Author's Note: So I'm a dunce and totally thought I posted this when I hadn't, so here you go. I was sort of planning on finishing the second chapter today, but an angst idea has snagged me and I need to write a friend a story for her birthday by Saturday, so that might not happen. Still might, though. I hope you all enjoy this one, it's going to be in three parts and it's mostly based off my own experiences at the renn faire I went to this past weekend (and the three years before). It's not a really uptight or serious renn faire, I know, I've been told many times I would enjoy the more serious ones better, but I'm rather fond of my dorky little renn faire experience, so whatevs. Also I ran into the world's cutest and most accurate Bilbo Baggins and fell ass over teakettle for the girl within a second, so all I was thinking about that day was the Hobbit. This is an reincarnation au and it's totes Bagginshield and Kiliel, just so everyone's aware of what's going on. Enjoy!

AN2: Sorry I rambled. I really, really enjoyed the renn faire. I wore elf ears and everything, it was great.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the experiences I use as reference for this fic.

"You wanted to see me about my paper, sir?"

"Hmm?" Mr. Williams looked up from the desktop, where he had been rifling through his satchel and pulling out different papers since he had dismissed class several minutes ago. "Oh, Killian," he said, grinning at the college student that stood awkwardly on the other side of the desk. Killian shifted at the attention, fingers restlessly playing with the straps on his backpack. "One second, lad, your paper's in here somewhere…" The short professor went back to digging in his satchel, reaching up to push back some of his short blond curls away from his eyes.

Mr. Williams was easily the most professor-like professor that Killian had met, but at the same time he was the most not-professor like man he'd had teach a class. Mr. Williams talked like they were having tea, one on one, and not like there was an entire auditorium seated in front of him. He dressed in clothes more suited to having tea with the Queen than anything else, with velvet waistcoats in ridiculously bright colors and ties that usually matched his socks. Many of Mr. Williams mannerisms struck Killian as odd for an adult, as the man had a tendency for sitting atop desks and rambling on about the more interesting parts of history, like who had affairs with who and what scandals were running through the gossip mills of 18th century London. He made history more interesting than Killian had ever found it before, even the more boring parts.

"It's alright, Professor," Killian said. He had spent nearly a week perfecting that paper in the hopes that it would impress his teacher. He couldn't explain it, but he wanted to impress Mr. Williams more than he had ever wanted to impress a teacher before. Mr. Williams made a face before suddenly breaking out into a wide, beaming smile.

"Aha," he crowed loudly, holding up one paper above the mess of papers he had strewn across the desk. "Here it is," he said, tipping his head back up to look at Killian. He reached up, brushing a hand through his hair again. Killian tried to give Mr. Williams a weak smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. Mr. Williams went on, undeterred.

"I wanted to talk to you about your topic," Mr. Williams said. Killian's heart sunk and his stomach flopped. He had dreaded this when he had selected the topic, scared that this would invoke the same reaction it had when he was in middle and high school. Apparently he was in for another round of "your topic of medieval weaponry is interesting and very well researched, but maybe too well researched because it seems to be almost obsessive in detail and that worries me". Killian felt his shoulders drop in disappointment, even as he fisted his hands at his sides and gritted his teeth. He thought Mr. Williams would understand, being not only a history professor but also a medieval texts expert, but apparently he was-

"The way you talked about medieval weaponry was brilliant!"

"Um," Killian said, blinking rapidly. "What?"

Mr. Williams went about collecting the papers he had tossed about and started shoving them back into his satchel. He was beaming from ear to ear, bouncing a little bit while he stood behind the desk. "Oh yes," he said, enthusiastically, "the sources you used for research were top notch and the way you twisted the topic and focused it in on the way different kinds of weaponry spread across Europe was fascinating. I particularly liked the focus and detail you put into the sections about archery."

"I," Killian tried to say, but he ended up swallowing thickly and blinking even more rapidly. He felt almost light headed, like he could faint at any moment. "I like medieval weaponry," he ended up blurting, feeling foolish and off center. Mr. Williams chuckled a little bit, Killian's paper still in hand.

"I could tell," he said, not unkindly. "Which is why I wanted to talk to you, actually. Have you ever tried archery?"

"No. I always wanted to, but I never really got the chance."

Mr. Williams hummed quietly. He twisted to leave the room and Killian stepped up to follow him, moving past the students that were trickling in for the class after theirs and out into the hallway. Mr. Williams didn't pause, instead turning and walking toward the stairway. Killian didn't have the faintest clue where they were going, but something pulled him to follow his professor, something more than the paper in his hand. They took the first flight of stairs in silence, but on the landing up to the second flight Mr. Williams glanced over his shoulder, an odd look on his face.

"Have you ever heard of a renn faire," he asked quietly.

The word sounded familiar, but Killian couldn't think of why. "No," he admitted, puffing a little as he tried to keep up with the small professor. How in the world a man that short could climb stairs so fast, he hadn't a clue, especially since he towered over the blond man by almost a foot. "Sorry," he added. Mr. Williams waved him away, giving him a wry smile.

"No harm, lad," he said. He turned and opened the door to the fourth floor door, opening it easily despite the fact that Killian knew that door stuck almost all the time. "Renn faires are the shortened title of renaissance faires, which are pretty much what they sound like. Usually they are put on by societies that enjoy dressing up and reenacting parts of the culture, like reenacting battles and jousting. They're rather enjoyable, if I do say so myself, but I usually just dress up and enjoy the sights. Getting battered around by swords and such is a rather nasty business in my opinion. But it's enjoyable to watch, of course."

