a/n: Do you ever read a really good crossover that just fits so utterly perfectly that you have to read more? Do you ever feel the sinking sense of realization when you discover that there is no more?
Well, that's...not what happened here. Or not exactly. The Harry Potter X LOTR crossovers are absolutely brilliant, and they made me wish there was something like that for FMA. So I started making one. And then realized that the Hobbit would be great as well.
Long story short: Here's the start of a Hobbit crossover, and if I get around to it there will eventually be one for LOTR.

I hope you guys enjoy this. As per usual, I own neither The Lord of the Rings nor Fullmetal Alchemist.

Key:
Oh, I have a headache = thinking (or emphasis)
No one heard that = everything else
~~~v~~~ = time skip
~o(0)o~ = change of view point

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Guest

"So…This isn't the Baggins' residence?"

Edward Elric pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. This was not the first, but the fourth group of dwarves to knock on his door that night, all of them asking–albeit politely–if they had arrived at Bag End. He had almost passed off the first encounter as a dream, but now…

"No. This is not Bag End." He had been careful to keep the frustration out of his tone, but it was becoming harder as this was the the third time he had explained this fact to this group of dwarves alone. There were five of them ("Dori, Ori, Nori, and Gloin at your service."), and if their dusty packs and sheathed weapons were any indication, the stubborn group had traveled far to arrive at his door. Well, they hadn't intended to end up at his door, but that hardly mattered now. They were here, and Ed wanted them gone. "Bag End is across The Water on the other end of the Shire."

The lead dwarf– had that been 'Gloin'?– appeared to finally understand what Ed was trying to say. "Ah, our apologies then." The dwarf gave a short bow. "I'm afraid we must be going, so if you could kindly point us in the right direction it would be much appreciated."

"Yes," Finally, he would be able to get some sleep. "If you just take a–" Ed's golden eyes narrowed as he spotted another group of figures making their way towards his door. The moon failed to provide enough light to make out the faces or race of the travelers, though by their height alone they were either tall hobbits or more dwarves. Seeing as hobbits had the good sense not to wander around the Shire in the middle of the night, it could only be more of the blasted dwarves.

That was it. Something was going on, and Ed was going to find out who decided to give out his address to a wandering clan of dwarves.

"Actually," The dwarves turned to face the blond, sensing a change in attitude from the man who, up until now, had seemed utterly uninterested in their plight. "How about I just take you there."

~o(0)o~

Bilbo Baggins had barely watched his two most recent dwarven intruders-turned-guest round the corner into his dinning room when yet another knock came at the door. "Oh no. No. There's nobody home!" The hobbit shouted even as he moved to open the door. "Go away and bother somebody else– there are far too many dwarves in my dinning room as it is!" Tossing the weapons Fili and Kill had thrust at him unceremoniously to the floor, Bilbo wagged a finger at the round portal as he stalked towards it. "If this is some plot-head's idea of a joke–"

"WHOA!" The door swung open as a pile of dwarves fell into Bilbo's entry hall. The hobbit could do nothing but stare at the squirming mass of beard and furs on his floor, altogether bewildered at the way his quiet Wednesday evening had turned out. A quiet groan from outside drew his attention away from the dwarves and onto the only figure still standing. A man stood there, only a little taller than the dwarves he accompanied and wearing a tanned brown cloak, beneath which could be seen an outfit of black leather.

The man rubbed at his eyes with a white-gloved hand, clearly exasperated. "Truth save us from the idiocy of dwarves."

Bilbo was about to agree with the man, when the white gloves moved away, revealing startlingly gold eyes. The Baggins took a step back in surprise: of all the things to happen tonight, what was the Watchdog doing at his door?

~~~v~~~

"–At your service." The last dwarf finished before trundling past Bilbo towards the sound of partying in the back. Still a bit dazed at the evening's events, the hobbit watched numbly as the only Man in the Shire stepped forward.

"Bilbo Baggins, I presume? I don't think we've been introduced." The blond held out his left hand, and Bilbo took it after a moment of fumbling. He was slightly surprised to find a strong grip beneath the thin, white fabric of the glove.

"And you're the Watchdog." At the Man's raised eyebrow the hobbit hurried to correct himself. "I mean, that's what people call you."

"Yes," The blond released his hand and those golden eyes seemed to momentarily loose their focus. "And an oddly fitting name it is." Then the eyes were back on Bilbo in all of their molten intensity. "But please, Master Baggins, now that I have intruded upon your home feel free to call me Elric; Edward Elric."

Bilbo gave a short bow, "Elric it is then." Elric's golden eyes became more friendly and the Watchdog leaned against the door frame. "But if you don't mind me asking, why have you come calling at such a late hour? And with a pack of dwarves no less!"

Elric sighed and craned his neck to look past the hobbit. "I must confess, this is not my preferred method of visitation."

Bilbo held back a snort of laughter at the drastic understatement. From what he had heard of the Man– the Watchdog– Elric– he was a recluse living on the other side of the river in Brandybuck territory. 'Recluse' was putting it gently, however, as the Man reportedly talked to few, and those few he talked to said he didn't talk much. There were even some rumors that he didn't speak Westron– though that was clearly untrue now that Bilbo had met him. Even after spending near a decade among the Hobbits, little was known of the stranger beyond his nickname of 'Watchdog.'

