A/N: Snow White inspired AU.

In the Shire, lived a hobbit kingdom, in which lived a hobbit prince named, Bilbo Baggins. He was the only son of Bungo and Belladonna Baggins. The Bagginses were kind and fair rulers, adored by all. And though most found the prince to be an odd sort of hobbit, they kept their thoughts to themselves out of respect for their king and queen.

Bilbo's oddities included, preferring to spend his time alone and venturing off into the woods. Hobbits are very social creatures, so one of them being quite unsociable was an unusual rarity. And hobbits certainly did not wander about away from their gardens and their hills. In fact, most hobbits didn't "venture" anywhere except a few nearby human villages for things like meat and such.

Some were concerned, wondering if Bilbo would an effective enough ruler. Even more so now that his parents were gone, taken by the recent harsh winter. They wondered if the young hobbit of 36 even knew how to rule.

How did he have any time for any lessons when he was always gallivanting off into the woods?

The one hobbit that doubted Bilbo's ability to rule the most, and the only one who was quite vocal about it, was Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Lobelia was Bilbo's cousin (by marriage), and she was probably one of the nastiest of hobbit ladies one would ever meet. She was rude, greedy, impatient, self entitled, and a horrid gossip. Somehow, she came to the idea that she, someone who isn't even a Baggins by birth, deserved the throne more than Bilbo did. Even had the nerve to claim him to be "spoiled", that his parents coddled him too much.

Most ignored her ramblings, and those who didn't, didn't take her seriously at all. No one ever thought to even consider the possibility that "Loudmouth Lobelia" (as she's often referred to) would be of any threat to the throne.

...

In the garden at Bag End, home of the royal family, Prince Bilbo sat on his father's favorite bench, smoking a pipe and contemplating many things. Mostly, he thought of his parents and how much he missed them. Their deaths were very sudden and unexpected, and poor Bilbo was completely unprepared.

"How are you fairing today, Mister Bilbo?" someone asked, disrupting the silence.

Bilbo startled slightly, nearly dropping his pipe, but was quickly relieved to see that it was only his gardener, Hamfast Gamgee.

"Sorry to startle you, there, Mister Bilbo." Hamfast apologized.

"Oh, come now, Hamfast, we are the same age, you can refer to me as just Bilbo." Bilbo replied.

For years, the Gamgees have been the gardeners, and loyalest of friends, for the Bagginses. Hamfast and Bilbo grew up together, the gardener being one of the few that the prince would willingly socialize with.

"So, Bilbo, I ask again...how are you fairing today, my friend?" Hamfast said, taking a seat next to Bilbo.

Bilbo didn't want to answer that question, nor did he really know how to. His parents just died and he was being crowned King tomorrow. He was sad, he was scared, and he was worried, but all those words were too simple and just not enough to describe what he was currently feeling.

"Not entirely good, I'll say that much." Bilbo mumbled, anxiously chewing on the mouthpiece of his pipe.

Understanding that Bilbo isn't in the mood for much talking, Hamfast simply offers him a comforting pat on the shoulder and gives his condolences for Bilbo's loss. Alone again, Bilbo finishes off his pipe then heads inside to look over the preparations for his coronation and the party that'll take place afterwards. Hobbits were some of the best party throwers around, so at least there was something to look forward to tomorrow.

After a not-so-good night's sleep, (Bilbo had been unable to sleep properly since the death of his parents) Bilbo gets out of bed, has his breakfast, then heads out into the woods for some alone time. He ventures farther than he normally does and he ends up running across a human man who seemed to be quite distressed. Bilbo may not be the most sociable of hobbits, but that didn't mean he disliked helping someone in need. Helping others was one of the things his parents, and himself, valued the most.

So, making the quick decision to help, he walks over to the man and asks him what's wrong.

"Are you alright, sir? What ever is the matter?" Bilbo asked.

"Oh yes, thank goodness. If its not too much trouble, mister, I really need your help. My friend...he got his leg caught in a bear trap. He's hurt really bad." the man tells Bilbo.

"Oh dear, that is awful. Lead me to him and I'll help you get him free. Then I shall take the two of you to my town's healer, he'll fix your friend up real good, I can guarantee that." Bilbo said.

"Thank you, sir, thank you very much." the man replied.

As the two walked further, deeper, into the woods, Bilbo began to notice something about the man. Now that he had a better look at his expression and mannerisms, the man actually didn't seem all that worried or scared. He rather seemed more remorseful and ashamed. But Bilbo simply thought that he was probably feeling guilty about his injured friend, that he felt it was his fault his friend got hurt.

Soon the sounds of moaning and groaning in pain could be heard, alongside pitiful cries for help. The sounds came from behind a large fallen over tree.

"Hold on, sir, help has arrived!" Bilbo called out, quickening his pace towards the tree.

When Bilbo climbs over the fallen tree to where the other human man is, he sees him lying on the ground...but there's no bear trap attached to his leg, and he seems to be completely unharmed.

The tiny voice in his mind that sounded like his father's told him that this was all wrong. That this whole situation was wrong. The wrongness of it all formed a pit in his stomach.

He turned towards the man who brought him here to ask him what was going on. Though, before he could get a word out, the man he just turned his back on hits him in the head with a rock. The blow was hard, causing Bilbo to stagger a bit before falling on his hands and knees. His vision swam and wobbled, his ears rang as the pain throbbed and pulsed, and there was a warm wetness running down the side of his face.

The sense of wrongness he felt was now a sense of terror.

What are these men up to? Are they robbing him?

"D*mn, I really thought that would kill him. His skull must be harder than I thought." the man who had hit Bilbo said.

