thankfully, he quickly caught me. 'Gee whiz, thanks,' I gasped, edging away from the hill that I had nearly toppled down. Drunk, it may have been fun. Sober? Not so much. I spied out who had shouted, and saw around seven or eight men (my size!) walking up the path behind us.

'They're very hairy,' I said quietly, stepping back as Gandalf greeted the Dwarf men with large smiles and open arms. It was nice, to see someone my size. It made me feel almost normal once again. They were hairy though. Each had a different beard or mustache from the other, and each had long, braided hair. I understand now, Dwarves are weed-smoking hippies.

All were short, yet all had a variety of very thought-out hairstyles, creative clothes and booming, happy voices. Hell, no wonder there were so few Dwarf women. They probably hid.

'May I introduce to you, my dear fellows, my companion,' with that, Gandalf grasped my shoulder and pulled me forward. I smiled brightly at the men in front of me, aware of my jeans that were starting to unroll at the hems. 'Mi-'

'Alexandria Millicent Fournier,' I stated brightly, shoving my hand forward. I'm not sure which one of them took it, but now that I think about it, it might have been Bofur. I shook the hand and pulled away. 'But please, call me Millie'. That should be my catchphrase. The name's Fournier, Millie Fournier. Oh God, I never said that, how tacky.

'She is a friend from a far away place, with a story that I am sure all of you will want to know,' said Gandalf, nudging me to the side. 'But first, we must join the rest of our companions'.

'A Dwarven woman travelling with Gandalf the Grey,' said a Dwarf from the mass of short men. 'A story that we most definitely will want to know, I'm sure!' They all seemed to agree with this, and I bit back a smile. Look at me, all popular in a fictional world. 'Show us the way Gandalf, where is this Hobbit Hole?'

Gandalf, the sneaky bugger, flourished (so pansy) his staff to the side, and pointed to a hobbit hole that we all stood directly in front of. 'I marked it earlier myself,' said the wizard proudly. It was then that I saw the strange looking mark on the door, and understood how all of the other Dwarves were managing to find this place.

'Pretty sneaky, Gandizzle'.

I received some odd looks, but Gandalf just smiled and said, 'Thank you, my dear'.

The Dwarves bustled forward excitedly, pressing themselves against the door as Gandalf pushed his staff through them and banged it on the large, round door. Hell, I was just excited to see what the inside of a Hobbit Hole looked like. Was it all dirty and everything, with rooms that had been dug into?

I couldn't have been more wrong.

A Hobbit opened the door. I guessed he was a Hobbit, anyway. He was smaller than the Dwarves, smaller than me. He had curly hair and pointed ears, but his miffed off looking face was lost in the amused tears that quickly gathered in my eyes. For one the Hobbit opened the door, all of the Dwarves fell forward, grumbling at each other.

'Oh my God,' I sputtered. 'Ha!'

Gandalf knocked me with his staff, and I stopped laughing immediately. He crouched down to peer through the now open, round door hole, and caught the eyes of the baffled looking Hobbit. A look of understand dawned on his face as he looked at the guilty looking wizard.

'Hello!' I said, stepping ungracefully over the Dwarves who were stumbling to their feet. 'I'm Alexandria Millicent Fournier,' I said, sticking out my hand for him to shake. He looked baffled once again, and I realized that my sleeve had fallen over my hand. 'Er, yes, my clothes are a little too big for me. Anyway-' catchphrase time. 'Call me Mill-'

One of the Dwarves, as he climbed to his feet, caught my ankle as his foot slid across the floor, which only resulted in me stumbling to the side and banging against the wall beside me. 'Ow! Dude,' I whined, ignoring his yelps of 'I am terribly sorry!' I turned back to the Hobbit, who looked physically pained at the Dwarves, who were scratching at his floor and tumbling to their feet and down the hall.

'Call me Millie,' I stressed. I stepped further into the Hole. The others were shouting further in, new voices joining in. More of them. I spun around to face the Hobbit, watching as Gandalf ducked through the hole behind him. 'You must be Bilbo-'

'Food!'

The shout tore me from my polite introductions. 'I-I'm sorry, but you know, food'. With that, I practically slid across the floor, with my jeans tucked beneath my feet. They created a faster walk, I'm telling you.

The kitchen was in anarchy.

They just ate, and ate, and ate. They pulled plates from the shelves, mugs of alcohol appeared out of nowhere, jam was spooned into waiting mouths, whole plates of chicken were eaten by one person. Bilbo stumbled into the room, looking outraged. 'Put that back!' he ordered to deaf ears. I stood beside him, caught his eye, and shrugged.

'Can I have a bread roll please?' I asked tentatively.

Bilbo held up a hand, closed his eyes tightly and whispered, 'just go'.

