I don't always write crossovers, but when I do, they are mixes of Merlin and Lord of the Rings. Okay... I seriously have no idea where that came from... or, for that matter, the idea for this whole story. However, I thought it pretty good once I wrote it! Enjoy!

He stood in the library, still searching for the right book. This place was huge! After an hour, he was still no closer to finding it. He walked down a new aisle, running his finger gently across each spine as he passed. He then found himself in an obviously unused part of the library; there was dust covering everything in a stifling blanket, and even the bountiful spider webs had lost their stick. He shrugged. He might as well search here; he had exhausted everywhere else. Gingerly stepping into the mess, his bright red shirt soon dulled due to the accumulating dust. It was even in the very air, which hung thick, making it hard to breathe. Ignoring this for the present, he began his search anew.

There! Reaching out, he felt along the intricate design running along the leather cover. He smiled. Finally, he thought. But there was a problem. The book was on the bottom of a waist-high stack of books! He sighed, picking up the first filthy volume to set on the floor next to him. Soon, the pile reached only to his knees. Bending down, he wrapped his slender arms around the rest of the pile atop his quarry and lifted. They were certainly heavier than they looked, he decided. He swung around to place these atop their counterparts, but his foot caught on the leg of a nearby table. Book after book tumbled from his clutch, ending with a cacophony of sound as a jumbled mess on the floor. He stared in horror at the floor, then in the general direction of the librarian's desk before quickly grabbing his book and fleeing, tripping over the clutter in his haste.

Back in his uncle's chambers, he dropped his rag back into the water basin, finished removing the ample dust. His hair no longer appeared a dirty blonde but his normal raven black, and his skin was clean. His ice blue eyes looked condescendingly at his once-red shirt; there was no saving that. He quickly shrugged out of the filth-ridden garment before going to his room within the chamber and donning a clean one. Going back to his uncle's worktable, he dumped the contents of the washbasin into a nearby bucket, intending to dispose of that later. He picked up his prize as he headed back to his room.

He sat on his bed, head and shoulders propped against the wall. He stared intently down at the book in his lap. Now clean, colors seemed to chase one another in carved designs in the ancient brown leather. Shimmering gold runes were surrounded by bright red spirals and blue glyphs. Seemingly random shapes ranged between all colors, without any discernible pattern. More curious than ever, he gingerly slipped a finger under the front cover. Very cautiously, he lifted, until the first page was lying open before him.

He began to read.

Hobbits, found in Hobbiton, part of the Shire, are a simple folk….

Merlin found himself thinking about these Hobbits more and more after reading the surprisingly short section written about them in the book he found. To his great dismay, only two pages were written on –beautiful, delicate calligraphy- and the rest was blank parchment.

Unfortunately, the little information that was there –descriptions of their houses and how often they eat- raised many more questions in Merlin's mind than it answered. Did they still exist? How smart were they? Where was the Shire? What did they look like? And most importantly; were they magical beings? Nobody in Camelot had heard of them before, and everything magical was fabled at one time or another not to exist, or simply forgotten about. That would explain why he found the book in a forgotten corner of the library….

Merlin wanted to know more. He needed to know more. What if they existed still? What if they had magic? What would that mean? What could that mean? With Arthur gone to the next kingdom (he had brought George with him…), Merlin had the time to research the strange beings mentioned in his magic book. With Gaius gone, too, though, he could not ask Gaius about the Hobbits. That left one….

The next day, Merlin rode out of Camelot a distance, tied his horse in the forest, and continued the last few yards, coming to stand in a familiar clearing. Raising his face to the sky, he called upon the Great Dragon. Soon, Kilgarrah could be seen winging his way toward the place where Merlin stood.

With great buffets of wind, Kilgarrah landed, turning his curious gaze to rest on the young warlock's face. "I believe you called, Young Warlock," he said. Merlin nodded. "What do you need?"

"Information. Have you ever heard of a Hobbit, Kilgarrah?"

"A Hobbit, you say? Yes, I do believe I have. Met one, too, briefly."

"So they do exist…? Do you know where the 'Shire' is? Have you been there? What did the Hobbit look like?"

"Slow down, please, Merlin! Yes, they are very much real. And, no, I do not know where the 'Shire' is, nor have I been there. Why the sudden interest in Hobbits?" Kilgarrah raised an eyebrow.

"There was one mentioned in my magic book. What did the Hobbit look like, Kilgarrah?"

Kilgarrah thought before responding. "He was rather small, no higher than your waist. He had… dark curly hair, I think, but wore no shoes on his peculiarly large feet…. Well, he looked like a very small human."

Merlin was excited now. "When did you meet him? Where? Can I meet him, too?"

If possible, the Great Dragon looked sheepish. "It was not too long ago, near here. But, I'm sorry, Young Warlock, you are not able to meet him. You see, he was having the most annoying, repetitive conversation with his little grey companion. I was curious about them, but when I showed myself, they grey one shrieked and ran away while the little one drew a small sword. He tried to kill me, so I ate him. He was delicious!" he defended lamely against Merlin's shocked and disgusted look.

"And what was this poor Hobbit saying?" he asked.

"Well, the grey one kept asking what something was –I could not catch what- and the little one just kept repeating, and repeating, very irritatingly, 'Sam told you; 'Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew!'"

Needless to say, Merlin's mouth was hanging wide open.

Yay! Well, not necessarily for the hobbit... Anyway. What did you think? Did I stay true to the characters? I certainly tried. Was it even remotely funny? Please review!