AN: I realize there are a lot of other fanfictions out there like mine, but I was bored one day and figured I'd take a crack at writing a fanfic. I've loved reading them for years, and once I got started, it just seemed to flow. I hope you enjoy. This one is based mostly on the movies.

I am not a great writer, nor am I a scholar, but as I find myself looking back over my recent adventures, I feel the need to write them down, if only so I can sort them out in my own mind. To start off with a proper introduction, my name is Kara O'Neal. I'm 5'4", with a willowy build, bright blonde hair, and blue eyes. I was born in a little town in Oregon. My life was rather boring, to be perfectly honest, but it was all right and I never aspired to more. I was the youngest of three children and the only one who seemed to lack ambition. My oldest sister was a doctor and my brother was a fitness enthusiast who owned a string of gyms and enjoyed climbing mountains when he could spare the time. I was ten years younger than my brother and fifteen years younger than my sister and completely uninterested in following in either of their footsteps. My parents tried everything, even apprenticing me to my sister. I lasted three months before I gave up in disgust. I just couldn't handle the stress. Well, I must be honest with myself. I couldn't handle my sister constantly hovering over me and judging everything that I did.

My parents let me do my own thing for awhile after that. I went back to college and really enjoyed the learning experience. Sadly, my parents didn't agree that a degree in general studies was a good thing to have, especially with my emphasis on drama, dancing, and art. I even took a few cooking classes for fun. They talked me into working for my brother during the summers, probably hoping it'd give me ideas. Unfortunately, I have no interest in being a personal trainer. It seemed to me that half the people I trained knew more than me and the other half wanted a miracle weight loss program. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy exercising, but helping other people exercise is not my forte.

My brother was an OK boss, but we really just never learned to talk to each other, I guess. He had his own life long before I came along and wasn't really interested in making me part of it. My sister and I never really bonded either. She had graduated and moved out before I was four, so I didn't even really notice I had a sister except at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and even then she missed half of them. My parents tried to bring us all together at least twice a year, but I always got the feeling it was more for the show of it than anything else. They were very big on appearances. I think that's why they tried so hard to get me to find a promising career. They could show off their two eldest, but whenever anyone asked what I was doing, they'd say, "Oh, you know Kara. She's always the dreamer." I didn't realize until I was fourteen that that was an insult.

As I write, I find myself getting hot under the collar. It seems like it was just yesterday, but at the same time it feels like a dream that happened to someone else. So much has happened since then, and yet their indifference to me as a person still stings.

Anyway, by the time I was twenty-two, they had all but given up on me. I had a job as a waitress to pay the bills and, admittedly, to irritate my parents. I went out on my days off with my friends from college, though many of them had moved away and the ones that were left were all moving on. It gets harder to talk to people once they get married, and it's even worse when they have kids. They all want to compare their kids' accomplishments or how hard their labors were. I have to say, hearing how young Timmy had grown three pounds heavier than his last doctor visit or how Laura had just had the worst delivery because she went into labor early and was too far away to get to her regular doctor, really just gets old after awhile. Especially when they notice me and then all get this knowing, superior look and say things like, "You'll understand when it happens to you" followed by, "So, are you dating anyone?"

I really hated that question. I had never dated anyone that lasted longer than two dates. By the end of the second date, they had all shown me so many problems that I couldn't get rid of them fast enough. The one that takes the cake was the guy that was living in his parents' basement, asked to move in on the second date, and made me pay for both of them. The first date I believed him when he said he'd forgotten his wallet. The second date, which I only took because my roommate in college talked me into it, almost had me prying the guy off with a crowbar he got that clingy. I guess he'd never had a second date. Big surprise there.

Anyway, I was just coasting though life enjoying not deciding what I wanted to be and slowly turning into a hermit.

Then everything changed.

I just remember waking up feeling like I got hit by a bus. As my memory returned, I realized this was because I had in fact been hit by a bus. I was on my way home from work and crossing the last street before my apartment when a bus came careening around the corner and knocked me out. As conscious thought returned, so did my awareness of my surroundings. I realized I was lying on the ground and staring into the concerned blue eyes of the strangest man I'd ever seen. He must have been on his way to a convention or something, because he was wearing a tall pointed hat, gray robes, and a long white beard. I decided he must be the most authentic looking guy there and should probably get a prize for best Merlin impersonation. Then I looked around. He was standing in front of a large green round door, and that door appeared to be stuck in the side of a hill. It even had windows. At that point I decided I must be on the best meds ever or in a coma dreaming a very lifelike dream, because obviously the bus must have done some crazy damage to have me in a setting like this one.