A large man with a particularly impressive braid-necklace-thing going on walked past me, holding three wheels of very large cheese. I was stumped for a moment, wondering both how he carried the cheese, and how he planned to eat it. Bilbo's comment about a cheese knife caused me to snort with laughter. I turned away from the man, searching the shelves for any sign of bread.

Gandalf reached up past me, still ducking, and grabbed a brown bread roll from the shelf and handed it to me. I smiled gratefully and bit into it. It tasted more natural and grainy than any other bread that I'd had before. That was the first thing that I ever ate in Middle Earth. It is odd, because I still remember the exact taste and texture of that bread roll.

I just really like food.

Gandalf pushed a chair into the back of my legs, and I fell into it, wondering why I felt so giddy. The wizard prepared the food beside me, placing this and that onto separate plates, while the Dwarf men shouted and ate all around us, ignoring Bilbo's attempts and reprimanding them.

A Dwarf with grey hair pushed past my chair, leaned over, introduced himself as Dori, and offered me a cup of chamomile tea. Despite hating tea, I accepted graciously, the smile on my face even starting to freak me out. With my bread and my tea, I was as happy as could be. I just realized that rhymed, and it was in fact not intentional.

I looked around me, watching the Dwarves who sat at the table, who rummaged through cupboards, who wandered around the halls and back into the kitchen. Bilbo was fretting, and Gandalf was muttering about red wine. I feared that I was still in shock, but why wonder why I am here, when I am here? I do not know this story, but I do know that I may as well get along with it.

That's when I saw him.

He was hauling a beer barrel into the kitchen, with a Dwarf who I now know to be his brother hauling the other end. The one thought that ran through my mind as I brought the tea cup up to my lips was, quite simply: ding dong, who is that?'

Then my mind rang with alarmed thoughts of how bloody hot the tea was. It splashed over the side of the cup and onto the table as I shoved it away from my burning mouth, glaring at the Dwarf opposite me who laughed and bit into the cheese wedge in front of him. His expression quickly sobered as he caught my look.

'Apologies, Miss,' he said, voice soft and light.

I smiled at him, brighter than before, startling him a little. He was smaller than the rest of them, and more childish looking, with simply features and a surprisingly smooth face. I decided then that I liked him. 'Call me Millie,' I requested.

The Dwarf smiled. 'Ori,' he said politely.

Quite soon, all of the Dwarves were surrounding the table. It was quite alarming at first, having them throw food about and catch it in their mouths with such skill, and even more alarming when they all introduced themselves to me. When they said their names, it was like one, long rhyme. Gandalf sat beside me, and when asked who I was, he said, 'Miss Millie is a Dwarf woman who is foreign to Middle Earth, and will hopefully accompany us on our journey'.

At first, they had been drunkenly baffled by a woman accompanying them, but were silenced by my glare and Gandalf's stern words. If anything, they seemed more curious as to why I was a female Dwarf.

'I was..born this way?' I answered lamely.

They accepted this also.

I was in Middle Earth, eating alongside Dwarves.

'What I want to know,' bellowed a Dwarf known as Fili. 'Is why Little Miss Mystery of there is wearing clothing ten sizes too big for her!' They all shouted in agreement. They shouted about anything, really. It was quite alarming.

I paused, then shrugged pathetically, to which most of them seemed to find hilarious. I liked it here. Everybody thought I was downright funny.

After a moment of staring at the Dwarves around me, I spied out the good looking one, the stunning one. Kili, I think his name was. Judging by who he was sitting next to, and their likeness in names, I could only assume that Kili and Fili were brothers. Pretty good gene pool, I must say. But Kili...he had brown hair, brown eyes - just a nice face, really. I don't really know how else to say that he was good looking, without sounding like I'm in Fifty Shades of Grey.

Fili jumped from his seat and stomped across the table, two pints in his grasp. I laughed and pulled my tea away from his approaching feet, while someone threw food into the awaiting mouth of Bombur, who caught it with a happy smile. The table practically exploded, and I was forced to bang my fragile teacup against the pitchers of ale.

Then they began drinking, and silence fell for around ten seconds. Then the burps began. Surprisingly, the polite and quiet Ori was the loudest of them all, and longest. For a moment, I honestly thought he was possessed, and that some demonic voice was going erupt out of him.

One of the Dwarves said, 'there is a Lady present, lads!'

I was laughing too hard to see who. Once again, they found this equally as funny at the burping contest.

They began dispersing again, and I pulled away from table, approaching the wandering Gandalf. He bowed his head to hear what I was saying, and I'm pretty sure the red wine had gotten to him. 'Do you reckon I could get those clothes now?' I asked.

Next chapter things will get going, and Millie will actually talk to Kili! I hope you liked this chapter, and thank you for the reviews and favorites!