Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me; they belong to Tolkien; I'm simply borrowing them for my own twisted amusements. I also don't own the cover image.

Fili ran. That's what he had had been doing for a while. Branches tore at his cheeks and hair and brambles stole themselves onto his clothes, but he didn't falter. He couldn't. His breath came in stuttered, fleeting gasps, each sending spikes of pain through his throat. His legs burned beneath him and recognized the anguish in his left arm as a break in the bone. His hair was dirty and hung in clumps around his neck. Mud was smeared across his face, mixing with the odd spots of blood.

Fili dared a glance behind him, hoping that the footsteps he heard where no more than his imagination. He saw a tree line end and, in an instant, weighed his options.

He made his choice.

Fili bent low, crouching, and put on more speed, chest stinging. He shattered the branches as he exited and crashed right into another person.

Neither had any way to know that this chance meeting would change their lives and, in truth, the course of history.

It had been a good idea. Thirteen-year-old(1) Bilbo decided, at last, feet padding on the road. A walk was a lovely way to clear his head; a way to get away from the town and the market, the busy households, and ever moving families. To have a moment of peace.

He breathed in the air and it felt strangely freer than he was used to. He sighed softly, hands crossed behind his back.

To most other, he would have looked quaint, placid. But under the surface of that frozen lake, was a whirlwind of emotions. Was what they said true? Was I being too childish? Did I need to grow up?

A sharp crack broke into Bilbo's thoughts and he jerked to the side, eyeing the brush. Was that movement he saw? He leaned closer in, eyes squinting. Something burst the trees, a blur of movement and speed, and before he knew what was happening, he was on the ground, caught in a tangled mass of limbs.

Bilbo pushed the other being away, dusting the dirt off his pants and looked at his attacker.

It was a dwarfling, about his age perhaps, with hair was dirty its color was indistinguishable, icy blue eyes wide with fear and pain, blood splattered over his limbs, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle, body trembling, hands shaking. He was sucking breath past his lips and was curled into himself, terrified.

Bilbo did not possess a heart of stone and felt deep pity stir within him for this dwarfling so far from home, lost and alone, scared of his own shadow. Slowly, unsure, he kneeled next to the shuddering form.

"Hello," Bilbo said softly. "My name is Bilbo Baggins of Bag End. May I know your name?" For a moment, there was no answer and he thought there would not be until he heard the quietest whisper, no more than a murmur, an exhale.

"Fi… Fili."

"It's lovely you met you, Fili." He said quietly. There was no reply. Bilbo rose to his feet silently, twisting in an acrobatic way that would have been impossible for most others. He waited for Fili to stand, but, when he didn't even make a move to do so, he offered out a hand.

The dwarfling simply stared at it. Unblinkingly. Unnervingly. Then he lurched forward, grasping the outstretched limp, tugging it close to his chest and holding it tight there like he never wanted to let go. Bilbo wasn't expecting the sharp jerk and stumbled forward, almost falling, but regained his footing and helped Fili to stand.

The dwarf planted his feet firmly in the ground and refused to move, still holding taut to Bilbo.

"Come with me." The hobbit coaxed, "We can go back to my home. It's warm there." He added, referencing the frigid air that clung to them. But still, Fili looked hesitant. "You don't have to let go the whole way there," Bilbo said, begging that this dwarf would concede. He wouldn't be able to move him with force and he didn't want to leave him. But he had no other cards to play. Fili swallowed uneasily, biting his lower lip, but nodded and the hobbit relaxed.

Bilbo led the dwarfling through the less used roads, hoping to avoid any other Shirelings. He would stumble often and kept Bilbo's hand close to his chest, next to his left arm, but the Hobbit let him. They moved slowly, but steadily.

Still, it was at almost nightfall when they neared Bag End. Fili had been growing more hesitant with every step and now had his gaze to the ground, the hobbit's hand still clasped tight in his own, but it was in front of him and Bilbo was almost dragging him along. They stopped outside his door and the hobbit took a breath.

How were his parents going to react to this? Belladonna and Bungo Baggins were kind folks, yes, but just as weary and untrusting of outsiders as any of the Shire's people. What would happen to Fili? Would he be left the world's horrors, all alone? Would his family look for him? Would they not? Did he even have a family? But Bilbo pushed those fears aside and opened the door, enticing a creak from the hinges.

It showed Fili the place that would soon be his new home.

Author's Note:

Really sorry it's so short, but, then again, when are first chapters not? I'll try to make them longer. I might start a schedule on this, but right now I'm not.

(1)I know they're not, but I'm making Bilbo and Fili the same age, and I think thirteen for hobbits is the equivalent of nine to a man. Please correct me if I'm wrong!

Drop a review and tell me what you think, please!