In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

Though, at this moment, the hobbit was standing at his front door (perfectly round like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny brass knob in the exact middle), smoking an enormous long wooden pipe that reached nearly down to his woolly toes. He calmly watched an old man with a staff who wore a tall pointed blue hat, a grey cloak, a silver scarf over which his long white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots coming up the pathway through the front garden.

Stopping before the hobbit, the old man waited for the usual sort of cheerful hobbit greeting being offered to him as a start to their subsequent conversation today.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

All while the hobbit continued to placidly puff upon his pipe and do nothing else but regard the old man with a steady gaze.

It was the old man who broke first, addressing the hobbit with a rather curt "Good morning!"

Bilbo Baggins had been anticipating this for eight years.

He took the pipe out of his mouth to answer just as bluntly, "Yes, it is, and about the offer for me to become a burglar and help you steal Smaug's treasure, I'm turning it down for once and all! You don't really need me, anyway. Find the secret door on the western slopes of the Lonely Mountain where the last light of Durin's Day shines on this. Open it with the key you've got, go inside, and take a single gold coin. Smaug will sense this right away and come out roaring fit to burst. He's got a weak point at the hollow of his left breast where he can be shot dead. Bard of the lake town has a magic arrow he inherited that will take down this flying lizard without a problem. If you can't get that, have Legolas hide somewhere by the main gate and use his own arrow. There you are, dragon problem solved! Enjoy your nice trip, you and the dwarves."

Without even bothering to pay any further attention to the slack-jawed Gandalf, Bilbo turned around opened his door, and stepped inside, closing the door after himself. He put his pipe upon a handy table, and standing there, folded his hands across his tummy and began twiddling his thumbs, counting down in his head meanwhile.

By the time he got to 'fifteen', a thunderous knocking commenced against Bilbo's front door. He let his hands fall down against his sides, rolling his eyes at the same time.

Smirking under his breath, "Wizards," Bilbo turned to face his door, which was actually vibrating due to being continuously hammered by Gandalf's staff.

Shaking his head in mock dismay, Bilbo put upon his face his most evil grin, and reached for the wooden pail he'd earlier placed under the table. Picking it up by its rope handle, Bilbo took off the pail's lid with his other hand. A horrible reek instantly rose from the pail's sloshing contents consisting of the mop water used to clean the privy last night plus leftover rubbish from his meals for the past week.

By now, the pail was surely composting in that fermented liquid assorted disease microorganisms previously unknown to science.

Holding out at arm's length the pail behind him, Bilbo used his other hand to grasp the doorknob. With a quick jerk, he flung the door open, just in time for Gandalf to bring back his staff for yet another clout. At the same instant, Bilbo swung the pail to hurl the pail water right into Gandalf's face.

Tossing the now-empty pail aside on the threshold, Bilbo observed Gandfalf reel backwards, frantically spitting out the drops of vile fluid he'd just gotten into his mouth. Even more putrid liquid dripped from his soaked beard.

Gandalf then heard from the hobbit he'd come to visit today in the most insincere tone this wizard had ever experienced, "Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were still here! Did you need something else to do after killing the dragon? Well, you could always figure out to destroy the Balrog in the Mines of Moria without dying yourself, or keep Saruman from falling into Sauron's clutches, or…let's see…oh, yeah! If you ever get around to it, you could hunt down the One Ring where it's hidden on an island of an underground lake at the roots of the Misty Mountains, near the stronghold of the Great Goblin. You'll have to pry it somehow out of the hands of Gollum there, a little streak of cringing piss. After you've conned some poor schmuck into carrying that ring, enough with the complicated plans, already! Just have one of your Great Eagle friends carry him to Mount Doom and throw the damn thing in the volcano! Well, I can't spend any more time talking with you, no matter how nice it's been. If you manage to survive the next couple of years, drop by then and we'll catch up with each other, all right?"

Stepping back into his home, the hobbit slammed shut the door in Gandalf's dazed face.

Starting to laugh at the top of his lungs, Bilbo Baggins who'd once been Xander Harris gleefully admitted that it'd finally all been worth it, becoming stuck in Middle-Earth after dressing up as Tolkien's literary character for Halloween. He'd appeared here as a hobbit nearly a decade ago, remembering everything from that halfling's life which allowed him to continue passing as this same person but also with vivid memories of a 20th-century human teenager from Sunnydale, California.

Xander had no idea at all what happened to the original Bilbo or why they never switched back, but he suspected the poor guy wound up in Xander's old body and stayed there for however long it might've lasted for this former hobbit. Frankly, Xander was sure he got the much better deal: a nice home, peaceful life, friendly neighbors…and no vampires, demons, or Hellmouth anywhere in his vicinity.

Of course, there were several drawbacks having to do with existing during the tumultuous events described in the series of novels known as The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. Such as all those dangerous adventures, disruptions, quests, and other unpleasant occurrences that Xander absolutely wanted to avoid.

Not to mention there wasn't a single Twinkie™ available anywhere in Xander's new home.

Well, he could do something about that. In the meantime, he also wrote down all he could remember from reading Tolkien's books with Willow and Jesse, saving it for when the Gandalf-dude came calling. As had just happened, exactly as Xander planned in then dumping every bit of his knowledge upon that meddling wizard.

Let him be the big hero, along with whoever else the Wiz-Beard could strongarm into risking their lives fighting against evil. Xander would far rather stay home safe and comfortable in the Shire, thank you very much. And if Gandalf thought otherwise—

Xander felt a sudden surge of pressure over his whole body. Ah-hah, looks like Gandork wasn't going to leave peacefully, not when he had a real wizard's staff to force his way into Xander's home and insist the hobbit fully explain himself.

Like that was gonna happen. Good thing all those baking experiments Xander carried out his first year here managed to produce what he'd been after, the closest thing he could remember of his favorite snack food. Even better, when Xander's new bakery he'd funded had its delicious creations spread far and wide, even beyond the Shire, one of his most fervent customers had been another wizard.

To be specific, Radagast the Brown, a magic user definitely equal in power to Gandalf. When Xander casually mentioned one day a couple years ago to ol' Raddy over a fresh batch of Twinkies that he was looking for some way to keep anyone from invading the hobbit-hole and stealing his personal recipes, that wizard gladly set up protective home enchantment wards for his favorite baker.

Some really strong wards.

A sudden bright flash of brown light coming from the door made Xander blink. At the same time, the sense of pressure that'd been growing stronger by the second instantly ceased, along with the manifestation of a loud scream from outside which rapidly dwindled, as if whatever had been producing this was going away very quickly.

Intrigued, Xander opened his door and peered out. Sure enough, Gandalf was now lying flat on his back upon the road beyond Bilbo's house where he'd been blasted by arcane energies, what remained of his robe slowly smoldering. Aside from that, he didn't seem overly injured, given that this stunned wizard still braced himself up from the ground by his elbows to reveal a head not just without a pointy hat, but moreover without a single trace of hair upon Gandalf's presently scorched-bare skull and face.

*Huh. If I had ears sticking out like that and absolutely no chin, I'd grow my hair and beard long, too,* Xander snickered inwardly.

Deciding one final bit of needling couldn't hurt, he called out to Gandalf, "In case you haven't gotten the point, I'm not interested in talking to you any more so you can just buzz off. Besides, the longer you stay here, the dwarves who came with you are gonna get even more annoyed with their wizard, seeing how they've already been arrested and deported out of the Shire by the local Sherriff I tipped off about a bunch of suspicious characters. Have fun storming the castle, dude."

Xander shut the door again, and went off towards the kitchen to reward himself with a good, long lunch. Topped off by a Twinkie, naturally.