I was snapped out of my observations on the state of my mind by a gruff old voice. "Are you alright?" isn't the most imaginative of questions, but I had to give the old guy points for trying. I smiled my brightest smile at him and replied, "Just peachy, old chap. Just enjoying the glorious day. Must have dozed off. Don't worry about me, I'll finish waking up and get my bearings in a minute. Have a nice day!" Rather than believing my attempts to get rid of him, the concerned line between his eyes got deeper. He stood up and looked at the door, then muttered something that sounded like, "No help for it" and went and pounded on the door. After a few minutes of this an even odder looking fellow opened the door. Hew must have been no taller than a child, but he was obviously early middle aged and he had the hairiest feet I had ever seen. Honestly, if my feet grew a pelt like that, I'd never let them out of shoes.

Merlin had a hushed conversation with him, which involved much gesticulating my way and talking by the old guy. Whatever he said must have worked, because the short guy came over with him and stood looking down at me. "Can you stand?" he asked. I hadn't really thought about it, but once he pointed it out, I realized I did want to stand up. I also wanted to walk away quickly, but one thing at a time. They each got a hand under one of my arms and lifted and I popped up with very little resistance. It's amazing what the mind can accomplish. I discovered very rapidly that my brain wasn't cooperating with actually walking, though, and almost wound up on my face when I tried moving forward and my feet stayed where they were. I must say, it's a little humiliating to be held up by an old man and a midget while you can't even stand on your own.

They got me inside and sat me down in what turned out to be a quite comfy chair, considering it was a bit too small for me. They had yet another conversation I wasn't privy to, then the old guy sat down in a chair across from me while the small man went to get me some tea or something. I noticed that the old guy fit his chair even worse than I did and wondered at my obviously way too developed imagination. I could tell he was working up to give me some portentous speech and ask who I was and where I came from, along with probably a bunch more boring questions, so I started things off myself.

"Hi! I'm Kara Smith (no way was I giving this guy my real last name). I'm from Portland currently. I have no idea how I got here, but my best guess is coma or hallucination. And you are?" My best customer service voice seemed to throw him off, but he blinked for a few seconds before he seemed to catch up. "Ah." He said. Then he cleared his throat and added, "My name is Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey. I myself am not sure how you got here, but the Valar must have had something to do with it. The question is, why do they want you in Middle Earth, especially here at this time?" He started staring at me and brooding, so I thought it would be best to head him off before I wasted too much of this admittedly awesome dream. I figured since my dream seemed to want to focus on him for the moment, I'd keep him talking. "So, do many people use their favorite colors as titles here? And if I'm not supposed to be in Middle Earth, which earth should I be in? Also, if these valor people brought me here, which hospital do they work at and what drugs are they using? Because they've got to be illegal. Drugs this hallucinogenic can't be good for you."

I enjoyed the annoyed look that briefly flashed across his face very much. The guy was way too stuffy and serious. He kind of reminded me of my father, with his air of everyone's business is my business and I'm in charge. I couldn't really dislike him, though, because he also seemed to genuinely care about those around him. He puffed up a little bit and responded, "Wizards of my order take colors as their individual designations. Middle Earth is the mortal realm, separate from the heavens, and I think you are supposed to be here. The Valar are gods, child, and the only way you could have gotten here is if they put you here. I don't know what a hospital is, but I can assure you you haven't been drugged in any way. I can't begin to imagine what their purpose is in bringing you here, but I can tell that you are from another universe and that they touched you in some way." He must have noticed the questions about to bubble out of my mouth, because he finished with, "I can discern no more than that at this time, and I really must be going. I have a few errands to run and friends to meet. I will be back this evening. I can assure you we will talk more then."

With that, the old codger got up and swiftly left the room, leaving me sitting there a bit taken aback and the poor small man bewildered clutching a tray while watching him stride out the door. I felt kind of bad for the small guy. He looked almost as turned around as me. I cleared my throat and felt a bit guilty as he jumped about a foot and looked hunted.

"Hi" I toned down my smile to one you might give a child that looked lost, which felt kind of appropriate considering his size and general expression. "My name is Kara and I've apparently been dumped in your world on your doorstep. Sorry about the inconvenience." He seemed to gather himself and his manners together and brought in the tea tray and set it on a little table next to me. "My name is Bilbo Baggins. Welcome to my home and please forgive my rudeness in not introducing myself sooner." We got to talking and I discovered he was quite a nice guy under all his pomp and manners. He even offered me a dress that used to be his mother's. Luckily, between the fact that while I was taller than she was I was quite a bit more slender and some creative adjustments I was able to make it fit. I appreciated it because while my jeans, t-shirt and coat were comfortable, they were also quite dirty from lying in the road earlier. We must have talked for half an hour while he showed me how to do laundry before he asked if I knew where Gandalf went. "I'm not sure where he went," I said, "but he seemed to be in a hurry to run some errands and talk to some friends, but he said he'd be back tonight."

