Hobbit 1. Chapter 1 - The Wakening

A/N: I have a darling friend and Kilbo shipper who is currently writing the fic Manadh. What you are about to read is a bundle of utter nonsense brought about by a conversation from Tumblr. I have no regrets except for those who might read this expecting quality above sheer bastardizations of their favorite characters. Ahem—yolo. I welcome you to put on some of The Pipettes and enjoy!

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"I did not drink enough last night to be hungover…" Maria muttered to herself as she woke up. Everything ached, and it both smelled and felt like she had slept in a bush. "Whelp. That's what I get for going to a movie marathon with guys."

She rolled over and the knot of a root jabbed her in the ribs when her hand slipped on the slick rock that had been her pillow. For a moment she just laid her head in a patch of wet earth and tried to figure out where in her tiny college town she might have spent the night. Definitely nowhere on campus—too many trees. Nowhere in town—the air smelled too fresh and prepacked-perfect clean. She hoped it wasn't the suburbs—people were _crazy_ around Christmas time, and she didn't want to have to knock on someone's door for help looking like she'd slept in a bush.

"Okay, up we go," she said, bringing herself to all fours and looking around. A half a dozen biology classes hadn't been worth a single damn as far as her health choices went, but one introduction to dentistry class and she couldn't stand the teeth in her mouth right now until she found a toothbrush.

Finding a toothbrush would be problematic, however, since there wasn't a single building for miles. To her left, endless and authentically fairy-tale forest. In front of her, it started to look a bit rocky and swampy. To her other side, it looked like the trees thinned out a bit for short grassed hills making where she was the lowland.

Considering her precious and quaint college town was in "Where God tested out the planing tool" Kansas-Oklahoma border, where the environmental clubs lobbied in the same numbers for more trees to be planted that the feminist clubs lobbied against date rape on campus and a certain other club lobbied for girls not to be such sluts so they wouldn't get raped so often, Maria Susan Schmidt honestly did not believe she was in Kansas anymore.

"Well… fuck, then," she said right before a whippy little sled pulled by about nine giant rabbits ramped off of a rock and barely cleared her screaming head.

There was a brief time as Mary-Sue reacquainted herself with the beautiful sensation of solid, mushy ground while there was some deal of high-pitched, shaky yelling and thumping rabbit feet accompanied with rushing and snapping of vegetation in the forest.

A smallish, shaky man who looked a few steps removed from Mary-Sue's most militantly organic vegan acquaintance approached Mary-Sue as she finally got herself standing upright.

"A-ah, ah are you all right, miss?" he said. It looked like he had some kind of tree sap crusted on the side of his face.

"Yeah, just peachy. Was that a sled pulled by rabbits?" she asked.

"Why yes," the man answered, beaming for a moment. "Rhosgobel rabbits! Fastest you'll find in all of Middle Earth!"

"That's nice—would you mind telling me where I am?" Mary-Sue asked, and something clicked in her mind. "Excuse me, did you just say 'Middle Earth'?"


	2. Chapter 2 - The Sleddening

Taking stock of her situation, Mary came to the conclusion that there really wasn't a conclusion. She could be tripping on shrooms or some other hallucinogen, though since she hadn't had such drugs before she could only speculate as to the effects, but she had assumed that mushroom highs involved a bit more in the way of technicolor fairy fantasies and a bit less in the way of cinematic reproductions. She could have been hit by a car whilst wondering drunk away from a party—highly likely—and was in a coma in a hospital room playing the most currently entertaining fantasy, dropping her in the middle of a movie she'd seen just under half a dozen times. Or, and this was the outlandish one, some fairy of self-insertion had dropped her into a living universe which ran along the lines of _The Hobbit_.

She thought this as Radagast's sled sped over the plains of Middle Earth, which actually wasn't as entertaining as she had thought it would have been. She still kind of wanted to cuddle one of those adorable rabbits that was about the size of her dog, but the clods of dirt they kept kicking in her face were less than adorable and they didn't remotely look pudgy enough for proper cuddles. Eventually the sled stopped for a break and she was fortunately dehydrated enough to avoid questions about what she was supposed to use for toilet paper out in the wilderness of Middle Earth.

"Oh the pitfalls of failing narrative convenience…" she muttered to herself as she petted one of the rabbits on its head. It bit her thumb, incisors slicing through her skin and giving her something new to think about on the second half of the ride to the dwarf company.

When they did catch up with the dwarves, all Mary could think about was, _Holy fuck there are going to be motherfucking orcs here in a hot second fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck I'm a complete shitting target __**fuck**__._

That and that Fili as extremely attractive, and she hadn't noticed in five viewings just how probably gay Kili and Bilbo probably were for each other.

But that was beside the point. As a five-foot-five tall human adult, she was gathered with the grownups to discuss wizardly things including a Necromancer that Mary had been intending to read about since the hoopla surrounding The Hobbit trilogy and Tolkien's Septuagint or salamandalion or something, but hadn't quite yet because there were too many post-finals and holiday related parties to go to and ignorant males to schmooze into taking her to see _The Hobbit_ five times without her paying for more than popcorn per viewing.

