Snow and the 13 dwarves

Chapter 2: Bilbo Baggins

(Sarah's POV)

Gandalf didn't talk much. As I gazed upon the beauty of Hobbiton, my mind couldn't register that all of it was real. The air was sweet and fresh, blowing through my hair and over the hills into the forest behind us, but that did nothing to relieve the growing pressure in my chest. Thoughts of people tying my unconscious body and transporting me in a white van played on repeat within my mind, and I felt my throat tighten. "Are you actually Gandalf?" I asked at last. He glanced down at me from beneath his bushy eyebrows and replied, "Child, did you not just say that I was?" "Well, I mean, you're a pretty good actor," I continued, "But I need to go home now." "Then go home," he replied, "No one is holding you here." A chuckle of disbelief left my lips. Reaching into my pocket, I gasped with relief and exclaimed with joy when I found my phone.

"What is that?" Gandalf asked, seemingly interested. "Very funny," I replied, walking back down the path from where we'd come. It was still in working order, the time and date were the same as when I'd left home. But my joy quickly turned to frustration as I found that I was unable to call home. There was no signal, and my data was not working. "No!" I exclaimed, checking every app that I could for a way to communicate. "Oh my- Just tell me where your boss is," I began again, walking back towards 'Gandalf', "I just wanna go home now and I'm not gonna give you money for kidnapping me now, please, just give me your phone or something."

Now Gandalf stopped in his tracks. Peering down at me, he said nothing. "Please, sir," I pleaded, fighting the tears that began to form, "I just wanna go home. Just let me go home, please. I dunno who put you up to this, or who paid you, or who took me here-" His hand wavered over my face and I wanted to step back, but my feet felt as if they were made of stone. A gasp left my lips as my vision faded into stars for a mere second, before disappearing in a bright white flash. I staggered back and blinked, trying not to have a panic attack. "What was that? Don't do that! What did you do?" I asked, rubbing my eyes in an attempt not to cry. When I opened them, both of his hands were holding his staff.

"I am Gandalf the Grey," he said at last. And as he said this, the very air around him grew darker, and for the first time I felt magic crackle through the air, like static electricity, but greater. I felt myself fall to the ground, and a whimper of disbelief found itself departing from my lips. "And you," he continued, his gaze piercing mine, "are not lying." As soon as it had begun, it was over. I felt a tear fall down my face, my thoughts now jumbled into oblivion.

Gandalf's gaze turned sympathetic as he said, "I peered into your memories and I saw the truth. You are lost. And for now, I am sorry to say that I cannot bring you home." Holding out his hand to me, he continued to gently say, "But I can keep you in good company until a way is found. For now, trust that I bear no ill will." Something in me fought the urge to give in. But for the moment, I knew that I was lost and in need of a guide. "Okay," I said at last, admitting defeat. I took his hand, and we once again found ourselves walking down the dirt road.

The beauty of Hobbiton did what it could to ease my nerves. Inhale through nose, exhale through mouth, I thought to myself, slow breaths. While all of it was breathtaking, I couldn't seem to come to terms with it. It certainly seemed real enough. The height of the hobbits seemed authentic, as they were somewhere between two and four feet of height. One walked by dressed in his little breeches and wearing a straw hat upon his head. With a rope in his hand, he led a honey colored calf not too far behind. "Cute," I muttered, trying to find happiness in all this confusion. He did not hear me, but kept merrily going about his business and towards the market.

We got plenty of strange looks, that's for sure. We were taller, and I was dressed quite strangely for a girl in Middle Earth. Gandalf was about the size of my dad, and his hat only made him appear even taller. I only came to the height a bit above his shoulders at a sad 5'2 and a half (when you are short, you count every centimeter). The hobbits, however, never exceeded the height of my stomach.