Authors Note: Well, this is my first Hobbit story. I fell in love with the movie...okay mostly Kili, but hot damn that boy is sexy for a dwarf. Anyway, I've seen a couple stories with the 'girl from our world is thrown into the movie/book' and honestly, it's a good plot. I'm not stealing it, I'm making the idea unique... so yeah. Anyway obviously i don't own the hobbit or nothing so... read and enjoy. And yes, Doctor Who fans, I know that this was the girl in the Dalek, but I freaking love the name... and a picture of Oswin is the cover.
CHAPTER ONE: Oswin Oswald
Oswin scratched her head, yawning as she walked lazily down the path from her front door. The gangly young woman hitched the satchel over her shoulder a little higher. She was an odd one, Oswin Oswald. She stood tall at six foot even, her limbs seemed too long due to her thin frame. But she was always relaxed, and most times people thought she was on something. But she wasn't, she was just a happy person in general.
Her style was a bit odd as well, nordic pattered leggings that were surprisingly warm despite how thin they technically were with black flannel pajama shorts over them, a denim button up that was much too big for her thin torso, but properly long enough for her height, mittens with a nordic snowflake pattern, a matching scarf that was cherry red like her mittens, and a bright red beanie pulled over her head. On top of it all was her black wool overcoat with a fur hood and rubber soled Ugg boots.
Passing through the small white gate, she closed it behind her, and made to cross the road, yawning. As she glanced around, she yelped and stumbled back, narrowly dodging being hit by a double decker. Her last thought before hitting the ground was wondering why the bloody hell there was a SPEEDING double decker on a cul-de-sac outside London.
Oswin expected to hit the ground, the hard tarmac of the street. Rather she fell onto soft grass, her fall cushioned greatly. But it was still a fall and she groaned, as her head hit the dirt. Oddly, she was hot rather than freezing. Frowning, she sat herself up before breathing out, "Holy guacamole."
She wasn't on Tamarin Road, and she wasn't in London, let alone England. As she sat herself up properly, she looked around in awe. Being the nerd that she was, she knew where she was; on a hill over looking Hobbiton, in the Shire, IN FREAKING MIDDLE EARTH! After a moment of staring, she snapped to reality (if it was that) and felt herself overheating. Instantly, she was yanking her gloves off, then her coat, then scarf and hat. As she sighed in relief, she folded them all up small as she could and wedged them into her sack. She'd been on her way to a friend's place, to stay for a few days, so she already had a bag of clothes, a few more wouldn't hurt the old thing.
Glancing at her hands, she did a double take and gasped. Her normal hands that had long, spindly fingers were tiny, like a toddler's almost. Oswin scrambled up and yelped, realizing she had gone from her six foot stature to at the most, four foot, and that was being very generous. Her shirt was longer now, covering her shorts, almost making it to her knees, and the sleeves reached her wrists, but it wasn't wider, it seemed to have shrunk a little with her. Her leggings had definitely shrunk, still fitting fine, as well as the shorts and boots. In a quick panic, she kicked a shoe off and sighed. Good, normal feet. So maybe she was a dwarf. A really, tiny ass dwarf.
Putting her shoe on and grabbing her bag, she grumbled as she had to adjust the strap. Whether it was still her stuff in her bag at this point, she would figure out later. Right now, she needed to find a place to- Oswin shrieked as she tripped over something and face planted into earth. Shoving herself up on her tiny arms, she rubbed the assumed dirt off her face and looked back, seeing something wrapped in brown burlap. Leaving her bag on the ground, she crawled over and peeked underneath the cloth before pulling it off entirely, making a child-like 'oooo' noise.
It was a weapon, a pretty one at that. The pitch black metal was like a moon sliver, about ten inches at its widest place and had to be three feet as its height, and there were two oblong cut outs on the blunt side, leather wrapped around where she was obviously supposed to hold it. Along the edge above the slanted blade area, there were strange inscriptions that she couldn't read. Next to it lay a leather pouch, that was almost as long as the blade, with a one strap.