Mr. Williams probably would have continued rambling on, but they had reached his office door and he drew up short. In contrast to early Killian didn't feel awkward at all, his shoulders relaxing as he listened to the grumbles Mr. Williams spat out as he dug for his keys. Mr. Williams eventually dug them out, unlocking the door with a few bit off swears. Once the door was open and they were both inside Mr. Williams dropped behind the desk and into the chair there, leaving his satchel on the floor. Killian dropped down into the squishy chair on the other side of the desk, letting his backpack slide off his shoulders and onto the ground.

"What was I saying," Mr. Williams asked, tapping his finger on Killian's research paper as it sat on his desk.

"Um, you were describing renn faires."

"Oh yes, thank you. As I was saying," Mr. William continued, dragging a hand through his hair and propping his chin up on that hand when he was done. "The reason I mention them is there is a lot of medieval weaponry used during these events, such as lances, swords, shields, and a whole slew of bows. I was wondering if you had ever been to one, because I believe you'd rather enjoy one."

A jolt traced down Killian's spine, like a spark of static electricity that started at the nape of his neck and raced downward. He swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the strange feeling that was inching through his body, like he'd lived through this moment before, only reversed. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and shrugged purposefully, trying to seem as unaffected as possible so that his professor didn't think he was a nut job.

"There's a faire the weekend after next," Mr. Williams continued. His bright smile was gone for the most part, leaving on a sliver of it in the crooked corners of his mouth. "It's only about an hour's drive away. They call it the Oakentowne Faire. I've got a flyer about it if you'd like."

Killian shifted in the seat, dragged his feet against the carpet of the floor, and tried to breathe normally. It felt like there was a beehive in his chest, making his fingers tingle and his heart pound as his skin prickled with energy. He blinked a few times and tried to focus on Mr. Williams to keep calm, but the more he looked at Mr. Williams the less he saw of him and the more he felt like he was going to shake apart or explode.

"Easy there," Mr. Williams murmured. Killian blinked and found the man sitting on the table in front of him, leaning forward with a hand on his broad shoulder. The professor squeezed his shoulder quietly and for a minute the blond haired man looked unbearably sad about something. "I didn't mean to upset you," he said quietly.

"It's alright, Professor," he rasped out. It felt like he hadn't had anything to drink in years. Mr. Williams hopped up from the top of the desk and scurried around to the mini fridge in the corner. He pulled out a can of soda and a bottle of water, holding them both out to Killian to choose. Killian took the can slowly, his hand trembling as he did so. "I don't know what came over me."

Mr. Williams gave Killian a sad little smile, one that turned the college student's stomach upside down. "It's alright, lad," the small man said quietly, hunching in on himself. For one horrid moment the professor seemed ancient to Killian, wrinkled and broken, his hair white and his face creased, but that moment was gone before it could fully register. Killian shook his head slightly at himself, wondering if he hadn't stayed up too late last night studying. Finals were next week and while they were rough he'd never actually hallucinated before of them before, but the image was so firmly in his mind now that he didn't know what else it could be. He took a deep breath and tried to convince himself that he was just tired, that Mr. Williams wasn't an ancient wrinkled old man; he was in his early thirties, for Pete's sake, and the only wrinkles he had were laughter lines around the corners of his eyes.

"Here," Mr. William said. He was holding out Killian's research paper in one hand and his sad smile was off his lips and hidden in his eyes. "You did a good job on the paper, Killian, and I'm proud of you for that. Go get some rest, lad, and I'll see you during finals."

Killian swallowed roughly and stood, finding his legs to be steadier that his hands. "Thank you, Professor," he mumbled, taking the paper from him and bending down to shove it in his backpack. He moved to leave the office, but found himself hanging back at the last moment, unable to move. He turned around, hands curling nervously around the straps of his backpack again, and blurted out, "you really didn't think my topic was worrisome?"

"Worrisome," Mr. Williams repeated, blinking.

"Yeah," he said, shifting. "Like, you don't think I have a problem?"

"A problem," Mr. Williams echoed, utterly baffled. "Why in the world would I think you have a problem?"

Killian shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat up as he did so. "Dunno," he muttered, feeling nine instead of nineteen. "It's just that, well… Other people have found my interest in weapons to be worrying before."

Mr. Williams snorted, the sound loud and inelegant. He shoved up the sleeves of his dress shirt before slouching back against the desktop, hands braced against the edge. "Killian," he said, giving him a wry smile, "I have studied medieval texts almost fanatically for nearly fifteen years. I haven't the time or fancy to toss stones about in glass houses." He tipped his head to the side and seemed to study Killian for a long moment. A feeling of familiarity bubbled up in Killian's chest, like they'd be in this position before, but he knew they hadn't. "Besides," Mr. Williams continued, "I know quite a few individuals that share your interest in weapons, though most of them tend to lean toward axes and swords instead of bows."

"Oh," Killian said. Mr. Williams said nothing more and h turned and fled Mr. Williams' office without another word. He heard the man sigh softly behind him as he did and his stomach knotted in response. An uneasy feeling followed him all the way down the hall, causing him to choose the stairs instead of the elevator. He took them two at a time, the feeling of static building along his spine again as he did so, making him rush faster and faster until he burst onto the first floor like he was being chased. He didn't breathe properly until he was back in his dorm room and even then the strange feeling lingered in his head.