No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Why Puddles (TM) are life-threatening.

Warning: never consume mushrooms before attempting to use magic.

Alt. Summary:

"How did you even meet the poor child?" An expression of dawning realization mixed with horror crosses what little is visible of the grey guy's face, between his nose and beard. "You didn't abduct her, did you?"

There's a beat of awkward silence.

"Maybe. Just a little bit? It was an accident!"

Warnings: Self Insert, general irreverence, Radagast, mention of drug consumption,

-1-

Okay, to preface the following events you should probably be aware of at least three things.

First of all, never, under any circumstances, ever do magic when under the Influence. Just. Don't. It never ends well for innocent, poor, unsuspecting people.

Secondly, avoid stepping into any puddles at any cost. Cross the street, jump over them, fly if you have to. Never ever touch even seemingly harmless puddles.

So, watch where you're going.

Thirdly, a life without running, never mind warm, water, actual toilets, deodorant, supermarkets, and sane people sucks.

All of the above combined leads us to this exchange:

"How did you even meet the poor child?" An expression of dawning realization mixed with horror crosses what little is visible of the grey guy's face, between his impressive nose and beard. "You didn't abduct him, did you?"

There's a beat of awkward silence.

"Maybe," Radagast hedges – or Uncle, these days, to the Poor Child – "Just a little bit? It was an accident!"

The hairy little men exchange looks to which the child in question is utterly sympathetic.

She was just like that when she met Radagast the first time, although she couldn't understand a word he'd said back then. (Perhaps for the better…)

It's a bit like having an embarrassing parent, but ten times worse, because you have to bring them to the cool kid's slumber party and your crush is watching.

Not that she's crushing on any of the little, hairy men.

For one, they are a bit too hairy for her taste. And stinking of sweat to high heaven, but one hardly notices these things after living in the middle of a forest with only Radagast as humanoid company.

Their general style is a bit of an acquired taste as well, although she probably shouldn't throw metaphorical stones at anyone, considering her own clothes are homemade and Radagast's spares.

He's not exactly Stella McCartney, to say the least.

Her attention is recaptured by the exchange between the two old men when they suddenly switch languages.

"Are you taking them to Lord Elrond?"

"Yes."

"I'll hold the Wargs off if you'd take Lily along. We were on our way to the Hidden Valley to seek some counsel."

The grey guy blinks and then nods. "That's fair. I'll take care of her."

Radagast motions for her to get off the sled and join the group of little, hairy men.

Before she is out of his reach, he squeezes her shoulder, a small smile playing on his face.

"Take care."

"Not the one trying to distract a horde of flesh-eating fuck ups."

"No. Just traveling with your Uncle Gandalf and a company of Dwarrow."

The face of the gray guy is a picture.

"Uncle Gandalf, eh?" He mutters into his beard.

Then the time for chit chat is over.

Lily hunkers down behind the boulders with the rest of the traveling group and sends a short prayer at whoever will listen to keep her only familiar person save throughout this harebrained scheme.

She should have prayed for herself, but more on that later...