Upon picking up her little discovery, she realized it was only a foot shorter than her and shockingly light, but razor sharp. After messing with it, she slipped it into the pouch, and slung it over her shoulder, realizing it was indeed meant to be carried like this. Eyeing her back suspiciously, she walked over to it, momentarily noting that her boots now reached near the top of her calf rather than just above her ankle, and immediately dumped it out.
She sat down and began shuffling her things about. Her gloves, scarf, coat and hat were there, but now, she only saw three of her shirts, the green, maroon, and black versions of her current shirt, all four pairs of her nordic patterned leggings that mysteriously shrunk to fit her now tiny body, her other coat was missing, as well as all her toiletries, her other scarves and hats and gloves. Her spare trainers were gone, and she found instead a wooden box, four different daggers, a smaller wooden box, yet another dagger and MORE wooden boxes.
Grumbling to herself, she folded up her clothes and packed them into the bag, then put the daggers away, two in each boot, one on each side. Oh yeah, she'd seen enough movies to know that keeping them in her bag was like not ever having the daggers. Then she opened the first box. It had a few pieces of dark, flaky looking rock, a couple of clear crystal looking rocks, and a round stone. Shrugging, she clicked it closed and placed it in her bag. The second box was a sewing kit. A very well stocked sewing kit. Good thing she knew how to sew.
A smaller box had a spool-like thing of string, sturdy string, what she could only guess were arrow heads, small feathers, and a finer, wire looking string that was wrapped around small square of wood. A rectangular box held patches of all square and rectangular shapes of fabric. There was another box with strips of leather and cloth. The last box had a few small knives, that looked like a kitchen knives.
As she placed the last box in her bag, she heard a low hum of someone. Immediately, Oswin shot up and grabbed her bag and moving as fast as she could on her tiny legs. Reaching a small 'cliff' on the side of the road, she grinned and had a mental fangirl moment. GANDALF. THE. FREAKING GREY! Before she could come up with a plan, she shifts a little and shifted wrong, and tumbled down and landed on her back in front of Gandalf. Oswin groaned and heard the wizard ask, "Now who and what might you be?"
Sitting up, she blinked up and answered, "I'm, uh, Oswin. Frankly, I'm not quite sure."
Gandalf hummed in understanding and told her, "Well, Oswin, you are too short to be anything but a hobbit it appears."
Frowning, she shook her head, and yanked off a boot and held out a foot and stated the now obvious, "But my feet aren't… Hobbit-y."
The old wizard knelt down and examined her foot, commenting, "Quite right, they're very elf-like. Yet your stature is truly too short to be anything but Hobbit." Oswin shrugged and let him examine her foot a bit more, before letting it go and allowing her to replace her foot into her shoe. Helping her stand, Gandalf told her, "Well, Miss Oswin, I am on my way to a Hobbit's hole. Perhaps you would like to accompany me?"
Nodding, she replied, "Yes, thank you very much Mister Gandalf. Uhm, before we go, could I trouble you to look at some inscriptions? I'm not quite sure what they mean." Gandalf nodded his assent and she smiled, placing her bag down and removing the blade from it's bag.
"Ah, so you are a warrior Miss Oswin?" Gandalf began studying the blade and before Oswin could reply, tell him she wasn't, he spoke up, "It's Elvish. 'Another world the wielder be, to save the lives of those you are to soon meet.' Interesting. Tell me, Oswin, why is it you don't know what you are?"
Taking back the blade, she processed the words, and replied vaguely, "I, uh, I'm not from here." When Gandalf gave her a look of disapproval, she began searching her mind. Then she remembered a plot from a fan fiction she had read. A girl who had grown up with in a village away from the rest of the occupants of Middle Earth. With nothing else, she told him, "I grew up far both of hear by the sea. My home is away from everything, and no one uses race to define each other."
Gandalf seemed to accept this and changed the subject, "Well, come along, Miss Oswin. It seems you are to join the journey."
Oswin stared after him before hurrying to catch up and calling after him, "Wait a minute, what JOURNEY?!"