Bilbo thought about this for a minute and than got the most peculiar look on his face. "Tell me," he said, "do you think Gandalf and his friends might be here for dinner?" I said it wouldn't surprise me if Gandalf was back just in time for dinner and brought his friends with him. Bilbo seemed really upset by this and headed for the kitchen, where he started banging pots and pans. When I followed him I heard him muttering about being a proper host and "confound that wizard!" It seems being a good host is very important to hobbits, which is what my host called himself. I pitched in with cooking and preparing and we got into such an animated discussion of the various races, their histories as far as he knew them, and the various intricacies of hobbit culture that we prepared way more than we meant to. We'd kind of gotten into a competition as to who could make the widest variety of dishes and had a little too much fun. He beat the pants off me, but I was able to surprise him with new uses for old spices and the recipes for a few pasta dishes. He'd never heard of noodles, which I thought was a tragedy. We were having a great time laughing and washing the last few dishes when we heard a knock at the door.

Bilbo left to answer it, and I finished drying the last pot when I heard what had to be one of the rudest people ever push past Bilbo and demand dinner. Bilbo just kind of sputtered, but I wasn't about to let anyone abuse my new friend. I came stomping into the hall and came face to face with the fiercest looking man I'd ever laid eyes on. He raised a bushy eyebrow at me and then deliberately ignored me while he again demanded food of Bilbo. Admittedly I may have overreacted a bit, but I consider home invasion justifies self defense, and the guy was wearing armor and all sorts of weapons. I hit him over the back of the head as hard as I could with the pot I was holding. He went down like a deflated balloon, and I saw Bilbo's horrified expression. "What?" I asked defensively. "He stomped into your house and threatened you to get food." Bilbo's expression didn't change much, but he did help me truss the guy up like a sheep. It's amazing what you can learn from television. We put his arms behind his back, tied his ankles together, and then tied his arms to his ankles. We probably used enough rope to scale a cliff, but I wasn't taking any chances. I started taking all the obvious weapons off him, though I had to hurry because he seemed close to waking up.

I had just managed to drag the ax into the next room when another knock came. Bilbo and I looked at each other and then ran for the door. He was going to open it before I talked him. "Are you crazy?" I hissed. "It might be another home invader." Bilbo paused for a minute and then nodded. He latched the door, which made me shake my head. These hobbits must not worry about robbers much, because that had to be the most pathetic latch I'd ever seen. Where's a stout iron bar when you need one? The knock came again, and I motioned toward the little round window that was nearby. We both craned our necks trying to see who was banging on the door more insistently now, when suddenly my view was full of white hair. I blinked and it resolved into a face surrounded by a truly stupendous white beard. It looked questioningly at us and seemed nice enough, so I opened the window just a crack.

"Excuse me," he said. "Isn't this the meeting place? I saw the mark on the door and was sure there couldn't be two like it very close together, but if there is another burglar around here, could you direct me to his door please?" Poor Bilbo started spluttering at "mark" and just got worse with every word the old guy said. I could tell he wasn't going to be much help, and I was beginning to be suspicious of the old guy's motives when I remembered Gandalf. "Pardon me," I said with utmost politeness, "but you wouldn't happen to have been sent here by an old gray wizard, would you?" He immediately smiled and nodded, at which point I banged my head on the window frame lightly and said, "There wouldn't be more of you would, there?" "Oh, aye," he replied. "Thirteen of us dwarves altogether." Suddenly Bilbo started pulling at my sleeve. He looked terrified and seemed to have his eyes fixed on something behind my left shoulder. "Let me guess. Our home invader has woken up and gotten loose and is about to attempt to kill me?" Bilbo nodded terrified.

I put on my best waitress smile, the one that says, "We're sorry your food seems poisoned to you, but we will do our best to fix it. Have a nice day." Then I turned around and saw a very irate dwarf (for how could he be anything else) with a very red face and a good sized knot on the back of his head holding an ax in one hand and looking plenty ready to use it. Luckily for us, the dwarf behind me said, "Brother, what happened to you?" The murderous dwarf in front of me suddenly looked rather abashed and a bit shifty, so I thought I'd chime in with my side of the story before he exaggerated my vicious assault.