"Looks like we'll have to go to plan 'B'." he sighed as he and the other pulled out knives from their belts.

At the sight of the deadly weapons, a rush of adrenaline hits Bilbo, and the hobbit sprints away from the men. But, in his head injury induced haze, he went in the opposite direction of the Shire, even further away from the safety of his home.

"D*mn it! Bard, grab him!" the head-basher said to the one who tricked the hobbit prince.

The deceiver, who Bilbo now knew was named Bard, chased after him, the other following not too far behind. The other man, who still remains unnamed, must not be much of a runner because he easily falls way behind his accomplice and the hobbit they're hunting. Bard quickly caught up to Bilbo, grabbing his coat, but Bilbo slips out of it and continues to run for his life.

These men clearly had no intention of simply robbing him, they wanted to kill him too.

"Please, I'll give you all the money I have on me, just don't hurt me!" Bilbo pleaded.

Bard catches up to Bilbo again, this time tackling him. The two of them roll down a bumpy hill, landing with Bard on top of Bilbo, pinning him down.

"This isn't a robbery." Bard simply states, raising his knife.

Bilbo whimpers tearfully, shielding his face with his arms, bracing himself for the end of his life. But the piercing of the knife into Bilbo's soft, pudgy flesh never came. When he peeked a glance, he saw that same remorseful, ashamed expression he saw earlier. Bard's breath was shaky and unsteady, just like the hand that gripped the knife so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

Why was he hesitating? Hobbits are practically incapable of self defense, he could kill the prince so easily, it wouldn't even take much effort to stab him right then and there. So, why now, when he had his target right where he wanted, was he hesitating?

Bard sucks in a harsh breath, adjusting his grip on his knife and raising it higher. He looked like he made up his mind and was preparing to finish off Bilbo for good now. Of course, Bilbo flinches, squeezing his eyes shut, tightly, preparing for the inevitable pain that's to come. Bilbo prays that his death will be quick enough where he won't have to suffer for long.

But, yet again, the stabbing never came.

Then Bilbo hears Bard cry out in anger and frustration, driving the knife into the ground next to Bilbo's head.

"I...I-I can't do it." Bard said, his voice shaking.

"No amount of money is worth taking an innocent life." he added, sounding as if he were about to weep.

Bard gets off of Bilbo, but the prince is too stunned to move. He was shocked, he was so sure he was about to die. Thank Yavanna, Bard had second thoughts.

"What is the meaning of this?" Bilbo asked, trembling.

His mind was full of racing thoughts. Why would someone try to hurt him for no reason? Did Bard say something about money? Was he being paid to kill Bilbo? Was this an assassination attempt? Who would want Bilbo dead? Why was this all happening today of all days!?

Hadn't Bilbo been through enough?!

"Bard! Did you get the halfling? Is he dead?" Bard's accomplice called out from a distance.

Bard turns to Bilbo with a serious look on his face, grabbing his shoulders firmly.

"Listen to me, hobbit, you need to run. Run, do not look back, and do not return to the Shire. I have a feeling she won't stop until you are dead. Save yourself and run away." Bard whispered to him.

He lifts Bilbo to his feet and gives him a gentle shove, telling him to start running. And Bilbo does so without another question. He ran and ran, and kept running long after the men's voices had faded away completely. When his head injury became too much to ignore and he felt like passing out, Bilbo still kept going, though walking now instead of running.

Bilbo wasn't sure how much time had passed as he was walking. It could have been minutes, or hours, or even days. The light in the forest did become lighter and darker a few times, but that could just be the concussion he had. Finally, it began to rain.

Now the hobbit prince was hurt, frightened, tired, and cold and wet. Bilbo didn't know how much longer he could stay standing, he really needed to find shelter.

Just when Bilbo thought he was going to collapse, he spots a cottage. The cottage was decently big, big enough for a large family. It was perfect! A place away from the rain and danger, and maybe someone inside could help him. He rushes to the door and knocks frantically.

"Hello!? Is anyone in there!? I need help! Please!" Bilbo shouted.

No one answers the door. Bilbo peeks through one of the windows and sees nobody inside. If anyone lived here, they weren't home. Fortunately for Bilbo, the door was unlocked. Normally, he would never do something like this, it just wasn't the way he was raised. But this was an emergency and Bilbo was desperate. He lets himself in and closes the door behind him.

The inside of the cottage was beautiful, just like the outside of it was. All the furniture in the living room look finely made and there was a large fire place with stacks of chopped logs next to it. There were plenty of places to sit, there were a few couches, some ottomans, and a large armchair. Bilbo's suspicion that a large family lived here was confirmed when he saw the kitchen. In there was a long table with thirteen chairs. And judging by the way every thing was low to the ground, it couldn't have been a human cottage. This cottage was for smaller folk.

Bilbo crawls up the stairs to the cottage's second level in search of a place to sleep. The second level was one big open space, basically a big attic. Along the walls were several beds. It was a bit odd to Bilbo that an entire thirteen-person family would sleep in one singular room. But he was too exhausted to think too much more of it.

Another strange thing about the beds were the names carved into the foot of them. A lot of them rhymed, like, 'Bifur', 'Bofur', and 'Bombur'.

"What funny names." Bilbo thought aloud to himself.

At one end, there was a bed that was slightly bigger than the rest. And it had a few more pillows and blankets. Blankets that looked so very soft and warm. Bilbo didn't think to look at the name carved into the foot of the bed, he dazedly stumbles to it and falls onto it. The mattress was so plush, so comfortable, Bilbo couldn't help a sigh of relief.

He knows he should get himself under the covers so he doesn't risk freezing, but the poor thing didn't have the strength to do anything other than close his eyes and let the darkness claim him.