The hobbit shook his head. "I would suppose not. But I would assume some occasion called for it?"

Elric cocked his head, "I was hoping you would tell me: I've been directing dwarves all night to your home."

"What?" Bilbo just stopped himself from yelling.

Elric raised his hands in apology. "I know. I have had a crazy enough night that I can imagine how ridiculous this all seems to you. Dwarves started showing up on my doorstep just after the sun went down– all of them under the assumption that I was Bilbo Baggins."

A loud shout came from the other room, followed by a chorus of cheers. Elric crossed his arms as he shook his head ruefully. "Having heard something of Bag End and of yourself, I directed them here, but after several more interruptions to my evening I thought that I might as well see what was happening myself."

"And?" The hobbit asked, hopeful that there was more to the story.

"And now I am here, a small party of dwarves seems to have made camp in your larders, and it looks as if neither you nor I have a clue to how it came about."

"Well…hmph." Bilbo scratch absently at the back of his neck, at a loss for what to say next. There was protocol for most things in the Shire: at birthdays you give gifts, parties should always have food, good pipe weed is not to be wasted, and the Sackville-Baggins are not to be trusted with the good silver. There was, however, no protocol for dwarves taking up–was that a drinking song he heard?–in the dining room.

In fact, he was about to admit just that ("I'm sorry; I have no idea what is going on nor what to do.") when he caught a glimpse of a tall figure making its way up the garden path to his door. Bilbo leaned forward to get a better look, and after a moment's inspection concluded that it was none other than– "Gandalf!"

"Who?" Elric murmured, loud enough to be heard but not enough to seem an actual question, turning around to face Bilbo's latest uninvited guest.

Gandalf glanced up from the path and gave an overly innocent smile. "My dear Bilbo, it seems as if I have come late to the party."

"Gand– party? Did you invite the dwarves to my home?"

"I hope it hasn't been too much trouble." Now that he had reached the door, Gandalf walked right past Elric and through the open door. "You see, important business must be discussed, and I rather thought that it would be good for you to be present."

From his position behind the wizard, Elric coughed, "And you gave out my home address as well?"

"Hmm?" Gandalf glanced back at Elric. A look of surprise flashed over his face, as if Gandalf hadn't seen Elric standing there, and the wizard turned to face the blond fully. "I don't believe we've met. Most around here call me Gandalf, and you might be…?"

"Elric." Unlike with Bilbo, Elric made no move to offer his hand. "But if you're the one behind this I would guess you already knew that." As he spoke, Elric moved away from the door frame to step closer to the wizard. Despite his words, Bilbo thought the man seemed…neutral? It was strange: Elric had shifted into a more balanced stance, but he appeared neither relaxed nor on the defensive. The blond's voice betrayed nothing of his thoughts, stating the words like a fact without adding any tone to indicate anger or suspicion.

It unnerved Bilbo. Seconds ago the hobbit had just been thinking that the man's reputation must have been exaggerated, but now…the guarded nothingness in those golden eyes hinted at something at least deserving of the name Watchdog. Maybe something stronger.

Gandalf frowned. "You mean to say some dwarves appeared on your doorstep?" Elric nodded, and the wizard continued, his tone baffled. "Then I must apologize! I gave them specific instructions to identify Bag End, and I cannot imagine how the mix-up happened."

Bilbo tapped his foot impatiently, "I'd still like to know what this is all about–"

"Later, my dear Bilbo. Later." Gandalf waived a hand in the air as if the simple action would appease the hobbit. "I find that I am rather keen for a bit of refreshment."

Bilbo watched as Gandalf moved to join the chaotic mass of dwarves, the wizard taking special care to avoid a low-hanging light fixture before very nearly hitting his forehead on a door frame.

The hobbit sighed as he saw a particularly fat dwarf waddle into view carrying several wheels of cheese. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Nothing, I would imagine." Brought back from his momentary distraction, Bilbo returned to face Elric. The man had a hand on the door and one foot outside. "It has been an…entertaining night, Master Baggins."

"Are you leaving?" It was all Bilbo could do to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Another chorus of shouts rose from the kitchen– maybe they had recognized Gandalf? Bilbo could only hope they hadn't broken into his wine cellar.

Elric glanced at the pile of dwarven weaponry still lying on the floor of the entrance hall, "I would not further test your hospitality."

"Are you kidding?" No longer caring if he sounded desperate, Bilbo gestured opening at the discarded swords. In a single hour his evening– his home– had been turned upside-down by strangers and wizards. He would take any ounce of normalcy he could get, even if that ounce of came from the strangest inhabitant of the Shire. "I'm alone with a wizard and a company of dwarves: of course I want some sane company."

Elric cocked his head, golden eyes searching Bilbo's face for…what? Intent? Sincerity? Then, for the first time all night, Elric grinned. "Sanity among hobbits is a highly prized trait, Master Baggins." The man gave a slight bow and strode back into the hobbit hole. "If you would name me as such, then I will gladly accompany you."