"He came barging into Bilbo's house as soon as the door was open, demanding food and being very threatening, so I hit him on the head with the pot I was holding and tied him up. I must have missed a knife or something, though. I thought I had him well trussed up." I figured at this point the dwarf outside was a lot less dangerous than the dwarf inside, so I opened the door for him, only to find two young men convulsed with laughter next to the old one. They all got up and introduced themselves, the old one adding that head-bashed was his brother Dwalin. The two younger then came in and started dumping weapons on Bilbo and ignoring him when he asked them to be careful of his things. I blew my stack. I didn't know what got into me, but my temper was out of control. Usually I could control my temper and just put on a customer service smile, but seeing my new friend ignored and disrespected like that in his own home infuriated me. I started yelling at the top of my lungs, gave all four of them a blistering lecture with fingers shaken under noses and a not very complimentary description of their probable upbringings, then started bossing them around to help me move furniture and clear the entrance way.

Judging from the looks of bewilderment and the fact that they actually obeyed me, I must have thrown them so far off balance they'd be stumbling for a week. They even sat politely at the table when we had it all set up. The youngest one, I think his name was Kili, looked a little forlorn, so I told them we'd have dinner out when everyone else got there. He looked much more cheerful, which was good because just then the door sounded again. I figured it would be best if I headed everyone off at the pass, so I had Bilbo go check on the food while I answered the door. A whole bunch of dwarves fell at my feet and one pointy hatted wizard poked his head in after them. I immediately took charge and told them where they could put there cloaks, weapons, etc. and told them if they wanted food they'd better wash up and get to the table. Such a flurry followed that I thought for a moment I'd be run over. Luckily I was able to dodge. I did have to head them off when they started trying to pillage the pantry, but when they found out they'd be getting food a lot faster if they sat down, they settled in.

Bilbo and I were kept quite busy going back and forth, but the dwarves were as amazed as we were at how much we'd cooked. I did notice there were only twelve instead of thirteen, but I heard Dwalin telling Gandalf that one of them was late. I set some food aside for the poor guy, because it was apparent that if I didn't, he wouldn't get much. I made Bilbo sit down and eat some, too. The dwarves seemed to feel bad about their earlier behavior, because they passed him food without complaining and even left him out of the worst of their fun. I actually enjoyed their boisterousness. It reminded me of some of the best nights at college, where a lot my friends and I got together and celebrated the end of exams or just had a game night. It left me a bit melancholy, actually, when I remembered that those friends were long gone and I hadn't actually belonged to such a group for awhile now.

I didn't have time to dwell on it, though, because they decided it was time to help clean up. It took me all of half a minute to see that they weren't actually breaking anything and seemed to genuinely want to help, so I stayed out of the way and ate my own dinner. Just as they were finishing up another knock came at the door. I got to the front hall just in time to hear a coldly arrogant voice making fun of Bilbo and calling him a grocer. Naturally, I couldn't let that go without throwing in my two cents. I elbowed my way to the front, greatly assisted by the fact that once the dwarves realized I was trying to get through, they moved out of the way. Some seemed to be smiling in anticipation.

I walked up next to Bilbo, looked the newcomer up and down, and said, "My, the last one doesn't have any better manners than the first. Are you sure we should let him in, Bilbo? It seems to me that freeloaders should at least be polite." It was interesting to watch the newcomer's face turn red as a barn. He drew himself up to his not very impressive height, (his eyes were about level with my nose) and gave me the most dismissive look I'd ever received. He opened his mouth to deliver what must have been a wonderfully scathing comeback, but I cut him off as I looked over his shoulder at Gandalf.

"Honestly Gandalf, it's very rude of you to drop your friends on poor Bilbo without any warning and then expect him to put up with such rudeness, too. You're the one who invited them, so you should at least be responsible for seeing they keep civil tongues in their heads. If there's some reason you've asked them all to gather in Bilbo's house, it would be only right that you tell him why. They all seem to have some idea of what you want of Bilbo beyond eating him out of house and home, so why not share that information, hmm?"

The newcomer looked taken aback. Apparently he thought Bilbo knew what Gandalf wanted and had volunteered his house for ransacking. My estimation of his intelligence dropped a few fathoms. Gandalf had the decency to look a bit sheepish. He cleared his throat before jovially inviting all of us to the dining hall for talking and a few overdue explanations. I sat next to Bilbo while they all gathered around. One found some stew for the newcomer, who I found out was called Thorin. I wrestled with my conscience for a bit, but watching the poor guy eat stew when his cohorts had eaten a feast, I guess my waitress sensibilities kicked in. He looked wary when I abruptly stood up, but it was gratifying to see his expression turn to astonishment when I plopped a large tray full to bursting with savory vegetables and lots of different meats in front of him. I saw the other dwarves eyeing his tray, and said, "Don't even think about it. You had yours. I had to hide some just so he didn't go without."