The rather significant conversation continued, and Mary-Sue waited as long as she could before interrupting.

"Look, wizard dudes, that's all fantastic really—necromancers who don't write poetry about fucking dead people, nasty swords, companu for a mountain and Smaug the dragon, but in all seriousness we're about to be straight-up besieged by a hunting party of orcs riding STD-encrusted hellhounds, so for fuck's sake could we split the hell up or something?"

Their scant introduction had not served to prepare the wizards for this, but in eyes of age and wisdom of the world, they said nothing for the half a second it took for Mary to regret her phrasing.

"Okay, here's the deal, don't ask me how but I know things about this world and thing number one is we're about to be attacked by orcs—" and she cut herself off by biting a knuckle before she could suggest Radagast risk his life drawing the orcs off with his sled. "—So somebody needs to do something."

The wizards accepted this knowledge as there was the commotion of an STD encrusted hellhound being felled by potentially homosexual beardless dwarf arrows on the other side of the clearing. The plot points aligned, Radagast mounted his sleigh of Rhosgobel rabbits and led them off in a wild chase while Gandalf brought Mary-Sue in a madcap sprint with the dwarves for cover.

Mary-Sue had still yet to acquire a toothbrush.


	3. Chapter 3 - The One With the Shrooms

Mary was mainly past the hangover, thanks mostly to some mushrooms Radagast had given her on the sled to help with her nausea. It occurred to her as she ran with the dwarves away from orcs and their giant hellhounds that perhaps she would have done better to be a bit more suspicious of them, or maybe grass had always been as hypnotic as this, and maybe it had always danshed rhymically to the beat of running. Ooh, the growling was a nice backbeat, like a bass reverb—

Oh. It stopped. Big meanie Kili for shooting the reverb. Who shoots the—oh, wow, lookit them, dismembering an actual living sentient creature, wow, that's really—the smell… not like video games at all…

And Mary-Sue's stomach was about to rebel against the mushrooms' mellowing influence in favor of violent expulsion when Gandalf pulled her down a jagged crevice in the rock they'd been hiding behind, the dwarves following.

At this point, Mary-Sue had a very, very, very specific craving: Prairie Oyster with a shot of rum and Worcestershire sauce on the side of a proper Chinese takeout and fake Mexican food pizza with chopped Vienna sausages. She'd learned it from upperclassmen as the drunk's continental breakfast, and it was actually the most perfect food ever dreamed by men. However, instead of breakfast—rather, second breakfast because of the time of day and counting the mushrooms as first—there was a shot orc falling down the crevice and the annoying sensation of dawning sobriety.

"Well, shit," she whispered under her breath. There came the sounds of the above hunting party, or whatever caused orcs to sprout arrows from their throats, and a cautious silence settled in the hiding place.

"Well, young madam, I believe it's about time you tell us all who you are," Gandalf said, and the dwarves turned their eyes on her.

"Wow, um, okay…" she said, looking them all over. "Um, so…"

"Out with it!" ordered Thorin. "We have no time for this."

"Well _excuuuuse_ me, Princess," Mary-Sue said, putting her hands on her hips. "I'm sorry, just how fucking inconvenient is it for you to be ripped from your world, completely disoriented, hit in the face with a rabbit sleigh, hunted by orcs, and then sassed by the next greatest leader of the dwarves? Oh, wait, _none_ of that just happened to you except for the orcs thing, and you weren't high on magic mushrooms at the time, now were you?

"I am Maria Susan Schmidt, bat-mitzvaed at age twelve, daughter of a captain in the United States military and a dental hygienist of the proud yet humble line of Schmidt, the fixture of many academic honor rolls throughout my life, and a student of English, and as I may say so, a damn good percussionist.

"And since the next immediate question is 'How will you be useful to us?' because you _are_ a good leader, not one for having this dead weight bullshit hanging around, I can tell you that I know certain things before they shall happen, as evidenced by the fact that I was warning Gandalf and Radagast of the orcs before the first hound even attacked. And for further proof, without introduction, I name you: Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, son of Belladonna Took, Fili, Kili, Bofur, Bifur, Bombur, Balin, Dwalin, Dori, Nori Ori, Oin, Gloin, and finally Thorin grandson of Thror, son of Thrain, going to take back the mountain.

"And I need to catch my breath." Mary-Sue put her hands on her knees and wondered if it was some post-high clarity allowing her to remember the dwarves names, or perhaps that she'd seen the movie so many times in a row.

She heard murmurings of skepticism, disapproval, mild wonder, and from the Fili and Kili section of the group, almost certainly subdued laughter.

"Well then," said Gandalf. "That certainly answers a number of questions."

"Now Gandalf," said Thorin, turning to the wizard with a scowl on his face, "where are you taking us?"

Still the first day, Mary-Sue had been introduced to the company, and still lacked a toothbrush. She was close to finding some grass and trying that.


End file.