I turned back to Gandalf and was pleased to notice that Thorin actually looked grateful. He didn't waste any time digging in, either. My smugness turned to horror as I listened to their "plan" such as it was, unfold. I had never been so furious in all my life as when I heard Gandalf state that he planned on sending my new friend down a hole to become dragon bait. The dwarf with the funny hat didn't help when he started describing death by dragon. When Bilbo passed out on the floor, something snapped. I started yelling at the lot of them, raised my fist, and was arrested by the sight of my fist glowing with flame. It went out abruptly, leaving all of us quite speechless.

Gandalf recovered first. He looked in my eyes and said, " Well, now we know part of what happened to you. You couldn't do that before, I take it?" Then he had to explain to all the dwarves where I came from and how I probably got there. He ended by basically telling them I'd be joining them on the quest. That went over really well. We realized Bilbo had woken up when Gandalf verbally bludgeoned Thorin into accepting me and Bilbo loudly objected. I think we were all a bit mystified when this quiet spoken hobbit loudly bit Gandalf's head off for trying to make the choice for me. He then politely offered his assistance in finding me a place in the Shire or Bree, or even in outfitting me for a trip if I chose to leave them all behind. I told them I'd need time to think about it. No way was I going without Bilbo, but it was quite evident he hadn't made up his mind to go or stay yet, but that he was leaning toward stay.

In the quiet discussion with Gandalf that followed I learned some of Bilbo's fascinating family history. I thought Gandalf almost had him until he made a comment about possibly not coming back and being changed if he did. Still, something in me told me Bilbo needed to go on this quest, so I chipped in. "I'm not going if Bilbo's not, even if it means I'll never get home again. What have these dwarves done for Bilbo that he should help them, anyway? So they're homeless. It's not his job to get them one back even if he's the only one you think can do it. Leave him alone, Gandalf." I got up and left. I saw Balin eyeing me as I left, so I gave him a big wink. He gave me a short nod. After a short discussion with Gandalf, during which I'm sure he twisted Bilbo's arm and made him feel horribly guilty about my possible fate and that of the dwarves, Bilbo came and found me and asked if I really wanted to go. I allowed that yes, I'd like to if he wanted to, and that was that. He signed the contract and I helped him pack his bags. It's a good thing, too. I'd been camping a time or two and hiking and I knew a lot of what he wanted to take was rubbish.

The worst was when he wanted to take his nice red coat. I pointed out that the color would stand out like a sore thumb in any area, that it wouldn't keep him warm at all if it got wet, and that the material would probably snag on every passing twig. He switched it out for one of his father's old coats, a nice wool one that was a greyish color. He helped me pack a bag, too, and gave me the pick of his mother's wardrobe. Surprisingly, this helped a bit. The wardrobe was a bit limited because most of her pants didn't fit me, but at least I had a spare shirt and a few extra underthings. Apparently she was quite the adventurer when she was young and had a lot of useful things, too. We took fishing line and hooks, sewing needles, and fire starters. She even had a set of lock picks, though Bilbo almost fainted when we found those. Apparently he hadn't really been through her stuff since she died. He included a bunch of stuff he thought would be necessary too, like handkerchiefs and spare socks.

It took us quite a while, but eventually we had two packs made up. Bilbo wanted to get us weatherproof cloaks at the market the next day and he had a few things to do before he left, like write out his will and get his favorite relations to watch the place for him. He had some nasty relatives that would try to carry off anything that wasn't nailed down if he wasn't careful. Thorin was less than pleased to be delayed in the morning, but I firmly told him to let Bilbo set his affairs in order and that we'd catch up if we had to. He grudgingly agreed to wait a half hour. I could tell traveling with him would be such fun.

Thorin took me aside while Bilbo was running his errands the next morning and tried to tell me how things were going to be. I listened patiently while he laid out more and more rules, most of which devolved down to, "Obey me, keep your mouth shut, and be a nun." I finally interrupted him and said, "Look, I'm not yours to order around. I never signed a contract, so you're not my leader. I will let you know if I disagree with you, though I will try to keep from arguing with you in front of your men. I won't promise not to flirt with them, but I highly doubt that will be an issue since I have yet to meet a man I could stand for longer than two dates total." Then I had to explain dates and put up with his sudden offended attitude that I thought none of them were good enough for me. Did I mention already that it was going to be a long trip?